Ash was amazing! He never gave up when he sparred his friends, with the wooden swords that he had made himself. All in all, I was a little envious. Could I practice sword fighting as well?
Mother has been awfully busy lately, so I've taken it upon myself to watch Ash practice every day. Over time I gradually saw that his speed was increasing. Curious about swordplay, I went and carved up a branch, just as Ash had. With the wooden sword, I approached Ash and challenged him, with no practice whatsoever.
Ash was bemused at the challenge, I could tell. He went easy on me, and still easily beat me. I was upset, because I wanted him to not hold back. If I was so weak compared to Ash, then who would protect my mother? My father has never been around, and I've noticed it's a touchy subject to my mother, so I've never brought it up.
The way I saw it, the only reason I am on this earth is because of my mother. I felt that I should at least pay the respect that is due by protecting her with my life.
The thought, that we are born on this earth to eventually fall and die, was what brought me anguish. I've seen it with my own eyes. Death. That glossy look that comes from the eyes of a corpse. What was just a stray dog to my mother, was my closest friend. I would feed him our scraps, and he would lie in my lap; An endless heaven upon earth, except nothing is endless on earth.
One day I couldn't find the dog, so I scoured the entire block looking for him. What I had found was horrifying, and shook me to my very core. As i approached the carcass, a chill ran across my arms, and a tear rolled down my left cheek. I will never forget the day I saw the lifeless eyes of my closest companion.
My mother had to explain to me that all things die, and the only thing that we could do was to bury him. With a broken heart, I found him a clear field with a lone oak. I then loosened the soil and began to bury him. After that moment, the thoughts of people like my mother dying were unavoidable.
I finally mustered enough courage to ask my mother about my father one night. I asked her if he could use magic. "He never could use magic, yet he was unmatched as a swordsman. Your father was a great warrior." she said, with a sad tone.
"Is he dead?" I asked, curious.
"It would take an entire army to kill him, so I doubt it." she responded comically.
"Then, where is he mother?" I asked, trying to hide my anguish. My mother could always see right through my walls that I put up.
"What's wrong sweetie?" she asked.
"Nothing!" I cried out. "It's just that if he was so good at swordplay, then I'd like for him to teach me. That's all."
"Well, if you ever meet him I'm sure he'd be glad to spar with you" she informed me. I could tell she knew that I was trying to put up more walls, to hide my emotions. After all, she was my mother.