03 Abr. 2030
In the last hours before the apocalypse a deafening silence took over the world. It was as though everything and everyone was holding their breath, waiting. Nikolas could sense the tension in his family, the calm masking their collective anxiety. Even he, despite all his preparations, couldn't escape the growing unease.
Few dared to venture outside. Streets that were once bustling with life now seemed abandoned, as though the world had decided to pause in the face of the unknown. Stores had shut their doors, schools had given students the day off, and security forces were on high alert, bracing for the chaos everyone felt brewing beneath the surface.
The TV hummed in the background, playing its usual role of downplaying the looming disaster. The news anchors spoke of the hacker, claiming they had tracked the origin to southern Brazil. Some of the infamous "Doomsday Parties" had even been canceled due to threats of violence, a fact that would normally dominate headlines—but not today.
And yet, the news continued to insist that it was all a hoax, a fabricated warning that was not to be taken seriously. Some things never changed.
Reginald reached for the remote and switched off the television, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt and black shorts, he still looked imposing, especially with the medieval sword hanging from his waist and a handgun holstered on the other side.
"Fake my ass!" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
The sound of footsteps from the stairs drew his attention, and he glanced up to see Nikolas descending.
Nikolas Drachen's black eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, his messy hair sticking out in all directions. The pajama set he wore hung loosely on his frame, a testament to how much weight he'd lost through his relentless training. The dark circles around his eyes showed that he had been up late last night.
Reginald Drachen knew his son had been pushing himself to the limit, but he refrained from commenting. There was no need.
"Morning, son." Reginald greeted and then added "It's past noon. Can you wake your brother as well?"
"Already did," Nikolas replied groggily, rubbing his eyes. He paused, his voice thick with sleep. "Coffee?"
"There's some left for you," Reginald nodded toward the kitchen, where Emilia was bustling around, preparing food. "And after that, why don't you ask Mr. Yuemura to join us for lunch? I'm sure he must miss his disciples. He shouldn't have to eat alone."
Nikolas blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the suggestion. In truth, he hadn't even considered that Yuemura might be feeling isolated. His own focus had been so fixed on the apocalypse and keeping his family safe that other thoughts felt distant, almost trivial.
"Right…" he muttered, heading to the kitchen. Grabbing a mug, he poured himself some coffee and took a long sip. The warmth and bitterness hit him instantly, reviving him from his grogginess. "Ah, how I missed this divine nectar!"
As the caffeine kicked in, Nikolas leaned against the counter, watching his father.
"I'm glad you two get along," he said with a tired smile. "Master's a good man. His training methods might be harsh, but they're necessary."
Reginald chuckled. "Harsh is an understatement. But I trust him."
"I'll go call him. There are a few things we need to discuss before… tonight."
********
After the coffee, while his mother was preparing the lunch, Nikolas went to find out his ex-master.
He passed through the new 'farming land' which used to be an abandoned garden, and saw that the potatoes were growing exceptionally well. The sight brought a sense of satisfaction.
[Two more months and we'll have enough potatoes to feed at least 60 people for a time… Well, adding the food I bought, it should be enough until I can get a Heaven!]
Although the old abandoned house had been restored to some extent,with a small wall built around it, the place still had a rough, unfinished look.Despite that, Master Yuemura had managed to give it a personal touch, adorning the inside with framed paintings that lined the walls.
Most of the artwork depicted old feudal Japan, his homeland, featuring tranquil landscapes that exuded a peaceful aura. As Nikolas wandered through, one painting, in particular, caught his attention, drawing him in.
It was a simple scene of cherry trees atop a hill. The grass swayed tall, the sky a vibrant blue, perfectly complementing the delicate pink blossoms of the sakura trees. For some unknown reason, that image attracted him, he couldn't take his eyes off it.
So engrossed was Nikolas that he didn't notice Yuemura standing beside him until the old man spoke.
"What do you think of this one?" Yuemura asked with a gentle smile.
"Master!" Nikolas slightly bowed.
"It's beautiful," Nikolas replied, his voice soft with awe. "I can almost feel the wind blowing through the sakura trees and the grass. But… there's something more. It feels like my body and soul want to step into the painting. Does that make any sense?"
Yuemura smiled faintly, then gave a long, thoughtful sigh. "I painted it myself."
Nikolas blinked, taken aback. "You did? I had no idea you were—"
Yuemura cut him off with a raised hand. "I put my heart into it. And my heart is within the sword." He pointed to a section of taller grass in the painting. "Look carefully. You'll see the sword in the strokes."
Nikolas squinted, focusing on the painting. At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary landscape, but as he studied it closer, he noticed the subtlety. In the movements of the grass and even the gusts of wind painted into the sky, there were traces of sword strokes, woven into the art itself. He gasped, stunned by the realization.
You used your sword to paint?" Nikolas asked, astonished.
Pak!
Yuemura gave him a swift but gentle slap on the back of the head. "Don't be stupid. I didn't paint with my sword," he scolded, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "The brush became my sword. There's a difference."
"I don't get it. Should I start painting to improve my swordsmanship?" At that moment, especially after that hit, Nikolas felt once again like a pupil under Yuemura's tutelage.
Pak!
"Yes and no!" Yuemura sighed. "It's not about painting. It's about putting your heart into something. You can find the sword in daily life, in everything you do, as long as your heart is in it!"
Suddenly, a realization dawned on Nikolas, as if lightning had struck his mind. The barrier that had been holding him back in his training felt like it was beginning to crack, revealing the deeper truth of the sword.
[Find the sword in my daily life…. as long as I put my heart into it!]
The weight of Yuemura's words resonated deeply within him. It wasn't just about training or fighting—it was about living with intent, finding the essence of the sword in every action.
"But," Yuemura interrupted Nikolas's thoughts, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, "I doubt you came here just to admire my paintings."
Nikolas snapped back to the present, grinning sheepishly. "Right! I came to invite you for lunch with my family. We'd like you to join us."
The old man nodded.
Yuemura raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Lunch, huh? I suppose I could use a good meal... and perhaps some company too. Very well, let's go."
"I'll just grab my sword and kimono. I'll be there shortly, thank you." Yuemura bowed slightly before turning away, a subtle smile on his lips—one Nikolas didn't notice.
Yuemura was getting accustomed to the idea that his newest disciple was actually a master that came from the future, how could it be otherwise? However, it looked like he still had a few tricks to teach the boy!
Nikolas left the house after thanking the old master. He was very reverent towards the old man, without him, he wouldn't have survived the apocalypse, much less grown strong enough to face the coming storm.
[It was the right decision to have him by my side once again.] Nikolas mused,
"Well," Yuemura muttered to himself as he watched Nikolas's retreating figure. "He's not quite there yet… but he will be."
********
Back at the house, lunch was almost ready, and the family gathered around the table. Emilia had prepared an impressive spread—salads, roasted chicken, barbecue—all laid out neatly. An extra seat had been added to accommodate their guest, Yuemura.
As the delicious aroma filled the air, Erick couldn't resist. He reached for a piece of barbecue, his hand moving fast.
*SLAP!*
Emilia swatted his hand away with the precision of a hawk, her spoon landing a quick hit on his fingers.
"Ouch mom! Why?" he grumbled while rubbing his hand.
"We pray before we eat." Emilia said sternly, her eyes narrowing.
Erick sulked but said nothing, reluctantly joining his hands in a gesture of prayer, closing his eyes. The rest of the family followed suit.
"Please, God, bless those unprepared for the calamity that awaits. May Your justice and immeasurable love watch over our people and protect us in the coming days…" Emilia's voice was soft yet filled with conviction.
As they began eating, the usual chatter filled the room. However, Nikolas remained strangely silent, lost deep in thought. His mind kept wandering back to Yuemura's words, the lesson about finding the sword in everyday life, in even the most mundane actions.
Without realizing it, his hands began moving in precise, calculated motions. His fork descended quickly, spearing a quail egg with pinpoint accuracy, while his knife sliced it cleanly in half—his movements swift, deliberate, almost mechanical.
The room fell silent as everyone stared at him, bewildered by the oddness of his actions. It was as if Nikolas was operating on instinct, each movement too precise, too controlled.
Only Yuemura, seated quietly at the table, seemed to understand what was happening. He watched Nikolas with a knowing smile, recognizing the shift in his disciple's demeanor.
[Put your heart and sword in your daily life….Become the sword!]
That singular thought echoed in Nikolas's mind as he continued eating, unaware of the confused looks from his family. He wasn't just eating lunch—he was honing himself, integrating the sword into every small movement, trying to grasp the essence of Yuemura's lesson.
Yuemura chuckled softly under his breath.