The weapon cut through the air like a missile, but it whizzed past, missing my face by a fraction of an inch. Lucky for me, my body reacted; I leaned back to dodge, but my body didn't fully cooperate. Before I knew it, I lost my balance and hit the floor hard, sprawled out and stunned.
"What was that? Are you trying to kill me?" I blurted out, sitting up and glaring at him, my voice sharp with frustration.
Uncle strode over, his expression as calm as ever, though the edges of his lips twitched with amusement. He extended a hand to help me up.
"Stop exaggerating," he said, his voice holding that signature of both seriousness and subtle teasing.
Reluctantly, I grabbed his hand, letting him pull me up. As I fixed my clothes, I noticed the slight crease between his brows; it was the look he got when something important was on his mind.
"Uncle, did something happen?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light; the question tinged with genuine concern.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he ruffled my hair with a faint smile before he bent down to match my height. His eyes met mine, that familiar calm steadiness settling in.
"Neon," he said calmly, his voice carrying a weight that made me pause, "I think I'll be away for about six months for work."
"Six months?" I repeated, feeling the words hit me like a punch to the gut. Six months was a long time. My face must have dropped a little because I tried to hide it.
Uncle rarely left for more than a few weeks, and his longest absence was two months last year. It was always so unexpected, and I never got the whole story. I wanted to ask him the reason, but I knew it would only result in a vague response that never fully answered my question.
"Can't I just come with you?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. I looked him in the eye, hoping he'd take me.
"You can't," he said flatly, cutting me off. "It's dangerous."
I nodded, pretending to act like I understood.
"When are you leaving?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent. My voice betrayed me, a sharp edge of disappointment slipping through.
"Don't worry. I'm not leaving right away," he said, standing up. "I'll be leaving in a month. And you're not going to be alone. You'll stay with one of my friends."
"You have friends?" I shot back, raising an eyebrow. My tone was mocking, a flimsy attempt to mask my frustration.
Uncle laughed, his eyes crinkling in genuine amusement.
"Says the kid who never leaves the house. Do you even have friends?"
"Of course I do..." I mumbled, glancing away to hide the slight embarrassment creeping up on me. "I think?"
Uncle chuckled again, shaking his head.
"Alright, let's see what you've got, then," he said, his tone suddenly serious as his grin faded, replaced by his usual composed expression.
I picked up the wooden rod he had used earlier, gripping it tightly in both hands. It was heavier than I expected, but I adjusted quickly. My small frame was no match for Uncle's towering figure, but I had speed. And if brute force wouldn't work, maybe agility would.
With a burst of energy, I darted forward, aiming strikes at his weak points, his ribs, his knees, and anywhere else I suspected he'd falter. But no matter how quick or unpredictable I was, Uncle countered each move effortlessly. His blocks and dodges were smooth, almost lazy, as if he were just playing with me.
Frustration clawed at me as I pushed myself harder, mixing in kicks with my strikes. Still, nothing worked. It was like trying to bring down an immovable wall.
After what seemed like an eternity, my energy started to wane. My breaths came in ragged gasps, and sweat dripped down my face. Uncle, on the other hand, didn't even look winded.
"We should stop here," he said, his voice calm. Not a single bead of sweat marked his skin.
I stood there panting, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my shirt. My fists clenched at my sides, frustration gnawing at me.
Four years. Four years of training, and I still hadn't landed a single hit. Not one.
There was a reason I was so desperate. We had a bet. If I landed even one hit on Uncle within ten years, he'd grant me any wish I wanted. But if I failed, I would owe him anything he asked for, without question.
I had been confident when the bet started. I'd even boasted that I could do it in five. But now, standing here, drenched in sweat and feeling defeated, I realized the weight of my arrogance. Still, it's not like I was giving up. I still had six years.
After a moment of deep thought, I managed to calm myself. And then, just as I was beginning to steady my breath, my stomach grumbled loudly.
"Pfft. Let's go. We should eat before that monster comes out of your stomach," he teased, smirking before heading toward the elevator.
The rest of the day was spent training, although I felt drained by the end of it.
The next morning, as soon as I woke up around eleven, the school announced that it would take at least one week for classes to resume. Nothing could have made my morning better than knowing I didn't have to go to school for a week.
I immediately went to Uncle with a big smile on my face. I told him the news and asked if we could continue training, but he refused. He said I should do something different for the day and suggested I play the video games he'd bought for me.
"Act like a normal eleven-year-old kid for once," he said.
"But how would I know what normal eleven-year-olds do? This is my first time being eleven!" I protested, but he just smacked the back of my head and went back to watching the drama on the television.
I asked him over and over again, but he ignored me, acting as if he hadn't heard a word I said. Just as I was about to ask again, the doorbell rang.
"Who's that?" Uncle muttered, lowering the volume on the television. His brows furrowed as he glanced toward the door. For a moment, I thought it might be someone he knew, but his expression suggested otherwise.
Curious, I followed him outside. Uncle peeked through the gate before opening it. Standing there was a boy, holding a Tupperware container.
"Hello! I'm your neighbor," the boy said with a cheerful smile. "My mom mentioned you moved in yesterday. It's my birthday today, and she asked me to bring you some food." He extended the container toward Uncle, his grin as bright as the morning sun.
"Oh, thanks! Right on time, I was just getting hungry," Uncle said, his tone shifting dramatically. The gruffness from earlier vanished, replaced by warmth and enthusiasm. He opened the gate and started chatting with the boy, their conversation flowing like old friends catching up.
Bored, I turned to head back inside. Just as I reached the doorway, I heard my name.
"Neon?"
I glanced back, startled. It wasn't Uncle, so I was curious to see who it was. Then I saw the boy Uncle was talking to.
"Joshua?"
It was none other than Josh. He was looking at me with a wide grin, his lips stretched almost to his ears, and his eyes were full of life. Even though it was still morning, he already seemed full of energy.
"Do you two know each other?" Uncle asked, his eyebrows lifting in genuine surprise as he glanced between us.
"He's my classmate," I said, stepping closer to them.
"I'm Joshua, but you can call me Josh, sir. I'm a friend of Neon's. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, offering a friendly smile that radiated warmth and sincerity.
"Oh, really?" Uncle said, raising an eyebrow. His curiosity clearly piqued.