Alternate Liberation

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of tall trees in the forest glade. The soft chirping of birds accompanied the gentle breeze, carrying with it the earthy aroma of damp soil and fallen leaves. The Wattanakul family was spending their weekend indulging in one of their favorite activities—camping in a nearby forest just outside the city.

Their small pickup truck stood parked at the edge of a forest path. Akira and his mother, Irene, busied themselves unloading the camping gear.

"Akin, grab the tent bag too, will you?" Irene called out, pointing at a dark green duffle bag.

"Got it, Mom," Akira replied, slinging the bag over his shoulder. Though heavy, he carried it with practiced ease.

Parin, his father, walked ahead with a calm demeanor, scanning the area for the perfect camping spot. After a short trek, they arrived at a small open space encircled by towering trees.

"This spot is just right," Parin announced, setting down the bag he carried.

The family worked together to set up their camp. Akira struggled a bit while assembling the tent, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Hold the pole firmly and pull the ropes tight, like this," Parin demonstrated patiently.

"This is more complicated than I thought," Akira muttered but persevered until he got it right.

"Life is a lot tougher than setting up a tent," Parin said with a knowing smile.

Once the camp was set, they began their usual activities. Irene taught Akira about the local plants, pointing out which were edible or useful in survival scenarios, while Parin prepared firewood and sharpened a hunting knife. Laughter and chatter filled the air, though Akira couldn't shake off an odd feeling lurking at the edges of his mind.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Parin invited Akira to a sparring session in a small clearing near the campfire. He handed his son two wooden practice swords, and the two faced off.

"Do you remember the basics I taught you when you were younger?" Parin asked.

"Sort of, but it's been a while," Akira admitted.

They began with fundamental techniques—blocks, counters, and disarming moves. The sound of wood striking wood echoed through the forest. Parin's movements were precise and deliberate, exuding calm control. Akira, on the other hand, struggled to keep up, often losing his balance.

"Remember, Akin," Parin said during a feint attack, "fighting isn't about winning; it's about survival. Sometimes retreating is the smartest move."

Akira nodded, absorbing the lesson as best he could while trying to counter his father's swift strikes. He incorporated twin-sword techniques he had developed during his training with Sayaka Hoshikawa, his mother's friend and his former swordsmanship instructor. Though unpolished, Parin nodded in approval.

"That's an intriguing technique," Parin remarked as he lowered his practice sword. "Hoshikawa-san must have helped refine it."

"She did," Akira said with a small smile. "She called it promising and helped shape it into something usable."

Irene approached them, carrying her own wooden sword, her hair glistening slightly from the sweat of a day's work. "Akin, how about a bout with your mother?"

"With you, Mom?" Akira asked, his smile faltering slightly.

"Don't underestimate me," Irene replied, already taking her stance.

The sparring session escalated in intensity. Irene's speed and precision combined with Parin's calculated strength pushed Akira to his limits. Despite his efforts to counter their synchronized attacks with his twin-sword style, he found himself outmatched at every turn.

When the session finally ended, Akira collapsed onto the grass near the campfire, his chest heaving from exertion. He looked at his parents, who sat across from him, and voiced a question that had been nagging at him for years.

"Mom, Dad," he began hesitantly. "Why did you let me learn swordsmanship in the first place? Back then, it felt like just a childish dream, but you took it so seriously."

Irene chuckled softly as she adjusted her slightly disheveled hair. "It's because I trusted Hoshikawa-san. She's someone I deeply respect, and I thought it would be good for you to learn from her. You know, she always spoke highly of you behind your back."

Akira raised an eyebrow in surprise. "She did? But she was so strict with me. Every training session felt like torture, especially when I worked on my 'Star Blade' technique. She took it so seriously, even though I made it up on a whim. Meanwhile, she dismissed everyone else's ideas outright."

"Maybe she saw something in you that others didn't," Irene said warmly, her eyes gleaming with pride. "I think she recognized your genuine passion and wanted to nurture it."

Though pleased, Akira couldn't help but ask, "But why are we still practicing swordsmanship, even now? In today's world, wars are fought with guns, tanks, and nuclear weapons. Swords feel…obsolete."

Parin, who had been poking the fire with a stick, spoke up with a calm but firm tone. "What we teach you isn't about wielding a sword to harm others, Akin. It's about equipping you to protect yourself."

"Protect myself…" Akira repeated, puzzled.

"Imagine this," Parin continued. "If you were trained to use a gun, but one day the gun jams, or you run out of bullets—what then? On the other hand, if you don't have a sword, you could use a stick. And if there's no stick, you still have your own hands. What we're teaching you is how to adapt, to survive, no matter what tools you have—or don't have."

Akira was silent for a moment before nodding slowly. "I've never thought of it that way before. Thanks, Dad."

Irene smiled and handed him a towel to wipe his sweat. "Swordsmanship isn't just about combat, Akin. It's about refining your mind and spirit. I believe that one day, you'll understand its true value."

Akira accepted the towel with a small grin. "But next time, could you go a bit easier on me? I'm pretty sure I almost became one with the ground just now."

Their laughter echoed softly beneath the starry sky, a sound that filled the clearing with warmth and connection.

Later that evening, as they sat by the fire, Akira shared another concern that had been weighing on his mind.

"Mom, Dad," he began hesitantly. "Lately, I've been hearing strange things—like the sound of shattering glass or whispers calling my name. It's been happening more and more, and it feels…unnatural."

Irene froze for a moment, her hand still as she poured tea into Parin's cup. Her face paled slightly, but she quickly composed herself.

"It's probably just your imagination, Akin," Parin said with a reassuring smile.

"But the sounds are so clear, like they're trying to tell me something," Akira insisted, his voice filled with unease.

Irene placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of warmth but tinged with something deeper—perhaps worry. "Don't overthink it, my dear. Sometimes, the mind plays tricks on us. Focus on the present. Everything will make sense in time."

Though their words were meant to comfort, Akira couldn't ignore the feeling that something was being left unsaid. He nodded quietly, choosing not to press further—for now.

As the night deepened, his parents shared one last piece of advice.

"Remember, Akin," Parin said, his voice steady. "What we're teaching you today may hold meaning in the future."

Lying in his tent under the shimmering moonlight, Akira couldn't shake the echoes of shattering glass in his mind. The forest's silence offered no solace. Instead, it amplified the sense that something profound was on the horizon—something that would soon upend everything he thought he knew.