Spring comes as Taro slips

Every day, we diligently engage in our training, the passage of time marked by the rhythm of our efforts. Some days are endless, while others are fleeting, with the sun's descent hastening their end. Winter gradually relinquishes its grip, and signs of the changing season are becoming evident.

The once pristine snow has yielded to the warming sun, revealing patches of vibrant green grass, making every step a muddy adventure. The trees and flowers awaken, their buds unfurling in various hues, while the triumphant melodies of birds fill the air. Other hibernating creatures emerge, adding a new vitality to our surroundings. The ice on the rivers and lakes cracks and melts under the touch of a burgeoning spring. Nature, it seems, is celebrating the arrival of this new season.

Recently, a new dimension has been introduced to our training. Father has adopted a routine of ambushing and surprising Taro almost daily. These exercises are intended to sharpen Taro's reflexes and vigilance, preparing him for the unexpected. Lately, Father invited me to join these impromptu sparring sessions, and I eagerly accepted. Although I lack the physical strength to overpower Taro, I have discovered that my stamina and agility allow me to keep up with him.

During one such session, Taro inquires with curiosity, "Otousan, why have you included Harumi in these attacks?" He skillfully parries my jabs and counters with well-timed moves while keeping his attention on Father.

Unbeknownst to Taro, Father has already seized the opportunity presented by Taro's momentary distraction. In a swift maneuver, Taro flips backward, narrowly evading Father's impending attack. Simultaneously, he unknowingly launches me toward Father, thanks to the improvised footwear I had fashioned using Mamoru.

A surprised Father drops his weapon, startled by my sudden appearance. I react instinctively, releasing my grip on Mamoru to avoid accidentally injuring Father. Taro, displaying impressive agility, dodges both of us but loses his footing on the muddy terrain. He tumbles forward, landing face-first before somersaulting onto his back.

An eerie silence falls over us as we stand frozen in that peculiar moment. Then, without warning, I burst into laughter, the situation's absurdity too much to contain. Soon, Father and Taro join me, and our laughter harmonizes in the training ground. We bend to pick up our fallen weapons, the remnants of our mock skirmish still fresh on our minds, but the joy of camaraderie and shared humor prevails. Taro's body, once relatively pristine, is now thoroughly coated in mud. As for Father and me, we wear splashes of dirt on our faces and clothing.

Sensing a change in the weather, Father decides, "Let's conclude our training early today." He observes the ominous dark clouds gathering above. We all concur with nods of agreement.

Before we make our way home, Father takes a moment to address Taro's query, a faint smile on his lips. "By the way," he says, "I've included Harumi in these exercises because of her exceptional speed and stamina. Her youth gives her a boundless wellspring of energy at the moment."

Taro comprehends the wisdom in Father's words and remarks, "I see. I need to focus on building my stamina, then."

I chuckled at Taro's resolve. "Yes, that's a good idea," I interject playfully. "And be mindful of where you step next time. It seems you've had a less-than-favorable encounter with... animal waste." I scrunch my nose in a mock display of distaste. The pungent aroma was quite overwhelming. With a smirk, I follow Father and Taro as we return home.

"What do you... m-mean? UGH... what is that smell?" Taro sniffs the air, his brows furrowing in confusion. He peers around, attempting to locate the source of the noxious odor. I point at his back, and a dawning realization washes over his face. He may not see it, but the smell is now unmistakable, much more pungent than he imagined.

With exaggerated discomfort, I wrinkle my nose and nod in agreement. "We should head home soon so we can all have a proper bath," I suggest, the stench too overpowering to be ignored. Father joins in, pinching his nose as well, quickening his pace. The training ground is relatively close to our house. Still, with Taro carrying that pungent aroma, the journey home feels unusually protracted.

Our training ground borders the open field adjacent to the forest's edge. Father has always cautioned us against venturing into the woods without his or Taro's company. Currently, larger wild animals emerge from their winter hibernation. These creatures can become agitated by our presence and the human scent, posing a significant danger. Moreover, the approaching mating season makes them even more unpredictable. Given these concerns, Father has explicitly prohibited us from hunting or entering the forest during this period, reserving those tasks for himself and Taro.

As we finally reached our house, dark, rain-heavy clouds blanketed the sky above our small town. Raindrops fall on us as Father opens the door, revealing a familiar sight. We hastily remove our handmade bamboo shoes, only to discover towels and fresh clothes thoughtfully laid out for us.

Taro observes the preparation and remarks with a nod, "Looks like Yuko has once again anticipated our needs." He shrugs nonchalantly, gathering the towels and distributing them among us.

Still maintaining a distance from Taro's odor, Father suggests, "Taro, why don't you take the first bath." Taro agrees with a nod and makes his way toward the bathing area. Father then gestures to me, indicating that I am next in line. We unfold the towels and place them on the tatami mat, where we sit while waiting our turn.

During this tranquil interlude, I turn to Father with a question. "Otousan, do you think I can join the military when I grow up?" I inquire, seeking his guidance on a matter of great importance to me.

For a moment, Father remains silent, the ambient sounds comprising the soft, rhythmic rain on the roof, the flow of water being pumped, and the comforting crackling of the firewood burning to keep us warm. Finally, he replies solemnly, addressing the complexities of my question, "If you were born as a male boy, you would have the option and the obligation to serve in the military for the sake of your country and town. But you are not a boy; you are a girl. One day, when we find a suitable husband for you, you will leave our family and start a family of your own." I detect a faint glimmer in his eyes, hinting at his understanding of the bittersweet reality ahead.

It reminds me of the path I am destined to follow as a girl, a fate that will one day lead me away from the embrace of my loving parents to start a new family.