Time did not rush.
It never did.
It moved quietly—
Through small failures,
Through repeated effort,
Through moments no one else would notice.
Alias fell.
Again.
And again.
Small feet losing balance.
Small hands catching the ground.
"…Up."
He pushed himself.
Again.
Days passed.
"Wa…"
"…Waa…"
"…Water."
Wrong.
Still wrong.
"…Again."
"Wa…ter."
Closer.
Closer.
Voices surrounded him daily.
Words he didn't understand—
Until he did.
"Eat."
"Come."
"Sleep."
Simple.
But each one—
A victory.
He listened.
Watched.
Learned.
Like a blade being sharpened—
Not in one strike.
But in hundreds.
Rain came.
Then sunlight.
Then cold mornings.
Then warm afternoons.
The world changed.
And so did he.
"…One year passed."
The boy who once struggled to stand—
Now walked.
Steady.
Balanced.
Alias stepped across the wooden floor without hesitation.
No falling.
No crawling.
Only movement.
Controlled.
"…Better."
His voice—
Clear.
Not perfect.
But understandable.
Outside, the village breathed with quiet life.
"Alias!"
He turned.
Immediately.
Emi stood by the doorway, holding a small wooden cup.
"Come here."
Alias walked toward her.
No confusion.
No delay.
"…Mother."
The word came out naturally.
Emi froze.
"…You…"
Her eyes widened.
"You said it again…"
Alias blinked.
"…Of course I did."
But instead—
"I… say… mother."
Simple.
Broken.
But real.
Emi's expression softened.
She smiled—
Then suddenly pulled him into a hug.
"You're really talking now…"
Alias stiffened slightly.
"…This again."
But—
He didn't resist.
"…It's… warm."
Haruki entered shortly after, carrying a bundle of wood.
"What's all this noise—"
He stopped.
"…Wait."
He looked at Alias.
"Say something."
Alias stared back.
"…A test."
He thought for a moment.
Then:
"…Father."
Silence.
Then—
Haruki laughed loudly.
"Well, I'll be damned."
Emi wiped her eyes, smiling.
"He's growing so fast…"
Alias looked between them.
"…Fast?"
"No."
"This is necessary."
Days passed quietly after that.
But everything—
Was different now.
Alias walked freely around the house.
Then outside.
The village opened itself to him.
People moved with purpose.
Talking.
Working.
Living.
"…No fear."
No tension.
No blood.
"…Peaceful."
Children ran past him.
Laughing.
Alias watched them.
"…Strange."
In his past life—
Children didn't laugh like that.
Not for long.
"…This world…"
He looked up at the sky.
"…I'll protect it."
The thought came naturally.
Without hesitation.
Later that day—
Alias held a stick.
Simple.
Light.
But in his hands—
A sword.
He stepped back slightly.
Feet adjusting.
Grip tightening.
"…Too light."
"…Too small."
"…Too slow."
His body couldn't keep up.
Not yet.
He swung.
Clumsy.
Unbalanced.
The stick slipped slightly.
"…Again."
He adjusted.
Step.
Turn.
Swing.
Still imperfect.
But better.
Each movement—
More controlled.
More intentional.
From the doorway—
Haruki watched.
"…That kid…"
Emi stood beside him.
"…He's serious."
Haruki crossed his arms.
"…Too serious for his age."
Alias ignored them.
"…Focus."
Swing.
Step.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Later—
Alias sat alone under a tree.
The same book rested on his lap.
Worn.
Unchanged.
"…Let's see."
He opened it.
Symbols filled the page.
Strange.
Unfamiliar.
But—
Not entirely.
"…This one…"
He traced a character with his finger.
"…Seen before."
Another page.
Same symbol.
"…Repeated."
His eyes narrowed.
"…Pattern."
Slowly—
Very slowly—
It began to make sense.
Not the meaning.
But the structure.
"…I'm getting closer."
A breeze passed through the village.
Carrying voices from afar.
"…Magic…"
"…Guild…"
"…Monster…"
Alias's head lifted.
"…Monster."
A word he recognized.
Barely.
But enough.
"…So it exists here too."
His grip on the book tightened slightly.
"…Good."
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Only—
Resolve.
Night fell.
The village quieted.
Lights dimmed.
Inside the house—
Alias lay on his bed once more.
But this time—
He didn't feel small.
He didn't feel helpless.
"…One year."
His hand lifted slightly.
Fingers closing slowly.
"…I can move."
"…I can speak."
"…I can learn."
Step by step.
Piece by piece.
He was rebuilding himself.
Not as Toya.
But as something new.
"…Alias."
The name felt natural now.
Real.
His eyes slowly closed.
"…This time…"
A quiet breath.
"…I'll be ready."
Silence followed.
And in that silence—
A new blade was forming.
Not forged in war—
But in patience.
In growth.
In time.
Unseen.
Unstoppable.