Rebirth From Ordinary Person To The Strongest

After setting down our bags, we headed for the hot spring. I grabbed a towel, thinking we'd need one, only to learn the bathhouse had complimentary towels. Honestly, if I were a little younger, I'd be stacking them into a fort by now.

The bathhouse was deserted at this time, with most guests opting for lunch or a post-lunch nap. As we entered the changing room, Dad and Renji-san started preparing to head in, their backs turned, exposing the scars that marked them like medals from a battle-worn life.

Renji-san's body bore several large, jagged scars, the kind you'd expect from close calls with monsters. A thick line ran down his face, a gift from some creature, I imagined, that had gotten close enough to leave its mark but hadn't made it out alive. And Dad—his whole frame was a landscape of wounds. Burn marks ran over his arms, a few circular scars dotted his shoulder, and his chest had a long, raw scar that looked like it had taken a miracle to heal.

Seeing them, it was hard not to feel like a kid playing dress-up in a world meant for adults. My own arms and legs seemed out of place next to these battle-hardened warriors, as if my scars were something I'd have to grow into one day. The thought didn't sit comfortably with me.

Dad caught me staring, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"Nothing," I said quickly, looking away. I didn't want to admit that I was already imagining how my body might one day bear similar marks. Yet, a strange sense of pride bloomed within me, too—a connection to a path I hadn't fully chosen but felt destined for all the same.

I followed Dad and Renji-san through the steam-filled corridor that led to the main bath area. The dense air felt like a barrier, thick with an almost magical warmth that enveloped us. As we settled into the water, the heat seeped into my muscles, relaxing them in a way I hadn't realized I needed. The spring smelled faintly of sulfur, earthy and grounding, as if it were drawing out not just the dirt from my skin but something deeper, something lodged in my bones.

"First time at a real hot spring?" Renji-san asked, smiling slightly as he leaned back against the stone wall of the bath.

"Yeah," I admitted, letting myself sink deeper into the water. "It's… nice."

But my mind kept drifting back to Nina-chan. I thought about how I had left her earlier, looking almost fragile, yet clinging to me with a strength that surprised me. I could still feel the tight grip of her fingers on my arm, like she was holding on for dear life. My heart twisted at the memory, and I wondered if she'd ever truly heal from the darkness that haunted her.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder would shatter the quiet peace around us.

Dad exchanged a glance with Renji-san before looking back at me. His expression softened, and for a moment, I saw something rare in his eyes—a gentleness I'd almost forgotten he was capable of.

"People don't heal all at once, especially not from what Nina's been through," he said quietly. "It takes time, and sometimes all we can do is be there."

Renji-san nodded in agreement. "Sometimes, being there is the hardest job of all, especially when you can't fight the battles they're facing. Heart wounds don't heal like cuts or bruises, and they don't leave obvious scars. But having someone by her side might make all the difference."

Their words hung heavy in the air, but there was a warmth to them—a reminder that the scars we couldn't see were often the ones that needed the most care. It made me wonder how many unseen scars these men carried, how many battles they'd fought, not just with monsters but with themselves, and with the ghosts of people they'd had to leave behind.

I let my mind wander to what it would be like to be that kind of support for someone. It was a big responsibility, more than anything I'd imagined when I first started training as a mage. But I wanted to do it. For Nina, and maybe even for myself.

After a while, the three of us sat in silence, listening to the soft trickle of water from a nearby fountain, lost in our own thoughts. The world felt vast and endless, as if this small hot spring bath was somehow connected to something larger, some unspoken bond between us.

"Let's hit the sauna," Dad said eventually, breaking the silence.

The sauna room was a heat that smacked you in the face the moment you stepped inside, dry and relentless. Inside, the air felt as thick as soup, and every breath was like inhaling the sun. I followed Dad and Renji-san's lead, picking up a small seat mat and placing it on the wooden bench, like some kind of ceremonial setup.

"Sit as long as you can handle it," Renji-san advised, "but remember, the goal is to relax, not suffer. If it gets too hot, step out."

I nodded, but I had to admit I was already regretting this. The heat pressed down on me, and it felt like I was breathing through a thick towel. After only a few minutes, beads of sweat began to form on my forehead, trickling down my face and neck. Every part of me screamed to get out, but there was something oddly satisfying about enduring it, like testing my own limits.

My thoughts drifted again to Nina-chan, and I wondered if this kind of experience could help her. If the sauna had this effect on me, maybe it could calm her restless mind, bring her some peace, even if only for a little while.

"You think this kind of thing could help Nina?" I asked, my voice coming out in a slow, parched whisper.

Dad and Renji-san looked thoughtful, and after a pause, Dad answered. "Maybe," he said, his voice gentle. "It's hard to say. But there's no harm in trying. Anything that brings a bit of calm can make a difference."

Renji-san nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "She's been through a lot, but she's tough. Give her time, and don't underestimate the power of just being there."

The words lingered with me, and I found myself wondering about the unseen battles these two had fought, the quiet strength they carried like an unspoken promise to the people they protected. It was a kind of strength I hoped I could grow into someday.

After what felt like an eternity, I couldn't handle the heat any longer. I mumbled a quick "I'm out" and stumbled out of the sauna, grateful for the cool air that hit me like a breath of fresh life. Outside, I found two water pools, each marked with a temperature sign: one at 17°C and the other at a bone-chilling 7°C.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I dipped my hand into the 7°C pool. The icy water stung my fingers, and I yanked my hand out reflexively. Nope, not going in there. I opted for the 17°C pool instead, easing myself into the water and shivering as the coolness enveloped me. It was a shocking contrast to the heat of the sauna, but as my body adjusted, the chill became strangely soothing, melting away the tension that had built up in the sauna.

Dad and Renji-san emerged a few minutes later, looking as refreshed as ever. Dad, with his usual nonchalance, dunked himself in the 7°C pool without a moment's hesitation. Watching him, I felt both admiration and a bit of incredulity—how could anyone willingly subject themselves to that?

After cooling down, Dad led us to the outdoor area for the final step—what he called the "outdoor relaxation phase." We settled into the chairs set up on the veranda, letting the evening breeze wash over us. The sensation of the cool air on my skin, combined with the lingering warmth from the sauna and hot spring, felt like nothing I'd ever experienced. My mind emptied out, and I felt a deep calm settle over me, as if all my worries were floating away on the breeze.

For a while, we just sat there in silence, absorbing the tranquility of the surroundings. Then, Renji-san broke the silence.

"You're a good kid, Itsuki," he said softly. "Aya's lucky to have you as a friend."

The words caught me off guard. I'd never thought of myself as anything special, but hearing those words from Renji-san, a man who'd fought more battles than I could imagine, meant something.

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling a bit shy. "I'll do my best."

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Just keep being there for her, like you are now. That's what matters."

As the evening deepened and the first stars appeared in the sky, I felt a strange sense of peace. This was the calm I'd been searching for, and maybe, with a little luck, it was something I could help Nina and Aya find, too. For now, that was enough.