Amaku Yasashii Sekai de Ikiru ni wa

Gun! Gun! Gun! Bum!

Right, left, top, bottom and spear in from various directions, twisting away. But my father stopped the spear I rolled out without moving from the spot, and the spear I shook to shrug my feet was avoided a little across.

"We're going here next, Doyle!

My father was a bummer when I turned my spear around! and scream with a spear. Instead of the usual sweet cat stroke, my skin trembles tingly in my voice as one samurai, and my feet stop for a moment with sharp eyes and a temper in my voice.

At the next moment, Father, who had packed the distance until now, relentlessly releases a sharp thrust. Like pouring rain, the thrust rolling out uninterrupted is fast and heavy.

In an attempt to distance himself from his father, he retreats with a piece of paper on his spear, but [Brave Thunderspear] can't possibly allow it. Instinct alarms at the distance that never spreads and the slight pain and paralysis felt each time the spear plunders.

If we don't leave soon, they'll push us off!

Although my head knows I have to get out of my father's range, it's much harder to practice. The gradual increase in speed and number of scratches also increases the depth from cutting a piece of skin to seeping out blood.

I desperately float my head and erase the measures to break the status quo. The sound of bees and deafening thunder disappeared for a moment as I managed to cling to the rush of poking while I felt the chillies and thunder burn my skin stronger.

And in the next moment, I feel the shock and pain of piercing my belly, blowing it backwards as it were. When I thought there was a buzzing sound of wind cutting in my ear, I felt a strong shock on my back like I was going after him.

"Doyle!

The shock that I felt all over my back and the absence of a voice and stuffiness in my stomach that tingled and ached like I had a fever, my mother, watching me workout on the side, rushes up to me screaming my name.

"Doyle, are you okay? I'll fix you right up! Look, it hurts. It hurts. Fly away."

I get distracted by my mother, who talks about a dialogue that is commonly used in private therapy. However, there is no reason to deduct the pain eaten from my father in a restful language such as that used in four- or five-year-old children, even if my mother is called the [Virgin].

... Mother. Before such folk therapy, please do the restorative magic!

I can't afford to speak out because I'm hurting my stomach and back. That's what I scream in my heart. But there was no way that my mood could be conveyed to my mother, who did not try to use medium healing magic.

Maybe he taught this nonsense at an exchange with mothers with the sons of the inhabitants that took place the other day.

This is just a workout, so Father is definitely giving me a hand job. For this reason, there are no life-threatening injuries, and perhaps this stroke will heal in a week or so if you remain at rest.

But there is the best [Virgin] in the country in front of me, and I know I can break up with this pain in an instant, so why should I endure the pain?

At a time like this, it is Merrill who puts a little bit of a natural, laid back mother into it and fixes the track, but Hate now that there are customers or something, she is chased into the house in preparation for it.

I manage to gaze at my father waiting for me to come back, listening to the nagging of my mother's rest, which doesn't work at all. My stomach aches get worse gradually. When I was stuffy and desperately looking to my father for help, he finally saw my father rushing over here noticing my anomaly.

"Doyle!"

I was relieved in my heart when I was finally released from the pain by the look of my father, who would throw out the practice spear I had and run.

"I'm sorry, Doyle. I don't know if I'm just a jerk!

"It's okay, Mother. Thanks to you, it doesn't hurt anywhere anymore, and that degree of injury is a daily tea meal in workouts. Your father has helped you, and it's an injury that will heal if you leave it alone."

"But it hurt, didn't it? I'm sorry."

If you look up at your father in difficulty in dealing with your mother, who has shrunk down a lot, you will come in to comfort your mother with a bitter laugh.

"You're telling me Doyle's okay, aren't you?

"But..."

"Everyone has their failures, Serena."

"... Alan"

I sit on a cloth prepared by Merrill for my break, staring at my parents, who hold hands together and stare at each other hot, in a complicated mood, and go into a break alone.

My clothes are worn out and dirty, but my body is not scratched and my pain is gone now. Normally, I resume my workout with enough to heal my father's last blow and back stroke to make him less vulnerable to pain, but my body is lighter and more comfortable than it was before I started working out at all times, thanks to the hasty mother doing the healing magic at all costs.

Honestly, when my mother stroked my abdomen with her mundane words in her mouth, I thought for the first time in a long time that I would be aware of the pain, but I didn't have to let go of my critical consciousness thanks to my father for rushing me.

At that time, Mother, who had no idea why Father had rushed, was very surprised by the shape of Father who had rushed over.

And then, because of Father's desperate explanation, I understood that stroking the affected area along with the words' It hurts, fly away the pain 'was just a resting apathy, and that the pain doesn't actually pull off, Mother will do the magic of recovery while half crying, and I am here now.

............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Reminded of the bitterness of being stroked around bruising marks and recognising the dangers of a mother without Meryl on her side, I relieve myself of the atmosphere in which I am likely to finish my workout today as I put my still snuggling parents at the edge of my sight.

Sometimes having a light lunch here and working out with me until the evening is a classic on my father's day off, but he said we have dinner because the customers are coming today, so maybe Merrill or Mordo will come and get us in a little while.

Looking up at the sky as I slept with him.

The sun floating in a blue sky with no clouds blinded me and accidentally covered my eyes with my hands. If you open your eyes to the feel of your hands touching your eyelids, you will see your palms shattered because of the crushed beans, clutching them unexpectedly.

.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Think back to today's workout with a slightly spreading taste of blood in your chewed mouth. Attribute spears wrapped around a string of spears and thunder that my father showed me, a blow using a pattern that would be a kind of bar technique. No matter how much you imitate and wave a spear, how come you don't gain any skills in prevention?

Your father and grandfather have told you to keep working out, and if you can get one, you can remember the others in no time. Sebastian, Mordo, Merrill and Mother say that they're okay too, they just won't remember me yet because I'm young, but fulfill it. Is that really true?

I'm about to celebrate my tenth birthday, am I the only one who thinks it's impossible to say I'm young?

I can't believe you can't get a single skill by waving this much, maybe I...

"- Honey. - Le! Doyle!!

"Oh, Mother?

Suddenly he shook his shoulder and his mother looked at me worried as he returned from the swirl of hah thoughts. Apparently, because I was thinking, I didn't hear your mother calling me at all.

If I called my mother, she had an anxious look on her face, distorted her face even more, put her hand on my back when she woke up and asked me how she was feeling worried.

"Doyle. What's the matter with you? I knew it still hurt somewhere?

"No. I'm fine. Nothing hurts."

"Really? You don't have to force a customer to come, do you?

"It's okay. I've been thinking a little bit, so I'm just slowing down."

"Thinking? Something bothering you, too?

To the mother who woke me up worried, I wondered where the hell Father had gone, talking to Mordo, who had picked me up at some point.

Apparently, he's listening to the report. He decides it's impossible to ask his father for help, and puts his gaze back on his mother. Talk to me about anything, and I worry about what to answer to my mother waiting for me to open my mind with a look like that.

I'm sure Mother would comfort me if I didn't have the skills to learn and worry about it.

But now I have a hard time listening to that word.

I know repeatedly that my mother believes in me purely and speaks to me that I'm okay, but the word 'okay' without any basis makes me pile up something like starch.

When this unpleasant starchy emotion overflows, I feel like I'm gonna throw a terrible word at my mother.

"............... it's no big deal. I thought lunch was something because I was hungry."

"Oh, well, then I'll have to get back and get dressed."

My mother, who was quietly waiting for me to speak, stood me up when she laughed furiously at the words complaining of my hunger, and began to clean up the cloths and watermarks that were laid on the ground.

My mother, who has spent time in church since childhood, although a little oblivious to private mundane and common sense, is surprisingly good at cleaning and laundry because of the church teachings she does herself.

Moaning satisfactorily as she quickly cleaned up and put everything in a larger basket, Mother calls Father and Mordo.

Seeing that the two of them had just finished speaking to the voice turned their feet to this side, Mother also tried to walk out to Father and Father with her luggage, so she fastened and received her luggage.

"I'll take it"

"Well. Thanks, Doyle"

If I took the package a little forcefully from my mother's hand, my mother gave me a surprised look for a moment, but the next moment I smiled softly.

"Doyle's so sweet."

"It's natural for a man to have luggage. Mother."

And he's a man.

My hand stroking my head with laughter tickles as I tickle, and I walk out of my mother's hand to escape. And I looked back at my mother a few steps away.

"Mother, Father and Mordo await"

"I'm coming now."

If I called out to him wondering if I had hurt him by intentionally avoiding my mother's hand, my mother had no wind at all that I cared for, but rather laughed happily somewhere.

"I'm sure Doyle will be a great brave man, stronger and more manly than Alan."

That's what my mother told me, winking properly, "Let's go, shall we? He said," and pushed my back.

I felt another pile of starchy things on the words and the smile of my mother, who was not false.

"Serena! Doyle! It's time to go!

"Yes!"

Mother, who replied gladly to Father's words, walking with her back pressed, I do not want to be seen with the expression that would be floating right now, so I hold the basket back and hide my face. Gently pressing my back Feeling the temperature of my mother's palm on my back, I bit my lips off a good bite.

If you breathe shallow and repeated to erase the expression that would be floating between you and your fathers, who have less than a few dozen meters to go, the force in your face will gradually fall out.

And the last time I took a big, deep breath, the basket I'd been hiding my face from was gone from my hand.

"Good day. Were you heavy? Doyle."

"This much is fine"

"Right."

I answer with a grin on my father, who stroked my head, as I give Mordo the basket I took from my hand. I look at me like that, and I walk out with my father, my mother walking next door, and I follow that oblique back Mordo, too.

In my head walking after my parents, who seem to be walking happily, talking about customers who have already arrived, my mother's words were grunting around earlier.

"I'm sure Doyle will be a great brave man, stronger and more manly than Alan."

Can I really be [Spear Brave], Mother?

That's what I asked my mother in my heart, chasing my parents' backs much bigger than myself.