A few seconds later, Kenshin rolled off the girl and lay beside her, breathing heavily.
Aya was still coming to her senses after the incredible orgasm; her chest heaved, her face was flushed, sweat beaded on her forehead, and semen was leaking from her pussy.
A few minutes later, she let out a soft moan and pressed herself against Kenshin’s broad chest.
“God, that was amazing!
Uuuf…” the girl breathed out.
“Mm-hm,” the young man agreed, stroking her back and pulling her fragile body closer.
“You know, I still can’t believe everything that’s happened to me over the past month.
Just recently I was a simple village girl, and now I’m a beloved wife and a young mother with such a wonderful husband and son!” Aya declared enthusiastically, laying her head back on Kenshin’s broad chest.
Five minutes later, Aya made to get up and go check on Ichiro, but she was grabbed by the arm.
“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Kenshin asked with a smile.
“Aaaah, god, Kenshin, stop…”
* * *
The following days were much like the ones before.
Kenshin trained, reinforced and improved the formations near the dwelling, hunted for food, and rested with his beloved family.
Aya cooked, did the laundry, and enjoyed the life of a happy, young mother.
Ichiro ran, frolicked, and played, constantly pestering his father with questions and imitating him in everything.
Kenshin still took his wife and child on walks, having taught Ichiro to swim, pick berries, and catch rabbits and fish.
Little Ichiro was delighted, watching his father with burning eyes, wanting to grow up quickly and become just as strong.
On the ninth day after Ichiro’s birth, the wine reached its ten-year aging mark, and Kenshin set out early in the morning, heading for the city of Shukuba, hoping to sell the wine and buy the things he needed.
After kissing his wife goodbye and ruffling the hair of little Ichiro, who looked ten years old, Kenshin set off.
By one in the afternoon, he reached the city of Shukuba and stopped by the local wine shop.
Entering the wealthy store, Kenshin approached the old man sitting behind the counter and politely inquired, “Hello, I heard you’re interested in wine.
Specifically, wine aged for ten years.”
“Hm?
Well, let’s say I am.
What, you’ve got some?” the old man asked, not bothering to return the greeting.
He looked the young man up and down and decided he was just another peasant who’d come looking for easy money, bringing wine that had turned to vinegar, stored at home God knows how many years without proper conditions.
“Yes, I do.
My late grandfather was a big lover of this wine, and these bottles are definitely over ten years old,” Kenshin declared, pulling five bottles of wine from his backpack.
The old man’s skeptical look turned to surprise when he saw the condition of the bottles.
They were in perfect preservation, but with a patina of age.
The old man reached out, took one of the bottles, held it up to the light, stroked the glass, examined the cork carefully, and declared, “Five hundred ryo each, 2500 ryo total.”
“Deal!” Kenshin said, trying to hide the joy that had risen in him.
Leaving the wine shop, Kenshin headed to other stores in high spirits, planning to buy some things for himself, Aya, and Ichiro.
Then he stopped by a shop with shinobi goods and bought two kunai and ten shuriken.
Of the 2500 ryo he’d earned, only 500 remained in the young man’s hands, and his high spirits dipped a little.
He grabbed a bite at a local eatery and headed home, making a detour to stop by one of the villages, where he bought ten bottles of wine.
After somehow loading them into two bags, he mentally thanked the “system” for such wonderful formations that could halve the weight.
Kenshin returned home at seven in the evening, stopping several times to catch his breath.
At home, he was met by Ichiro and Aya; the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips, while the boy hugged his father, burying his head in his stomach.
* * *
Fifteen days after Ichiro’s birth, Kenshin suddenly realized that his son would no longer age at an accelerated rate.
It happened when Kenshin was lying in the living room and thought about calling out to ask Ichiro to bring some cold compote.
“Coming, Father,” a voice suddenly came from the kitchen.
Kenshin was taken aback and jumped up from the couch, calling out, “Ichiro, come here.”
“Yes, Father,” he called back, and came into the living room.
“Where’s my compote?” Kenshin thought, deciding to test something.
“Oh, I’ll bring it right now,” Ichiro said, and turned around, taking a step.
“Stop.
Did you notice that part of our conversation happens when I’m not opening my mouth?” Kenshin asked.
“Hm, that’s true…” Ichiro scratched the back of his head.
“Try thinking something directed at me,” Kenshin said to his son mentally.
“Hmm, I don’t know what to think…” came the voice in Kenshin’s head.
“There, good job.
Now let’s practice mental communication…”
A few hours later, Kenshin and Ichiro had learned to communicate mentally through telepathy, and Kenshin realized that his firstborn had finally fully grown up.
Ichiro had grown into a sturdy, muscular young man, 180 centimeters tall.
In appearance, he strongly resembled Kenshin, except for his eyes — Ichiro’s were blue, like his mother’s.
Kenshin noticed that Ichiro had somehow learned to read and write, and also knew many words and terms that no one had taught him.
Writing it all off as the “system’s” doing, Kenshin put it out of his mind.
In Ichiro’s “status,” only one item had changed since last time.
His age had now stopped at 20 years old and no longer grew rapidly.
Aya was pregnant with their second child and was due to give birth any day now, so she rested more and moved less.
Ichiro handled the simplest household chores, but from that day on, Kenshin decided to involve his son in entirely different matters and invited him to the gym.
“Put on the gloves,” Kenshin said, tossing his son special gloves with finger holes and knuckle protection.