By the evening of the next day, Keiji had finally fully grown and could hear his father’s mental commands.
Kenshin was delighted and immediately involved his son in training, giving him exactly the same training program as Ichiro.
Ichiro had made some progress in chakra control.
Although he still couldn’t walk on walls, he could masterfully jump between trees or walls, pausing for half a second, then pushing off the wall to make a higher jump, provided there was another wall on the opposite side.
He was best at jumping between trees, pushing off one and landing on another.
Keiji desperately wanted to become as strong as his older brother, so he threw himself headlong into training, awakening his chakra quite quickly by following his older brother’s advice.
Every evening, the two brothers sparred under their father’s expert guidance, growing stronger with each passing day.
Keiji’s talent was even slightly higher than his older brother’s, coming in at 17 units, one unit higher than Ichiro’s.
Kenshin wasn’t in a hurry to draw conclusions based on the ephemeral “talent” indicators.
He believed that while talent was important, without hard work, no amount of talent would help.
Kenshin decided not to have any more children for now.
He wanted to find a kunoichi, raise his level, and only then have more children with Aya.
The very thought disgusted him, but even more unwelcome was the thought of losing his children in the whirlwind of upcoming events.
He refused to treat his descendants as mere bargaining chips for achieving goals.
To him, they were those same little ones who had toddled on his chest, keeping him awake.
For the entire next week, Ichiro and Keiji trained hard.
Keiji very quickly caught up to his brother in strength and speed, apparently having infused his muscles and internal organs with chakra, but he still noticeably lagged in technique.
Every day, Kenshin made his sons spend at least an hour training in throwing shuriken and kunai, setting a live example by training himself.
Sparring with kunai was not conducted for obvious reasons, but Kenshin found a pretty good alternative: he threw small pebbles at his sons, making them deflect them all with kunai.
After a few days, he switched to shuriken, and both his sons learned very quickly to deflect the incoming projectiles.
Kenshin and Aya’s sex life had waned a bit, but he still ran into his wife in the shower every few days, or dragged her into the bedroom, and thanked the soundproofing formation for containing Aya’s incredibly loud moans.
She knew no one could hear them, so she didn’t hold back and screamed at the top of her lungs when the head of his large member slammed into her small womb, sending sparks into her blue eyes.
On the fifty-fifth day after Kenshin’s arrival in this world, the next batch of wine ripened, and Kenshin decided to sell a record-large batch: twenty bottles of ten-year vintage and five bottles of twenty-year vintage.
Kenshin “ordered” Aya to stay home and not go out unless necessary, because he was taking both sons with him.
“Be careful…” Aya whispered, hugging all three in turn and kissing Kenshin.
“Don’t worry, Mom, everything will be fine.
Father and I have been to the city many times,” Ichiro declared, adjusting his backpack.
“Yeah, Mom, don’t worry.
We’ll bring you a roll of silk so you can sew something!” Keiji said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Don’t be bored, sweetheart.
And remember, don’t leave the house unless absolutely necessary,” Kenshin reminded her, and after one last hug, he turned and stepped outside.
As soon as Aya saw the three receding backs, her heart skipped a beat.
She suddenly felt something very wrong and called out: “Kenshin!”
“Hm?
Something wrong?” he asked, turning around.
“Yeah, Mom, what’s wrong?” asked cheerful Keiji, who couldn’t wait to get to the city.
“Umm, no, nothing…” she murmured, forcing a smile.
Kenshin shrugged, turned around, adjusted his backpack, and took a step forward.
His two sons followed.
* * *
The trio reached the city without incident and immediately headed for the wine shop.
The old seller, seeing five bottles of twenty-year vintage wine, first couldn’t believe his eyes and stared at Kenshin.
“Wh-where did you get this wine?” he muttered, returning his gaze to what he considered a work of art.
“Sir, as I explained, our grandfather was a wine collector, and these are his most valuable stocks.
The three of us, his grandsons, decided to sell this wine, having sensibly concluded that our grandfather’s labor, into which he poured his whole soul, should not go to waste.
And who but a wine collector could appreciate it properly?” Kenshin delivered his pre-prepared speech.
“You’re right, young man, you’re right!
Wait a few minutes, I need to check it properly,” the old man said, stepping into the back room behind him.
A few minutes later, he came out holding five sheets of paper with a strange character on them.
He stuck one sheet on each bottle, and after a minute, when all the sheets had turned a dark yellow, he grunted with satisfaction.
“Indeed!
More than twenty, but less than twenty-five!
This is a real find!
I’m willing to give you 6,000 ryo per bottle,” the old man declared, not taking his eyes off the bottles.
“We agree!” Kenshin agreed immediately.
He wasn’t in a position to argue, and besides, with the money he earned, he could “age” as much wine as he wanted.
A few minutes later, the old man counted out 37,000 ryo and handed them to Kenshin, who quickly counted the money, hid it in a secret inner pocket, hastily said goodbye to the seller, and, accompanied by his two sons, walked out the door.
As soon as Kenshin and his two sons left the wine shop, a sturdy-looking boy of about sixteen, wearing a Konoha headband, came down from the second floor.
He politely said goodbye to the old seller and went outside.
On the second floor of the wine shop was an elite hall for connoisseurs of expensive wine.
While there, the black-haired Konoha shinobi, possessing keen hearing, had heard almost the entire conversation between Kenshin and the old seller.
Hearing about the cost of the five bottles of twenty-year vintage wine, he couldn’t contain his greed.
Each bottle of wine was worth more than the reward for a D-rank mission, and he decided to act.
It all helps promote the story.