Seconds later, Kenshin rolled off the girl and lay beside her, breathing heavily. Aya was still recovering from the incredible orgasm—her breasts heaved, face flushed, sweat beading on her forehead, cum leaking from her pussy. Minutes later, she mewed tenderly and pressed against Kenshin's broad chest.
"God, that was amazing! Uuuf..." the girl exhaled.
"Uh-huh," the young man agreed, stroking her back and pulling her fragile body closer.
"You know, I still can't believe what happened to me this last month. Just recently I was a simple village girl, and now I'm a beloved wife and young mom with such a wonderful husband and son!" Aya declared inspired, laying her head on Kenshin's broad chest again.
Five minutes later, Aya tried to get up and check on Ichiro, but was grabbed by the hand.
"You didn't think we were done, did you?" Kenshin asked with a smile.
"Aaaah, God, Kenshin, stop..."
The following days were like the previous. Kenshin trained, reinforced and improved formations around home, hunted food, and rested with his beloved family.
Aya cooked, laundered, and enjoyed life as 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, teaching Ichiro to swim, pick berries, catch rabbits and fish. Little Ichiro was ecstatic, eyes shining at his father, eager to grow strong like him soon.
On the ninth day after Ichiro's birth, the wine reached ten-year vintage, and Kenshin set out early morning to Shukuba, wanting to sell the wine and buy necessities.
Kissing his wife goodbye and ruffling little Ichiro's hair—who looked ten—Kenshin departed.
By one p.m., he reached Shukuba and visited the local wine shop.
Entering the fancy store, Kenshin approached the old man at the counter and politely asked, "Hello, I heard you're interested in wine. Specifically ten-year vintage..."
"Hm? Suppose I am. Got some?" the old man asked without greeting, eyeing the young man head to toe, deciding he was another peasant seeking easy money with vinegar-turned wine stored improperly for who-knows-how-long.
"Yes. My late grandpa loved this wine, and these bottles are definitely over ten years," Kenshin stated, pulling five bottles from his backpack.
The old man's skeptical gaze turned to surprise at the bottles' pristine yet time-worn condition. He reached out, took one, held it to the light, stroked the glass, inspected the cork closely, and declared, "500 ryō each, total 2500 ryō."
"Agreed!" Kenshin said, hiding his joy.
Leaving the wine shop in high spirits, Kenshin headed to other stores, planning buys for himself, Aya, and Ichiro. Then he popped into a shinobi goods shop, buying two kunai and ten shuriken.
Of the 2500 ryō earned, the young man had 500 left, dampening his mood a bit. He ate at a local eatery and headed home, detouring through a village to buy ten more wine bottles. Somehow stuffing them into two bags, he mentally thanked the "System" for those wonderful formations halving weight.
Kenshin got home at seven p.m., stopping several times to rest. Home, Ichiro and Aya greeted him—the girl wrapped arms around his neck and kissed his lips, the boy hugged his father, head buried in his belly.
Fifteen days after Ichiro's birth, Kenshin suddenly realized his son would no longer age accelerated. It hit when Kenshin lay in the living room, thinking to yell for Ichiro to bring cold compote.
"Right away, Father," a voice suddenly came from the kitchen.
Kenshin was stunned, jumping from the sofa and shouting, "Ichiro, come here."
"Yes, Father," he called, entering the living room.
"Where's my compote?" Kenshin thought, deciding to test something.
"Oh, I'll get it now," Ichiro said, turning and stepping.
"Wait. Didn't you notice part of our talk happens without me opening my mouth?" Kenshin asked.
"Hm, true..." Ichiro scratched his head.
"Try thinking something to me," Kenshin said mentally to his son.
"Mm, dunno what to think..." echoed in Kenshin's head.
"Good. Now let's train mental communication..."
Hours later, Kenshin and Ichiro mastered telepathic communication, and Kenshin realized his firstborn had fully matured.
Ichiro had grown into a sturdy, muscled guy 180 cm tall. He strongly resembled Kenshin outwardly, except his eyes—blue like his mother's.
Kenshin noted Ichiro had somehow learned to read and write, plus many words and terms no one taught him. Blaming it on "System" antics, Kenshin dismissed it. In Ichiro's "Status," only one thing changed since last—age stuck at 20, no longer racing ahead.
Aya was pregnant with her second child and due 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 slits and knuckle protection.