By the evening of the next day, Keiji had finally grown fully and could hear his father's mental commands. Kenshin was delighted and immediately involved his son in training, giving him the exact same program as Ichiro.
Ichiro had made some progress in chakra control. He still couldn't walk on walls, but he could leap masterfully from tree to tree or wall to wall, sticking for half a second before pushing off for a higher jump—provided there was another wall opposite. He did best leaping between trees, pushing off one and landing on another.
Keiji desperately wanted to become as strong as his big brother, so he dove headfirst into training, quickly awakening his chakra by following his older brother's advice.
Every evening, the two brothers sparred under their father's expert guidance, growing stronger each day.
Keiji's talent was even a bit higher than his older brother's—17 units, one more than Ichiro's. Kenshin wasn't rushing to conclusions based on these ephemeral "talent" stats. He believed talent mattered, but without hard work, it was worthless.
Kenshin decided not to have more kids for now. He wanted to find a kunoichi, level up, and only then have more with Aya. The thought disgusted him, but the idea of losing his children in the coming chaos was worse. He refused to treat his offspring like pawns for his goals. To him, they were those little ones toddling on tiny feet across his chest, keeping him awake.
The next week, Ichiro and Keiji trained intensively. Keiji quickly caught up to his brother in strength and speed—likely by channeling chakra into his muscles and organs—but still lagged noticeably in technique.
Every day, Kenshin made his sons spend at least an hour practicing shuriken and kunai throws, leading by example and training himself. Sparring with kunai was obviously out, but Kenshin found a good alternative: tossing small pebbles at them, forcing them to deflect with kunai. After a few days, he switched to shurikens, and both sons quickly learned to bat away the incoming projectiles.
Kenshin and Aya's sex life had cooled a bit, but every few days he'd catch his wife in the shower or drag her to the bedroom, thanking the soundproofing formation for containing Aya's incredibly loud moans. Knowing no one could hear, she let loose, screaming at the top of her lungs as the head of his big cock slammed into her tiny womb, sending sparks to her blue eyes.
On the fifty-fifth day since Kenshin's arrival in this world, another batch of wine matured, and he decided to sell a record amount. Twenty bottles of ten-year vintage and five of twenty-year. He "ordered" Aya to stay home and not go out unless necessary, since he was taking both sons.
"Be careful..." Aya whispered, hugging each of them in turn and kissing Kenshin.
"Don't worry, Mom, it'll be fine. Father and I have been to the city plenty of times," Ichiro said, adjusting his backpack.
"Yeah, Mom, don't worry. We'll bring you a bolt of silk so you can sew something!" Keiji said, grinning with all thirty-two teeth.
"Don't get lonely, dear. And remember—no leaving the house unless absolutely necessary," Kenshin reminded her, hugging her one last time before turning and stepping outside.
As soon as Aya saw the three retreating backs, her heart skipped a beat. She suddenly felt something very wrong and called out: "Kenshin!"
"Hm? Something wrong?" he asked, turning.
"Yeah, Mom, what is it?" cheerful Keiji asked, eager to head to the city.
"Um, no, nothing..." she muttered, forcing a smile.
Kenshin shrugged, adjusted his backpack, and stepped forward. His two sons followed.
The trio reached the city without incident and headed straight to the wine shop.
The old shopkeeper, seeing five bottles of twenty-year wine, couldn't believe his eyes and stared at Kenshin.
"Wh-where did you get this wine?" he muttered, gazing back at what he considered a work of art.
"Sir, I already explained—our grandfather was a wine collector, and these are his most valuable reserves. We three grandsons decided to sell it, figuring his labor of love shouldn't go to waste. Who better than a wine collector to appreciate it properly?" Kenshin delivered his 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. Minutes later, he emerged with five sheets of paper bearing strange glyphs. He stuck one on each bottle, and after a minute, when they all turned dark yellow, he grunted in satisfaction.
"Indeed! Over twenty, under twenty-five! A real find! I'll give you 6000 ryō per bottle," the old man declared, eyes glued to the bottles.
"We agree!" Kenshin said immediately. He wasn't in a position to haggle, and besides, he could "age" as much wine as he wanted with the proceeds.
Minutes later, the old man counted out 37000 ryō and handed them to Kenshin, who quickly verified the sum, stashed it in his hidden chest pocket, said a hasty goodbye, and left with his two sons.
As soon as Kenshin and his sons left the wine shop, a sturdy sixteen-year-old boy with a Konoha headband descended from the second floor. He politely bid the old shopkeeper farewell and stepped outside.
The second floor of the wine shop had an elite room for fine wine connoisseurs. The black-haired Konoha shinobi, with his keen hearing, had overheard nearly the entire conversation between Kenshin and the old man. Hearing the price of the five twenty-year bottles, he couldn't suppress his greed. Each was worth more than a D-rank mission reward, so he decided to act.