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"Lucky the gem of the city was safe," Dad continued. "It represents the heart of the city. Once the smoke and dark clouds cleared, we went back to rebuild. We improved defenses to prepare if it happened again."
His voice got quieter. "But I couldn't stay in the Protection Society for long. I had to survive, like brother said. So I retired. Three months after that, you were born, Denki."
He looked at me, and for a second the rage was gone. Just pride. "I was very happy to have you. But I knew the Demon King would return. And when he does, we will avenge Gentaro. Together. Do you understand, Denki?"
I frowned, confused. "Hold on, Dad. Since he's _your_ brother, aren't you supposed to avenge him yourself? I mean, it's your fight after all, right?"
Dad's face went boiling red. "YOU BASTARD! WHAT CHANCES DO I HAVE OF DEFEATING THAT BULLSHIT MYSELF?!"
I shrugged. "It's not my fault you stopped training. I mean, you've turned your celestial katana into a cooking knife. You even used it to clear weeds last Thursday."
"YOU BETTER SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I USE THAT SAME KATANA TO WIPE YOUR ASS!" Dad roared.
I stared at him. The anger, the grief—it was real. Seventeen years and he still hadn't let it go. Because of me, his brother died so I could be born.
My chest felt heavy. I straightened up. "But don't worry, Dad," I said, voice serious for once. "We _will_ avenge Uncle Gentaro. I'll make sure of that."
Dad exhaled. The rage drained out of him. He put a hand on my shoulder, rough but warm.
"Good," he said. "Then starting tomorrow, your training begins."
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