Chapter 2: He was only a child after all

Lake Kupika was once home to ten different kinds of fish. However, since the great fire in AD 65, their numbers had drastically dwindled—now only three species remained, most of them having perished from lack of oxygen.

The lake stretched 300 retems long and 100 retems wide (1 retem equals 1 meter), with a depth equal to the height of two grown adults. Its location, not far from Kupika Village, made it a favorite fishing spot for the villagers—a quiet place where the water mirrored the sky, and the silence felt deeper than sound.

---

This was my first time seeing the lake. The water was so calm and dark, like a vast mirror holding a colorless sky. I stood still for quite a while, gazing at its surface, then let my eyes wander from one end to the other. To me, it looked immense.

I walked slowly along the wooden pier that jutted out into the water. Father was already sitting at the edge, staring toward the center of the lake. I joined him and sat down beside him.

“Ready, Sin? Today I’ll teach you the Sevilla family way of fishing here at this lake,” Father asked.

“I’m ready, Father,” I replied.

“First, I’ll teach you how to use this fishing rod,” he said, showing me the tool.

Father began explaining the fishing rod he held—a simple long stick that seemed ordinary, but actually had many important parts. I listened carefully, trying to remember every word he spoke.

“This is the fishing line,” Father said, pointing to the long thread tied to the tip of the rod. “This line connects the rod to the bait. Without it, we can’t cast the bait into the lake.”

He then showed me the small sharp hook at the end of the line. “This hook holds the bait. But when the fish bites, its shape will trap the fish so it can’t escape.”

Finally, Father pointed to the small white float with red markings that dangled from the line. “This float keeps the bait from sinking too deep, and it moves if a fish pulls on it. So, when the float dips... you know, Sin, that’s the moment to pull your rod.”

I nodded softly. The parts of the fishing rod started to make sense in my head.

“The bait hangs from the hook, then is cast into the water by the line... the float stays on the surface, but if it starts to move, that means the fish is biting. And that’s when I have to pull, right? Is that what you mean, Father?” I asked, trying to confirm what I had just learned.

Father smiled at me, then gently stroked my head. His palm felt warm, though it left my hair a bit messy. I quickly tried to stop his hand with both of mine. Father chuckled softly. His eyes shone with joy, as though proud of something.

Seeing him... my son... makes me forget for a moment that he’s only Four years old. The way he repeated my explanation, in his own words, without mistake—simple, yet precise. He was truly paying attention. Not just listening, but trying to understand. And that alone is enough to leave me silent for a while, wondering... maybe Sinhart will grow faster than I thought. Perhaps it’s already the right time to bring him to his mother—or maybe I should wait a little longer. Hah, I’d better discuss it with Fyna.

Father then took some bait from the bag he carried. “Before fishing, we scatter a bit of bait first. That way the fish will gather here,” he said. We sprinkled the bait into the lake, little by little, until the grains sank gently into the still surface.

Soon, faint shadows of fish appeared below, swimming slowly, rising toward the surface. That was when Father quickly set the bait on the hook and cast the line toward the gathering fish. The float drifted for a moment... then slowly dipped beneath the water.

Without hesitation, Father pulled the rod in one swift motion. Fyurr! A fish leapt from the water, and Father removed it from the hook, placing it into a bucket of water.

After that, it was my turn. Father helped me place the bait on the hook, then guided my hand as I cast it into the lake. We sat together, waiting patiently. The float drifted quietly... then began to bob—little by little, until it sank beneath the water.

I pulled the rod with all my strength. The feeling was... strange, yet familiar, as though I had experienced this somewhere before. The fish resisted, its pull strong, making my arms tense. But I held on tightly, pulling harder—until at last, the fish lifted and flew out of the water.

Father quickly caught it with a net, then dropped it into the bucket.

Once the bucket was full enough, Father decided to end the day’s fishing. He stood slowly, gazing at the lake for a moment before saying, “Come on, Sin. Let’s go home.” His words marked the end of today’s lesson. I nodded, standing beside him. The day had warmed, and the dew on the wooden pier had dried away.

We went home.

When we arrived, Mother immediately told us to bathe. She said the fishy smell already clung to both me and Father. We obeyed, heading inside to get ready for a bath. Today felt different, because I had learned something new, something I had never done before... and I didn’t want to forget it.

---

Thank you for reading this :3