Chapter 5: The Tangled Threads of Fate 

In the quiet aftermath of their breakfast, Ichika and his mother gathered the dishes, bowls, and utensils they had used, their movements a silent dance of shared responsibility. They went outside to the same spot where they had washed their hands and the vegetables earlier. Following her usual routine, Ichika first washed his hands, then carefully washed each dish, mindful of the fragile clay.

After a while, all the dishes were clean and rinsed. Instead of taking them directly back inside, where they would drip water onto the floor, they placed them outside, covered with a fine net to protect them from insects, to dry naturally in the sun. This process usually took about ten to twelve minutes.

While they waited, Ichika and his mother took another short walk, hand in hand. Unbeknownst to them, a thin, almost invisible strand of thread clung to his mother's hand, winding around her fingers. It was so fine, so delicate, that neither of them noticed it. As they walked, they gathered a few wildflowers, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the muted tones of their surroundings. By the time they returned, thirteen minutes had passed.

Just as his mother was about to retrieve the now-dry dishes, she noticed the thread on her hand. When did this get here? she wondered, a flicker of unease in her heart. She had no recollection of it, and neither did Ichika. "Honey, do you know where this came from?" she asked, hoping he might have some insight.

"Mommy, I don't know," Ichika replied, his brow furrowed. "But there's a lot of it on my hand, too." He held out his hand, and his mother saw that several strands of the same thread were indeed wrapped around his fingers, some of them dangling down, almost touching the ground. "When I tried to take it off," he continued, "more of it just kept coming out."

"Huh? It kept coming out?" she asked, puzzled. Then, a realization dawned on her. "Ahh, oh me," she murmured. "It's your ability, honey." In the excitement and worry of the morning, she had completely forgotten to ask him about his God Blessing, about the skill he had received during his dream.

"My ability?" Ichika echoed, his eyes widening with surprise. He had no memory of receiving any special ability. He looked at his hand, the thread seemingly emanating from beneath his fingernails.

"Yes, your ability," she confirmed. "Remember when Mommy said that you would receive your ability yesterday?" She avoided mentioning the terrifying nightmare, the near-death experience. "Let's put these dishes away first, and then we'll explore your ability," she said, picking up the stack of plates and walking back into the house. She placed them carefully in their designated spot in the kitchen, her mind already racing with questions about the mysterious thread.

While his mother was putting the dishes away, Ichika, captivated by the mysterious thread, examined it with childlike fascination. He tentatively pulled on the strands, watching as they extended from his fingertips, then stopped. He pulled again, relaxing his hand slightly as he did so, a flicker of fatigue crossing his brow. The thread retreated back into his finger. "It goes back?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. He clenched his fist, focusing his will, and the thread shot out again. "It shot out!" he cried, a triumphant note in his voice. He now understood the basic mechanics of his newfound ability.

"It can shoot and go back. So cool!" he repeated, his mind buzzing with possibilities. He experimented, extending and retracting the thread repeatedly, a grin spreading across his face. "Maybe I can control it, too!" he mused, his thoughts turning to the next logical step. He needed to learn how to manipulate the thread, to exert his will over it, just as he did with his own body.

He waved his hand, trying to understand the subtle nuances of the thread's movements, its connection to his will. He shifted his focus to his leg, extending the thread from his toes. The foot, he knew, was less dexterous than the hand, but with training, it could achieve similar feats. Now, how to translate the will of his limbs to the thread?

His thoughts turned to a concept his sister had once explained, a concept he had encountered in the book Prince Wink, where the brain was described as the core, the central command center that directed the body's actions. This was the first thing that came to Ichika's mind when he considered controlling the thread. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to establish a connection, to exert his will over the thread. However, in his attempts, he discovered something else. When he focused his will on his fingers, they seemed to shrink, becoming so small that they were almost invisible.

Lost in his experimentation, he didn't notice his mother standing nearby, watching him with a quiet smile. She didn't interrupt, understanding that he was exploring his new ability. As a good mother, I will wait until he finishes, she thought to herself, not wanting to disrupt his concentration.

She watched as he focused on his hand, the thread becoming thinner and thinner, almost disappearing. Then, it stopped shrinking. His face was flushed, not from embarrassment at being observed, but from the exertion. He was holding his breath, his body tensed as he pushed his control to its limits.

He released the thread, allowing it to retract back into his finger, his hand relaxing. It took a few moments for the threads to fully retreat. When he was finished, Ichika turned, and there she was, his mother, watching him with a warm, encouraging smile. "Did you have fun?" she asked.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, his face beaming. He returned her smile, his heart filled with joy and excitement. "Look at what I can do!" He eagerly began demonstrating his newfound control over the thread, showing her all the tricks and movements he had discovered.

She watched him, her eyes filled with pride and affection. She didn't mind seeing the demonstrations again. It was more meaningful, more special, when he shared them with her directly, rather than practicing in solitude. This continued until Ichika had shown her everything he had learned, every nuance of his control over the mysterious thread.