LXX

Leora sat at the edge of the dining table, a bowl of fruit salad in her hands. She scooped a spoonful, noting how the once-frozen dessert had softened just enough to release its sweet, creamy aroma. It was her favorite treat during celebrations, a small indulgence that threatened to increase her waistline.

Across the table, Leon was still eating like a little piggy, his plate a battlefield of spaghetti remnants, spring roll crumbs, and the occasional smear of gravy. Leora couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry as she watched him.

“Should we stop him?” she murmured, glancing at her husband, Reynard.

Reynard shrugged but didn’t answer immediately. Leora knew her concern wasn’t unfounded. Leon’s metabolism had always been peculiar, likely because of his aura. While Reynard had worked hard to seal it, the boy’s aura hadn’t disappeared entirely. It was still there, quietly influencing his growth, his energy, and apparently, his appetite.

Leora discreetly activated her Seeker Eyes, a subtle glow flickering in her irises as she studied her son. As expected, Leon’s aura was bursting, vibrant and wild like an overfed flame. She sighed and took another bite of her fruit salad, mulling over whether to intervene.

“Hey, buddy,” Reynard finally spoke up, leaning toward Leon. “You should stop when you’re full. Overstuffing yourself is bad—you’ll explode.”

Leon froze mid-bite, his wide eyes snapping to his dad. “Explode?” he asked, his voice tinged with alarm.

Before Leora could explain, Reynard grabbed one of the balloon decorations hanging nearby. With surprising dexterity, he unknotted it, letting it deflate with a high-pitched squeal.

Leora’s stomach dropped. She had a bad feeling about this.

Reynard grinned, grabbing a sharpie. He quickly drew a smiley face on the now-empty balloon. “This is you,” he said, holding it up for Leon to see.

Leon tilted his head, intrigued.

“Now,” Reynard continued, grabbing the balloon’s neck, “I’m going to feed this balloon.”

He began blowing air into it, slowly at first. The balloon swelled, soon reaching the size of Leon’s head.

“This is fine,” Reynard said, gesturing to the balloon. “But what happens if we keep feeding it?”

Without waiting for a response, he blew more air into the balloon. It stretched, growing tauter with each puff, until finally—POP!

Leon flinched, his eyes widening in horror as bits of the balloon scattered across the room.

Leora groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Reynard,” she muttered, her tone exasperated.

“What?” he said innocently, though the glint of mischief in his eyes betrayed him.

Leora decided to salvage the situation. She reached into the kitchen and brought out a fresh plate of chicken drumsticks, setting them in front of Leon. “Now, now,” she said gently. “The moral of the story is to know your limits, okay?”

Leon stared at the drumsticks, his expression a mix of hunger and trepidation. The image of the balloon’s untimely demise was still fresh in his mind.

Leora sighed. “Damn it, Reynard.”

“Hey, no cursing in front of the kid,” Reynard quipped, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

Leora glared at him, biting back a retort as Leon cautiously picked up a drumstick. The boy glanced between his parents, his small face scrunched in concentration as if trying to decide whether he’d explode or not.

In the end, he took a tentative bite, and Leora felt a small wave of relief.

At least the lesson had been memorable, if not exactly the way she had in mind.

“Last one, I promise,” Leon declared, his small voice muffled by the chicken drumstick he was gnawing on. He polished it off with the speed and efficiency of a five-year-old who knew cartoons were waiting for him.

Without missing a beat, he fled to the living room, drumstick bone still in hand, grabbed the remote, and plopped onto the sofa. With a click, the TV switched to his favorite cartoon, and Leon sprawled out like a miniature king surveying his domain.

“Wash your hands first!” Leora called from the dining table, her hands busy stacking plates. “You’re a mess. And take a bath after you rest for a bit, you little goblin.”

“I’m not a goblin!” Leon shouted back, though his sticky fingers and sauce-streaked cheeks told a different story.

To her relief, Leon actually obeyed. He dashed to the kitchen sink, washed his hands with a bit too much soap, and returned to the couch without missing much of his show.

Leora sighed as she began tidying up. Reynard joined her, collecting plates and utensils while she grabbed a stack of empty Tupperware. Carefully, she packed away the leftovers, enough to cover dinner later that evening.

The cake, however, remained untouched, its frosting gleaming invitingly.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Can I have a slice?” Leon’s voice piped up, and they turned to see him standing by the table, his cartoon momentarily forgotten.

Leora smiled and cut a small piece, placing it on a plate and handing it to him. “Here you go.”

Leon grinned, grabbed the plate, and hurried back to his spot in front of the TV, carefully balancing the cake as though it were a priceless artifact.

Reynard wiped the table down with a damp rag, glancing toward the living room where Leon was happily devouring his cake. “His sleeping’s been weird lately,” he said, his tone low. “The duration’s increasing, and so is his appetite.”

Leora paused, sealing a container of spaghetti. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It doesn’t match the body of a five-year-old, but what can we do? We can’t exactly call a doctor, right?”

She placed the container in the fridge, her brow furrowing. “He slept at seven last night and didn’t wake up until eleven this morning. That’s sixteen hours, Reynard. And it’s not like he’s sleep-deprived.”

Reynard leaned against the counter, his expression troubled. “Even when we try to wake him up, he doesn’t budge. It’s like he’s in some kind of deep trance.”

Leora nodded, her fingers tightening around the edge of the Tupperware. It was worrying—more than worrying. What if one day, Leon simply didn’t wake up?

They exchanged a glance, unspoken fears hanging in the air between them.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Reynard said finally, breaking the silence.

Leora gave a small nod, but her heart remained heavy. She turned back to the table, finishing the last of the cleanup. Behind her, Leon laughed at something on the TV, blissfully unaware of his parents’ concerns.

After finishing the dishes, Leora wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and wandered toward the living room. She found her boys right where she’d expected—on the sofa, engrossed in a cartoon about superheroes battling colorful supervillains.

Leon sat cross-legged in the rags, eyes glued to the screen, while Reynard lounged beside him, his attention divided between the show and a notebook where he was scribbling notes.

Leora picked up her smartphone and scrolled through the novels she’d saved on her account. Reynard had updated several of his stories, she noticed with a small smile. He always found time to write, no matter how their life turned out.

Growing bored of her phone, she set it aside and joined her boys in the living room. By the time she sat down, Leon had finished his cake, leaving the empty plate abandoned in the corner of the sofa.

Reynard, ever the responsible one, grabbed the plate, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a moment later—hopefully after washing the plate— of course, he returned with a bag of chips in hand.

Because why not?

Reynard immediately scooted to her side, pressing against her like a six foot barnacle, trying to act cute. Leora chuckled and let him snuggle close.

Reynard opened the bag of chips, the familiar crinkle drawing Leon’s attention. Leora reached over, grabbed a few chips, and popped them into her mouth. “Not bad,” she murmured, savoring the salty crunch.

Leon, however, had other plans. He sprang to his feet, jumped around the sofa a few times with all the energy of a wind-up toy, and plopped himself squarely between his parents. With an audacious grin, he grabbed the bag of chips as if it were his birthright.

Leora raised an eyebrow, amused. “Just know your limits, kiddo. You don’t want to go pop, do you?”

Leon froze, the bag of chips clutched to his chest. A determined look crossed his face, and he declared with unwavering conviction, “I won’t go pop!”

Leora laughed, but her amusement turned to curiosity when she noticed a faint wisp of steam rising from Leon’s head.

Reynard frowned. “Uh, is that… normal?”

Leora activated her Seeker Eyes, her gaze sharpening as she focused on her son. Sure enough, Leon’s aura was burning brightly, amplifying his metabolism to fuel his endless energy. He was like a tiny furnace, stoking his flames to keep going.

“Super baby,” Leora muttered under her breath, a mix of pride and exasperation coloring her tone.

Noticing Reynard’s concern, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. Reynard responded by wrapping his hand over hers, their silent communication saying what words couldn’t: It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Leon, oblivious to their exchange, continued munching on chips, happily sandwiched between his parents.

The three of them sat there, huddled together on the sofa, the cartoon playing in the background. In that moment, the worries about Leon’s aura, his strange metabolism, and the challenges of raising a not-so-ordinary child faded away.

For now, everything was fine.

Reynard leaned back on the sofa, his eyes glued to the TV, a perplexed expression settling on his face. “Is it just me, or… is it normal for female superheroes to wear so little?”

Leora, casually nibbling on a chip, considered his question. Hunters in general wore whatever suited their style. She preferred casual clothes, Selena was all about being stylish, and Atropos—a walking enigma—wore a maid outfit that defied practicality.

“I don’t know about wearing less,” Leora replied thoughtfully, “but they sure make it look good on them.”

Reynard turned to her, then glanced at Leon, who was still absorbed in the cartoon, and back to her. “W-what?” Leora stammered under his gaze.

“Is it okay to show young minds nudity? Or even, you know, slight nudity?”

Leora faltered. “W-well, this show is actually rated PG…” She trailed off, unsure of her own defense.

Grabbing her phone, she quickly searched for the cartoon’s title, World Heroes, and confirmed that it was indeed rated PG. Triumphantly, though guiltily, she showed the rating to Reynard. “See?”

Her small victory was short-lived. The show panned to a new scene featuring the techno-villain Torque. He stood triumphantly over the captured heroine, Exemplar, who was bound upright to a suspiciously advanced table with glowing restraints.

“I won’t betray my friends!” Exemplar declared, her voice defiant. “I won’t give up any information to you!”

Torque smirked, holding up a feather. “Then I’ll just have to break you.”

Leora froze, her eyes darting around for the remote. Oh no, not this episode…

“Where’s the remote?” she muttered, panic rising.

On screen, Torque brandished the feather menacingly. “Face the power of my tickle machine, designed to torment you endlessly!”

Exemplar burst into uncontrollable laughter as the villain began his so-called “interrogation.” Reynard sat frozen, his expression a mix of befuddlement and disbelief. Leon continued munching his chips, blissfully unfazed.

Leora was now frantically searching for the remote. “Where is that thing?” she hissed, knowing full well what came next.

Exemplar, still laughing uncontrollably, gasped out, “I won’t break!”

“I see that,” Torque replied, pulling out a whip-like device. “Which is why I’ll use a different tool!” The whip began to vibrate ominously. “Behold, my pleasure machine—a weapon that acts for my pleas—”

Before Torque could finish his sentence, Leora’s aura flared. She vanished in a blur of speed, reappearing in front of the TV. With a single punch, she shattered the screen, leaving a jagged hole where the villain’s face had been moments before.

Leon and Reynard clung to each other, their eyes wide in shock. The chips bag crinkled loudly in Leon’s hands as he hugged it for dear life.

Reynard swallowed hard. “You… you could have just unplugged the TV.”

Leora stood there, her fist still clenched, staring at the destroyed screen. “I panicked,” she admitted, her voice shaky.

Leon blinked at the ruined television, then looked at his mother. “So… no more cartoons?”

Leora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not this one, at least.”

~070