Chapter 19: Meeting May and Peter After Exercising
Without delaying any further, I started with a light jog to warm up. My feet struck the asphalt in a steady rhythm, the sound of my shoes brushing against the road consistent—almost like a natural metronome guiding each step.
The cold morning air rushed quickly into my lungs, making my chest sting slightly at first. The chill bit deeper than I expected, but gradually my breathing evened out. The sharp discomfort faded, replaced by a steady cycle of inhale and exhale that matched the tempo of my stride.
After all, any other form of training could be done inside the house. Only running truly required open space and fresh air like this.
I increased my pace. My heartbeat grew stronger, pounding firmly against my ribs as blood surged through my body. My breathing became louder, yet remained controlled—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—synchronized with my increasingly confident steps. Sweat began to gather at my temples despite the lingering cold in the air, small droplets forming and sliding slowly down the side of my face.
After several dozen minutes of running around the neighborhood, I finally stopped in front of my house. My chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath deep and heavy, but I didn’t allow myself too much time to rest.
I dropped down into a push-up position.
One movement after another, I performed them with focus. My palms pressed firmly against the ground, arms supporting the full weight of my body. My chest lowered slowly, hovering just above the surface, then pushed back up again. The muscles in my shoulders and triceps gradually burned, a steady heat building beneath the strain. My fingers dug slightly into the pavement, stabilizing my form as I maintained a consistent rhythm.
After that, I lay down for sit-ups. My abdomen tightened every time I lifted my torso. Each repetition demanded more effort than the last, my breathing growing heavier as sweat streamed from my temples, trailing down along my jaw and dripping onto the ground beneath me.
Finally, squat jumps.
I bent my knees, lowering myself before springing upward as high as I could. Each landing sent a subtle tremor through my legs. I could feel the pulse of blood clearly in my calves and thighs, a throbbing reminder of the effort I was pushing my body through. By now, my entire body radiated heat. The black hoodie I wore clung slightly to my skin, dampened by sweat and heavier than before.
When I finally stood upright and steadied my breathing, the watch on my wrist showed twenty past seven.
The sun had risen higher, its warmth brushing against my sweat-damp skin. The sensation was pleasant—gentle heat soothing the lingering chill of the early morning air. The golden light reflected faintly off the windows around the neighborhood, casting soft shadows along the pavement.
I walked back toward my front door, intending to head inside and clean up. But before my hand could reach the doorknob, the door of the house to my left opened.
May stepped out, accompanied by a small boy.
May wore simple casual morning clothes—a soft-colored top and comfortable pants suited for starting the day. Her hair was neatly combed in a practical style, typical of a busy woman accustomed to handling many things since dawn. Her face looked fresh, though there was a faint trace of exhaustion visible if one looked closely enough—subtle shadows beneath her eyes that hinted at responsibilities carried quietly.
The little boy held May’s hand. He wore round glasses that looked slightly too big for his small face. His hair was a little messy, perhaps from just waking up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, still half-asleep, yet there was a clear spark of enthusiasm shining within them.
Peter Parker.
The morning scene felt warm—fresh air drifting gently through the street, sunlight touching the walls of the houses, and the faint sound of birds chirping back and forth in the trees. Everything seemed simple, yet somehow vividly alive.
“Good morning, May,” I greeted her with a slight smile.
My breathing was still somewhat uneven, so I tried to calm it to sound casual. I quickly wiped the sweat from my temple, hoping I didn’t look like I had just completed some over-the-top training regimen worthy of a bald hero.
“Good morning, Dante,” May replied with a gentle smile.
Her smile felt warm and natural, as always. There was no tension in her voice, no trace of awkwardness lingering from last night’s incident. The way she looked at me was normal—calm, friendly, as though nothing strange had ever happened.
That made my chest feel slightly lighter.
Maybe May had truly forgotten about what happened last night. Or perhaps she had simply chosen not to bring it up.
Whatever the reason, I was grateful. At the very least, this morning began normally—with smiles, fresh air, and a simple routine that felt strangely comforting in a life that was slowly becoming anything but simple.
“Is this your nephew? Hi there, kid!” I greeted the boy, who looked to be around eight or ten years old.
I deliberately made my voice sound brighter than usual, trying to come across as friendly rather than intimidating. The boy looked at me from behind his thin black-framed glasses, which seemed slightly too large for his small face. The frames slid just a little down the bridge of his nose, giving him an even more studious appearance.
His eyes were wide and clear, shining with innocent curiosity, as if he were carefully deciding whether I was someone safe to talk to. A gentle morning breeze tousled his slightly messy hair, and the soft sunlight reflected faintly off his lenses, creating a brief glimmer that made his gaze look even more vivid.
“Hello, Uncle!” the boy replied quickly, offering a small but warm smile.
It was a simple smile, free of burden, like that of a child who had not yet truly encountered the harshness of the world. There was a sincerity in the way he spoke—light, honest, and brimming with the vibrant energy of childhood. Nothing about it felt forced; it was the kind of greeting that came straight from the heart.
“My name is Dante Arashi. It’s nice to meet you, kid. What’s your name?” I asked with a smile.
I bent down slightly, lowering myself to match his height so the conversation would feel more equal. My knees bent just a little, and I made sure my gaze aligned with his. Comfortable eye contact often made children more open, and I didn’t want to look like an adult speaking down at him from above.
“My name is Peter Parker! Nice to meet you, Uncle Dante!” Peter answered enthusiastically.
His voice was light and lively, as bright as the morning itself. The Saturday air felt fresh, with a gentle breeze carrying the scent of leaves and soil still slightly damp from the night before. Peter’s eyes sparkled, and there was a faint tremor of excitement in his voice, as though this day held something he had been eagerly waiting for.
“Wow, Peter, would you like to take a walk in the park? It’s a day off, after all,” I said casually.
The morning sunlight warmed the sidewalk without being harsh. The atmosphere was perfect for a relaxed stroll or simply sitting on a park bench enjoying an ice cream. It felt natural for the idea of a walk to come up so easily in such pleasant weather.
“No, I’m going with Aunt May to an amusement park!” Peter said quickly, his small smile widening.
From his tone alone, it was clear how much he was looking forward to it. His eyes widened slightly with anticipation, and even his fingers twitched with restless excitement, as if his whole body could barely wait to leave.
“I see. That sounds like a lot of fun. Well then, have a great time!” I replied with a smile.
Without thinking, my hand lifted and gently ruffled the top of Peter’s head. The motion was purely reflexive, an old habit surfacing the moment I saw such a cheerful child. His hair felt soft beneath my palm, and he didn’t seem to mind—he only tilted his head up slightly, his brief look of confusion quickly turning back into a grin.
However, from the corner of my eye, I noticed May flinch ever so slightly.
The movement was subtle—just a brief tension in her shoulders and a faint shift in her gaze. She quickly neutralized her expression, putting on a normal face as though nothing had happened. But I caught it. There was something not entirely comfortable in that reaction.
As if my touch on Peter had reminded her of something… or someone.
Perhaps me.
A fleeting image from last night crossed my mind—the same reflexive motion when I had unconsciously patted May’s head. The atmosphere back then had been different, far quieter, and the touch had felt… more personal. It wasn’t surprising if a thin, unspoken tension now lingered between us.
“Have you just finished exercising, Dante?” May asked a moment later.
Her voice sounded normal, almost casual. Yet there was a faint awkwardness woven between her words. Her eyes briefly flicked toward my temple, still damp with sweat, before quickly looking away again, as though she didn’t want to hold my gaze for too long.