Titan Rumble Ch 24: A Talent Without Effort!

Dinner was... quiet. Too quiet.

You'd think with two giant sisters and a father who looked like he could crush a tree trunk with his eyebrows, there'd be a little more energy in the room. But nope. Just the clinking of chopsticks, the occasional slurp, and the sound of my tiny heartbeat nervously pounding in my chest as I sat on a perfectly scaled platform at the head of the table.

Mr. Takamura ate in peace, his face calm and unreadable as always. Yuna sat to his left, eyes locked on her food like she was trying to solve a math equation with every bite. Aurora, on the other hand, lounged to his right, practically melting into her seat, eating with the same relaxed grace she used to make me nervous in the hallway.

And me? I just chewed as quietly as possible and prayed no one made eye contact. Family drama wasn't something I wanted to get caught in the middle of—not when the family in question could use me as a toothpick.

Just when I thought I might survive the meal in peace—

"So, Cain," came Aurora's voice, smooth and playful like she'd been waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

I nearly choked on my rice. "Uh—y-yes?"

She gave me a sideways glance, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers. "What's a little cute thing like you doing in our house?"

Danger. That was the first word that popped into my head.

"Um, I..." I floundered, trying to find a response that didn't include falling out of my chair or spontaneously combusting.

"He's the new master of our father's dojo," Yuna cut in sharply, not even looking up from her plate. "Don't you remember? Father said he was bringing someone in to help teach."

Aurora blinked, then looked back at me, eyebrows raised. "You're the new master?"

I puffed out my chest a little, managing a small smile. "Yes, I am."

She tilted her head and gave me a crooked grin. "Huh. I'm sorry, I was just expecting someone... I don't know. Less cute."

I laughed, because honestly, what else could I do? "Heh, yeah, I get that a lot. It's the hair, probably."

Yuna finally looked up, her expression sharp as her voice. "You should have a little more decorum when speaking to our guest, Aurora."

Aurora shrugged like the air was too heavy to care. "What? I'm just trying to meet the new master. Being polite in my own way."

"If you wanted to get to know the master," Yuna said, her tone icing over, "you shouldn't have left the dojo."

Aurora rolled her eyes, letting her chopsticks clack against her plate. "Are we really talking about this again?"

"We're going to keep talking about it until you take it seriously."

And just like that, boom—verbal fireworks.

Their voices started rising. Not yelling, but close enough that I felt my ears vibrate with every syllable. I didn't know if it was just the acoustics or the sheer volume of two Alphas arguing, but it was like being trapped in a thunderstorm that spoke perfect Japanese.

I hunched over my bowl, hoping they'd forget I existed.

Then—clap!

A sharp, echoing sound cut through the room. Mr. Takamura had clapped his hands once. Just once. But it hit like a gavel.

Both sisters froze.

"You are at the table," he said, calmly but firmly. "You will show manners."

"...Yes, Father," Yuna muttered, returning to her food.

"...Sorry, Dad," Aurora said, a little less genuinely, but it still counted.

The rest of dinner was silent again, but now it was a tense silence. The kind that buzzed just beneath your skin. I focused on my food, trying not to look at anyone for too long.

When we were done, the sisters quietly got up, taking their plates to the sink with smooth, practiced movements. They excused themselves without another word and disappeared down opposite hallways like two tectonic plates moving in separate directions.

I leaned back in onto my hand and let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

"Well," I muttered to myself, "that wasn't awkward at all..."

Honestly, I'd rather get punched by a skyscraper-sized Alpha again than sit through another meal like that.

...Maybe.

After the sisters left, the silence settled in again. But this time, it didn't feel like a storm waiting to explode—it felt heavier. Thicker. Like the room itself was still holding its breath.

Mr. Takamura let out a long sigh and placed his hands in his lap, fingers interlocked. His face remained composed, but his eyes... they'd softened. Just a little.

"I apologize," he said, finally looking down at me, voice quieter than before. "You shouldn't have had to sit through that."

I shrugged and leaned back in my little chair, the one he had specially made for me earlier that day. "It's alright," I said, "just... wasn't expecting dinner to come with a side of drama."

He chuckled softly. "That's fair."

I glanced toward the hallway Aurora had disappeared down. "So, uh... what was that all about?" I asked. "Yuna looked like she was about to vaporize her."

There was a pause—like he was debating how much to say. Then he folded his arms and exhaled again.

"My youngest," he began, "always had a knack for fighting. Natural instinct, grace, reflexes—everything came easy to her. Too easy, maybe."

I frowned. "And that's a bad thing?"

He gave me a tired look. "When something comes too easily, you stop valuing it. You don't learn discipline. Patience. She didn't earn her strength... she just had it."

I nodded slowly, the pieces starting to click into place.

"She got bored," he continued. "Tired of routines, lessons, and lectures. Tired of being compared to Yuna, who had to work for everything. And just like that... she walked away. Quit the dojo."

"Just like that?" I asked.

Mr. Takamura looked out toward the window, the sky now a deep navy blue.

"No warning," he said, voice dipped in regret. "And she didn't just walk away from her sister or me—she did it the night before one of the most important moments in our school's history."

"When?" I asked, quietly.

He turned back to me, his gaze sharp now. "During the Titan Rumble."

I felt my stomach twist a little.

The Titan Rumble. That wasn't just some tournament. That was the event. The kind of battleground where names were carved into stone—where rival schools brought their best fighters and reputations were made or shattered.

"She abandoned her role as our front-line fighter," he said, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Left Yuna to step in at the last minute."

"...Ouch," I muttered under my breath.

"She didn't even stay to watch," he added. "Didn't see what her absence did to her sister—or to the dojo's name."

Damn. Okay, yeah, now it made sense why Yuna had that look on her face. That wasn't just sibling rivalry—that was a scar.

I scratched the back of my head. "You still let her live here?"

"She's still my daughter," he said simply. "But that doesn't mean I've forgotten."

The room went quiet again. Not the uncomfortable kind this time—just... thoughtful.

I sat there for a while, letting the silence linger, then finally nodded. "Alright. Guess I'll be extra careful what I say around the black-haired time bomb."

Mr. Takamura smirked at that, just a little. "That's probably wise."