FicWad: fresh-picked original and fan fiction

He had always strived so hard for his father to be proud of him. He had worked himself to the bone, literally and figuratively, for it. Finally, on this day, his proudest moment, he had achieved what he wanted. Standing in front of his sensei, the traditional red and black robe tied tight at the waist, with the loose flowing arms caressing his skin with every step, he practically beamed at everyone to the sides.

As he accepted the water in a small earthen dish, he drank deeply after seeing his own face reflected in its clear, cool surface. His face, just as clear, just as unblemished as the pale water in the bowel, smiled tentatively back at him.

Kneeling on the mat, he had to school his face into the calm, collected look that was appropriate for the temples. Of course, this was something hard for a ten year old to do, but he finally achieved it, bowing his head to touch the mat, and then lifting it up. The sound of the gong broke him out of his reverie, and he turned around and ran to his father in the front row. Jumping the last few feet, he flew into his arms, a high, childish laughter bubbling forth as his father smiled fondly at him.

He had been accepted. He was his father's son.

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