Spring's breath was golden on the Reinhardt estate, casting a soft glow over the vast training grounds nestled behind their manor. Lush trees framed the cobbled path leading to the sparring ring, where swords clashed with clean precision and laughter mingled with focused commands. Saturdays were sacred to the Reinhardts. It was the day of practice, of sibling rivalry, of victories tallied and bruises worn with pride.
At the center of it all, Leina Reinhardt stood with her training blade poised, amethyst eyes locked onto her older brother, Levy. The once shy and quiet girl had grown—four years could do wonders to spirit and steel. At fourteen, she was elegant and focused, her movements controlled but fierce, honed from years of sparring under the watchful eyes of her family.
Levy grinned, his tan skin glistening faintly from exertion. "You're telegraphing your footwork again."
"I am not," Leina replied coolly, lunging forward.
He deflected with ease, but her follow-up came faster than he anticipated. A twist, a pivot, and she nearly caught him off-guard.
"Better," he admitted, stepping back with a smirk. "You're learning to bait me."
"I've had four years of watching you do it."
From the sidelines, Logan Reinhardt folded his arms, nodding in approval. His children were thriving. Tall and composed, his quiet pride was only matched by the amused look on Giselle's face as she sipped from a thermal flask.
"She's reading him better than you did at her age," Giselle said, clearly teasing.
"Debatable," Logan replied, though his eyes twinkled.
Giselle looked the part of a culinary legend even when she was dressed casually—her name still holding power across every five-star kitchen on the continent. But today, she was simply "mom," cheering from the edge of the training ring.
Nearby, the twins—Liam and Louis, now sixteen—were lounging on the grass, heads bent together over a tablet. Despite their easygoing demeanor, they were tech prodigies. Their startup, "SplitBit Games," had quietly begun taking the indie scene by storm. Since they weren't legal adults, the company was registered under Logan's name, but everyone knew who the real minds behind it were.
"Bug in the inventory system again?" Louis muttered, fingers flying across the screen.
"No, just tweaking the loot drop algorithm," Liam said. "We want it more dynamic before the beta launch."
Their conversation was nearly a foreign language to anyone else, but it was just another Saturday for the Reinhardts.
Leina's sparring session wrapped with a polite bow from both siblings, followed by light applause from Giselle.
"Water," Logan instructed, tossing a bottle toward Levy.
The 17-year-old caught it one-handed, sitting beside the twins as Leina dropped beside him.
"You've gotten strong," he said, ruffling her hair. She made a face but didn't stop him.
"I'm not the only one," she said, glancing sideways at her older brother. "You're going to make it to the Olympic trials, aren't you?"
Levy gave a modest shrug, but his pride was obvious. He'd already made waves in seasonal swim competitions, and his times were clocked by scouts whispering Olympic promise.
"If I qualify," he said, "we're all going to Paris."
"Mom will probably turn it into a pop-up fine dining event," Leina teased.
Giselle, overhearing, gave an exaggerated curtsy. "I'll feed the French the way they wish they could feed themselves."
Laughter bubbled up between them.
Further up the hill, Lester—now 18—sat on a bench beneath the shade of a silver maple, dressed in his formal academy uniform despite it being a weekend. He had an air of quiet charisma, every inch a rising star. Where Levy shined in athletics, Lester's strength lay in diplomacy, politics, and that keen intellect that had caught the attention of more than one powerful figure.
He was already Westdentia Academia's top student—valedictorian material, published in youth political journals, and recently recognized by the President himself in a televised award ceremony. Rumors of scholarships, internships with foreign councils, and even a potential youth ambassadorship were circling.
But today, he was just Lester—watching his siblings with quiet amusement and a notepad in his lap.
Leina approached, grabbing an orange slice from a shared bowl and dropping onto the bench beside him.
"You're not practicing?" she asked.
"I practiced at dawn," he replied. "Now I'm prepping our talking points for the youth conference next week."
Their joint public speaking events had become popular. She brought wit and sincerity; he brought rhetoric and command. Together, they made an unexpected but compelling team.
"I'm not letting you say 'grassroots impact' again," she said, biting into the fruit.
Lester raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It's accurate."
"It's boring."
A brief silence fell between them, warm and companionable.
"You've changed," he said after a beat.
She looked at him. "So have you."
A pause. "Do you miss how it was before?"
"Sometimes," she admitted. "When things were simpler. But... I like who we're all becoming."
He smiled. "Same."
They looked out across the lawn where their family laughed and trained and schemed in peace. From the manor, a staff member waved a tray from the kitchen doorway. "Lunch is served!"
The Reinhardts began to gather—Logan lifting a protesting Louis from the grass, Levy draping an arm around Giselle as they walked, Liam still muttering about game patches.
Lester rose, offering a hand to Leina.
She took it, and they walked in silence toward the house.
Saturday sunlight spilled across the veranda as the family settled for their meal. Chatter bounced between them—plans, memories, dreams. Leina listened with half a smile, eyes flicking between her siblings, her parents, and the familiar estate that had shaped them.
She had grown. They all had. But some things—like the warmth of family and the gentle rhythm of Saturdays—remained steadfast.
As dessert arrived, Levy raised his fork. "To good food, fast swims, and family."
"To Lester's future prime minister campaign," Liam added.
"To SplitBit taking over the world," Louis chimed in.
"To Leina not breaking my nose during training," Levy teased.
She rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I like you."
Giselle smiled. Logan's hand found hers under the table.
And in that moment, everything felt exactly as it should.