Hero

When Yuriy reached into the item left behind by his father, he discovered a small weapon—akin to a mini-sword. Its polished surface suggested it was designed for precise, professional use. Merely laying eyes on the tool sent shockwaves through Yuriy, his eyes widening in surprise. The sight stirred a tumult of emotions within him, evoking memories from the distant past. It was a blend of nostalgia interspersed with pangs of regret.

Yuriy's eyes moistened with tears as he whispered, "This is the gift I gave to my father a long time ago. I can't believe it's lasted this long." Tears trickled down his cheeks as memories flooded back. "Once, as an impudent and disrespectful child, I remember a day at school. I watched as my friends prepared gifts for their fathers for Father’s Day. When they realized I hadn’t prepared anything, they laughed, calling me thoughtless. That moment was a shock, a sting I'd never felt before. For the first time, I felt genuine shame for overlooking the bond between my father and me. Watching my peers craft gifts, sketch beautiful drawings, and pen heartfelt letters filled me with a longing to make things right. I yearned to be a more thoughtful son, better than any of them."

Yuriy continued, "Back then, I had been saving up to buy a mountain bike, dreaming of the adventures I’d have. But, in that moment of clarity, I took that money and spent it on a meaningful gift for my dad, putting aside my long-held personal wish. And I have no regrets."

Yuriy continued his recollection, "I wanted to gift my father something that reflected his profession in the army. So, I ventured into a specialized store that sold and crafted various weapons. While most of the firearms were beyond my budget, something less expensive caught my eye: a customizable mini sword. I approached the store owner and described what I had in mind: a tool specifically designed for challenging operations. I wanted it to be sturdy yet sleek, lightweight, and resilient enough to withstand the impact of gunshots."

He paused, the memory vivid in his eyes. "After two days of meticulous craftsmanship, the weapon was ready. I could see the dedication and skill that went into its creation. They even allowed me to give it a unique, official name. I chose 'Dragon’s Neck' in honor of its elongated handle."

Yuriy delved into the moment when he was about to present his heartfelt gift to his father, narrating, “That evening, I was brimming with anticipation. I spent the entire day waiting for my father's return, eager to see his reaction. When he finally arrived, he found me halfway to meet him, wearing an unmistakably sheepish expression. He looked puzzled, wondering what I was up to.”

Unable to meet his father's gaze directly, Yuriy continued, “With a sidelong glance, full of embarrassment and love, I handed him the gift, murmuring, 'Happy Father’s Day.' My father stood there, momentarily frozen in surprise. He slowly took the gift, unwrapped it, and as he saw the mini sword, his eyes welled up with tears. It was the first time I ever witnessed my father so emotionally overwhelmed. He embraced me tightly, lifting me off the ground in sheer happiness, his laughter echoing with pure joy.”

Yuriy concluded his tale, remarking, "That was perhaps the first genuine emotional connection I felt with my father, and tragically, maybe the last until his passing stirred something profound within me."

The captain, with a broad smile and attentive eyes, listened intently to Yuriy's account. His gaze was akin to someone bearing witness to a pivotal point in history, his heart racing and mind keen on absorbing every nuance. He mused, “So, this is the origin of the legendary mini sword.”

Yuriy, taken aback, responded, "A legendary mini sword? Are you referring to Dragon’s Neck?”

“Yes, Yuriy," the captain replied. "We kept the truth hidden from your family until this moment, when you would step into your father's shoes. Dragon’s Neck, the blade that severed the lives of over a thousand key figures from the enemy side, was wielded by just one man. That man earned the title 'Melee Hero' - your father, Oleksandr Kozlov."

The captain was filled with an electrifying excitement, the kind that courses through the veins of warriors and intrepid adventurers when they realize they've borne witness to events destined for the annals of history.

His perception of Yuriy shifted dramatically. No longer was Yuriy just an ordinary boy in the captain's eyes; he was now someone whose legacy was intertwined with a legendary weapon that had altered the trajectory of history.

The captain wrapped up his tale, recounting the inspiring journey of Yuriy's father. Perhaps it was an attempt to ignite a fiery passion within Yuriy to enlist in the army.

"Your father, Oleksandr, was never adept at using melee weapons," the captain began. "He faced immense challenges mastering them. As a member of the special forces, tasked with eliminating key figures on the enemy's side, it was crucial. Yet, during training, he never managed to strike a single target using a throwing knife. It was evident he grappled with mastering the art of military assassination. His struggles persisted until one transformative day."

"On that fateful day, Oleksandr brought a different kind of melee weapon to the training ground. Requesting multiple targets, he threw with a newfound determination in his eyes. In an unprecedented display, he struck each target with impeccable precision. For the first time ever, his superiors, who had grown accustomed to his struggles, were left astounded. The question on everyone's lips was: how did Oleksandr, previously deemed a failure in using melees, manage such a professional display?"

The captain paused, letting the weight of the moment sink in. "The difference was evident. The melee weapon he wielded was not like the standard ones issued during training. There was something unique about that mini sword he held; it transformed him."

Yuriy absorbed every word, a mix of disbelief and awe evident in his expression. "Did you say, it transformed him?"

The captain, reflecting on his memories, replied, "Yes, Yuriy. That mini sword instilled a newfound self-confidence in him, a feeling he never experienced with any other weapon. Oleksandr often said that the gift from his son was his most treasured possession. Not just as a tool of war, but as a symbol. Every time he wielded it, he was reminded of the bond he shared with you. It gave him purpose—a reason to fight, a reason to take aim, and, above all, a reason to triumph in his battles."

The captain's expression shifted, and a subtle, yet deeper smile formed on his lips. "Do you wish to know the circumstances of your father's passing?"

Yuriy's face tightened, a mix of anticipation and pain evident in his eyes. He gave a slight nod, a silent plea for the truth. "I need to know."

The captain's hands came down hard on the table, emphasizing the gravity of his next words. "It was because of me that your father met his end."

Yuriy's expression was a canvas of disbelief, but the captain pressed on, "During one intense battle, when we were on a mission to reclaim this territory, your father's primary role shifted from assassinating enemy leaders to safeguarding our own commanders from covert strikes. On that fateful day, he fended off more than seventy enemy soldiers single-handedly. Yet, amidst the chaos, a cunning adversary managed to approach one of our key leaders undetected."

The captain paused, his voice heavy with emotion. "Your father was the first to spot him. Desperately, he tried to warn the targeted captain. But there was a significant barrier—your father was mute. Without the ability to shout a warning or swiftly signal the impending danger, he did the only thing he could. He charged at the foe, using his own body as a shield against the lethal shot meant for the captain."

The captain took a deep breath, then continued, "Your father's sacrifice wasn't a mere tragedy. It was an act of unparalleled heroism. From that moment, he wasn't just any soldier; he was a legend, the wielder of the legendary mini sword, Dragon’s neck. And the captain he saved that day," the captain pointed to himself, "was me."

Yuriy's eyes shone with anticipation as he said, "Now, can you describe to me his expression in that defining moment?"

With unwavering confidence, the captain responded, "He had a radiant smile, a symbol of pure conviction and contentment. It was as though he was silently communicating his pride, a man without regrets, affirming his unparalleled contribution to our nation."

At that, Yuriy burst into laughter, exclaiming, "That absolute fool! Who smiles like that when facing the end, leaving behind those they love?" The captain, too, was caught up in the moment and chuckled, saying, "Exactly! Your father was something else. If it were me, I'd probably be on the ground, wracked with pain."

The room was soon filled with a mix of Yuriy's laughter and tears. As the two shared stories about Yuriy's father, a newfound bond began to form, and Yuriy felt increasingly connected to it all.

Yes, he started to accept his fate.