“Now I want to hear from your mouth,” Hassai said. “What happened to you after your fight?”

Inaki wanted to lie to his father, tell him that Taral was the one who had hit him in the head. But instead out of his mouth came the truth, “Taral’s youngest son hit me in the back of the head with his wooden practice sword.”

“Have you picked up a sword since then,” Hassai said.

“No,” Inaki said. “I spent a whole week learning to walk normally again.”

Inaki flinched away, he thought his father was going to scream at him, or shout at him, instead he did the worst thing that he could’ve done, “It is okay.”

“How can you say that,” Inaki said. “I have disappointed you so much, I lost in the end to a child.”

“If you recover, you will have learnt a true lesson,” Hassai said. “If you don’t recover, I will still love you, my son.”

Inaki couldn’t believe what his father was saying. He felt a pressure in his heart. He stepped back. Inaki reached to his side to touch his sword to talk to the man that lived in his head, but he realized that he had been so scared of ever picking up his sword again, that he wasn’t even wearing one.

Inaki stepped back, and ran away from his father’s room.

“Inaki,” Hassai screamed. “Inaki, what did I say.”

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Hassai sat on his chair, watching his son running away. His wife had been standing at the door, and the minute Inaki left the room she began to leave too. It had been a week, and even after months upon months, he still didn’t have the courage to have the conversation that he would have to have soon.

Hassai had spent the few days he had spent in the Tomoka castle sleeping in one of the empty rooms in secret, he hadn’t been able to even look his wife in the eye. He couldn’t look his own reflection in the eye; he hated himself so much.

“Ivanta,” Hassai screamed. “Wait.”

The woman flinched, in fear. Hassai didn’t want her to be afraid, but that was the man that he had been. Hassai might have changed, but he still had to live the life of the man he was before.

“I am sorry,” Ivanta said. “I pushed them while you weren’t here. I pushed them for you, I tried to eke out the best from them, and it wasn’t enough. I am so sorry.” Ivanta held her hand at the door, still frozen.

Hassai stood up and stepped as far away from Ivanta as he could. He stood at the window, and looked at his wife from afar and said, “I wasn’t a very good man .”

“What do you mean lord,” Ivanta said, her tone still filled with fear and subservience.

“Please,” Hassai. “I need to say this.”

“Say what,” Ivanta said, slowly beginning to stand straight.

“I am sorry,” Hassai said.

“For what,” Ivanta said, her tone becoming less fearful.

“I understand if—no—that you want to leave me, you don’t have to worry about your family’s finances, they will retain their positions in the clan, and I will give you as much money as you want.”

“You haven’t answered me,” Ivanta said, her tone shaky. She still had one hand on the door, ready to open it and run away. Hassai was still looking at the ground, unwilling to look the woman he mistreated in the eye.

“I am sorry, for being a horrible man. I am sorry for not respecting you. I am sorry for hitting you. It is something that I can never be redeemed for. I say I'm sorry, but I do not expect you to accept my apologies. I have nothing to ask you. Please ask anything you want of me.”

“How,” Ivanta asked.

“I met a man,” Hassai said, “Who made me realize the effect I was having upon the world.” Hassai saw the face of Takehito in his mind. The man who he owed his life to.

“You can just apologize,” Ivanta said, tears now streaming from her eyes. “It doesn’t matter to you. I am just a nobody, a woman made someone because of our marriage. Whether I accept your apology, or I don’t accept your apology, it doesn’t matter. I will always carry these scars.” Ivanta raised her long sleeved robes showing all of the scars on her arms, she reminded Hassai of every fight. Every scar.

Just thinking about it all, the guilt. I can’t even remember ever being that man.

Hassai stepped away and picked up the very staff with which he inflicted all of this with. Ivanta flinched once again, and said, “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, please forgive me.”

“No,” Hassai said, “You have every right to say what you have.” Hassai slowly placed the staff on the ground, and kicked it across the room. Hassai took off his shirt, and bent down onto his knees and said, “I will never know what it was like to have known me as the person I was before, I will never carry those scars, all I can do is ask for forgiveness, which I know I could never be granted.”

Hassai put his hands beneath him, and waited. At first Ivanta stood there stuck to the door. Then she turned slowly, stepped forward. She picked up the staff in her hand.

Ivanta’s tears became a torrent. She stepped forward and hit Hassai in the arm.

“You never hit me in the head or on my face so I will give you the same,” Ivanta said, as she struck once more.

Hassai didn’t speak, just sitting there. Tears formed in his eyes, but not from the pain. From just how much he hated himself.

“You can’t possibly know how much I hate you,” Ivanta said, striking Hassai with the staff. “You can’t possibly know how much I hate myself because of you.”

Hassai continued to stay silent.

“Because of you, I haven’t been able to form a bond with my children,” Ivanta said, hitting him once again. She swung the staff with extreme pace. Hassai was in pain, his bones creaked but he didn’t say a word. “I hate them, for I hated you, and I couldn’t do anything to you. I hate myself for being so helpless.”

Hassai continued to stay silent. Ivanta screamed some more, then threw down the staff. Still covered in tears, she stepped out of Hassai’s study, and shut the door with a loud bang.

Hassai just sat there, in a pool of his own tears and self-hatred. Hassai fell down, and though he was a Sage, the pinnacle of the sword, he fainted from the pain and bruises.

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Inaki ran into his room. His room was quite small, and it was completely plain except for a few windows which allowed good airflow. Inaki sat down on his bed, and found that his little luggage had been brought here by some servant.

Inaki sat there in his bed, nervous. This would be the time he would’ve spent training. Inaki did not want to go and pick up his sword now, he didn’t want to know if he still had his old skill.

Maybe it’ll just be like my walking, I’ll be off for a week, and then I’ll be normal again. Inaki sat in his bed, trying to delay what would come next as long as he could.

A servant knocked on Inaki’s door, “May I come in sir.”

“Come in,” Inaki said.

“Gero-son-Jotar Heoin has challenged you to a duel. He is an Iron,” The servant said. “Should I decline.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Why would I decline,” Inaki said. “Tell him I accept, and set a date for two weeks from now.”

“Sorry sir, I just thought that an Iron would be below you, I will set the date,” the servant said. The servant left the room, leaving Inaki there alone.

I defeated a Diamond at the top of her game while terribly injured, regardless of what happened, I have to be good enough to fight an Iron.

Inaki stood up and walked through the corridors of the hallway into the training hall. Stepping into the familiar room after a month and a week, he felt at home. Inaki stepped forward and grabbed a random practice sword from the wall—the practice swords he was used to using had been all cut in half—and stepped forward.

He then looked through the door and watched Gonten. He struck the sword with one hand and cut the bush. He moved around the bush as if the bush was his opponent. Inaki couldn’t help but watch in awe.

Gonten then stepped back, and sheathed his sword. A perfectly round bush. Inaki stepped out and said, “How?”

“Takehito made me practice with both hands,” Gonten said. “He said if each arm was individually strong, then both arms would be strong together.”

Inaki held the wooden practice sword in his hand once again, and stood straight. He still wasn’t ready to swing his sword again, especially after seeing Gonten’s work.

“I am going to be here for longer,” Gonten said.

“Why,” Inaki said. “Takehito has made you so good in such a short time.”

“The exams are in less than a month,” Gonten said. “I will definitely become Iron this exam.”

Inaki didn’t say anything. Gonten was becoming good enough, but once again Inaki thought that if he praised him it would go to his head so he just said, “You want to become just an Iron?”

“Good enough for a gardener,” Gonten said, swinging his sword. He was really becoming really good. Inaki stepped into the training hall and Gonten followed. Inaki raised his arm into the air for a standard downward swing. He braced himself and was about to swing, but then the door opened.

Hassai limped into the room. He stepped into the room and said, “You’re not going to start training without me?”

“I am sorry,” Inaki said, putting his sword down without striking.

“Oh, don’t need to say sorry,” Hassai said. He did not bring up Inaki running away.

Gonten seemed to visibly tense up when Hassai stepped into the training hall. Inaki could only barely remember the time when Hassai was there before, and what he did know is that he was not proud of Gonten.

“Why don’t you show me the Tigerstance Kata,” Hassai said. Hassai stepped to Gonten to have a conversation with him while Inaki raised his sword trying to start the kata. Inaki was about to start the kata, when he put his sword down and said, “Gonten, why don’t you go first.”

Hassai and Gonten were still speaking. Gonten teared up as Hassai spoke. At first he stepped two steps back, then leaped at his father into a one-armed embrace. Hassai held him close to his heart and Inaki watched as his brother cried in his father’s arms.

Inaki stood there, his sword-arm limp. After a few minutes, Gonten stepped back from Hassai and wiped his face with a towel. Hassai himself was red-eyed from crying and needed to wipe his face too.

“Gonten, why don’t you do the kata first,” Inaki said, stepping back.

“Sure,” Gonten said with his sword. He stepped forward, holding his sword in his left hand, and began the dance. Inaki stared in awe as Gonten moved, adapting the moves which required both hands to just one hand as he moved. How could this be the same man that Inaki had seen a month ago? What magic had Takehito done on his brother? Inaki felt his panic rising to his chest at that moment. He felt like the room was closing in around him, the little hope that he had left that he would be good at the sword melted away. In his mind he saw a vision of him being left behind by Gonten and his father.

Soon Gonten was done with the dance. Hassai smiled, and clapped, “Takehito told me that he met you, but he didn’t tell me what he made of you.”

Hassai stepped forward and once again hugged his son.

“When was the last time you met Takehito?” Gonten asked.

“Just before he left for Yaroka,” Hassai said.

“What?” Gonten asked.

“I stayed in the monastery with Takehito,” Hassai said. “Because I didn’t know how to show you my face.”

“Why,” Gonten said.

“I was a very bad man,” Hassai said. “I hope that you two did not follow me as I was, but follow me now as I am.”

How can he say that? Inaki felt a pressure in his chest. He had spent his entire life in pursuit of becoming Hassai, but now, his father had changed? How could he do that?

Hassai stopped talking after that, standing with his arms clasped behind his back. In an effort to break the silence Gonten said, “Inaki, why don’t you do the kata now?”

Inaki wanted to punch his brother in the face. Instead he stood up, and held his sword high, ready to begin the kata. He took an uncertain breath in, and began the kata.

He jumped forward, tripped over his own feet, and hit the ground, the wooden practice sword leaping out of his hands. Inaki stood up, and wordlessly picked up his sword. He started the kata again. His kata was sloppy, horrible, without grace. Inaki dropped his sword several times, he fell a few more times, and each time he felt more and more suffocated. He struggled through the kata, and once he was done with the embarrassment he stood straight, and tried as hard as he could to hold back his tears.

Hassai looked at Inaki with grave eyes, and stepped to his son, embraced him and said, “It’s okay son, I heard that it took you a week to start walking again, you’ll be good again with time.” “So, I guess today we’ll stick to the basics of swordplay,” Hassai said. “Both of you show me your basic sword strikes.”

Gonten stepped forward, and began. He struck like he was a master. Even if he didn’t progress to Silver during the next exam, he would be better than the vast majority of the new Irons during the exams. Him becoming Iron was something Inaki took for granted at this point.

Inaki stared at his wooden practice sword, and for the first time in a while he felt like it was the sword he deserved. Inaki stepped forward ready to strike. He raised his sword, and struck.

“Too sloppy,” Gonten screamed from behind Inaki, with a dirty smile on his face.

Inaki struck again, he raised his sword into the sky and slashed downwards.

“You don’t want to tell your opponent where you are going to strike before you do,” Gonten said from behind. Hassai stood silent, what Gonten was saying resonated in his mind somehow. Hassai was speaking, but it wasn’t the real Hassai, he was standing over there silently. The Hassai in Inaki’s brain was screaming at him, the Hassai in real life was silent. Inaki’s head spun in confusion.

Inaki raised his sword and slashed downwards. He slashed downwards again and again and again. Each time it was the same result. Hassai just stood there with a straight face, and Gonten screamed at Inaki from behind along with the voice in his head, mocking him.

Inaki began screaming as he slashed. His arm and shoulder hurt horribly, but he kept slashing, he kept slashing. He screamed louder and louder, and Gonten went quiet. Hassai stood quiet too. Inaki slashed one last time, and stopped only because his arm went limp. He heard Hassai’s voice screaming at him for his incompetence, but when he looked at his father he found that he was standing silent with a sympathetic expression. Inaki felt like he was going crazy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Inaki screamed. He ran at the wall and slammed his wooden sword into the wall in frustration, again and again and again, until the sword cracked and his hand was dripping in blood.

“I was just joking brother,” Gonten said, grabbing Inaki and stopping him.

“I know my slashes weren’t good,” Inaki screamed. He put his bleeding palm on the wall and fell, sliding against the wall. He tried to hold his tears, he tried as best as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Inaki cracked, and the tears burst through him like a bucket covered in holes.

Hassai stepped behind him, and put his hand on his shoulder. Inaki moved his hand off his shoulder and stood up. He then walked out of the training hall, and slid the door shut with a loud sound.

“I am sorry for being such a disappointment,” Inaki whispered as he left the training hall.

He walked to his room, the castle seemed too silent, as if Inaki’s mind had zoned out. The only sound he could hear was the sound of his own blood, dropping from his palms, and plopping onto the ground.

Inaki continued walking, stepping through the corridors aimlessly. He found himself standing outside his mother’s room. But when had she been any comfort? Inaki continued walking, he felt his head bursting in pain. The corridor began spinning in his mind, and Inaki felt light headed. He felt like he was going to throw up. The sound of his blood dripping onto the ground became louder and louder and louder, until he couldn’t hear even his own breath. The sound of his blood hitting the ground reached an agonizing crescendo, and then Inaki felt himself fall, collapsing onto the ground with a loud and wet thud.

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Ivanta ran into the training hall, with a servant, who held Inaki over his shoulder. He was bleeding from his palms and head.

“What happened,” Hassai screamed. This is all my fault. My old philosophy. I am going to burn all those old books.

“He fainted in the corridor,” Ivanta said.

“Where was he going?” Hassai said.

“I don’t know, he was near my room,” Ivanta said.

“Have you called the monks?” Hassai said.

“They’ll take too long,” Ivanta said.

“Give him to me,” Hassai said. Hassai ran forward and the servant gave Hassai his son. Hassai wanted to cry because he felt so guilty, but instead he kept his composure. He ran out through the garden gate. Holding his unconscious son in his hands he began running towards the monastery.

He pushed through the crowds at first, “let me through,” Hassai screamed, and then they parted, giving him way through the streets of Tomoka. Hassai’s feet hurt by the time he reached the monastery.

Inaki handed his son over to the monks, who took him in to treat him.

This is all my fault. Hassai thought. I wish I had been a better man.