Inaki stood in the training hall. It was too early in the morning for most people, which meant that the whole castle was silent. Inaki closed his eyes and focused on all of the sounds around him. The chirping of crickets, the singing of the birds, the whispering of the bushes. But the sounds which were the loudest in Inaki's ears was the beating of his own heart, and the sound of his rickety bones trembling.

Inaki then inverted his focus. The sounds he had been focusing on so hard became vague whispers in the back of his head as he focused on the wooden dummy in front of him. His sword trembled, but Inaki was determined.

Inaki's tremor slowed to a halt as Takehito’s tea took full effect. Inaki raced forward towards the dummy and used the Tigerstance’s jumping cross slash. His sword hit the wood and ricocheted out of his hand, barely denting the dummy. Inaki's wooden practice sword hit the wooden floorboards with a loud thud.

Inaki sighed. He heaved in tiredness and hit the ground, sitting there with his sword laid on the ground a few feet away.

Inaki stood up and raised his sword again. Now that his hands weren't shaking he had hoped that he would be better, but as he jumped into the Tigerstance kata, he found himself stumbling.

After stumbling through the Tigerstance kata, without a break Inaki began the Bullstance kata, a kata which has fewer jumps, and lesser precision. Even then Inaki felt like a beginner once again. No. Inaki didn't remember ever being this bad.

Inaki had never known before what it meant to be weak. Now he felt too intimate with the concept.

His duel with Gero was still a week away and if Inaki could barely fight like a boy who had just gotten his sword how could he fight an Iron.

Inaki hit the ground near the end of the Bullstance kata. As he did, Hassai walked in.

“Today will be the first day of your lessons,” Hassai said.

“In what?” Inaki asked.

“Why don't you test everything out, see what you like. You could try painting, poetry, whatever you want,” Hassai said. “You are allowed to enjoy the luxuries granted to you by being the son of a Sage,” Hassai said. “Even if you want to continue with the sword, why not try something else too?”

“Fine,” Inaki said. Hassai smiled and left the room.

Inaki was once more left alone. Even though he had drank the tea, and his hands trembled less, the sword still made him feel like a beginner. Regardless, Inaki continued pushing.

He once again started into the kata, once again, once again, once again. Each and every time he did the kata, he failed. He hit the ground, his strike wasn’t on the mark, one step didn’t flow into the next correctly.

Inaki hit the ground and began sighing.

Maybe I should go to the temple and go train with the others. Inaki wondered. No, I can’t let anybody know of this.

Losing his duel against Gero, would be more than enough to alert everyone of what had happened to him. Inaki stood up, and lashed out with his sword, but his body stopped.

He felt like the whole world had paused in that moment, or was it his brain that was still stuck in the past? Next thing Inaki felt blinding pain in his head, and he tasted blood on his tongue.

He woke up in the afternoon, once again at the monastery.

“I thought I told you to stop this,” The monk said. Inaki tried to open his mouth to speak, but found that he had a lisp as he spoke.

“You’ve bitten your tongue,” The monk said.

Hassai was sitting there too, his eyes in a solemn expression. Inaki sat up in his bed. The monk gave him something to hold on his tongue which relieved the pain, and he tried to speak.

“If this happens even once more,” Hassai said. “I am canceling your duel with Gero.”

“Please don’t,” Inaki said. “That would be just screaming to the world about what happened to me.”

“Inaki we have had this conversation enough times now. For now, come home and begin your lessons. For today, you will learn how to paint.”

Inaki got up wordlessly from the bed. When Hassai offered his arm to carry Inaki, Inaki raised his arm, signaling that he didn’t need it.

The two of them walked in silence, except for the few times where Inaki could see Hassai’s mouth twitch, but the both of them knew that any conversation they would have now, would just be a repetition of conversations they had already had.

The whole town of Tomoka seemed to have an air of celebration around it. The students were training in the yard of the temple instead of inside of it, so Inaki could see them all training. One of the sword masters called out for Inaki, but upon seeing Hassai trailing behind him, he stepped back too.

Inaki didn’t even raise his head to meet the master’s eyes. They entered through the gate of the training hall, where Inaki found that Gonten was training with Takehito. No, he wasn’t training, Takehito was making him write on a canvas.

“Come on, you’re better than that,” Takehito said. “That’s such a pedestrian description.”

“What,” Gonten said. “You asked me to write a description of the sky, and I did, I am no poet.”

“You don’t have to be a poet to write a beautiful line, I’m a monk, I have to practice giving these useful quotes every day,” Takehito said.

“Ruins the magic if you say you have to practice it,” Gonten said.

“I’m still giving you the same advice,” Takehito said. “Now come on, describe that plant for me, and write it down.”

“What is this,” Hassai said, stepping up to greet his old friend. It seemed an odd coincidence to Inaki that the day that he was about to start his training in the court, Takehito was teaching Gonten writing.

“Oh, just training your son to use his left hand like his right hand once was. People really underestimate the value of a good handwriting for a swordsman, after all, a good handwriting requires the most precise control of your hand.”

“Well said,” Hassai pat Takehito on his back. “Come on Inaki, your tutors are here.”

“I guess in the end Taral was successful,” Takehito said, as Inaki and Hassai were walking away.

“What do you mean,” Inaki said.

“If not him, his son certainly forced you to give up your sword.”

“I am not giving up the sword,” Inaki said.

“He is just looking for something to invest himself in except the sword,” Hassai said. Hassai joined his hands in a reverential gesture. “I’ll see you later, master.”

Hassai led Inaki through the corridors of the castle, through the main hallway to many different stairwells. Finally leading to a room where a man sat wearing elegant white robes with long white eyebrows, and paradoxically barely any white in his hair, which was colored like he had fallen into a puddle of a mixture of a lot of paints.

“This man is a Diamond artist, don’t worry, he’ll teach you well,” Hassai said.

There weren’t just weapons clans, there were artisan clans as well, the Sages of the artisan clans just found patronage in weapons clans for protection and support.

“Come on now child,” One of the masters said. “My name is Aiali-son-Tarkin Rheod, now tell me do you have any experience in art?”

“I used to paint a lot when I was six,” Inaki said, with a hand on his chin. “I did some painting until I turned thirteen, but then the sword became most of my life.”

“Then why don’t we begin by seeing you make something,” Aiali said. “So I can know from where I must begin. Any theoretical knowledge?”

“None,” Inaki said. “I used to draw the plants in my garden.”

“So, draw something like you used to,” Aiali said.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The room they were in was a large one, and the reason it was large, is because the room had buckets and buckets of paint. There was also a stack of canvases at the end of the room. Aiali ran around and in a plate collected a bunch of colors, he brought a few brushes, and a canvas, and set up the stand so Inaki could paint. There were a few potted plants near one of the windows of the room, so the man ran and got one of those too.

“Here,” The man said, sighing from having to run around to get everything. “For now I’ve given you and mixed all the proper colors you need to draw a plant, and I’ve also given you all the brushes you would need, so draw the plant.”

“Wait,” Inaki said. He walked out of the room. Above the door there was a small string. Inaki pulled on it, which made a bell ring. A servant walked up to him.

“Get me some calming tea,” Inaki said. “The one brought by Takehito.”

“Yes sir,” The servant said, running away. In ten minutes he was back with the hot tea. Inaki gulped it down, uncaring about burning his tongue then walked back in.

He looked at his hands, and saw that their trembling reduced a lot. He then focused, and they nearly stopped trembling.

Inaki stepped forward, and began painting. At first he felt uncertain, rusty. The first few strokes of his brush were aimless. He focused on the plant. Not as if he wanted to draw it, but instinctively as if he wanted to cut it. He tamed his instincts, using his sword focus techniques to paint, and he began moving his brush. Painting was not like the sword.

The sword was fast, and frantic, painting was slow, and meticulous. When with the sword, Inaki was comforted, but always on edge, now Inaki felt a sense of relaxation as he painted. Maybe I could do this. Inaki thought.

The vision began taking shape, and Inaki began feeling a sense of happiness as he saw it coming together. In what felt like ten minutes, he stepped back from the canvas, and examined the painting.

“Wow,” The man said. “You have potential.”

“So it’s good?” Inaki said.

“For me,” Aiali said. “no, but for someone who is picking up the brush for the first time in almost seven years, this is exquisite. You are blessed with such talent.”

Why did Inaki get to keep his ability in painting and not his ability with the sword. Did this have anything to do with Taral’s Sage abilities, like how he was able to compel him? No, that couldn’t be it, for everything else it was so weak.

Inaki examined the painting and he couldn’t understand what Aiali meant when he said it was good at any experience level. The painting had jagged lines from where Inaki’s tremor took slight control, the perspective was completely wrong, and the more Inaki looked at it the more Inaki realized it was bad.

“Oh don’t worry,” Aiali said, looking at Inaki’s face. “Everyone starts somewhere.”

But Inaki couldn’t remember starting somewhere. He only remembered being good, then being better. But Inaki continued, and for the next hour and a half began earnestly learning about painting.

In the middle of the lesson, Inaki heard a noise coming from outside.

“I think I heard something,” Inaki said. Inaki stepped back to go outside, but Aiali gestured him to stop, “I can assure you it’s nothing.” But Inaki could hear the voices of several people walking in.

Inaki continued the lesson for the next few minutes, slightly on edge, the noise of people became louder and louder until Inaki couldn’t bear it any more.

That’s when Hassai stepped into the room.

“Son, I think this time I’ll let you get dressed into something good first.” Hassai was dressed in more elegant robes than usual, his long mustaches were combed and he had shaved the gray fuzz on his head, leaving him shiny bald.

Hassai led Inaki out of there and into an empty room. He tossed robes, a pair of trousers, and some thread to tie his hair, and then closed the door.

“What is it this time,” Inaki said. “Am I turning twenty-one.”

“Oh it’s better than that,” Hassai shouted. “Now come on just get dressed.”

Inaki reluctantly agreed, and changed into the clothes Hassai had given him. He tied his hair properly, and stepped out of the door. Hassai once again led Inaki through various corridors and stairwells, back out into the main castle, where somehow in a few hours, the entire castle had been decorated, more guests than even his birthday party roamed about.

“What is it,” Inaki said. He looked around him and saw that a few men stood together, but they did not speak. They had an air about them. They all looked grand. When Inaki counted he saw that there were three men and one woman there, all standing with their hands on their swords.

Hassai stepped in and joined their ranks.

“Inaki, meet the sword Sages of the Province that aren’t out on their pilgrimage,” Hassai said.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Inaki said, bowing as low as he could.

“Oh don’t need to bow,” A man said. He was quite old, Moham Heoin was old and bony, but extremely tall, like a large skeleton.

“Congratulations,” The woman said. She was old too, but about the same age as Hassai, which meant that only a few gray hairs were present in her otherwise jet black hair.

“For what,” Inaki said.

“Oh, I forgot to reveal the surprise to you,” Hassai said. “It’s your sword ceremony. You’re becoming a swordsman Inaki.”

“What?” Inaki said. “Father, can we talk?”

“Yes,” Hassai said. Hassai and Inaki stepped away from the sages. Hassai had the widest smile on his face, but Inaki was just plain confused.

“What is this about, just now you were talking about me giving up the sword, now you’re making me one,” Inaki said.

“Didn’t you hear,” Hassai said. “They’re giving you Diamond, and you only have to defend it during the exam if you want to advance, so you can call yourself a great swordsman, doesn’t this solve your problem?”

“I don’t want to just be called a great swordsman, I want to be one,” Inaki said.

“Isn’t this a good compromise between giving up the sword as a whole, and continuing to train and getting yourself killed,” Hassai said. “Anyways, we’ll talk about all this after the ceremony.”

Hassai then walked away, leaving Inaki to awkwardly socialize. Inaki could talk to people if he had to, he just didn’t have much to talk about. The people around him spoke about the others at the temples and at the schools, but Inaki had always trained alone and Inaki had done his education at home too. So he didn’t have anything to talk about. The Tomoka students swarmed him, asking for advice, asking him to train them. Inaki told them vague tips and then when they had nothing to speak to him about, they naturally walked away.

After a swarm of people all came to Inaki and spoke to him for a few words, then stood there awkwardly, then walked away, Inaki found himself standing with wine in his hand. All alone, as the people around him enjoyed the party of his sword ceremony.

After some time of partying, Hassai stood on stage and shouted, “Hello everyone.” His voice reverberated through the party hall.

“As you all know, tonight is the swordsman ceremony of my younger son, Inaki. I am sure we’ve all heard of his assault on the Yaroka castle, where he single-handedly defeated more than nine enemies, ultimately losing only to the new Sage Taral Yaroka, who spared my son’s life in his Sage’s wisdom. For his achievements in Yaroka castle, Inaki is not just being given his sword, he is also being directly promoted to Diamond, a feat never before seen in the world of swordsmen—and women—” Hassai said, pointing at the woman sage—“let’s clap for my son shall we.”

The room was silent at first upon hearing the news that Inaki would be promoted to a Diamond as his first ever sword. But after it had settled over the room, everyone erupted into cheers.

“Come on,” Hassai said, “Come here my son.”

The crowd seemed to twist in on itself to push Inaki forward. Without having moved voluntarily whatsoever, Inaki found himself at the foot of the stage. He jumped onto the stage and Hassai embraced him.

The other four Sword Sages stood with Inaki’s blade in their hand. Hassai walked to the circle of the other Sages, and drew the sword. He stepped to Inaki, who was now prostrated on the floor.

“Rise. Stretch forth your hand,” Hassai said. Inaki raised his head up, and while still sitting on his knees, Inaki reached out his right hand, which was shaking slightly, but not too much because of Takehito’s tea.

“Open your palm,” Hassai said. Inaki followed. Hassai cut through Inaki’s palm with the sword, its entire length in a thin film of his blood. Inaki didn’t even wince. Then Hassai placed the blade in his hand, and Inaki closed his hand around it. Inaki stood up, and raised the blade into the air. Hassai gave him the scabbard on the other hand. Then Inaki put his sword into the sheath, and then tied it around his waist.

Inaki then bowed, and walked off the stage.

The celebration lasted an hour or so more, Inaki kept to himself and spent his time drinking. Hassai was stuck talking to officials of the other clans, since unlike Inaki’s birthday party, this was an event that contained people from all around the province. A few more people spoke to Inaki, some people wanted to see Inaki’s blade, and its Diamond studded hilt. Inaki showed it off without any complaint.

“Let us move on, to the second purpose of this event,” Hassai said. Inaki stood with his glass of wine in his hand. He chugged it down in a single sip. “The second purpose of this event is burning all my old writings.”

A servant walked in with a wheelbarrow of manuscripts and books. “Of course, I am not burning my technique manuals, but these are all my writings of philosophy, and all my writings about my thoughts on life.

“My Sage’s pilgrimage taught me so much. I was not a good man before then. I used to believe that there was only room for the best in the world, that everyone else suffered and lived lives not worth living. Then I left the golden halls of my palace and walked through the world. I realized that there is more room for people than I thought. I found that any man from the strongest swordsman, to a man who cleaned the roads could be a great man. That was because my definition of greatness had always been wrong.

“To be great, is not to go around stomping your enemies proving yourself strong. The greatest man is the one who brings joy to everyone around him, and makes the lives of everyone around him better. I have never been a great man in my life. Not for my wife, not for my children, not for anyone who has ever read my writings.

“I would like to conclude by saying that if my writings affected you, made you feel like your life was not worth living, then I am sorry. It took me getting off my ivory horse to realize that anyone can live a life worth living, full of happiness.”

Everyone clapped for Hassai as he stood on stage. But for Inaki There was one thing that Hassai hadn’t apologized for. Inaki had wholeheartedly believed in his father’s philosophies, but now without his philosophies he didn’t know what to believe in. Hassai had not apologized for the emptiness that Inaki now felt.

The party was soon over, and Inaki was once again standing in the training hall reminded of his new-found incompetence. How could anyone live this way and be happy? Inaki couldn’t believe Hassai for a second that everyone could live a happy life.

Happiness was for the strong, the rich, and the lucky. The rest were stuck in its pursuit.

Inaki held the Diamond-hilted sword which marked that he was one of the greatest swordsmen in the world. He stared at the glittering diamonds which studded the hilt, but he still felt bitterly incomplete.

He felt like a sword most ornately smithed from the greatest steel in the world, but somehow shattered by a wind.

Inaki felt broken.