Inaki arrived in Tomoka, not only having lost his Diamond rank, but also having lost his sword itself.

His cart went through the gates of Tomoka, where no one was waiting for him, because his arrival was unannounced. The cart took him to the main gates of the castle, and Inaki instinctively was about to jump out of the cart, but remembering his ailments, he stepped off the cart slowly and carefully.

When he stepped into the castle, he saw Hassai there waiting for him. He had a mix of anger and sympathy in his eyes, but then his eyes focused on the place where Inaki’s sword sheath should be, and his expression went from just shock to bewilderment.

Wordlessly, Hassai stepped forward, and hugged his son. Inaki began crying into his arms, but Hassai just whispered, “Not here son, we don’t have the privilege to cry where the world can see.”

Hassai and Inaki stepped through the castle courtyard, towards the training room. Once they were in the training room and the two of them were alone, Hassai said, “Tell me what all happened.”

Through intermittent tears, Inaki told the story of the exams. He also told his father about how far Gonten had come.

“Takehito worked a miracle on me, and on Gonten. I am sure that you will recover soon too, and if you don’t he will train you too. Now you can rest, and soon we will begin training for you to be able to win your duels.”

“What do I do for now?” Inaki asked.

“Please, son, for your own sake, just rest,” Hassai.

“Then I guess sitting here around swords won’t be good for me,” Inaki said. He got up, picked up his sack, which had his wooden sword. He put the wooden sword on one of the holders on the wall, and walked out of the training room.

When he entered his small room, he began packing all of his things. He walked out and tugged on the string above his door, calling for a servant.

“What do you want sir,” A servant came a few minutes later.

“Move me out of this small room and into a bigger one, I don’t have a reason to not want to stay in my quarters all the time now,” Inaki said.

“Yes sir, I will go talk with the master-servant and make sure you have a room as fast as possible, and sir you don’t have to bother packing yourself.”

Inaki stepped back into his room, and looked into his cupboard. He had a few books and scrolls, all about different sword techniques. The books which weren’t manuals were biographies of great weapon-masters, not just swordsmen, like Thorohin Tiru, the Unarmed Sage, or Enn Unnui, the Sword Sage who was one of the first woman sages, and was the reason why woman weapon-masters weren’t seen as that out of place. He looked through all of his belongings, the things he considered his and not of the palace, and he realized that all of them were somehow related to the sword. All of the robes in his closet were swordsman’s robes.

There was a knock on the door, Inaki stepped out to investigate, and saw that the servant was back with two other servants, “Sir, we are here to carry your belongings.”

“I don’t need them, instead tell father that I want all new clothes, not swordsman's robes,” Inaki said. “I also want all tools necessary for painting to be put in my room.”

“Yes sir,” The servant said. The servant walked over to the other two who had come to carry all of his luggage, and they walked away. “Let me lead you to your new room sir.”

The man led Inaki through the castle, the new room was as far away from the training room as could be. In fact, it wasn’t even in the same wing of the castle. The man led Inaki through sets of stairwells, and corridors, and finally, Inaki entered his room.

His new room was big enough to fit four rooms the size of his older room with some space to spare. There was a water fountain in the room, and the bed was almost as large as Inaki’s old room. The windows had luxurious borders, and there was a brilliant painting on each of the four walls.

The other servants walked in, one carrying on his back an entire basket with different buckets of paint, the other carried in easels, canvases, and brushes. The servants were skilled in being able to carry so much luggage at once, and yet they were only paid with a bed to sleep in and two cold meals. Why was their skill not valued like the sword?

Inaki stepped into the room and laid on the bed. He felt like he was going to sink into the mattress. It was the most comfortable bed Inaki had slept in.

Being in that room, Inaki realized how much of the luxuries of being a Sage’s son he had been missing out on. He had dedicated his life to only one thing, and now it had stranded him. Now no matter what luxuries he surrounded himself with, no matter what his father said, no matter what hobbies he tried, it didn’t matter. They would never be able to fill the gap in his heart that was there because of the sword.

Inaki felt like a gutted fish.

Not knowing what to do, Inaki just laid in his luxurious new bed, just staring at the ceiling. He had no idea what else to do, so he just did that. Soon he found himself extremely bored.

He got up and placed a canvas on the easel, he picked up the brushes he would need, a big one for backgrounds, a smaller one for bigger details, and a thin one for outlines and smaller details. He put colors in his palette, and ready with everything, sat in front of the canvas, he tried to think of something to draw. But he couldn’t think of anything. He decided to just let his hands flow on the canvas, and he watched. He put swatches of color randomly on the canvas, and as he continued the drawing, it began taking true shape, it was a self-portrait, but not of him, of the man he used to be, the man he used to be when he still had purpose in his life.

There was a mirror or on the wall, Inaki looked in the mirror and looked at himself and could only see the scars on his face, and empty eyes, but when he looked at the portrait of himself that he had drawn, it was jagged, imperfect, and a mediocre drawing, but he saw a spark in that man’s eyes, a spark to be the best, a spark for life.

A man high enough to look down on others. In fact, it seemed like that painting was looking down on him.

“Disappointment,” Inaki heard in his mind. He had expected it to be Hassai’s voice, the man who he had carried in his mind for so long, but no, it wasn’t his voice, it was Inaki’s own voice. The man that he used to be.

“You are what you hated the most,” The man Inaki used to be whispered into his ears. “What are you going to do with your life. You’ve become nothing more than a name in the Tomoka family registry, I was supposed to become a legend.”

“I am sorry,” Inaki said. Inaki picked up the painting he had just made, and threw it into the fountain. The disappointed voice didn’t stop.

“You’re not even a swordsman, now what are you, a useless leech, who is only in this room because of his father’s achievements, who will be remembered only for his fall? In the histories your name won’t be mentioned with admiration, it will only be mentioned with pity. You have turned me into a cautionary tale about hubris,” The Inaki before the injury said.

Inaki just whispered, “I am sorry.”

“Now what are you going to do?” The swordsman Inaki said.

“I don’t know,” Inaki said.

“Are you going to become known as a painter,” The swordsman Inaki said. “Not with those paintings.”

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“Maybe I need to practice more.”

“You didn’t need practice to become good with the sword, you only needed practice to become better.”

Inaki buried his head into a pillow on his bed, to try and stop the voice, but it just wouldn’t stop. The man that Inaki used to be continued, and unlike the voice of Hassai, who only came when Inaki picked up a sword, the man that Inaki used to be, did not quiet up.

That evening, Inaki stepped out of the Tomoka castle, with a little bit of money. He walked into the first tavern he saw outside the castle, a place for the upper class, where everyone drank in small sips. A place for the soldiers, swordsmen and important people of the Tomoka clan to congregate, gossip and calm down a little.

Inaki walked up to the barman and said, “What is the strongest drink you have?”

“It’s definitely not for a child for you,” The barman said.

“I asked for your strongest drink,” Inaki said.

“Well, it’s this rum imported from outside the Province, all the way from Ertasia, they say that the Ertasians consider our liquor non-alcoholic.” It would be very expensive—trade between the Province and the lands beyond was rare. But Inaki needed to taste this.

“Then give me a pint,” Inaki said.

“Oh we don’t drink these in pints,” the barman said.

“Then give me the largest serving you have,” Inaki said.

“Hope you have someone to carry you home,” The man said.

The barman offered him the glass, it was about the size of his thumb, and filled to the brim. Inaki quickly downed it. It was extremely bitter, and it set his throat on fire. Inaki felt like he was going to puke, but he held it in.

“How is it,” The barman said, “Too expensive for my wages to cover even a drop.”

“Horribly bitter, and burns the throat,” Inaki croaked.

“Perfect then,” The barman said.

“Well, I don’t feel anything, give me another one,” Inaki said.

“What happened to you,” a man walked up to Inaki. Inaki recognized him as one of the Golds in the Tomoka army; he couldn’t remember his name. “A girl leave you for your elder brother?” He said.

“Could say that,” Inaki said.

“Well, liven up boy, these things happen to a man every once in a while, why don’t you come drink with us,” Inaki tried extremely hard to remember his name, but he just couldn’t.

“Hey Kiba, get me a pint of beer too,” Someone screamed from a table.

“On it,” the Gold Inaki was talking to, said.

“Kiba,” Inaki said, muttering his name.

“Yes,” Kiba said. “Do you wanna come drink with us? We can introduce you to some new girls if you like?”

“No, I’m good,” Inaki said.

“Break-ups are always like this, don’t worry, you’ll be fine in a few weeks, maybe then I could introduce you to Mako’s younger sister,” Kiba said, screaming out the last part.

“I’ll introduce you to her myself, do well for her to go out with the Sage’s son,” Someone screamed—Inaki assumed him to be Mako—sitting at the table where Kiba was going to go.

“I’m fine,” Inaki said, and went back to his drink. He quickly downed it. He still didn’t feel anything, for a minute he stared back at Kiba and his friends all chatting, and out of all the words that Inaki could overhear, not a single one was about the sword, and these were all Golds and Silvers.

After that, Inaki asked the barman for a regular pint of ale. After that, Inaki’s consciousness went hazy.

Inaki found himself lying in the street near the castle gate, covered in his own vomit.

He had a horrible hangover, but that was the least of his worries. Inaki got up and ran to the castle gates.

“Who are you?” the guard stopped him.

“Inaki-son-Hassai,” Inaki said.

“And I’m Hassai himself,” The guard said, now go away from the castle.

Inaki was about to say something, but a piece of vomit which was stuck in his throat made him cough, he threw up a little more on the side of the road, then reached into his pocket, and pulled out his bag of money. He thanked Okan that it was still there.

“If I was just a random beggar I wouldn’t have this would I?”

“Sorry, lord. Please come in,” The guard said.

The gate opened and Inaki walked in. He had a bath and stepped back into his room, he changed from his last pair of his black swordsmen robes, into tighter, normal person clothes. swordsmen’s robes were designed to be as light as possible, and as loose as possible, but these robes that Inaki wore were heavy, and stuck to his body. And they were white in color, very easy to dirty.

Then what felt like the exact same day of staring at the ceiling in boredom, making a bad painting, having a conversation with himself, and then drowning himself in liquor seemed to go on for a month or so.

Every morning Inaki would wake up someplace else, walk into the Tomoka castle gates, argue with the guards, and then they would finally let him. Inaki began carrying a family crest with him so that they would allow him back in without much complaint.

Everytime Kiba saw Inaki drinking, he tried to make smalltalk, Inaki rejected his attempt every time. What would he talk about with everyone else? All he knew was the sword. He didn’t know who was going out with whom, he didn’t know who had already started balding, he didn’t know which swordsman’s wife ran away with whose gardener.

Inaki had nothing else that he could talk about, which is why he thought of it as best if he never took part in their conversations at all. Inaki never knew what he did after he got extremely drunk. He would just drink until he couldn’t see properly, then would wake up covered in his vomit.

At the end of the month of wasting away like that, Hassai cut Inaki off. Inaki was no longer allowed to drink, and he wasn’t given money to buy any alcohol. For the second time now, Inaki had been cut off.

Inaki not knowing what to do, how to silence the voice in his head, which was constantly calling him a disappointment, calling him out on his every insecurity.

He found himself walking into the training room. Hassai was there, practicing the sword even when he was already at the pinnacle of the art.

“What are you doing here,” Hassai said. “If you’ve come here to ask for money to go out drinking, then no. Don’t ruin yourself now.”

Inaki just walked into the garden, and dove into the Dreamspring while still wearing his robes. The vision formed around him, and at first, he saw himself standing in front of a canvas in his big luxurious room. He stood up, and threw the brush away. The vision of his room began changing into the training hall, he found himself standing in front of an opponent with a sword in his hand, with Diamond rocks on the hilt, biting into his hand.

Now when Inaki fought the faceless opponent in front of him, he felt like himself. He felt like the Inaki that died that day in Yaroka. He had all of his skills back, and could fight like before. He had remembered this since the last time he had entered the Dreamspring, he had found that he had his old abilities here.

That brought a change to Inaki’s routine. He would wake up in the mornings in his luxurious bed, stare at the ceiling, then he would go in front of his canvas after drinking some of the tea to get rid of his tremors. Then he would paint, get frustrated when the painting wasn’t good, and throw the canvas first into the fountain, then out of the window. He would then go to the Dreamspring, and immerse himself there, and he would imagine himself fighting and winning against strong opponents with his old skill.

That went on for two more months, until one day, Inaki just couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take having to go into a dream world to feel like himself. He couldn’t deal with feeling like this body wasn’t even his anymore.

One night, almost half a year after Inaki went to Yaroka, Inaki walked into the training hall for what he thought would be his last time.

He reached for a metal sword on the wall and sitting on his knees he held the tip of the sword against his stomach. His hands shook as he thought of what was going to happen next. He was going to cut into his stomach, cut out his own intestines, and slowly die. This way, at least he died with a sword in his hand.

He remembered all of his duels. He remembered the first time he killed someone when dueling a nineteen year old as a thirteen year old. He remembered each and every duel he had ever won, and the few duels that he had lost. He remembered waking up every day with a drive to be better, he remembered when each day wasn’t spent just trying to get to the next one, but to actually progress in the sword.

He pressed the blade in on his stomach, the sword broke skin, Inaki screamned, and just as the sword was about to cut through Inaki’s stomach, ending the story of his failure, Hassai walked into the room.

“What are you doing here, you’re supposed to be—“ Hassai dropped everything and ran at Inaki, “What are you doing.”

In shock Inaki dropped the sword in his hand, the sword had already created a little gash in his stomach,so it was undeniable what he was trying to do.

“Were you just about to…” Hassai said, grabbing Inaki by the shoulders. “Why would you do that? Am I not a good enough father, have I not supported you?” The Great Sage Hassai collapsed and began crying and Inaki still couldn’t process what just happened. Why wasn't he dead?

Why had he hesitated?