Inaki walked through the city towards the school. Inaki looked around him as he walked, and couldn’t help but feel disgusted at everyone around him. All of these people worked simply to live, they had failed in life. These people did not create their own wealth, they had to grovel at the feet of the actual successful people, people who were wanted, for three meals and a place to sleep. Inaki would become a man separate from his father’s name and make him proud.

Ofcourse, Inaki didn’t believe that everyone who wasn’t a great swordsman wasn’t wanted, afterall, there were men who owned their own shops, owned their own businesses. Those people were successful. The only people they relied on to get their wealth are customers.

Inaki would never want to be one of these workers, cleaning the streets, working in gardens, cooking for a successful innkeeper.

The temple was only a few minutes walking away from the main Tomoka castle. The Tomoka temple was where most of the disciples of the clan trained. The most learned of the Tomoka clan were usually teachers here, and until Inaki became the Sword-Sage himself, this is probably what his fate would be in the clan, a teacher.

He walked into the temple, and found that the students were still in practice, with bands of Irons on the hilt of their blades. They moved with an army-like coordination and precision. Most of them were truly worthy of calling themselves of the same clan as Hassai Tomoka. Inaki just stood at the door and watched as the students went on with their practice. After all, it would be rude to interrupt these good students. Inaki enjoyed watching them practice. It was soothing to watch them move the sword as they did. By his estimation, the practice should’ve only gone on for a few minutes, since the sun was already setting outside.

“Young Master, what brings you here?” One of the older sword-masters said.

“Let the practice get over, then I’ll tell you my true purpose for coming here,” Inaki said.

“Is it urgent, young master?” The master asked.

“No, carry on with the practice as if I wasn’t here for the moment, it’ll be good for me to watch my peers as well,” Inaki said.

Inaki never trained with the rest of the students, not because he was snobbish about his birth. Inaki just trained at such odd hours, that the other students wouldn’t be able to cope with his changing timings. So the masters usually came to the training room at the castle whenever Inaki needed someone to explain something from a book he was using to teach himself—usually written by his father.

“Young master, while you are here, could you just demonstrate this kata to the other students,” The master asked. The man’s name was Huojin.

“Fine,” Inaki said, acting as if he were reluctant, but inside he was excited for the prospect of showing off his skills.

“Disciples, Young Master Inaki has come here, and has been gracious enough to demonstrate the kata you’ve been practicing to us,” Huojin said.

The training hall of the temple was a large square room, one of the walls was adorned with practice weapons of all kinds like wooden swords, or spears with rubber and cloth heads. On the other wall were the real weapons. Inaki couldn’t help but look at the steel blades with a lust of sorts. He needed one of those if he was going to make a name for himself before his father returned.

Inaki stepped in front of the class and said, “Thank you for allowing me here, masters.”

Inaki stood in front of the crowd, and held his favorite practice sword in his hands. He took a deep breath in, and stood in Tigerstance. The kata they were practicing was one of the more intermediate katas of the Tigerstance. Inaki had trained so much in the Tigerstance and Bullstance, that the katas for those two stances came as naturally to him as breathing.

Inaki raised his sword, and began the motion. It was like a dance, impractical for a fight, but meant to train every part of the body to become acclimated to the stance, it’s weak defense, it’s overwhelming offense. It was the most aggressive stance that Inaki had known. Inaki simply used Bullstance more, because he found it suited him more. If he could make Tigerstance suit him more, he would stick to it.

The sword spun in his hands as he stabbed forward, then three cross slashes. Followed by jumping back, a twist of the body, and slashing at the ground.

“That was sloppy,” Hassai whispered into Inaki’s ears. Inaki did not allow himself to be distracted while he was still doing the kata.

Soon he was done with the kata, he bowed to the audience, and everyone clapped. Inaki was left wondering were they clapping because he did the kata well, or were they clapping because he was the son of Hassai.

Probably the latter. Inaki thought.

The students executed the kata one last time but they made a few mistakes. At a young age, Inaki’s mother had made him practice the katas to a drumbeat, unfortunately they didn’t do that here, which made them a lot less accurate. A kata was a dance as much as it was about the practice.

Once all the disciples had left, Inaki sat down in front of the three masters that were there that day, and said, “Masters, I understand, that it is hasty of me to ask you this, but could you please do my sword ceremony now?”

“What,” Huojin said. “I know you are much ahead of the others, but it simply isn’t allowed. You must be twenty years old in order to have a steel blade. You’ll be arrested otherwise. We’ll be arrested.”

“There has to be some exception. You’ve heard the news haven’t you?” Inaki said.

“Yes, we know. But what does Hassai coming back have anything to do with your sword ceremony being done early,” One of the other master’s said.

“That’s Lord Hassai to you,” Inaki said. “I need my sword early, because that is where I am at.”

“I am sorry, Young Master,” The man said. “But anyway, we unfortunately cannot.”

“What if I was to prove to you that my skills are even beyond a twenty year old’s,” Inaki said.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Hassai whispered in his ears.

“Why would that change anything,” Huojin said.

“Come on, if you give me my sword one year earlier, nothing will happen,” Inaki said.

“How many times should we tell you, we simply cannot,” Huojin said. “We understand how highly you think of yourself, but we simply cannot.”

“Do you only think highly of yourself,” Hassai whispered into Inaki’s ears. “Come on, if you can’t prove yourself to these masters you won’t be able to prove yourself to me.”

Am I actually skilled or have I just fought too young opponents? Inaki wondered. He just hadn’t fought hard enough opponents yet, to know whether he was truly that skilled. He didn’t know if people simply tolerated him because he was the son of Hassai.

“Fine,” Inaki said. “I’ll once again ask you to give me one chance, call upon any fighter at even the Silver level if you please, I will take them on. If I prove myself worthy, then I will of course be deserving of this honor.”

“A Silver?” Huojin said. “You are good, but you are nowhere near being as good as a Silver.”

“How do you know? If only you gave me a chance to prove myself,” Inaki said.

“Fine, we’ll let you fight an older Iron. Definitely not a Silver.”

“I accept that,” Inaki said.

The masters spent a few more minutes conversing amongst themselves then called out to Inaki and said. “We will not grant you your sword ceremony if you just win. To be given such an extraordinary chance, you have to be truly extraordinary. Which is why, we have decided to only give you your sword ceremony, if you win, but win in an exceptional manner.”

“I have a better idea,” Someone said, walking into the temple.

“Oh, Takehito,” one of the masters said.

Takehito, where have I heard that name before? Inaki thought. He turned around and saw a bald monk. But for some reason, he was holding shears in his hand.

“Who are you,” Inaki said, in what he hoped was a polite tone.

“Oh, just a gardener,” Takehito said. “Which is why I propose that you fight me instead. If you are able to land even one hit, the masters will definitely grant you your sword ceremony.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Yes,” Huojin said. “You land even one hit on him, and we give you your sword, no questions asked,”

“What is your full name sir,” Inaki said. “I am not dumb enough to believe that you are some gardener.”

“Oh, my name is Takehito-son-Ganryu of Koji, I was coming by here to meet a few old friends,” the monk said. “But why not have some fun as well, your brother speaks highly of you.”

“What?” Inaki said. Inaki had been caught completely off-guard. This man was the son of father’s master. This man would definitely be completely out of Inaki’s level.

But that didn’t matter. Inaki just needed to get one good hit in. He could do that much, right?

“Oh, I’ll be surprised if you're able to form a crease in his robes,” Hassai whispered in Inaki’s ears.

“Gonten,” Takehito screamed. “Come on in.”

“My brother is with you?” Inaki asked.

“Oh yes, I am teaching him how to be a gardener. Trust me he is doing well.”

Gonten walked into the training hall, covered in sticks and soil. Inaki looked at his sheath, the handle of his sword was muddy too.

Is this man here to train us? Inaki thought.

“So, shall we begin, or do you want to have some tea and just chit-chat about fighting? I have a lot of stories to tell my friends here, and maybe you could join too,” Takehito said.

“We can start anytime you want,” Inaki said.

“I’ll be using my shears if you don’t mind,” Takehito said.

“I don’t mind,” Inaki said.

Inaki stepped forward to the center of the square room, the son of Ganryu stood in front of him. Inaki readied his sword in the Tigerstance. The man just held his shears out in front of him, open, one handle in each hand, forming an X-shape.

“Ready,” Huojin said.

“Then the master’s of this temple shall witness this duel. The duel is to submission, or first blood.”

Inaki rushed at Takehito. He executed the Tigerstance’s signature leaping cross slash. The man stepped back as if he was avoiding a bee buzzing at his ears. Inaki stepped forward, and slashed downward, the man just spun on one foot, turning to dodge the strike. He then slammed the handles of the shears into Inaki’s back, throwing him to the ground.

“Unless you give up, I am going to let myself get ten points before I let you go,” Takehito said. “This was my first point.”

Inaki stood up. This time, the man just stood straight, the shears open, one handle free, and the other handle held in his hand at his waist. Inaki felt rage and disappointment coursing through his veins. Hassai’s image in his head whispered to him, aggravating his feelings even more.

But that was to his advantage, the Tigerstance thrived on anger.

Inaki leaped, but did not strike, somehow the man was able to see through that, he then swung his shears, like a nunchuck, the handle he wasn’t holding swung at Inaki’s cheek. Inaki jumped back, but the handle hit him in the nose. Strangely, it wasn’t too hard.

“Why do you want a sword, Inaki,” Takehito said.

“Because I want to make a name for myself, so that my father can be proud,” Inaki said.

“And how are you going to go about doing that,” Takehito said.

“I will fight people like you, strong people,” Inaki said.

“What will that get you,” Takehito asked.

“Honor, pride, greatness. But enough talking now,” Inaki said. Once again he rushed to Takehito. The man stepped back, dodging two of Inaki’s cross slashes, sidestepped a front stab then shoved his knee into Inaki’s stomach. Inaki wanted to vomit. “Don’t worry, I won’t count that as a point, since that wasn’t my weapon. But I will count this,” Takehito said, lightly tapping the handle of his shears on Inaki’s head.

But somehow, Inaki had been made so off-balance from one kick, the light tap, sent him to the ground.

“What is your reason?” Takehito asked.

“What?” Inaki said, standing up to his feet.

“Training must be painful. I can see your hands are blistered, your hands are covered in bruises. The training is a constant painful struggle. Why do you still go through with it,” Takehito asked.

“Because I have to earn the son-Hassai in my name,” Inaki said.

Inaki rushed at Takehito. “And what about after that. What happens after you prove yourself.”

“I…” Inaki trailed off thinking. He slashed at Takehito three times, but there was no effect. The man just somehow managed to step out of every single attack. He hadn’t used his shears to block a single time.

“So you don’t know,” Takehito said, still dodging. Inaki’s arms were growing tired. He was growing more angry. Each attack was becoming more and more difficult to execute. “One’s reason to struggle must not be as shallow as proving yourself, or earning a name. It must be lifelong. Once one reason is over, how long will you spend hating the struggle? A reason to struggle should be perpetual, because the struggle of life is perpetual.”

“I don’t know,” Inaki admitted. “I don’t know anything. All I know right now, is that I need to become great.”

Inaki jumped forward and slashed. Takehito did not move for this one, he just stood there.

“Then only experience will teach you this lesson,” Takehito said. “All this is fruitless discussion now, so let me get to the point Inaki, what makes you happy?”

Inaki was growing too tired to speak. He thought about it, what made him happy. He looked back in his past, and. When was the last time he was happy? When he had won his duel with Shinra, that had made him really happy.

“Winning… duels…” Inaki sighed.

“What happens when you lose a duel,” Takehito said.

“I feel disappointed,” Inaki said. “I train harder for the next duel.”

“What happens Inaki, if I was to cut off your sword arm,” Takehito said. He dropped his shears just above Inaki’s arm. He stopped it just before it could break flesh. Inaki stood there. Those words had stabbed him deep, shaking him from within.

“I… don’t know.”

“What happens if there is no one who will accept a duel from you, whether you are too good to fight anyone, or too bad to be accepted, that is immaterial.”

“I said I don’t know,” Inaki said.

“That’s all I have to say to you,” Takehito said. Takehito then raised his shears, and tapped Inaki’s head with the handle of his shears as many points there were left, then created a shallow wound on his forehead, drawing blood, ending the duel. Inaki didn’t know what had happened. Why did he freeze? Even after the duel was over, he just stood there dazed.

“It was nice talking to you, Inaki,” Takehito said. “Unfortunately, I have not come here to talk to you, I came here to talk to my friends, your masters, so now, I politely ask you, scram boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Inaki said.

“It is great to have a singular purpose,” Takehito said as Inaki was walking away. “But when that one singular purpose ends, you will rejoice at first, but then, you will feel hollow.”

“What is your reason,” Inaki asked as he was walking away.

“After long contemplating, and after meeting someone you may know, I learned that helping people who’ve lost their way, is my purpose. After all, there will never be an end to people who need help,” Takehito said. “That is why I struggle.”

“I haven’t lost my way,” Inaki said, as he left the temple. As the door closed, Inaki heard, “Of course you haven’t lost your way, you haven’t bloody found it in the first place.”

Gonten came running out of the temple, and put his hand on Inaki’s shoulder. “Did you enjoy that,” Inaki said to his brother. “How could I enjoy watching you get your ass handed to you.” There was a large serving of sarcasm in Gonten’s voice.

“Fair,” Inaki said, trying to be jovial on the outside, but finding himself cringing at himself on the inside. He had not only lost, but he had been destroyed. This was not how Inaki was supposed to be.

“Can I borrow your sword,” Inaki said. “You’re not doing much with it.”

“No, I think I am going to keep my sword,” Gonten said, drawing his sword. Inaki looked at Gonten’s face and saw that he was smiling.

“What happened brother,” Inaki said.

“What,” Gonten said.

“You’re smiling,” Inaki said.

“Why shouldn’t I smile,” Gonten said.

“Did he show you your reason,” Inaki said.

“Oh no, I don’t know that, I just know what I want to do for now,” Gonten said. “I have found a struggle worth struggling for me. Like you have your sword.”

Inaki felt even more disappointed. He felt disgust in his brother. “So you’re going to give up.”

“No,” Gonten said. “I am just accepting.”

“What,” Inaki said.

“Who I am.”

“So he’s teaching you how to use your sword to be a gardener, sounds like such a waste,” Inaki said.

“You should try it sometimes, it is super fun,” Gonten said.

“Maybe if my right hand gets chopped off.”

“Maybe,” Gonten laughed.

“That wasn’t a joke,” Inaki said, with his usual straight face.

“Oh I know,” Gonten said. “The last time I thought you were laughing you were a toddler, but then I realized that you were choking on your food.”

“Aren’t you jovial,” Inaki said. “Do you at least cut those bushes well?”

“Umm.”

“I thought so,” Inaki said.

The rest of their walk home was spent in silence. Gonten opened his mouth a few times, prepared to utter something, then closed his mouth. Inaki didn’t even look at his brother during their walk home.

Once Inaki reached home, he saw someone waiting for him.

“Yo, Hassai’s son,” Taral-son-Godin of the Yaroka said. “We have something to talk about.”