Rainful Reflections

It was pouring. Sato was soaked to the bone. It was a combination of the rain and his own sweat. His clothes stuck to his skin like they were part of it. The dirt below him had long since turned to mud. His brilliant black boots had gone brown, caked in the mud. He could not feel his legs beneath him. What he could feel was every bruise that coated his torso. His right arm stung worse than it ever had before. His hands were covered in newly-opened blisters and freshly-formed calluses. He felt broken.

Sensei had been beating him horribly all morning long. Sato hadn't expected to win, of course, but he had thought all his extra training with Leo would have put him ahead and impressed Sensei. It now seemed that he had been naive. In fact, Sensei had only gotten harder on Sato. He would comment on his grip or footing after each blow. Sensei's blows, not aimed elsewhere, never missed centre mass. Sato hadn't even come close to landing a hit. Sensei, on the other hand, had never failed to disarm Sato in a single move. Only now did Sato consider that Leo might have been holding back on him.

Sensei, again, knocked his bokken out of his hand. Sato, again, was defeated.

"Can you go a little easier on me?" Sato whiningly pleaded, struggling to remain standing.

"Tell me. Do you think your enemy, with his sword trained on you with deadly intent in his heart, will 'go easy' on you? Or, do you think they will do anything and everything they can to kill you? I am your master. My job is to prepare you for war. You are but a boy. You really believe you are ready? Or do you think your father and mother will miss you when you come back to them in a box?"

"Well, the thing is, I don't have a father. He already came home from war to my mom, my brother, and me in a box," Sato scream-cried over the rain. He threw his bokken down into the mud and stormed off to find somewhere drier to cry. Sensei let him leave.

Sato found a somewhat drier place under his favourite tree to be alone and cry. He attempted to wipe the tears from his face with his wet, muddy hands, rather unsuccessfully. He only came out wetter and dirtier for the effort. He looked at his hands. They were red and brown and scarred. He threw them onto his knee, which was also wet and muddy.

He was so embarrassed. He couldn't believe he had acted like that in front of Sensei. He hadn't even thought about his dad in a while. He couldn't remember the last time. He closed his eyes and tried to remember.

When he was a kid, he cried himself to sleep each and every night. His mom did the same, but she never slept. Sato didn't remember his father, not really. He remembered the stories his mom would tell, and a shadow of a man. But he didn't remember his face, his voice, or what he was like. Just some nondescript soldier marching off to war. Just like he would soon do.

Sato hated war. It took his father from him. What had he gotten himself into? Why was he here? Was this all a mistake? He had gotten so strong, though not strong enough. And it was all for someone else's war. He had dragged his friends into this dangerous place. Put them in harm's way. What would he do if.... He stopped thinking about that.

He felt the presence of someone sitting next to him far before he heard or saw them. When he opened his raw, red eyes, Sensei was next to him. Sensei's eyes, too, were closed and red. They sat there together and listened to the rain in silence for many minutes before Sensei spoke.

"Do you know why I first came to this land? To the Pax Isles. I am not from here originally. To the far west, across the Frigid Frontier and over the Herd's Hilllands, and through the Jungle Wilds, on the other end of the world, is the Sea Dragon Isles. That is where I was born. That is my home. In the waters off the coast of the islands." 

"Most of my people are born, live, and die in the sea. They rarely, if ever, come onto land. But a few of us, mostly the paddy farmers, come out of the sea and work on the coast of the isles."

"There was once a great warrior in my homeland. Brave, strong, loyal. He was renowned across the Isles for his swordsmanship. He served a great lord of the Big Island."

"One day, negotiation stalled between his lord and another, and war broke out. During a major battle, a mouth from Helll opened in the heart of our great mountain and out poured the Horned Demons. The opposing lord had made some sort of dark pact with the creatures. The warrior and his men fought hard to protect their lord and their land. For some time, they held back the Horned Demons. Long enough for many of the coastal villagers to flee below the depths of the sea."

"The warriors were not so lucky. The Horned Demons surrounded the brave warriors. One by one, the warriors fell until the last. Then their lord fell, attacked from behind by an advisor he trusted. The warriors slaughtered them all. It was a massacre. The Horned Demons took no prisoners."

"When I heard what had happened, I screamed in pain. I donned my family's armor and swords. I was a swords teacher then, as I am today. I slayed many Horned Demons, but each death only left me emptier than that before it. I knew I had to leave. I slew he who killed my son and reclaimed his blade, though I could not bring myself to touch it. I was not worthy. This did not quell my rage. It did not temper the tempest within me. The rage I felt there was all-consuming. First, it would kill them, and then it would kill me. I couldn't bring myself to leave. I just kept hating and killing."

"That was when I met a young prince Leo. He traveled with Bruno to my lands. He was, even back then, a skilled duelist. I saw much of my son at his age in the Young Prince. I saw a second chance. I agreed to take over his swords training from his uncles. I took a ship with them and traveled to Y'ar. The mainland that divided my isles from the Young Princes. I visited many places with the Young Prince and his guardian. We walked and walked for thousands of miles. We walked all across Æurea. Until finally we boarded a second ship and came to this place."

"By the time we returned, the Pax Isles were deep in the midst of their civil war. Another war was happening here. I had fled one war only to find myself in another. I took up arms again for a struggle that was not my own, and I fought well. They called me Hero. I wore it as a badge of honour, but I knew I wasn't a hero. I saw my son's face on every man I killed. I was still empty. I swore I would never take another life for the rest of my days."

"I came to train warriors and soldiers, princes and heroes. Not to kill, but to stay alive. I train you as I do, not so you can be like me, but so you will not share the fate of my son. My son... my son. I cannot stand to lose another. I won't. So if I am going to send you out there to fight untold armies, I'm first going to give you everything I have to defend yourself. Everything I can to send you home to your mother, still walking." 

"I failed my son. Leo came to me already a warrior in the making, with a teacher and a father of his own. I gifted him my son's blade, but he had no need for it. You are different. You came to me without skill, without a mentor, and... without a father, so I have done all I can to shape you into a man I can be proud of."

Sensei never once looked at Sato while he spoke. His eyes held tightly shut. They welled up early on and soaked his drying face by the end. Sato felt his pain so deeply and personally. He felt seen. He felt loved.

Sato reflexively threw his arms around Sensei. His tears swelled. He hugged him as hard as he possibly could. Sensei let them sit there together for a moment. Then he produced two clean bokken, both Sato's and his own, and handed the former to Sato.

"Now, let's get back to work."