The teacher of the Sword of Beginning wasn’t a perfect man.
“That’s not how you do it. Watch closely.”
Those words of his always carried a hint of delight.
“You’re doing well. Decent.”
Those words carried a hint of jealousy every time.
“There’s nothing more I can teach you about this. You’re better than me at it.”
Every time, a hint of frustration mixed in those words. The Sword of Beginning could sense these feelings not only because he was attentive, but also because his teacher made no effort to hide. When he first joined the sect, his teacher had made something clear.
“I’ll treat you as you are. I won’t pretend or hide anything from you. You’ll always see my true face. What you see from me will match the depths of my heart.”
His teacher had faced him when he said this.
“Therefore, you must become strong. Some people use their honesty as a permit to do whatever they want. What they forget is that any heart can be sharp enough to cut another’s. Just like walking around with a sword out of the scabbard isn’t polite, treating someone as they truly are can never be just heartwarming.” His teacher grabbed both his shoulders and continued in a firm tone, “Nevertheless, I’ll treat you with honesty. I’ll cut your heart many times, so brace yourself. Do you understand?”
The Sword of Beginning nodded. His teacher was right. Raw honesty was truly terrifying. By facing the true side of reality, he learned that even when the people of the Mooncave had clung to him and the enemies had pointed their swords at him, they had never been fully honest with him.
His teacher also taught him how to deal with his realization.
“Don’t be considerate of what you can’t be considerate. Don’t evade. Face it, but don’t accept what cannot be accepted. Face me as if we were sparring with swords. Endure it. Confront it. Become stronger!”
That was what the Sword of Beginning did. He didn’t avoid getting wounded or awkwardly try to please people. He simply treated his teacher as he was, and his teacher did the same for him. Just as there could be no gaps between mountains and fields, no misunderstanding could come between them.
“It’s time for you to leave.”
Therefore, the Sword of Beginning couldn’t misunderstand the meaning of those words.
“Teacher.”
“I’ve held on for longer than I expected.”
His teacher was dying. True Ones lived by taking in light from the sun through their skin and drinking sap. Though their physique didn’t change much from birth to death, the glow of their skin roughly showed their age. When the Sword of Beginning first met him, his teacher’s glow had already been faint, but now he flickered like a candle whose wick had shrunk to almost nothingness.
“I was never strong enough to live forever. That’s all there is to it.”
His teacher coughed. His wick flickered brightly once, then dimmed. The Sword of Beginning learned that being unable to be misunderstood was both a terrifying and a sad thing. How it was also a joy so intense that it could hurt was another thing he learned.
“How fortunate that I could meet you before I leave this world.”
Those words held thick regret and deep gratitude.
“How lucky I was that I could teach you many things.”
Great relief and deep sorrow resided in those words.
“I’m glad that I could be your teacher.”
Bottomless anxiety and soaring pride emanated from his words.
“Teacher,” the Sword of Beginning said.
His teacher could have said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was lacking. Please forgive my inadequacy. I couldn’t stay ahead of you. In the end, I couldn’t even stand beside you.” Rather than apologizing for his flaws, his teacher expressed his gratitude for how they got to meet each other. He wasn’t lying or making up claims that weren’t heartfelt.
Even though both choices would have been equally true, his teacher chose to express his gratitude. The Sword of Beginning had not a single trace of doubt.
Thud!
The Sword of Beginning struck the floor with his forehead.
Thud!
His teacher, lying in his sickbed, watched him, his eyes holding faint flickers[1].
Thud! Thud! Thud!
They were bows that the Sword of Beginning offered to his teacher, who received them without a word. One bow held gratitude, the second sadness, and the last held both. If a soul dwelled within each fragment of the sky shattered from the Great Strikes, then surely the bows he offered would draw those souls to the earth[2]. The Sword of Beginning bowed seventeen times.
His teacher smiled. His face had no visible eyes or nose, yet he managed to form a broad smile just by moving his lips[3].
“Thank you.”
His teacher passed away. It didn’t take long for his flickering wick to fade away completely, leaving only his milky-white body behind. The Sword of Beginning no longer had a teacher, but continuing living without a teacher wasn’t as hard as one may think.
His teacher had taught him that there were matters in this world that existed regardless of how strong or weak he was. Even one person’s heart could injure him like a sharp sword. Having to treat each encounter as if he were drawing his sword against the other person showed just how full of enemies this world was.
He could kill everyone in the world but couldn’t save a single dying person. He wasn’t invincible; he was just a bit lucky to have been born a little stronger than most. That was all. He was an ordinary person.
At that moment, he realized he wasn’t lonely anymore.