The Terrible Master and Disciple (4)
A day at Muak is quite special.
No, it would be more accurate to say it has become special.
If the occurrence of events that usually do not happen isn’t considered a special day, then what is?
As I opened my eyes to the sensation of cold water slapping my cheeks, I found myself tied to a pillar.
Looking up, there was Master, holding a washbowl, arms crossed in front of me.
“Are you awake?”
First, let’s gather my thoughts. Why am I tied up?
I vaguely remember tossing the letter aside, telling Master to open it, stepping outside to talk with Benten, then coming back in and having a conversation…
Surely, surely…
Damn, I can’t remember. It’s not a hangover. At least, I’m certain I didn’t drink any alcohol. Master dislikes alcohol, so it wouldn’t be that.
Then why can’t I remember?
Master was still looking at me, motionless.
“What’s going on here?”
“Is that the first thing you say when you wake up?”
“We’re not exactly in a position to have any other conversation, are we?”
I need to talk with Master and recall what happened. Acting without any information will only worsen the situation, so I must gather whatever information I can.
I have no idea why I’m tied up.
“And why am I tied up?”
“You should know that better than anyone. Get ready. Training starts now.”
Master was holding a sword. It wasn’t the holy sword, since the blade was intact.
Hmm. I really can’t remember.
-Slap!
“What are you spacing out for? You wouldn’t have fainted just from leaving the dojo. You seem to have grown much weaker.”
Master threw cold water on me once again.
Fainted? What…
Ah. Right.
I fainted while vomiting.
Before losing consciousness, I have a faint memory of pushing Master away harshly after being embraced from behind, and saying something terrible.
You should inherit my martial arts in place of Troka.
Troka was to inherit the martial arts she pursued. Because he was the one who could reach the heights she never could.
But then. Her beloved disciple dies, and you’re telling me to inherit your secrets? It was a natural response to such nonsensical talk I heard. But it seems Master didn’t think so.
It was a perfect scolding. Indeed, the title of ‘Fist King’ isn’t something just anyone can claim.
Anyway, that’s how I ended up tied to a pillar.
It feels like I’ve fainted several times recently. Ever since leaving the imperial palace, it’s been nothing but hardship.
Anyway, to summarize the situation.
Instead of Troka, I’m decided to inherit the martial arts!
Of course, it’s nonsense.
“…What are you trying to do? What are you thinking, passing on your techniques to me? I refuse to believe that you think this makes any sense.”
“Is there something wrong with a master passing on secret techniques to their disciple? No, it’s perfectly natural.”
“Don’t you have any lingering attachment to Troka?”
She paused for a moment. It’s impossible to read someone’s expression from their back, but I could guess. It certainly wasn’t a happy face.
At least that’s what I thought.
“If you keep looking back at what’s gone, you can’t move forward.”
“…Because we move in the direction we’re looking. That was something I said, but you remember it well.”
How touching. She even remembers the unnecessary things I’ve said.
I was a philosophical person. Perhaps I caught the disease that middle schoolers get, only a little later.
In fact, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that I played the philosopher to hide my sorrow. I started to drop that act after parting ways with my master.
“When you live to our age, you’ll understand. Reflecting on the past is painful.”
“……You don’t need to tell me that. I’m well aware.”
Yes. Recalling the past is excruciatingly painful. Maybe not for someone clean, but for scum like me, it’s terrifying and horrifying.
It’s coming soon. That’s what I thought.
Is this karma? I slept through moral education classes, so I can’t remember properly.
I tried to smile to hide my fear, stretching out my arms. But since they were tied, all I could do was spread my palms.
“Ha ha! I came here to see you out of old affection. But this restraint is a bit much, don’t you think?”
“We’ve always started training like this. You wouldn’t know, always running away, unlike that boy.”
“Ha ha ha, sigh… So, did the letter open?”
“Troka’s letter wouldn’t open.”
So the letter didn’t open either. This is the worst-case scenario.
“Then, how about you untie me first? Let’s talk together about… no, let’s talk about Troka?”
The master’s back looked pitiful. Like a patient with not much time left, looking at the leaves outside the window. Gazing into the distant fog outside.
“He’s already gone. No matter how pitifully we cry, he won’t come back. It’s just a waste of time.”
“Didn’t you say that Troka was the one who could show us the heights you couldn’t reach? The great martial arts that you preached to Troka until the moon set and the sun rose. Now that Troka is dead, you pass it on to me? And you act as if Troka never existed? What’s most important to you isn’t the disciple, but just your precious martial arts, isn’t it? Was all your affection for Troka just a pretense, for the sake of perfecting that martial art?”
With a single cough, the master looked up at the sky. The dreary clouds had swallowed everything, leaving nothing in sight.
“I don’t have time for new disciples anymore. That’s the first reason, and secondly, didn’t you want it too? To receive my teachings.”
“I gave up on that wish early in the evening. No matter how much I wanted to inherit that martial art, I have no hope, no possibility and lack the talent to wield it. It’s fortunate I realized it, albeit late.”
“No? You have the ability but choose not to use it.”
Talent is both a blessing and a curse.
It’s an enigmatic talent that allows you to see things right in front of your eyes that a completely incapable person would never see. And a talent that will fall short of anything is a curse.
I too wanted to freely use magic and swords. How bitter I was when I realized I had no talent and gave up.
“And is there any other reason for you to be here? Troka is already dead.”
“To deliver a letter. That’s why I came. I need to open that letter to return to my original world…”
“…I thought about it while you were gone. Yes. It’s obvious why you, who could have sent someone else, came personally with the letter. To inherit my martial arts in Troka’s stead and eradicate the remaining evil.”
“You have quite the imagination. If you had pursued the arts rather than martial arts, you would have been greatly successful. Your immature disciple is simply sad.”
I have committed many sins. Like secretly pocketing a fallen coin or occasionally taking coins left in a payphone.
Well, I’ve done worse things in this world.
“The rabid dog that you were. The reason you, of all people, came to deliver Troka’s death notice to me.”
With so much karma accumulated, if it weren’t for Troka, I would have already been a corpse in a sewer.
So, I must accept my past.
Just like the women to whom I delivered letters accepted, and will accept.
“To atone for the sin of joining the Demon King’s army, right, Phelion?”
“……that’s not exactly why I came…”
…I was at a loss for words.
Phelion, is that usually what you’d call an alias?
Actually, Flan isn’t my real name either, so an alias of an alias. A double alias?
Anyway, it’s not a great name. It’s the name I used when I was part of the Demon King’s army during the early days of being transferred to another world. Now, it’s practically the name of a person who barely exists. It wouldn’t be wrong to say it’s the name of a ghost.
Unlike Troka, who was transferred to the Dragon Kingdom, I was transferred to the Demon Continent. To survive, I had to cooperate with the Demon King’s army.
Phelion, Phelion!
I was a man with many sins, but now it doesn’t matter.
After all, Phelion is just a person who.
On a rainy day, in a back alley.
Was erased by Troka.
Even so, my head grew faint. Yes, I knew I couldn’t avoid the past, that it would come to this someday. I was underprepared. The chill in my heart tells me so, truly.
“………I’ve discarded that name. Please, call me Flan now. My real name… I’m still not comfortable revealing it.”
“Ah, that’s right. I’ve been getting confused more often these days. But it doesn’t matter. A name is just a shell, after all. If you grow to dislike that name too, after you inherit my martial arts, I’ll give you a new one, so don’t worry.”
I never said I’d inherit it. This is coercion.
My mind went blank.
An oral dialogue was useless. As always, I screw up when it matters most.
But there’s a silver lining. Perhaps I inhaled too much fog, I had forgotten why I came here, but having cleared my head, I can barely remember.
Open the letter. If I don’t open it, I can’t go home. If I can’t go home, whatever I do here is meaningless. Yes, that’s right. I decided to wrap everything up on this journey of delivering the letter. I can’t start falling apart already. Right. The letter… I need to open it.
Why carry around the letter from that damn goddess if I’m going to crumble now?
“The name doesn’t matter. Let’s proceed quickly with the succession of that bizarre martial art.”
For that, I’ll play along for a while.
My goal is to find the letter, and open it. For now, that’s all I’m focused on.
This is why I didn’t want to come. I didn’t want to face her. To meet someone who knows my shitty past.
The remnants of washed-away guilt trickle down my spine.
It’s all for the sake of opening the letter.
Yes, it’s all for the sake of opening the letter. Think of it as an interlude in a play.
That’s what I’m doing.
I’m disgustingly familiar with acting, so there’s no problem.
Yes, that’s right. That’s right. Indeed.
“You’re still quick to agree. Good. To learn my martial arts, first…, try to untie that rope with your own strength.”
Turning around, I saw the master’s lips were drenched with blood. The blood that flowed from between her lips dampened the tips of her orange hair.
Perhaps, the time to open the letter is more pressing than I thought.
Damn the master is dying 🧐