The Weeping Swordsman

“You call them your children, don’t you, Sensei?” asked a man draped in a regal purple robe, wearing a long as he took a slow draw from his smoking pipe. The tendrils of smoke curled into the morning air, mixing with the soft breeze.

The sounds of grunts and screams of training reached their ears from below. Children swinging their wooden swords, striving to be the very best.

An old man with white flowing hair sat in a weathered wheelchair, his gaze on the scene below.

“They bear no names, Sakura. I am nothing more than their trainer,” he replied, his voice a strained whisper.

Sakura, the man with the pipe, smiled. He could see through the old man’s façade. Sensei’s love for these children was undeniable, etched into the lines of his face. He had raised them, shaped them from broken fragments into something sharper and even granted them childhood pleasures while at it.

They stood in the village of Heathens—a place that seemed as though it hovered just beneath the heavens, rivalling the mystic lands of Celestia. Here, children and some orphans of the last great war were brought together, moulded into fledgling swordsmen, their fates tied to the cold steel they would one day wield. The weight of their future hung in the balance, forged through their blood and sweat. But for now, they should enjoy the peace at their young age.

Sakura stepped closer, placing a hand gently on the back of Sensei’s wheelchair. “You’ve trained generations of swordsmen,” he whispered. “But even now, after all this time, you’ve yet to find the one.”

The old man said nothing, though his silence was telling. His eyes lingered on the young fighters below, some promising, some still learning to steady their hands. They were all precious in their own way, but none yet had reached the pinnacle he had sought for so long.

But amidst the sea of swinging swords and battle cries, one stood out. A boy whose stance was different, whose movements carried the weight of something more—something that had caught the old man’s eye.

Sakura noticed the shift in the sensei’s focus, following his gaze to the boy. He smirked. “That one... do you think he’s the one?”

The old man remained silent, watching the young lad enter the dojo.

*

A boy sat alone in the quiet dojo, his legs crossed and fingers intertwined. His long hair draped over his elbows, and his eyes—clear as the ocean. Each breath he took was slow and deliberate, channelling his energy. Despite having easily passed the entrance exams and claimed the top seat among his peers at the sanctuary, he knew this was only the beginning. Ever since he turned ten, his days had been consumed by endless training—circulating his life force, refining his swordsmanship, and gaining intricate knowledge about blades.

But today was different. A new student would be joining the sanctuary, though the news meant little to him. It was a trivial matter, unworthy of disrupting the peace he found in the empty room. For now, he simply wished to enjoy the rare moment of stillness.

A group of boys burst into the dojo, chattering and laughing with each other as they grab their weapons. The boy didn’t even bother to look up as they entered, instead rising quietly to leave.

“What’s his problem?”

“Don’t bother with him”

“That’s number forty-two, right? I heard he aced the entrance exams.”

“Yeah, but he’s so dark and gloomy. Always keeps to himself.”

“Then he should just die. No point having him around anyways”

The boy tightened his fist. What did I ever do to them? he thought, his heart heavy with frustration. Why are they so mean?

As he walked down the hall, still lost in his thoughts, he came across Sensei and the housemaster, Sakura. He quickly stopped, bowing.

“How are you, Forty-Two?” Sensei asked, his voice calm.

“I’m well,” Forty-Two replied, keeping his eyes downcast. As he spoke, he noticed another group of boys watching him from a distance, their wooden swords clutched tightly in their hands and eyes filled with disdain. He got the gist of it.

“Excuse me, Sensei,” he said, bowing once more. “May I take my leave?”

Sensei nodded, allowing him to go. Without another word, Forty-Two turned and walked away.

Forty-two stood at the centre of the field, gripping his wooden sword. The other boys were coming from every corner. Six of them. It was happening again—another confrontation. This wasn’t the first time they had ganged up on him. It wouldn’t be the last either.

He had come to realize something about himself: though the insults and hatred from his peers always brought him down, there was something that always made him feel calm - a presence of peace in himself that he only found in battle. Anytime he used his powers, he’d have this feeling.

From the sidelines, Sensei watched. Number Forty-Two is unlike any other student I’ve trained, the old man thought. Not just in this dojo, but anywhere. A child born with such a gift, an ancient power that predates time itself... it defies logic.

Forty-two had been left in the dojo’s care as an infant after his mother died during childbirth and his father fell in battle. His late grandfather had brought him here, and ever since, the boy had been alone in more ways than one. Never had I seen him smile, let alone play with the others. Sensei often wondered—was such strength worth the solitude that seemed to come with it?

The first boy charged at him, swinging wildly. Forty-Two back flipped, evading the attack. Another rushed at him, but Forty-Two merely sidestepped, their sluggish movements predictable and clumsy. Too much time playing, not enough training, he mused as he thrust his sword into their stomachs, sending them crumpling to the ground.

He stood over them, expressionless. There was no need to use his gift—not for them. Yet, a question lingered in his mind. Had I impressed Sensei?

From the corner of his eye, Forty-Two glanced at Sensei, who watched him with an unreadable expression. Sakura, however, stood beside him, smiling warmly as always. The other boys and girls, still standing on the sidelines, grumbled and exchanged resentful looks. I see... Forty-Two thought. They have a part to play in this.

Sensei would say nothing about it, fighting among ourselves was part of our training. I can be sleeping at night and be stabbed by my roommates. It’s possible, it has happened before.

Forty-two returned his sword to the rack at the edge of the field. It was forbidden to carry weapons into the inner sanctuary unless you were a senior. As he turned to leave, the rhythmic sound of drums and bells echoed through the air. The other children, their attention shifting away from him, ran toward the source of the music, smiles on their faces.

Forty-two tied his hair back with a rubber band. It’s finally time for that...

The new student had arrived. She was the complete opposite of him—the one everyone adored. She visited the sanctuary often, entertaining the students with her performance. But today was different. Today, she would officially be added to their ranks. There wasn’t an exam for her since her grandfather, a former trainer and head of the sanctuary, gave his word about her strength.

Everyone is excited to meet her, except me of course. I have no desire to meet her, let alone attend her welcome ceremony.

A dancer who wants to become a swordswoman. How pathetic.

He walked in the opposite direction of the crowd, away from the melody. This isn’t a place for entertainers, he thought. She won’t last ten minutes.

As he made his way down the path, he came across Sensei and Sakura again, both heading to greet the new arrival.

“Splendid work out there, Forty-Two,” Sakura said with a smile.

Forty-Two bowed. “Thank you for your kind words.”

“You’ve learned to keep your emotions in check, young man,” Sensei whispered as Sakura pushed his wheelchair past. “Continue this way, and you’ll see even greater growth”

Forty-two lowered his head, hiding the faint smile that crept onto his face. Compliments from their sensei were hard to come by.

“You should also welcome the new girl, forty-two,” the sensei said, “I know she’ll love to meet my strongest pupil”

Again? He complimented me again. Two times in a row were rare. So rare you have a better chance of catching dragons as pets.

“Of course sensei”

*

Forty-Two stood off to the side, arms crossed, already regretting his decision to attend. Watching this spectacle was painful—more than he could have imagined. Sure, it had been worth it to see for himself, but it was still difficult to stomach.

The girl in question didn’t look anything like a warrior. She was small, draped in colourful garments and adorned with jewels from head to toe. Her brown, silky hair was threaded with more jewellery and bells that jingled with every movement. She moved with grace, dancing across the tops of the standing pillars, leaping from one to another, while her flute’s melody washed over the crowd, lulling them into some trance-like state of delight and serenity.

What am I doing? Forty-Two shook his head. Why am I thinking about this so-called swordswoman? Look at her. She looks like she’s getting ready for a wedding, not training for battle. He glanced at the other boys, all fawning over her performance. *And why are they fawning over her? Even the girls too. What is going on!*

Forty-two sighed turning to another boy—Thirty-Five, a short-haired blonde who looked just as disgusted as he did. Thirty-Five was older, though weaker, but they shared a bond in their disdain for the idea of a pretty dancing girl trying to become a swordswoman. Forty two hit his head. Now I think she’s pretty? Dammit, it’s her flute

Her dance concluded, and the dojo erupted into a wave of applause and cheers. Even Sensei clapped, though more softly than the others. It had been arranged that she would perform one final dance for the students before officially joining their ranks.

“Her feet...” Sensei whispered.

“Huh?” Sakura, standing close by, leaned in. “What did you say, Sensei?”

The old man shook his head, gesturing toward the girl with a subtle nod.

Sakura, a bit flustered, hurried to the pedestal, flicking open his hand fan and composing himself as he addressed the crowd. “What an amazing final performance from our newest member,” he announced with a wide smile. “Today, we warmly welcome her to our ranks. Please, everyone, make sure to treat her with kindness—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, the crowd of children pounced. The girl’s eyes widened in horror as a swarm of grinning, excited students rushed toward her, their faces glowing with joy. She loved them, too, but the sheer number of them—combined with their unrestrained enthusiasm—was overwhelming. She was going to be crushed, and on her first day no less.

She looked back, hoping for support from her band, but they had already slipped away, leaving her to face the onslaught alone. She smiled nervously before being buried by a pack of hungry wolves. No scratch that children.

“Should I have said more?” Sakura asked, watching the scene below.

Sensei shook his head. “No, that was enough. Take me to my room.”

Forty-two and Thirty-Five exchanged frowns as they watched the chaos unfold. The younger kids were acting like babies, swarming around the new girl like she was a precious gem. Meanwhile, the older students—those nearing the end of their training—stood off to the side, watching the commotion with bemused smiles. To them, it was a heartwarming sight, a reminder of their younger days. Soon enough, they would complete their training and leave this place behind. That’s if they passed the final test of course.

*

Forty-Two stood alone in the garden, sweat dripping down his face as he struggled through his morning workout. His arms ached, and his legs and chest throbbed with exhaustion. Sakura had given him small weights to lift, but they were so heavy he felt his shoulders were about to fall apart.

“One... two... three... four... f-five... s-si—” His strength gave out, and the weights clattered to the ground as he collapsed beside them. He punched the earth in frustration. *How am I supposed to become a better swordsman if I can’t even handle this?*

Laughter from the other children echoed from the far side of the garden. There was supposed to be a special announcement about their training soon, something important that they all needed to prepare for. Yet, instead of working hard like he was, the others were out there playing, laughing, completely carefree.

They don’t care about this, Forty-Two thought. They only want to swing wooden swords and pretend they’re real warriors. They don’t understand the discipline it takes. Sensei told them to enjoy their free time before official training started, but that’s a lie. A real swordsman prepares, works, and endures, no matter what.

Gritting his teeth, Forty-Two forced himself to pick up the weights again, placing them on his shoulders. His muscles screamed in protest, but he wouldn’t stop. “One... two... three... f-four... five... s-ix... s—”

Suddenly, the weights felt lighter, almost as if someone had taken the burden from him. He turned around and froze, seeing the dancing girl standing behind him, her smile as bright as the sun.

“You can do it! Come on, come on, cooome on! Let’s go!” she cheered.

Forty two yelped in surprise, dropping the weights—this time right onto his foot. He fell to the ground, clutching his leg.

“Yo you alright there,” she said offering her hand. “Come on, we’re not yet done with training”

He glared at her, pushing away her hand. “Leave me. I don’t need your help”

Instead of leaving, she leaned closer, her face inches from his, causing him to flush red. “You’re Forty-Two, right?”

“Y-Yeah... so what?” he said, avoiding her gaze.

She giggled, stepping back. “So, you’re my senpai then! I’m Forty-Three.”

Forty-Two scowled and turned away. “This place isn’t for dancers,” he whispered.

She tilted her head, still smiling. “You have such wonderful eyes.”

“E-excuse me?”

“I’m serious!” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “And don’t underestimate me. I’m pretty good at fighting. I plan to be the best around here.”

Forty two frowned, glaring at her. “Are you challenging me, dancer?”

“Challenging you? Are you the strongest already?” She met his glare with one of her own. “If so, then yeah, I’m challenging you. Forty-Two, let’s have a duel”

Forty two eyes scanned the room. He was surrounded by the other kids. They were watching him. This must be one of their ploys to get rid of him again. Haven’t they learnt their lesson? They are even sending in their beloved dancer to the grave, how dubious of them. But why did they pick her in the first place, he wondered.

They were all taught the basics of the manipulation of life energy and how each individual strength can be determined by it. The dancer was different from the rest.

He could sense her energy, faint and controlled, unlike anything he’d experienced before. It was impressive, really. Being able to hide one’s energy like that was a skill he had never mastered.

Nodding, he stood up. “Fine. I’ll meet you at the training yard in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be there”

*

Forty-two knew the cheers in the background weren’t for him. The girl standing before him, Forty-Three, was just a dancer. This had to be her first time in a fight, and she was already challenging him—the strongest?

He stared at the second floor, where Sensei and Sakura stood watching, as they always did during these matches. His seniors were there too. It was uncanny how they seemed to appear whenever something important was about to happen. But no matter. It was time once again to prove to everyone in the sanctuary why he was the most promising student.

The fight began, and in an instant, Forty-Three closed the distance between them. She’s quick, Forty-Two thought. Her sword was already coming down toward him, but his reflexes were faster, his strength greater. He moved to block her strike and counter with a swift blow to her neck, aiming for an easy victory. If she died on her first day, it wasn’t his fault.

But just as he swung, she twisted her flexible body, dodging his attack and delivering a sharp kick to his jaw. The force sent him flying through the air.

He landed on his feet, looking up. “She distracted me with her weapon,” he whispered, blocking her follow-up strikes, each one faster than the last.

Forty could see her sly smile. Does she think she has won just because she landed a hit?

He leapt back to create distance, but she was right on him again, moving as if she were walking on air. Despite the situation, Forty-Two smiled. *This... this is the kind of fight I like.*

Their swords clashed violently, both fighters pushing themselves to the limit. The children watching from the sidelines were in awe. “Are they really the same age as us?” some of them whispered.

Sensei stroked his beard. The girl was the daughter of one of their former trainers, so it was no surprise she had some skill. The boy, on the other hand, had underestimated her, and now things were escalating. *I should stop this fight,* Sensei thought, *for the girl sake.* But it was already too late.

The children in the background could finally see it. The boy who always acted like the king around was about to fall.

“Kill him, kill forty-two”

“Kill him, kill him, kill him”

They kept on yelling, throwing their fist.

Forty-Three, still locked in combat with Forty-Two, frowned. What are they talking about? This is just a duel... But then she noticed his eyes—those once determined eyes were now clouding over, darkening with something far more sinister.

He could hear it again—that calm, familiar voice, the one that always comforted him when no one else did.

“Kill her,” it whispered. “Show them why you’re the strongest.”

The skies darkened.

She looked upwards, “Is that a storm?”

Forty-two seized the moment and swung his sword, nearly striking her as she dodged at the last second.

Kama, one of the seniors, watched from the rooftops, his dark cloak dancing in the wind. “He’s using it,” he said.

“Using what?” another senior asked.

“The reason Sensei favours him so much... just watch.”

Forty-two slumped his shoulders as if weighed down by a heavy force. His aura surged, filling the air with an oppressive energy.

Forty-Three trembled, her body feeling as if the very air around her was tearing at her skin. The children, who moments ago had been cheering for his downfall, now cowered in fear. She turned her gaze back to Forty-Two, only to be met by his blood-red eyes. He had closed the gap between them without her even noticing. She raised her sword to block, but it snapped in half under the force of his strike, sending her crashing against a nearby pillar.

*Who... who is he?* she wondered, her vision blurring as she struggled to stay conscious. If it hadn’t been for her layer coating, she knew that blow would have killed her.

Forty-two stood over her, sword raised, ready to deliver the final blow. “I’ll show them all why I’m the strongest,” he said, his voice low and twisted, no longer his own.

Sensei leaned in, whispering. “Seniors, stop him.”

The once dark energy was overlapped by something greater, more fierce than that of the storm that loomed above. The seniors of the sanctuary.

They stood behind him as if daring him to strike her.

Forty-two turned to face them, his expression dark. “Mind your own business.”

“What happened to our dear Forty-Two?” Kama asked, stepping forward. “You sound cold.”

Forty-two walked right to him, glaring at the tall man. “I’ll kill you.”

Kama smiled and knelt before him. “Sorry, little bro. But not today.” He patted Forty-Two’s head. “Take it easy.”

Forty-Two’s rage boiled over, and he swung his sword at Kama’s hand. The blade struck but left no mark. He trembled. *How is that possible?*.

The force he used for that strike was able to cut down boulders. How is he able to protect himself from it with just coating?

Kama was one of the overseers of the exam but never had they fought. He hadn’t finished his thoughts before another elite struck him down with just her hand.

Forty-two coughed, his vision clearing as the oppressive energy faded. The sky returned to its normal shade.

“Call the nurses!” Kama shouted. “The girl’s hurt.”

Another senior knelt beside Forty-Three, checking her pulse. “It’s faint! Hurry, or she’ll die!”

Forty-Two stood, dropping his sword back on the racks and walked away, hands in his pockets. This wasn’t the first time someone had died because of him. He had always known there was no one his age who could stand against him.

With strength comes solitude.

*

Forty-Three blinked her eyes open, staring at the hospital ceilings. “Damn... I lost,” she said under her breath, her fingers touching the blood-stained bandage wrapped around her head.

“Forty-three!”

A bunch of children yelled, their eyes teary.

“We thought you were a goner”

“Damm forty-two. He went too far”

She chuckled, sitting up. “The fights here aren’t exactly official, right? It makes sense he tried to kill me. I mean, I did challenge him,” she said, her gaze drifting to the side. “Speaking of which… where is he?”

“Probably training somewhere”

“Yes, he’s always training what a killjoy”

Forty three was filled with rage. “I’m going to meet him”

The children immediately crowded around her. “Don’t bother with him! He’s not worth it. Come on, let’s go play instead!”

Forty-three sighed and jumped over them. “I won’t take long, “she said, walking through the hallway swinging her arms in anger.

As she marched through the corridors, she passed another student, Thirty-Five. “Have you seen Forty-Two?”

He didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question, his he there?” she asked again, but more intimidating.

Bullets raced down his face. “Y-yeah… he’s in the yard, lifting weights again.”

Without a word, she pushed open the door to the garden, storming in. There he was—Forty-Two, casually lifting weights like nothing had happened. She wasted no time in kicking him in the leg.

The weights tumbled onto his feet. “Not again,” he said, collapsing to the ground, clutching his foot.

“What sort of boy are you anyways?”

“Huh”

Her face flushed with fury as she kicked him in the side. “You idiot! Die! Die, die, die!”

“Hey, what the hell did I do?”

“Should I spell it out?”

Forty-Two, still confused, muttered, “I’m not apologizing for the fight. You started it.”

She shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here. Why didn’t you visit me at the hospital?”

“Huh?”

“You nearly killed me! The least you could’ve done was check if I was still alive!”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You almost died because you’re weak. It’s not my fault, so why would I visit you?”

Her finger jabbed toward his face, stopping just shy of his eye. “Let me tell you something. If you want to be a swordsman, you’ve gotta learn to be a gentleman, too. Otherwise, you’re just a thug.”

Forty-two stared at her. “What do you know about being a swordsman? You’re just a dancer.”

“Well, I almost beat you right? You’re the one who did some abracadabra to the skies and turned to a devil”

“Don’t call me that”

She smiled, having a crazy idea.

“Evil! Evil! Evil! This boy is pure evil! He nearly killed me! Someone help—he’s a devil!”

Forty two chased her round the field, but she was too fast. She dodged through the halls, her laughter echoing off the walls.

“Come back here, you!” he yelled.

“Help! The devil is chasing me!” she yelled, jumping out onto the terrace. Forty-two followed, leaping after her.

From afar, the sensei watched, forcing a smile. My cheekbones are getting too weak for this, he thought, staring at Sakura who was in tears.

“Our little forty-two is having fun,” he said, blowing his nose into a fan before realizing his mistake and switching to his napkin.

Sensei kept watching them run across the fields. Their new training would begin soon, and he knew the trials ahead would be unlike anything they had faced before. How would they fare against it? For as long as he could remember. Only a few had been able to pass the final test.