Dishonor
I knelt in the garden for hours, trying to seek the solace of meditation, but instead my thoughts were unstill, leaving me awash in their chaos. Dishonored, shamed - how could I, one who had dedicated both my life and my sword to my master have been so dishonored? Dismissed from his service, not even by him, but by one of his sons, for being disrespectful. But of course I was disrespecful - how could anyone respect one such as him, a young, brash man who has never shed blood in battle, yet commands us because he is his father's son. I have nothing but respect for his most honorable sire, but this boy - how dare he have treated us the way he has. And then, he dismisses me from service, for daring to question his practices.
Dusk is settling, and the cicadas are begining to sing. It is sping, and the cherry blossoms are just coming to bud. Rain has made the ground moist, and its dampness has soaked through my clothing. Yet still I sit, contemplating this bare sword blade which I hold across my lap. I could be free of this horMy famrible dishonor, I know, all it would take would be my own death. My family would bear no burden for my death, knowing their son had regained face in his choise of deaths - yet I cannot bring myself to do it.
Why? Because I know, in my heart, that the boy who has shamed me has no honor of his own. He is only a leach off his most honorable father.
There are other ways to regain face, other ways to regain lost honor. Having never lost honor in the first place is the best of these. Now, I must show the world that I am not the one dishonored, but that the whelp is. The best way, the only way, is to survive, and prove myself worthy to be in the continued service of his father. And I will.
Its amazing the internal struggle one can resolve by talking to someone, and being told what you had already thought of yourself.
I will not kowtow to an inflated, faux authoritarian who knows no other way to deal with critizism but by shame and punishment. I will stay, and I will survive, and I will flourish. For all that I have done in the past, and all that I will do in the future, proves that I am better than I have been labled as being. I have honor, far more than some, and those without honor cannot dishonor me.
And I will find much pleasure at being the bone that sticks in his craw, the stain he cannot wash out. I will always be here to remind him that I am better than he is, that I, unlike him, have honor, loyalty, and an unwavering sense of duty.
I knelt in the garden for hours, trying to seek the solace of meditation, but instead my thoughts were unstill, leaving me awash in their chaos. Dishonored, shamed - how could I, one who had dedicated both my life and my sword to my master have been so dishonored? Dismissed from his service, not even by him, but by one of his sons, for being disrespectful. But of course I was disrespecful - how could anyone respect one such as him, a young, brash man who has never shed blood in battle, yet commands us because he is his father's son. I have nothing but respect for his most honorable sire, but this boy - how dare he have treated us the way he has. And then, he dismisses me from service, for daring to question his practices.
Dusk is settling, and the cicadas are begining to sing. It is sping, and the cherry blossoms are just coming to bud. Rain has made the ground moist, and its dampness has soaked through my clothing. Yet still I sit, contemplating this bare sword blade which I hold across my lap. I could be free of this horMy famrible dishonor, I know, all it would take would be my own death. My family would bear no burden for my death, knowing their son had regained face in his choise of deaths - yet I cannot bring myself to do it.
Why? Because I know, in my heart, that the boy who has shamed me has no honor of his own. He is only a leach off his most honorable father.
There are other ways to regain face, other ways to regain lost honor. Having never lost honor in the first place is the best of these. Now, I must show the world that I am not the one dishonored, but that the whelp is. The best way, the only way, is to survive, and prove myself worthy to be in the continued service of his father. And I will.
Its amazing the internal struggle one can resolve by talking to someone, and being told what you had already thought of yourself.
I will not kowtow to an inflated, faux authoritarian who knows no other way to deal with critizism but by shame and punishment. I will stay, and I will survive, and I will flourish. For all that I have done in the past, and all that I will do in the future, proves that I am better than I have been labled as being. I have honor, far more than some, and those without honor cannot dishonor me.
And I will find much pleasure at being the bone that sticks in his craw, the stain he cannot wash out. I will always be here to remind him that I am better than he is, that I, unlike him, have honor, loyalty, and an unwavering sense of duty.
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