I share a smile with my protégé as they bounce through the door of my home, ready to soak up another lesson in swordplay and bits of wisdom like the sponge of knowledge they were, no doubt about it. I couldn't have chosen a better successor.

Something must have shown on my face, they slowly stop smiling and come to a stop at my kitchen table. "Master? Is something wrong?"

"Depends on how you look at it." I stand and begin walking into the training room. Creaky floorboards and peeling wallpaper line the cramped hallway, as usual my student has to follow behind me. I think of when she was small enough to walk beside me in this hall as I continue, "Today will be your last lesson. It is the same lesson which made me a Master, and when you are ready you'll teach it to some bright eyed student as well."

"What lesson?" Ah, there is a hint of fear in her tone as I open the training room. The wood panel floor is polished with sweat and blood, sanded by countless feet sliding across it in duels. You can smell the age of the leather and plaster, the dust of the stone, but an open window freshens things up. I gaze upon the hundreds of weapons lined up on one side of the room; polearms, swords, clubs, staffs, anything a martial artist could ever wield, and each one worth more than the shabby home they were stored in. "Master?"

"Select your favorite weapon," I order instead of answering, "the one you are most comfortable and skilled with." I take up a longsword and walk to the center of the small arena, soaking in the room for what I know to be the last time. My student takes up a claymore, as I knew she would, and before she can ask again I raise my hand to gently stop her words. "I will explain now, but first: how old do you think I am?"

"40, 43 at most?" she guesses, and I bark out a laugh.

"HA! 43 at most! You are far too kind..." as her's has, now my smile slips away. "Child, I am old, no two ways about it. I have not bothered to keep track exactly, but I am well on my way to 100 years old if I am not already. I have dedicated the entirety of it to learning combat and then teaching it to you. I would like to think I was successful."

She tries to smile at me. "You are a great teacher, Master. I could throw a rock in this room and hit a weapon I know how to wield."

"You could, but martial prowess is not all of life," I say, brow furrowed. "That is what I worry about these days. Not if you are a good fighter, but a balanced warrior. If I helped to sculpt a proper young lady at the same time I was teaching a successor. I cannot measure how well you will live, but I can measure your skill with that blade." I quit staring into the distance and focus on her worried eyes, let the silence hang for a moment.

"... Today, I will die, and you will kill me." Only several years of training stop her from dropping her sword, and even still it is a close thing.

"W-What?!" she breathes out, quiet with shock.

"It is my final lesson, as I said, the same one my Master gave me." I pointed to her sword. "You'll notice that blade is no longer dulled for training, it is as ready to take life as you are."

"I'm not going to kill you! Are you insane?!" I smiled, remembering when I said exactly that to my own Master. She began to shake, sword rattling in her grip. I walked close to give her a hug, shushing her hyperventilation as I pat her back.

"Do not cry," I told her softly, though she did anyway. "I know exactly how painful it feels to be in your shoes, but you must know what it feels like to take life. To feel the weight of a sword for the first time all over again and realize it was heavier than you could have ever imagined. If you are to take any lives throughout your journey, I will not allow the first to be taken in anger and stain you."

"But why does it have to be you?! I have so much more to learn from you! Everything you know will be gone!" She stared at me with a pleading look. I nodded.

"I have taught you the basics and essentials, everything else is experience and knowledge. From this point I would only be a guide, and not a very good one."

"Better a bad guide than none!" She shouts.

"Then I have taught you nothing," I say quietly. I begin walking around her slowly, footsteps scuffing on the aged wood. "I would rather you say that you abandon the sword and all of my teachings before you say that again. Do you think I am heartless, mad, cruel? I thought those same things of my Master, but I found out just how crucial this lesson was later. I learned that death was a last resort in all conflicts, a sad reality when words no longer sufficed. I also found that death can be a mercy, even when we do not want it to be." I held up my sword and looked my reflection in his tired eyes as I stopped in front of my student. "The sword must never be brandished with a clouded mind or ill intent. It is polished and thus a mirror; our actions are reflected back at us, and we will always look back in time and see the ones we have killed in its surface. If you are to regret taking any lives, let mine be the first, last, and only one."

With a sniffle and a steadying breath, my student regained her firm posture. She was grieving like I was already dead. "You're the greatest person I've ever known. I will regret your death more than any other." My smile returned as we took our stances, boots shuffling on rosy wooden planks soaked with blood older than either of us.

"I know, my protégé. I give my blessing on the world you will make for yourself, starting from this humble place. But enough talk; let us start your story and end mine."