Sun rising in the sky, painting the world with hues of dawn. Leonard lay still, wrapped in the embrace of slumber. Suddenly, Saburo descended upon him, shinai in hand, and with a hearty laugh, he delivered a wake-up call.

“Rise and shine!”

The shinai strikes Leonard's stomach, jolting him awake.

Leonard groaned as he clutched his stomach, the sharp pain jolting him fully awake. Blinking against the morning light filtering through the window, he squinted up at Saburo, who stood over him with a mischievous grin.

Saburo lowered the shinai and offered Leonard a hand up. “Come on, sleepyhead. We've got work to do.”

The temple loomed before them, ancient and imposing, its stone steps leading down into the depths below. Leonard's gaze followed Saburo's gesture, settling on the seemingly endless staircase that stretched out before them.

“So, what exactly am I going to do?” Leonard asked.

Saburo turned to him with a knowing smile. “You will take 2400 steps in four sets,” he replied calmly.

Leonard chuckled, "It can't be that long.”

As Leonard rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the disbelief, his gaze fell once again on the daunting staircase before him. The enormity of the task ahead hit him like a tidal wave, and his eyes widened in shock.

“1200 METERS?!!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing off the temple walls.

His hand shot up to his hair, fingers grasping at the strands in disbelief. The realization of the distance he was about to traverse seemed almost too much to bear.

Leonard's laughter was laced with a hint of nervousness as he tried to brush off the daunting task ahead. “Oh well,” he chuckled, his voice trembling slightly. “I have better things to do! So if you'll excuse m-”

Saburo's quick kick landed on Leonard's stomach and before he could complete his statement, he found himself tumbling down the first few steps of the staircase.

Disoriented by the fall, Leonard rolled and tumbled until he came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, lying on the floor.

“Up you go!” Saburo's voice called out.

Leonard steadied himself on the ground, brushing off the dust from his clothes with a muttered curse. “This oversized armadillo,” he grumbled, shooting a playful glare at Saburo.

With a deep breath, he turned his gaze toward the seemingly endless staircase, “Oh god,” he muttered under his breath, steeling himself for the grueling task ahead.

With Saburo's watchful gaze upon him, Leonard took the first step, each footfall echoing in the silence of the temple. As he ascended, driving him forward even as fatigue began to set in.

Up and down he went, his muscles burning with exertion, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Leonard collapsed at the top of the staircase, his body trembling with exhaustion. “Three more sets to go!” Saburo declared.

“FUC-”

The next training takes place in the training grounds of the temple, where Leonard is seen performing knuckle push-ups without deviation. His forehead is already full of sweat as he is striving hard, all his muscles are tensed.

Saburo is balanced on Leonard's back and looking quite placid while watching his pupil. Next to them, Saburo's maid is screaming and supporting Leonard completely, causing her voice to ring around the training grounds.

“Go! Go! Go!” she chants, her voice filled with encouragement.

Leonard continues to push himself, his muscles burning with exertion, both Saburo and his maid join in the chant, their voices blending together in a chorus of support.

“Go! Go! Go!” they repeat, their faces flushed with excitement and laughter bubbling up from within them.

It shifts to an open area in front of a wooden board adorned with nails, their sharp points gleaming in the sunlight. Leonard stands before it, his gaze fixed on the intimidating sight before him.

“Now, you will perform what we call Bo Ding Gong,” Saburo declares, his voice firm but encouraging.

Leonard takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead. He knows that this exercise, known as “Iron Palm Training."

After a slight gesture of approval from Sabuuro and Leonard’s hand was about to touch the wooden board, the fingers were stopped by the row of nails. Each of these nails was a step that Leonarda would start to master, hence he prepared himself for the agony ahead.

“We will start with your thumb, index, and finally... your pinky,” Saburo instructs him.

Leonard grips the first nail tightly between his thumb and forefinger, his muscles tensing as he attempts to pull it out. But to his dismay, the nail remains firmly embedded in the wooden board.

“It's not moving,” Leonard grits out through clenched teeth, frustration and pain.

Forcing himself to ignore the relentless pain shooting through his hand, he presses on, all his strength now threatening to burst forth from his knuckles. In a fit of primal rage, Leonard pulls at the nail, feeling the insides of his palm tearing as he manages to finally yank the stubborn thing.

With blood gushing from the ripped skin on his thumb, streaking the ground beneath him, does not care about the mess, rather holding on the nail in his hand with a victorious look. He has proven himself capable of withstanding such and overcome all the obstacles that came with it, achieving the impossible.

As Leonard bears down to remove the final . . . nail . . . using his index finger he grunts in pain as it threatens to overcome him again. But still in pain, he stubbornly refuses to give in. He is able to extract the nail at long last.

Yet again as he reaches out for the last stubbornly fixed onto the structure nail, this time using his pinky for leverage. Leonard finds himself in a dead end. No matter what, the nail seems to be glued in its place. The wood refuses to let the nail out.

With each passing moment, the frustration peaks, and Leonard exhausts all available means, his foot, the other hand, anything within reach that might help—none of it works.

“You will not drink nor eat anything until you successfully remove it with your pinky,” Saburo declares firmly.

Saburo walks away, one of the maids rushes to his side, her concern evident in her voice. “Are we just going to leave him here?! Such a poor soul does not deserve this kind of treatment! We should let him rest for now!”

Saburo's gaze turns icy as he looks at the maid, his tone sharp with reproach. “Do you hear yourself, young lady? Strong men are forged through adversity, not coddled. Leonard must walk this path if he wishes to truly live.”

With a heavy heart, the maid falls silent, knowing that Saburo's words hold truth, no matter how harsh they may seem.

The maid's words cut through the tension, her voice trembling with emotion as she confronts Saburo. “It's not fair! Can you show some empathy?!” she pleads, her eyes pleading for understanding.

Saburo's expression softens slightly as he meets her gaze, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "I have already learned from my mistake," he admits quietly, his voice tinged with remorse. “I would not dare doing it again.”

As time went by, days turned into weeks, and still, there was no change in him; defeating the obstinate nail was, however, the least of the many challenges he faced. Infusing more and more energy into the task with each passing hour, this was the night as well, but he did not relent, and the process was depleting his energy in every possible way with time.

Still, the stabbing pain that coursed through every fiber of his hand was not enough to deter Leonard from his attempt failed as it was. He was simply too strong to bend with the circumstances. Exhaustion began creeping up on him as he battled the unyielding nail, but he still pressed on until his muscles shook in weariness.

But as the third day dawned, it became apparent that Leonard's body could no longer withstand the punishing ordeal. His once-strong frame now withered and frail, his skin pale and clammy, his eyes dulled with exhaustion.

As Leonard knelt, his body wracked with exhaustion and his muscles on the verge of collapse, a familiar voice pierced through the haze of pain and fatigue. It echoed in his mind, taunting him with memories of his past, of loss and despair.

“Are you just gonna let her rot to death? Just like your family?” the voice taunted, its words striking at the very core of Leonard's being. “You don't have a purpose. Now tell me… what makes you think you're worthy of living?”

Leonard's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw set in determination. The memories of Lucy, of Sasha, of everything he had lost, fueled a fire within him—a fire of rage and vengeance that burned brighter than ever before.

“Man, I hope I was one of those men,” he growled through gritted teeth.

With a primal scream, Leonard launched himself towards the wooden board, fueled by the raw power of his rage. Every ounce of strength he had left was poured into that final, desperate attempt to remove the stubborn nail that had tormented him.

Bruised and self-consciously flexing his arms and chest, now pressed harder against the wooden board, no longer hiding the anger that had fueled him earlier. He felt he had nothing left in him, however, this last surge of effort was needed to tear the goddamn nail out that had been burning him within the past few days.

If there even were any after it, the last blow with which Leonard's palm hit the board happened for an eternity. The blunt object embedded in the board had shifted finally to his constant onslaught. Forth fell the nail and feeling of duty fulfilled came, the deluge in its course truly was the struggle for achievement over days and own body.

Crassly howling with victory, Leonard let himself fall on the ground, totally exhausted, though he still could hold his head high. He had made it over the threshold of life, or the quest for lives of meaning.

Leonard's consciousness slowly returned to him, he found himself surrounded by the warm glow of a crackling bonfire, its flickering flames dancing in the darkness of the night. He turned his gaze towards the figure seated beside him, illuminated by the fire's gentle light.

“Saburo?” Leonard murmured, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.

The older man turned towards him, his expression unreadable. “Oh... You have awake,” Saburo replied quietly.

Leonard rubbed his eyes, “It's nighttime already?” he mused, a sense of disorientation washing over him. “Man, I've slept hard I guess.”

Leonard settled onto the wooden log, the warmth of the bonfire soothing his tired muscles as he listened to Saburo's words. The older man's voice carried a mixture of pride and admiration.

“You have impressed me, my child,” Saburo began, his tone gentle but firm. “Your indomitable resilience towards pain exceeded my expectations.”

“Thank you, Saburo,” Leonard replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “Your guidance and support have been invaluable to me.”

Saburo nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It is not often that I encounter a student with such determination and strength of will,” he admitted. “You have proven yourself worthy of the path you have chosen.”

The crackling of the flames filled the silence between them, Saburo's gaze drifted into the distance, a pensive expression crossing his features.

“You remind me of someone,” he began, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

Leonard's brow furrowed in confusion, piqued by Saburo's cryptic words. “Someone?” he asked, prompting Saburo to continue.

But instead of elaborating, Saburo's gaze remained fixed on the flickering flames, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I don't want to talk about it,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard hesitated, sensing the unspoken memories weighing heavily on Saburo's heart. Though he longed to understand the depths of his mentor's past, he knew that some wounds ran too deep to be easily healed.

'Please, Saburo, what happened in the past?' Leonard's voice had an undertone of supplication as if trying to persuade Saburo, but Saburo was adamant as ever, turning his back even more to walk to the door, which he closed.

Discomfort and worry crossed over Leonard's face, and he rushed out after Saburo, his footsteps in the dimly lit halls of the temple. He barged into the kitchen, and Saburo was sitting at the round table with a drink in his hand.

“Saburo...” Leonard's voice was soft, filled with sympathy for the older man's inner turmoil. “The more you try to forget, the more wounds you inflict upon yourself. The more you try to fix it, the more futile it seems.”

Saburo's laughter was tinged with
bitterness, his words heavy with regret and longing for a past that could never be reclaimed. “If only I could go back to the past,” he mused, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Maybe... I could've saved him. Maybe I could've stopped him from the darkness that stripped his humanity away.”

Leonard remained quiet, and Saburo’s message seemed to have retain a very serious proportion between the two. Leonard had also realized the pain that Saburo was carrying, the pain of regret close to unbearable.

Saburo's words dwindled, and in a moment, another scene emerged, one that took them forty-five years back in time. The atmosphere was thick with nostalgia as Saburo attempted to speak again, this time his voice filled with the remnants of a brutal and bloody timeless era.

“I was a warrior forged by blood and violence,” Saburo began, his voice tinged with remorse. “I grew up as a street kid, taking on gigs to earn money. Until I found myself in a band of raiders, where they recruited me for my renowned strength.”

With a heavy heart, Saburo sought solace and redemption in the halls of a temple, where he dedicated himself to the path of a Shaolin warrior. And it was there, amidst the quiet contemplation of the temple's walls, that his life took an unexpected turn.

“I killed many innocent villagers throughout my career,” Saburo confessed, his voice heavy with sins. “But as time went on, I began to question the very nature of right and wrong. I started to wonder if the idea of goodness truly existed.”

“A few years had passed,” Saburo continued, his voice growing softer. “And as I opened the door one day, I saw a baby wrapped in swaddling cloth.”

Saburo's voice was tinged with both pride and sorrow as he spoke of the child he had taken under his wing, the child who had become his purpose and his legacy.

“He gave me purpose,” Saburo admitted, a note of reverence in his tone. “I trained him, molded him into the person I wanted him to be—a successor, a warrior of liberation.”

But even amidst the pride, there was a shadow that loomed over their bond—a shadow born of regret and missed opportunities.

“He was often bullied by students at the temple,” Saburo confessed, his voice heavy with remorse. “If only I had been there to stop them, I could've saved him from the torment that gnawed at his soul.”

As the child grew into a strong and formidable warrior, Saburo couldn't help but notice the darkness that lingered within him, a darkness fueled by anger and resentment.

“But despite his strength, I saw the darkness in his heart,” Saburo continued, his voice filled with concern. “His hunger for wrath was unfathomable, consuming him from within.”

However hard one tried to forgive, it was impossible to forget the distortions – how the young Leonardo had regaled him with friendships gone awry. Compared to his mentor’s efforts, saving their bond seemed next to impossible. And as their history hung heavily within the confines of the room, Leonard was well aware that this journey of theirs on the path of atonement was not going to be about history alone for the two of them; even more than history, they had to confront the very real fear of being overcome.

The day had finally come for the selection of the next heir. The tension of Saburo's choice increased even more. His disciple, who was dominated by pride and ambition, waited for the moment when he would be pointed out as the next leader and would be entrusted with the right of command and the power that came with it.

“But instead,” Saburo continued, his voice tinged with sadness, "I chose someone else. Someone pure of heart, someone who valued preservation over destruction.”

The announcement shattered the expectations of his protege, igniting a firestorm of rage and betrayal within him. With clenched fists and venomous words, he stormed out of the temple, his curses echoing in the stillness of the air.

“He cursed me,” Saburo admitted, a note of regret in his voice. "He swore that I would regret my decision, that I would come to rue the day I chose another over him."

As the remnants of his protege's rage dwindled in distance, Saburo began to question the decision he made. But the demon of self-doubt was quickly vanquished, for he was aware that leadership was not merely a function of power and the will to obtain it; it was also about wisdom and selflessness for the sake of something bigger.

And even as he beheld the sinking sun’s rays reflecting off the temple, Saburo was aware that even if the decision had warranted adverse effects such as hurt and anger, it was one which he took for the wellbeing of the temple and its principles.

Soon after, when the colors of the night engulfed the temple, Saburo was awakening from the sleep which warm and comfortable stiffened him, and the horrible screeches that filled the corridor in his mind were begging for something.

Awake but in shock, Saburo turned horrified and stunned to what he was seeing - the outline of his prior student-turned-killer. The young man held in his hands hillocks of severed heads stained in the blood of other students.

A twisted smile played upon the lips of the intruder as he addressed Saburo, his voice dripping with malice. “Father... Tell me... Do you like my offering?”

The very utterance stimulated Saburo's veins with an uncontrolled feeling of rage threatening to explode his heart as he faced the treachery before him. He leaped out of the temple, bellowing like a wild animal, throwing that person out with so much force that they obviously did not belong there.

“GO AWAY AND NEVER RETURN!” Saburo bellowed, his voice echoing through the night as he stood firm against the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

Yet, the clash was far from over. Battling for supremacy within the temple, Saburo would meet once again his former student; every strike they threw at each other laced with combustible hatred incurred over the years.

At the end, it was Saburo who proved his superiority over his opponent, who was defeated and injured, losing his right eye in the process and leaving with a fierce scar carving the eye due to Saburo’s wrath. But such a victory was not without regret; deep within, a vow of retribution lingered ominously - an almost tangible promise portentous enough to break what little peace still subsisted.

In fear for the safety of his remaining students, Saburo made the difficult decision to disband the temple, urging them to flee to safety and seek refuge far from the reach of their vengeful foe.

As tears welled up in Saburo's eyes, a heaviness settled over him like a shroud of sorrow. His heart ached with the weight of regret and longing, the echoes of his former protege's betrayal haunting him like a ghost from the past.

“I just...” Saburo's voice faltered, choked with emotion. “I just wanted him to grow up like a normal kid. What went wrong?”

It was an ice started to melt and the question still loomed large in suspended silence and missed to satisfy everyone and created that deep sadness. Saburo could not help himself, but begin to wonder, what went wrong, what did he do to err and in turn lead his pupil to the very active dark side of hopelessness and despair.

“I guess...” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I didn't give him the love that he was craving for.”

The realization of his failure as a mentor and a father figure weighing heavily upon him. In his pursuit of discipline and training, he had neglected the most fundamental aspect of nurturing a young soul—the simple act of showing love and compassion.

“My sweet baby...” Saburo whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “Forgive me for failing you. I only wanted what was best for you, but I see now that I may have pushed you too far, too fast.”

Leonard's hand rested gently on Saburo's shoulder, offering comfort. “No, you're not just a father,” he reassured, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “You're more than enough, more than he could ever ask for. Though he may be gone, the idea of you, of your love and guidance, will never fade.”

“Right, pops?” Saburo's heart was filled with feelings when he heard Leonard's words, which worked as a tender yet painful reminder of the connection and the mission they both bore. Leonard's smile illuminated the void and Saburo looked into Leonard’s eyes and saw traces of his adopted child with a dull ache; a sad reminder of the prancing days full of laughter and warmth.

“Papa, papa, can you sing me a lullaby?~ Please! Yey!” The memory of his son's laughter filling the air like a melody of innocence and joy.

Saburo could no longer contain his emotions as he knelt over Leonard and held him tight, their tears combining as they fought for each other, trying to draw some strength from the body warmth they shared.

At that very moment, as they wrapped around each other, going back to the past, Saburo knew that all this heartache and loss they had suffered together had been redeemed magically by the love they had for each other. And as they stood together in the flickering glow of the bonfire, surrounded by the echoes of their memories, Saburo whispered a silent prayer of gratitude for the son he had lost, and the son he had found in Leonard.