The Man Who Remained — His Second Life Began with a Humble Bow of Apology. - Chapter 100: A Parent and Child Who Cannot Bear Each Other’s Existence (Part Two).

A Parent and Child Who Cannot Bear Each Other’s Existence (Part Two).

Sourin was, by nature, a man of few words—someone not particularly adept at conversation.

From the start, he had lived a life where there were no true equals to converse with, and rather than speaking with words, he often conveyed himself through the weapon at his hip. Given such a life, it was only natural that he would be poor with words.

Admitting that fact was infuriating to the point of death—but even so, his son Unyou, who had spent his childhood by his side, understood it deeply. So deeply, in fact, that the memory made his blood boil.

This man, he knew, was like a drawn sword—too raw and dangerous to ever lead an ordinary life.

It was precisely because of this that Unyou now found himself utterly shocked.

To witness Sourin, so wholly devoid of social grace, engaged in natural conversation with Cross—it was an experience entirely foreign to Unyou. And more than that, it stirred in him an emotion not unlike anger.

“You always saw yourself as a clumsy man, didn’t you, Sourin? So then… why did you choose to wield such a demanding blade?”

After exchanging a few words and growing somewhat familiar, Cross asked the question in a tone reserved for a trusted friend.

Sourin had described himself as clumsy—not just in speech, but in many things. It was a layered kind of ineptitude: he lacked dexterity, he was poor at expressing himself, and he couldn’t master many skills. A triple burden he bore as his truth.

The weapon known as the katana—when its traits were laid out—was an unusually heavy blade with exceptional cutting power.

With sufficient skill, it could slice through even steel with ease.

To hear that alone, one might think it an extraordinarily powerful weapon. But Cross never felt the desire to wield it, nor to recommend it to anyone. For all its brilliance, the katana bore equally immense drawbacks.

First and foremost, it was incredibly difficult to mass-produce.

Forging one required advanced craftsmanship and an immense amount of time. As a result, their numbers were limited, and they were far from cheap.

Then, there was the fact that the katana was poor at anything other than cutting.

Compared to the long swords and short swords Cross was accustomed to, the katana operated under entirely different principles. While it excelled in slicing cleanly—producing beautifully smooth cuts like a sharp kitchen knife—standard swords cut by striking, more like cleaving forcefully through resistance.

Because the katana specialized to such a degree in this one function, it was nearly useless for anything else. It could thrust, structurally speaking, but it wasn’t effective.

And finally—the worst and most significant flaw.

Due to its finely honed edge, the katana was fragile.

Where other swords could continue to fight even with chipped or jagged blades—essentially functioning like brutal slabs of iron—the katana could not. A single nick rendered it dull. It was also susceptible to blood and oil, and if it failed to cut cleanly, it had a frustrating tendency to snap.

Cross didn’t see it as a defective weapon per se, but still—he couldn’t imagine viewing the katana as a wise choice. If one believed themselves clumsy, such a weapon would be the last thing they’d choose.

“I understand what you’re saying, Cross-sama. The katana is a weapon that chooses its wielder. I have seen many give it up in favor of more forgiving arms.”

“Right? If I were to live in Hourai, I wouldn’t hesitate to pick up a spear.”

“Indeed. A wise choice. But… may I ask why?”

“Because you can become strong with it faster. And more importantly, it’s effective against katana wielders.”

That was exactly the answer Sourin had expected.

“My deepest respect. You’ve touched countless weapons, acquired vast knowledge, and carried that into real combat. I believe that very experience is your greatest strength, Cross-sama.”

“…Can’t say anyone’s ever put it that way before. I’ve always felt like a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But that’s exactly why I do understand the value of committing to a single weapon. People like me… no, people like us—common folk—can’t aim higher unless we dedicate ourselves fully. Though… in the end, I never made it to the top.”

“You, too, feel that way, Cross-sama?”

“Let’s be honest—Sourin, you didn’t exactly have talent either, did you?”

Sourin did not protest. He simply nodded with calm sincerity.

“Indeed. I would say I am even less gifted than you, Cross-sama.”

“And yet, you’ve grown far stronger than I am now… Haven’t you?”

“I cannot say. But… even a talentless man like me has managed to rise to the rank of village guardian. That much is true.”

“No need to be modest. The gap between us now is clear as day. Which is why I want to know—why choose such a difficult weapon like the katana in the first place?”

“…Now that you ask, I find myself unsure. If I had to answer, I’d say simply because I am of the Kiryuu lineage. My family used the katana, so I picked it up without much thought. From there, I just kept training—as a Kiryuu.”

“That’s it? Just because your family did?”

“Yes—exactly that. If my family had trained in spears, I’d have used a spear. If it had been archery, I’d have practiced with a bow.”

“Yet… you stuck with the katana all this time?”

“I did.”

“Did you never want to give it up?”

“Many times, I did.”

“Then why… why did you keep going with only that blade?”

“…Because I didn’t quit. That’s all.”

Cross furrowed his brow, arms folded, trying to make sense of that answer.

“Words… are hard.”

“Indeed. I often think that wielding a sword is far easier.”

That made Cross burst out laughing. And drawn by that, Sourin allowed himself a faint smile as well.

“There was a time I thought… this blade resembled me.”

“Resembled you?”

“Yes. The katana is a weapon that casts aside everything to fulfill one purpose—cutting. I, too, have cast everything aside just to wield this troublesome sword. And perhaps that’s why others say I’m like a blade myself.”

The weight of those words matched the gravity Sourin exuded.

He was a man who had chosen one path and refined it relentlessly.

It was a force felt in the aura he carried—a presence earned not by talent, but by absolute commitment.

In that, Cross saw the very form of a warrior—a rakshasa—that he himself had aspired to become.

“Sourin… what did you give up in order to sharpen your blade?”

“—Everything that you, Cross-sama, hold dear. That is why I respect you. Because you cherish the very things I had to forsake.”

Sourin’s eyes, as he said that, were unwaveringly serious.

“I see.”

That was all Cross said. And yet his smile was soft and full of warmth.

Unyou had never seen his father speak at such length. In fact, that day’s conversation alone might have surpassed all the everyday words exchanged between them throughout his childhood.

“Cross-sama. May I ask one question as well?”

After a while of idle chatter, Sourin asked this with unusual initiative, prompting a nod from Cross.

“Ah, sorry. I’ve been the one asking everything so far.”

“Not at all. It seems I’m poor at bringing up topics myself, so I’ve actually been quite grateful.”

“Fair enough. So what would you like to ask? If it’s about me, anything goes.”

“Then… may I ask what business brought you to my estate?”

“Ah—truth is, I have no idea. Unyou? What’s the deal?”

Cross glanced sideways at Unyou.

“So you’re saying… it wasn’t you who had business here, but him?”

Sourin muttered this with deep disappointment.

“…And if it was me, would that be so wrong?”

“If it’s before Cross-sama, I’ll at least hear it out.”

“Don’t talk down to me like that!”

Unyou clenched his jaw so hard his teeth nearly cracked.

“If you don’t like it, then surpass me. Prove yourself worthy of your role.”

“Shut it! Hey, Cross. Are you free tomorrow?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question in the middle of this familial spat, Cross stammered.

“Uh… yeah, I guess?”

“Good. Then tomorrow it is. I’ll be back—to beat the crap out of you.”

Cross blinked in surprise.

Sourin, however, seemed more exasperated than startled.

“Utterly foolish… Why not do it now?”

“Hah! Today’s not the day. I just wanted Cross to hear a bit about you. Or what—are you coming at me instead? I’ll take you on.”

“…Do as you like. Whether it’s tomorrow, tonight, or years from now—so long as I live, come whenever you wish.”

With only that cold reply, Sourin turned away.

Unyou glared at his father with fury in his eyes.

“Wait—hold on. Am I getting dragged into some father-son death match? And Unyou, maybe ease up on the whole ‘patricide’ thing?”

Cross spoke up, trying to cool things down.

Seeing this, Sourin’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“…You truly brought Cross-sama into this without explaining anything?”

“Yeah. But I trust him. He’ll help me.”

“That’s arrogance. Fool. Don’t assume Cross-sama agrees with everything you think. Cross-sama, I apologize for involving you. Please, only decide whether to come tomorrow after hearing the full story. And if, after that, you still choose to stand with my son—”

At that moment, Cross felt it—a killing intent, sharp as a blade.

“Then allow me to witness for myself the resolve forged in your lifetime. I will look forward to it.”

With that, Sourin bowed deeply, turned, and walked away.

Left alone, both Cross and Unyou exhaled as if releasing a held breath.

“Well, that’s the declaration of war done. Let’s go home.”

Unyou spoke casually.

But his legs were trembling just a little.

“You’re going to tell me everything now, right?”

Cross asked.

Unyou nodded.

“Yeah… It’s humiliating, but—I dragged you into this. So at the very least, I owe you the full truth.”

A bitter smile crossed Unyou’s face as he said that.