The Man Who Remained — His Second Life Began with a Humble Bow of Apology. - Chapter 105: The Future of a Hopelessly Clumsy Man (Part One).

The Future of a Hopelessly Clumsy Man (Part One).

If I had to sum up this situation in one word… unsettling.

Frankly, there was no better way to describe it.

There were countless things I could comment on.

After all, just yesterday, there was a duel to the death—literally—and yet here they were, acting as if nothing had happened. No injuries, no explanation for why I was dragged into this in the first place.

That was the gist of Cross’s thoughts.

But more than anything, he just felt… sickened.

The sense of discomfort was so palpable it demanded attention.

“Does this look acceptable?” asked Unyou, glancing down at his clothing as he addressed Cross and Sourin.

This, incidentally, was the first reason things felt so off.

He was dressed formally—traditional kimono, paired with hakama pants, topped with a short jacket. He wore the same ceremonial attire as Sourin.

And to be blunt, it didn’t suit him in the slightest.

Maybe it was because Unyou usually dressed in tattered, casual clothes, or because of his generally easygoing, rough-around-the-edges personality. Whatever the reason, the entire ensemble felt fundamentally wrong on him—so much so that it was almost absurd. The clothes themselves seemed ill at ease.

But what made the scene truly grotesque wasn’t the clothing.

It was something else entirely.

“You look quite dignified, my lord,” said Sourin flatly, bowing his head without a hint of expression.

This, to the same Unyou he had looked down on until just yesterday.

Watching this, Cross felt a chill run down his spine. And judging from Unyou’s visible shudder and grimace, he felt the same way.

“Please stop. Just act like you did yesterday,” Unyou muttered.

Sourin, however, bowed deeper.

“I’m afraid that’s no longer possible. From this moment on, you are to be the new head of the family. Someone like me has no place addressing you so informally—”

“I don’t even want to be the family head. I plan to pass it on right away.”

“As you wish, my lord. But only the head of the family has the authority to abolish the traditions you seek to dismantle. And as for your successor—there is no one else suitable.”

“You could just take it back.”

“That would mean reinstating the traditions as well. Are you willing to accept that?”

Unyou winced at that.

Cross could sympathize.

The disconnect between yesterday and today was already disorienting enough, and now he had to deal with this… logical yet unavoidable trap. No rebuttal could come to mind.

He was getting swept along by Sourin’s unrelenting logic, dressed in ceremonial wear that didn’t suit him in the least, about to make a formal appearance before the family as the new clan head. Even Cross found himself feeling sorry for him.

Still, sympathy aside, the whole thing was deeply uncomfortable.

Watching Unyou take on a role of authority, while Sourin bowed in deference—it was just wrong. Even Cross couldn’t stand the sight. Unyou must be even more tormented by it.

“My lord,” Sourin said, “before the succession ceremony begins, may I ask how you intend to dismantle the family’s traditions? While the head does hold the authority to change or abolish them, if done improperly, such efforts are meaningless.”

Unyou blinked, surprised.

“…You’re awfully cooperative all of a sudden. I thought you were against changing the traditions.”

“I could never oppose such a thing. My existence has always been tied to the traditions of the Kiryuu family. If they change, I follow suit. I simply have no desire to change them myself.”

“So if I said I want to stop the whole ‘kill-your-own-family’ tradition, you’d help?”

“If it is your will as clan head. However… we will need a clear and practical method for dismantling and reforming the customs.”

“I’ll adopt the Ryoneku style. As long as it’s overseen by a Satomori family, it should suffice, right?”

“…That’s more thought-out than I expected.”

“You thought I hadn’t thought this through?”

“…If I may be frank, yes.”

Unyou responded to that with a sly grin, clearly pleased with himself.

But before Sourin could reply, the sound of drums echoed through the room.

Apparently, the succession ceremony was about to begin.

“So… what am I supposed to do now?” asked Unyou.

Sourin stood and opened the large doors at the back.

“Step forward and declare yourself to your kin. That will suffice.”

“…I’m not exactly good at acting all high and mighty.”

“From time to time, someone may challenge your authority, claiming they are more fit to lead…”

“Oh, that I can handle. I just beat them up and prove I’m stronger, right?”

“Exactly. And if possible, it would be wise to hint at your plan to begin Satomori training under the Ryoneku.”

“Got it. Well then, Cross, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Uh, yeah. Actually, come to think of it—why am I even here?”

Cross glanced around the clearly family-only waiting room, feeling more out of place than ever.

“But of course,” Sourin answered calmly. “You participated in the succession duel. You have every right to be here. After the succession is formally recognized, a modest celebration will be held. If you wish, you are welcome to join.”

“Would it be better if I didn’t?”

“Personally… I would strongly advise against it. Especially in your case.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured. I’ll pass.”

Sourin gave an approving nod.

“Seriously though, Cross—if you hadn’t come, I’d be stuck here alone with this guy. Just the two of us. That’s hell,” Unyou said, pointing directly at Sourin.

Sourin remained expressionless, undeterred by the remark.

Like a shadow following his master, he simply bowed again to Unyou.

“My lord, the others are waiting.”

“Right. No turning back now, I guess. All for the sake of the goal. Time to suck it up. See you in a bit.”

And with that, Unyou stomped forward in an awkward, wide-legged gait, stepping on the hem of his hakama as he went.

“…It’s honestly shocking how bad that outfit looks on him.”

“He’ll grow into it. Most likely,” Sourin murmured, still bowing.

Once Unyou had disappeared, Cross muttered under his breath.

“Sourin… you’re doing this half on purpose, aren’t you? The way you’re treating him.”

Sourin raised his head, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“I didn’t mean it as mockery… but yes. I won’t deny there’s some intent behind it.”

“Thought so.”

Cross gave a wry smile, and Sourin, surprisingly, returned one of his own.

Sourin was, in many ways, painfully awkward. He simply didn’t know how to live any other way.

Carrying out his duties as clan head—faithfully, unfalteringly—that was all he had ever known.

That’s why, now, getting to interact with his son in a new way… Cross figured it must have brought him joy.

He wanted to believe it wasn’t just that he found his son’s discomfort amusing.

But whether that was really true—Cross didn’t have the courage to ask.

As Cross idly wondered how long Unyou’s “ceremony” would take, Sourin suddenly spoke up.

“Cross-dono. If I may, there is something I wish to ask.”

“Sure, but first—how long is this whole thing going to take?”

“Well, mine was particularly brief… just five hours.”

“That was brief?”

“Yes. I was told it was the shortest in our history.”

“Yeah, no way I’m waiting that long. Be real—how long do you think it’ll take for Unyou?”

“If he appears unfit for the role, he’ll be challenged many times. But due to the limited number of allowable duels, they’ll first argue about who’s qualified to challenge him, and then argue about who should lead that discussion…”

“Okay, got it. Don’t get it, but got it. It’ll take forever.”

“That much is accurate.”

“Traditions and bloodlines, huh. Sounds like a lot of trouble. Anyway, what did you want to ask me?”

Sourin paused for a moment before answering quietly.

“I’m aware this may sound strange… but how do you think I should live from now on?”

“…That’s a little vague. Can you explain more? I mean, we’ve got time to kill, at least.”

“Yes… I suppose the most accurate way to put it is—my reason for living is gone.”

The weight behind Sourin’s words was something Cross could never fully grasp.

But he could understand the reason behind it.

Put simply, he had failed to die.

Bound by tradition, Sourin had killed his own siblings and waited for the day when one of his sons would eventually kill him.

But that day would never come.

Now that Unyou had become head of the family, the killing among kin would stop.

That was the very reason he had fought Sourin in the first place.

And so, the life Sourin had structured around dying at the hands of his child no longer had a purpose.

He wasn’t living so much as not yet dead.

He was, in every sense, an empty shell.

“Hmm… do you have anything you enjoy? Something you’d like to do?”

“I’ve never even considered such things.”

“Didn’t think so. You don’t exactly seem like the type…”

Cross muttered as he thought it over.

What did people do in these kinds of situations?

After a moment, he clapped his hands.

“Alright! We’ve got time to spare, so let’s start with a drink. When all else fails, just drink and see where that leads you!”

“…Drink? You mean alcohol?”

“Yep. Never had any?”

“Never.”

“Then let’s start there. Not because of duty or tradition, but to figure out what you want to do.”

“…You truly are dependable, Cross-dono. This old man, who’s grown old without understanding even the basics of living… I humbly ask you to teach me what it means to live.”

Sourin bowed deeply, and Cross returned a sheepish smile, nodding in response.