My father never asked my opinion; I learned about the decision only because Franco told me. Despite everything, I agreed. I didn't want my brother to suffer any more than he already had.
So that day, in addition to witnessing my brother's death, I would also have to attend his funeral.
That was why I left my room, despite desperately not wanting to see my father. The guilt was still far too strong after I had spent almost two weeks shut away by myself. But the fear of not being there during my brother's final moments—and of not attending his funeral—was even greater than the feelings I had toward my father at the time.
Even though he avoided making eye contact with me as much as possible and clearly did everything he could to avoid speaking to me, he still allowed me to hold my brother's hand while Franco gave him his "medicine."
At that moment, I cried harder than I ever had before.
In fact, I cried so much that for the next hundred years, not a single tear fell from my eyes.
And shortly afterward, the moans of pain finally stopped.
As Franco had explained to me, Boreo's moans had grown much louder over the previous few days, together with the amount of smoke coming from his body. By then, the smoke no longer came only from his mouth; it had begun seeping from his ears and nose as well.
Then all of it suddenly ceased.
The veins that had been swollen and pulsing bright red beneath his skin slowly deflated, and his skin became soft once again.
My brother was dead.
For several minutes afterward, nobody in that room said a single word.
The only sound was that of the tears of those present falling to the floor.
That same afternoon, Boreo's funeral was held.
Following our village tradition, an enormous bonfire was built in the center of the village. The body of the deceased was placed within the flames, and every villager was expected to remain there and watch that enormous fire until it finally burned itself out.
Even though I was still afraid, I managed to stand beside my father throughout the funeral.
There was something important I needed to tell him.
During the days I had spent locked inside my room, I had thought constantly about what I could possibly do to make amends for losing the tournament… for allowing my brother to die.
The idea had first crossed my mind practically the instant I realized I was about to lose to that elf. But at the time, I had neither truly made the decision nor found enough courage to carry it through.
That changed after watching my brother die before my eyes.
"Father, there's something I need to tell you…" I said solemnly, while neither his gaze nor mine moved away from the enormous flames.
"From this day forward, I intend to inherit the dojo. Every day, I will train until I'm completely exhausted, until I become worthy of inheriting it. I will never again do less than what is enough…"
My voice grew even more serious.
"So I ask you to train me, Father… No. Master."
The least I could do was carry on my brother's dream and become one of the greatest masters the Leaf Falling from the Tree style had ever produced.
No matter how much I hated martial arts, I would never stop until I had done enough.
My father didn't look at me.
He remained completely silent for several seconds before giving me a single curt response.
"All right."
Without a doubt, that was the exact moment when the person I am today was born.
The very next day, I destroyed the entrance to my secret hideout, sealing away all the books I had collected there over the years.
For a moment, I had even considered burning them. But I couldn't. Those books still contained memories of the time when my brother had been alive, and I couldn't bring myself to destroy them completely. So I simply sealed them away.
From that moment onward, I dedicated practically every waking hour to mastering the art of the Leaf Falling from the Tree.
And at the same time, my father stopped speaking to me unless we were training.
Training that lasted almost the entire day. Practically every day.
That situation continued without any meaningful change for ten straight years. During all that time, I never received a single word of encouragement from my father. Occasionally, however, I still caught him giving me that same disappointed look.
Then, one day, my father suffered an unexpected heart attack and joined my brother. Probably because of the stress caused by my brother's death, from which my father never recovered.
I can't honestly say that I still loved my father during those final years. After Boreo's death, he had stopped being my father and had become nothing more than an extremely strict martial arts teacher who happened to live under the same roof as me. From the day of my brother's funeral onward, he never showed me even the slightest trace of affection.
And so I inherited the dojo.
But I didn't stop training.
Since I was now the only person I needed to support, covering the dojo's expenses wasn't particularly difficult. Even so, just like my father before me, I occasionally had to take on additional work alongside teaching and training in order to keep everything running.
I had to admit something, however. Even though I still hated practicing martial arts, teaching them to my students became one of the few genuine pleasures left in my life. Of course, deep down, I would have preferred teaching things like reading, writing, and literature. But that was a dream unworthy of a sinful girl like me.
During the ten years following my brother's death, the number of students at our dojo never exceeded ten. At first, that didn't change after I inherited it.
But after a couple of years under my leadership, the dojo eventually reached fifteen students.
Apparently, I was more popular as a martial arts master than my father had been.
Although I could never tell whether that was because I was a better teacher and fighter than he had been, or simply because of my physical appearance.
The situation remained more or less unchanged for another eight years.
Then, one day, an elf came to visit my dojo.
He had the youthful face of a man in his twenties, yet also possessed a long beard that made him look like some thousand-year-old wizard from a children's story.
He watched our entire training session with obvious and intense interest.
When we finally finished for the day, the strange elf approached me.
"Ohohohoho! That was truly a wonderful training session, Lady Aurola. It's obvious that you possess remarkable talent, both in martial arts themselves and in teaching them. Because of that, there's an offer I'd like to discuss with you…"
Then he paused.
He looked directly into my eyes.
"But first, there's something I'd like to ask you… Do you truly want to practice martial arts?"
For an instant, I felt as though the eyes of that long-bearded elf could see directly into the deepest part of my soul.
His question made me hesitate.
But then the image of my father's face from that day returned to my mind.
My conviction—and the guilt supporting it—returned like a sudden summer storm.
"Of course," I replied immediately. "I must."
The elf released a long sigh.
"Hmm… That wasn't the answer I was hoping to hear, but it was certainly the answer I expected…" he said.
Then he gave a small shrug.
"But oh well. It seems that, for now, you truly need to throw yourself completely into martial arts. Besides, I'm more than certain that one day, someone else will be there to help you after you finally rediscover what you truly want to do…"
His expression suddenly brightened again.
"Now, about that proposal… Although, come to think of it, such a proposal would sound rather suspicious coming from some random old man, wouldn't it? So I suppose it's time for me to reveal my true identity."
He finished with a chuckle.
At first, I merely stared at him in complete confusion.
Then he turned his back to me and removed the shirt he was wearing.
The instant I saw his back, I bowed deeply.
Tattooed across it was an enormous leaf.
The elf standing before me was Nageio Akiba, who at that time was the Grand Master of the Leaf Falling from the Tree style.
The very man who would one day pass that title on to me.
Nageio glanced toward me while still keeping his back turned.
"Well, it seems I won't need to explain what this symbol means to you."
"Of course not. Any practitioner of the Falling Leaf Style, no matter how inexperienced, knows what that symbol represents…" I replied, my voice filled with absolute respect. "Which is exactly why I'm wondering what someone as important as you is doing in our humble countryside dojo."
"Ohohohoho! I've decided to travel through the kingdom and visit the various dojos that teach the Leaf Falling from the Tree style in search of promising new talent to invite to the capital's dojo," the Grand Master explained.
"The reason you haven't heard anything about my journey is because I asked every dojo I visited to keep my presence secret. I wanted to observe each school in as natural an environment as possible."
My eyes widened.
"Did you find someone interesting in our dojo…?!"
"Exactly," Nageio replied.
For the first time in what felt like ages, a genuine smile spread across my face.
"Fantastic! Whoever you've chosen, I'm sure they'd be more than happy to transfer to the dojo in the capital!" And, admittedly, another thought immediately crossed my mind. 'This would definitely improve our dojo's reputation!'
"So who is it?" I asked, unable to contain my impatience any longer.
Nageio smiled broadly.
Then he raised one hand and pointed directly at me.
"You, Aurola."
For several seconds, I simply stood there, unable to fully understand what Grand Master Nageio had just said.
"…ME?!" I finally shouted in disbelief.
"Yes, you, Aurola. I doubt I'm the first person to tell you this, but your talent for martial arts is so obvious that I only needed to watch a single practice match between you and one of your students to recognize it. The same applies to your talent as a teacher. So far, during this journey through the kingdom's various dojos, you're the only person I've encountered who is truly worth bringing back to the capital."
I remained motionless for several seconds, completely unsure of how to respond.
Then I began giving the answer that felt most natural to me.
"I'm sorry, but I can't—"
I stopped myself.
The image of Boreo appeared in my mind.
I had taken up my brother's dream after his death.
It was true that Boreo himself probably would have initially refused an offer like this. But he would have refused only because he didn't want to leave Father and me behind. Boreo had loved martial arts from the bottom of his heart. If circumstances had allowed it, I knew he would have accepted without hesitation. And because I had chosen to carry his dream in his place, I couldn't allow myself to hesitate.
I shook my head and looked back toward the Grand Master.
"All right. I'll go with you to the capital," I said in the most solemn voice I could manage. "But I have a few conditions…"
"'A few conditions,' eh? Interesting…" Nageio replied. "Usually, the martial artists I invite to train at the capital's dojo don't ask for anything in return. After all, most consider the invitation itself an enormous honor."
"It is an enormous honor for me as well," I answered. "But… I can't simply abandon this dojo without taking precautions."
"All right, then. Tell me what your conditions are, and I'll do my best to meet them," Nageio said with an amused smile.
"Thank you, Grand Master Nageio!"
I bowed again before continuing.
"My requests are these: I want this dojo completely renovated and expanded at your expense. And I want you to speak highly of it to your students and ask them to spread word of our dojo throughout the kingdom."
Nageio stared at me for a moment.
Then he asked, "Is that all?"
"Yes. That's all," I replied firmly.
"Perfect. Then consider it done."
Nageio smiled and extended his hand toward me. I immediately accepted the handshake.
And so, shortly afterward, I moved to the kingdom's capital and became a student at its dojo, leaving Mario behind as the new master and owner of my old dojo.
Then, after roughly ninety years of sweat and unimaginable dedication as Nageio's student, he finally entrusted the position of Grand Master to me. At that moment, I asked myself a question.
"Have I done enough?"
But my father's expression from that day immediately returned to my mind. And so my answer was obvious.
"No. Not yet."
So I continued dedicating my body and soul to those martial arts I had always hated. And somewhere along the way, I met a certain strangely cheerful orphaned elf girl—
"Yes! You've done enough!"
Suddenly, the shout of that same girl—now fully grown—denying the guilt I had carried for so long finally dragged my mind back into the present.