I had always taken for granted that Father would be there; consistent and ever-lasting as the sun. I revered him, immortalized him in my mind so much that I thought it impossible for him to ever be gone forever. His eternal absence was nothing more than a whisper of an ancient childhood nightmare. But I had to come to the realization of his demise that breezy spring day he came back to the village in shambles. Quite frankly, I had never seen anyone bleed that much before and the fact that it was my father filled me with a sick, disgusting feeling. I rushed over to him, knowing already that my efforts would be in vain, for no one, not even my father could survive those wounds. He was taken, by my orders, to a tidy medical hut; essentially to his death bed. I knew he would never leave that hut alive. When I entered the hut, I could tell he knew it too. His eyes were ever-brilliant, yet they conveyed that eerie sense of an honorable defeat. They told the bitter-sweet story of the powerful demon lord who, after many trails of character and physical strength had finally met his match.

"Father. What happened to you?" I asked him, all too aware that there was a waver in my voice. I would have preferred to have kept silent for I felt helpless and my tone depicted that, but Father would not judge me on this, so I disregarded it.

"Everyone has his limits," he said simply. His voice was still powerful, even in his weakened state.

"But that doesn't answer my question."

My father let out a short laugh. "So demanding. You just can't let it go," he told me, his tone amiable and good-natured. After a slight pause, he told me, "I had to protect them. That demon threatened their existence and I had to protect them."

I knew what "them" he was referring to, then scoffed inwardly, infuriated by the fact that "they" had cost me my other parent. "They" would pay for my suffering on their behalf, but my father need not know that. I would let him rest assured that I would not bring up our past conflicts during his last moments. I respected him far too much to let him die on bad terms with me.

"What demon did this to you?" I inquired, my desire for vengeance getting a hold of me at a most inappropriate time.

"It doesn't matter. I have already laid him dormant anyway."

There was another silence. My mind was almost frantic with an obscure fear, a fear I only felt when aspects of my life were out of my power. My father's breath became more labored, but he seemed to accept it with immeasurable dignity.

"Do you remember when you told me that apologies don't raise the dead?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, but that is...I don't care about that right now."

"Do me a favor and listen." He was whispering now, and obviously losing strength quickly. "There is a sword smith by the name of Toto-sai. I had him forge a sword for you." At this point, he gave me a wry glance. "You're clever. I know you will figure everything out." Another silence.

"Father, I am unsure of your intentions...but you know I have put Mother's death behind me. You know I no longer bare any grudge against you," I explained. We both knew that it was at this moment my grudge had been lifted; not before, but it was lifted none the less and finally all tensions were gone.

"Yes. I do know," he told me. Then he smiled at me, and told me, his good nature showing through even in death, "See you around, kid."

"Forever is a long time to wait to see you again, Father. I will miss you." And with that, he was gone.

And thus was the demise of my father. It happened so suddenly that I felt almost as if it had never happened at all. I would return to father's village, expecting to see him there. Every time I noticed that he wasn't, I put up another invisible shield around myself. Father wasn't there to back me up now so I had to be more and more defensive of myself; more and more emotionless and impartial to the world and its inhabitants and at the same time try to find my lot in life. Father had left me his land, a land in which the denizens were loyal to him and thus to me, his heir. This instilled in me a certain power which I could draw from if need be. I did not involve myself with those people as my father had, still scorning them as inferior, however I did defend then when it pleased me out of respect for my father.

I stayed out of my brother's life, although I did run into him occasionally. I ignored him, rarely feeling the desire to speak to him, still hating him and contemplating revenge. At that time, though, my time was better spent gaining power and establishing myself as a formidable figure in the country. I had come to believe that I would find my place in a position of power, control and independence, and until the time of a fateful war, I believed I had everything figured out as Father said I would. I had, however, forgotten about some aspects of my life that were far too important to push off to the side forever.