He stared at the mirror, disliking what he saw. It wasn't about his looks, of course, he couldn't care less. It wasn't about the unusual state and colour of his hair either, which was a light or sometimes mossy green, depending on the lighting. There seemed to be a permanent crease in his forehead, eyebrows constantly knitted together. His lips were twisted into a scowl most of the time, or a sneer when he was winning in a fight. His lips could also be pressed into a narrow line when thinking or musing over something, determined and focused. On rare occasions though, he would laugh and smile, be it sadistically or gleefully. The angles of his face were sharp, casting shadows around his eyes. To those who did not know him well, he would have looked threatening or menacing, even to the point of being murderous. It didn't help his social status that he had three legendary swords hanging at his hip, jutting out from beside a jade striped waistband. He was muscular and sturdily built, and it could be said that many admired his form and would have been glad to have it. Body toned and tanned from hours in the sun training, or even under the velvet sky of night. No, it wasn't that either.

What displeased him were his eyes. They were like many others, dark in colour. He had slightly beady eyes, and a faint line running along just above his eye, creating a double eyelid. He hated his eyes. To him, they were hollow, and though he knew that his eyes were sharp, like a blade sliding from his gaze, slicing anything he set his sight upon, he felt that they were weak. Closing his eyes, briefly, an image of a young girl slamming her gleaming blade right next to his head, planting it into the ground, sparked in his mind.

Overcome in a fit of rage, he drove his fist accurately into the centre of the reflecting surface, shattering the mirror. He watched as they tore away from each other, fibres of glass wrestling to be free. They danced on air, twinkling and glowing, flashing light as they tumbled to the ground. They landed harshly and fought more than ever to break. Some of the larger pieces cracked, the smaller ones smashing into fine powder. Looking down at the scattered glass at his feet, he stared down at his jagged reflections. Instead of one, there were now millions of tiny reflections staring back at him. One whole truth in the mirror that was broken only formed more, emphasising on the truth, on his weakness. Unable to remove his gaze from the reflections, he was suddenly aware of the high pitched voice of a certain money grubbing girl shrieking through the door that he would have to pay for whatever she heard he broke. Her voice was accompanied by a loud, lilting laughter of another, its sounds shaping a sweet melody.

He couldn't help by smile as he lifted his head and pushed his way out of the room, facing his crewmates, some worried, some angry, and one other oblivious to all. Ignoring them, he nudged them aside with a grunt and sought a place on the sunny deck to nap. Why worry? With his friends by his side, even faced with the truth, the only he could do was to become stronger.