Easy
Sometimes it scared him- how easy it was to slide the metal through the flesh of his enemies, to make them drop onto the pavement. It was easy to shatter them, to destroy their lives, and the lives of their families. It was easier than it should be, to kill. It was easy to bring a fighter to his knees and snuff out the light in his eyes. It shouldn't be this easy. But they were in the right, weren't they?
Was heaven watching as he destroyed the precious creations of God? Was he condemned for a life that had been thrust upon him?
It was easy slip into the offence, bring down your weapons and knock your enemy to the ground. Of course it was easy- this was what he had practiced for. This came from hours of training, of sweat and tears and blood on the dojo mats. Pushing yourself back up until your muscles trembled with effort and you felt like you couldn't go on anymore. But you went on anyway because you refused to quit. He never quit.
And with the sound of steel through the night, it was easy to knock them to the ground, easy to end their lives and stop their breath. And the nagging though pressed against his mind, trickled down his throat and made him feel sick. And above him, the sky opened up and the tears of heaven poured down on him.
It was easy… so one ever said how damn difficult it was.