Return of the Woodcutter

WARNING: You might not like the backstory ahead. However, the story gets much better (in my humble opinion) after the Breakdown chapters. You could skip those, but you probably won't understand a few things that will happen afterward.

As to why it gets more interesting, the answer lies in chapter 24. Actually, chap 24 can be said to be the real beginning of the novel in a way. I hope to see you there, guys.

I'll read you later.

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While Jack was proudly defending their camp, Aito had yet another dream. The same dream that has kept him from sleeping peacefully at night. The same dream that forced him to watch times and times again the overconfident fool that he had been.

And watching the dream from above, without being able to act, was the worst part of it.

(Not that dream again…) The present-day Aito thought, tired of seeing this part of his life dating back to one year before he settled in Lac-Saint-Jean, before he became a simple woodcutter. Not because it was a particularly unhappy one, quite the contrary in fact, but because it reminded him of what he had lost.

All these years he had fooled himself into believing he wasn't to blame, while still knowing that he was the culprit. He regretted his misdeed but couldn't acknowledge it. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that he did it, not the act itself.

Thinking that if he did, he would become a monster.

Every time he watched that dream, he couldn't help but desperately hope that the outcome would change. But bit by bit, it was leading him to deny his past self, as if it was another person since the contrast separating them was equivalent to the difference between night and day.

(I wish I had listened to Dad back then. Maybe… everything would have turned out differently if I had.)

In a luxurious apartment, on top of a thirty stories tall building at the center of Montreal.

"I'm sorry," Tevari said, looking down at the yellowish-brown wooden round table, the bocote's fragrant scent slightly easing his already tensed nerves.

Olivia's green eyes wandered around, searching for an anchor point she had yet to find. "What… but… how? How did it come to that?"

Haley stared at the chandelier fixed on the white ceiling, unable to voice or even make sense of the brainstorm raging inside her mind.

"It's fine, dad," the past Aito said, eating bluefin tuna sushi on his plate while staring at his father. "It's fine."

"No, it's not!" Tevari exploded, his pride and shame too great to bear the loss. "I've lost everything, Aito! The reason we've moved to this god damn cold country in the first place was for that business. And now I've lost it! A lifetime's work, gone within the ashes of my ambitions burned by human greed. My ships, my employees, my fishing rights, my facilities. All of that will be gone because of my negligence."

"It's fine, honey, we'll manage it somehow. We'll find a solution. Like we always did. Together." Olivia said, her white slender hand reaching for his.

Tevari avoided her touch. "No… not this time. I am ruined. Even if I sell all my business rights and personal assets, it won't be enough to cover the money I borrowed. A partner of mine is willing to buy those for 500 million dollars, but my debt goes up to a billion dollars. I don't know where to get the remaining money."

(And there goes past foolish me…)

"I'll do it," Aito said, confidence flashing by his black irises. "I'll gather the remaining greens."

"And how are you—" Tevari said, his eyes widening upon realizing his son's intention. "No. Just no. Forget about it."

"What is youbro talking about, dad?" Haley asked, sending Tevari a quizzical gaze.

(About something stupid, don't listen to him.)

"About something reckless for a change," Tevari said, using a sarcastic tone.

"I'm capable of winning it, dad. I've already won Montreal qualifiers!"

"Boyo, you've just fought the best fighters of one single region. Do you think you'll stand a chance against Canada's strongests? I will soon lose my business and I do not want to risk losing my son to that bloody tournament." Tevari sighed, massaging his forehead. "They might say that everything is under control with their cutting edge medical bullshit. But there is no denying you'll face death in that ring."

"I know."

"No, you don't. I've trained you the best I could and as your master, I can tell your talent is barely above average. And you're yet to have enough real fighting experience. Don't compare sport with actual fights to the death where everything is allowed, because this is what this tournament is more or less about. You're already lucky to have won the regional!"

"I know."

"The combat techniques I created and passed down to you, are not all-powerful. Quite the contrary. They have several flaws because they were made by an amateur in the first place. When I created those, I was young and foolish. It was only to pass time, they cannot compare to others that are backed up by centuries or even thousands of years of traditions. Even then—"

"Dad, I know," Aito said, interrupting his father.

(No, you don't! Just listen to dad!)

The present Aito watching the conversation as a bystander felt desperate thinking about what it would lead to. He knew his past self's goal in life was to become a renowned martial artist using his father's teachings, then spread it to the entire world.

He had trained for at least two hours a day, five times a week, aside from attending school and his everyday life. Even his university diploma in sport was for that sole purpose.

However, that was far from enough to contend against people who had undergone much more rigorous training than he did. They had focused their entire life on it and dedicated every day of their existence to the path of martial art, something he had only partially done.

But once his past self made up his mind, he would run straight into a wall like a bull, even if an easier road lied right next to it. He had always been that kind of fool. That was why, after over three years of reflecting on himself, the present Aito developed that weird habit of overthinking things rather than rush towards the option that "seemed" to be the best.

He also understood—now that it was too late—his past self's true goal wasn't to actually become the best fighter, but to help promote Tevari's martial art that was loathed by those who had seen it.

Aito had been that kind of sucker for his family. His overprotectiveness of his family members had pushed him to great lengths before.

When Haley had gotten bullied in high school because of her tanned skin, it triggered his uncontrollable rage.

Furious, the past Aito had followed those responsible for his sister's sorrow after their classes, and beat them up in a back alley, far away from prying eyes. It had led to a few juristic issues and one of many of Tevari's lectures.

"But this time," Aito said, intently staring at his father, "it isn't only about proving our martial art's prowess to the world. It's about protecting our family. For that purpose, I'm ready to fight anyone the tournament sends my way. Be it a woman, man, animal, or the world's strongest."

(Don't! You will just become a burden to them!)

At those words, the room plunged into an awkward silence.

The Human Weapon tournament wasn't even a sports competition it was more comparable to the fights of gladiators of old. Anybody, be it man or woman, could participate in it as long as they were at least 21 years old and after signing a discharge.

Fighters only had one single rule to follow: no killing. But, during the regionals, there had been severe cases of injuries, some of them leading to death.

The present-day Aito knew, that despite his past self's foolishness, Tevari couldn't help but be proud of him in a way. Not the part about running into a wall without thinking, but the one about protecting his family at all costs. That's why Tevari had not stopped him that day.

Tevari sighed, "I wonder where you got that stubbornness."

"Look who's talking," Olivia said, readjusting her blonde hair.

"Like father, like son," Haley added, nodding.

"Ayo! The woman who chased me, a simple fisherman, to a godforsaken island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean just to court my tanned ass is the one saying that? You're even more stubborn than I am!"

Olivia batted her long eyelashes, winking her way out of it. Seeing how it didn't work, she diverted her husband's attention by throwing food at his face.

And so began the Third World Food War.

A certain warmth spread, chasing away the room's previously awkward atmosphere. Laughs replaced somber faces, as did happiness to anxiousness and smiles to worry.

(I… can't bear to look at their smiles. Please… just make it stop! Please… I'm so sorry…)

Tevari dodged a sushi that ended its course at the center of the family's photo hung on the wall.

"Ha! A hundred years too early for you to hit your old ma—"

(I'm sorry, Dad.)

BAM!

Haley smirked at her perfect hit.

(Sis…)

BAM!

"Hey! That's unfair, mom!" Hayley said.

Olivia giggled at her daughter's pouting face. "You're too old to make that kind of face, dear. Take another sushi as punishment."

"18 years old is not old!"

(Mom…)

BAM!

"You dare hit your own mother!"

"You're too old to make that kind of face, mom," Aito said, smirking.

(Fuck you… past me. Fuck you!)

***

The dream changed after a while. The present-day Aito found himself in the same place as before, but with only his past self and Tevari sitting at the round table.

It was something Tevari liked to do when he needed to have a serious discussion. The symbolism of equity that round tables embodied brought to the conversation a common ground, or so Aito's father thought. And that night, Tevari wanted to talk about a very sensitive subject.

Aito's past self was a young man filled with "pride" who couldn't control his anger. In other words, Aito had been an arrogant prick who had trouble controlling his rage. Luckily, only a few things could enrage him. Unluckily, losing the tournament might just have that effect. He hadn't been as foolish as to unjustly put the blame on someone else, so with no one to bear the blame he would turn against himself.

And that anger, that rage—Aito barely learned to control later on—could only lead to either self-hate or depression.

In his vast wisdom, Tevari knew it might happen, and had tried to talk to his past self about it.

(Please… listen to him this time.)

"Son, when you get on that ring, don't underestimate your opponents as you did before."

"I know," Aito said, sighing for the umpteenth time tonight.

"That's all you ever say, but I know that's not what you believe. So think about the respect I taught you."

Aito sighed once more, then looked into his father's dark eyes. "Dad… respect derives from fear towards one's strength, but I fear no one as long as it is to protect you guys."

(Pretentious idiot, just listen!)

Tevari rolled his eyes. "You should. How could you become stronger if you are not guided by one of, if not the most powerful emotions there is? Fear will—"

"Yes, dad. You're rambling on like an old man. I've already heard that line at least a hundred times."

"Of course I'm rambling on. I'm old! So let me say it to you one more ti—"

Aito rearranged his chair and stared at his father, looking bored. "Fear defines your limits, but don't let it define yourself. Because courage stems from fear, and in it lays the potential to overcome your limits."

"Indeed," Tevari said, nodding.

"You've repeated this line so many times that I would even hear it in my dreams. So what's the point of telling me this?"

"Because there is the next part," Tevari said.

(Hun? How come I don't remember that part?) The present-time Aito thought while the images of his past slowly blurred.

"###? Since when?" Aito looked at him, surprised.

"##### now," He said, smirking. "So, according to ###, what are limits?"

Aito stared at Tevari, seemingly unamused by the riddle that just came out of nowhere.

"Limits ### your weaknesses, boyo. #########, if you want to go ###### your limits, you will have to overcome #### weaknesses."

Aito raised his eyebrow as if to say it was elementary and that it also sounded extremely cheap.

(Why… is the image so blurry…)

"But ##### to begin?" Tevari asked, not really expecting a response. "What's the first step?"

Aito maintained his silence.

"########################################."

(No! Show me more!) Aito thought before the dream entirely blurred.