Gents Journey
Helping Men become the Gentleman they deserve to be. This Podcast is part inspiration part motivation. We discuss what it takes to be a Gentleman in the 21st Century. We also talk about how to deal with the internal and external battles that life throws at us. So come be apart of the Gents Journey!
Gents Journey
The Forgotten Samurai: The one who might make it.
"True mastery is found in the details. The way you handle the little things defines the way you handle everything."
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast. My name is Anthony, your host, and today we are in episode seven of the Forgotten Samurai. So let's go ahead and let's get into it. The window didn't belong to her apartment. She stood at the sink, eyes still sticky with sleep, staring at a courtyard that had no business being there. The elm tree was too tall, the bricks were too old and the fog the fog moved like it had seen her before. Hasu didn't flinch. She was long past flinching. She simply folded her hands around the teapot and waited for the whistle. Though she hadn't turned on the stove, it whistled anyways. The journal was on the stove, it whistled anyways. The journal was on the table again. Its spine cracked open to the same page. It had been on the night before. The cloth remembers more than he does. She hadn't written that, she hadn't even read that, but it was there, an inked color of old wine. She closed it gently as if not to wake it.
Speaker 1:When she turned towards the kitchen, he was already sitting in the chair across from the window, hat pulled low, coat dusted with rain, smoke curling from a cigarette between his fingers. He didn't look surprised to be there. She didn't ask how he got in. They stopped asking questions like that a long time ago. The fog curled beneath the door, not aggressively, just present. Cassie watched it as she filled the two cups. She placed his mug down in front of him, a chipped one with blue flowers. He didn't thank her, he never. Did you ever feel like this place is changing? He asked after a while. His voice was low, like he didn't want to wake the walls. She didn't answer. He looked older today, not in his face. In his presence, men like him, aged in their eyes first. And this morning, hisazed looked ten years gone.
Speaker 1:Katsu sat across from him and took a slow sip of tea. I thought you'd be gone longer, she said. Finally, he shrugged I was, I think I was. I think. There was a pause Not of awkwardness but of space, the kind of silence that asks you to fill it with what you're not saying. She almost told him what the fog meant. She almost told him about the sigil she found burned in the base of her kettle yesterday. She almost told him about the knocks she didn't hear and the memories she wasn't sure belonged to her anymore. But she didn't, because some truths only root in silence.
Speaker 1:He tapped Ash into the tray and leaned back, eyes drifting toward the corner of the room. Eyes drifting toward the corner of the room. Did you move the mirror? He asked suddenly she frowned. What mirror? There was no mirror in her apartment, not anymore. She got rid of them years ago after the last bearer lost control and shattered every reflective surface in the building.
Speaker 1:She stood still, walked slowly to the hallway door. It creaked open. On the other side was her living room. The mirror was there, framed in black iron, standing tall against the wall where her bookshelf should have been, and it reflected either of them. She turned slowly. He hadn't moved, but the journal was no longer on the table. Something else was A curved plate of armor wrapped in cloth that looked exactly like her old shawl and in it, in the center of the fabric, a new sigil etched into the steel, pulsing like it once breathed.
Speaker 1:She heard him before. She saw him. Not footsteps, not breath, a shift like the hallway itself moved to let them through. Alistair didn't need keys. He slipped through the locks the way fog slipped through fence posts. She turned before he spoke. He stood there, arms folded behind his back, coat sharp and pressed, hair black as lacquer, eyes like a riverbed, long since dried. I saw the fog, he said I know he stepped in. She didn't offer tea. Alistair never drank anything warm.
Speaker 1:They stood in a narrow space between her kitchen and the bookshelf that had been a mirror just an hour ago. Cats who leaned against the wall, arms crossed. You said the next one wouldn't make it past Oregon. She said they did. And yet he came back. He did. Alistair smiled then just a little, but it wasn't warmth, it was recognition, a signal passed between soldiers.
Speaker 1:He's different, katsu said softly, more to herself than to him. Yes, you knew that the moment you saw him, didn't you? I knew before he walked through the fog, katsu looked at her hands. They trembled less. Now. That worried her more. What makes this one different, she asked. Alistair's answer came slow. He didn't want to be saved. She looked up. That's what makes him worthy. No, alistair said that's what makes him dangerous. The fog curled at the corners of her ceiling.
Speaker 1:Now watching Alistair adjusted one of her frames on her wall, a small habit he always had taming disorder even as the building rotted around them. They were twelve before him. Katsu said Thirteen. Alistair corrected they were silent for a moment, remembering them all. That boy in Brooklyn, she said, ran on instinct, burned out before the third piece. The preacher carried guilt like it was armor. That was his mistake. And the woman in Tokyo? She almost made it. Alistair said, quieter now, until the hospital.
Speaker 1:Katsu shivered. That place has always been reality, worse than the others Rooms that weren't there. Doctors who didn't blink. She remembered waking up in bed. That place has always been reality, worse than the others Rooms that weren't there. Doctors who didn't blink. She remembered waking up in bed with her name etched into the IV line. The hospital's waking up again, she said.
Speaker 1:Alistair nodded. He'll be tested there and if he fails Then he'll meet the Shadow King. She froze. Alistair's voice dropped almost reverent. He's always watching, always waiting at the edge of the bearer's doubt. What does he look like now, she asked? Alistair's eyes moved to the corner of the ceiling. Same as always, like you, if you never left the mirror. Katsu didn't answer. The fog was still listening. She stepped closer to him. You think that this one's the last? Alistair looked at her then fully deeply. I think we're the ones who don't get to know that. He moved towards the door and paused Nkatsu, yes, if he makes it to the eighth piece, don't stop him. This time. He vanished down the stairwell before she could respond. She was left with nothing but the scent of pressed linen and the alcohol of thirteen failures.
Speaker 1:And somewhere in her living room the armor pulsed again. She didn't hear the chair move. One moment it was empty. The next he was sitting in it again, hat low coat, damp, with morning fog smoke rising from a half-burnt lucky strike between his fingers. The smell should have bothered her, but it didn't. It reminded her he was still himself for now.
Speaker 1:She didn't ask how he got in. You stop asking questions like that after the fourth armor cycle. He sat quiet still, but his body hummed with something like a returning. The lines in his face hadn't deepened, but the air around him. Had you ever feel like your body's being pulled forward? He said quietly, but your mind's still trying to live.
Speaker 1:Five steps behind, katsu stirred honey into her tea. It didn't dissolve. Yes, she said, that's how the armor chooses you. He looked at her almost like a boy for a second. Then the moment passed and the fog reclaimed the edges of the room.
Speaker 1:She moved slowly, deliberately, bent down, reached beneath the table. There, folded beneath the cloth that hadn't been there this morning, were two carved pieces of lacquered steel, shin guards, black with golden veins that ran like branches down the length. They felt ancient, heavy, like they remembered forests. He hadn't walked in yet she placed them on the table, wrapped in her old winter shawl. She didn't remember putting them there, but she knew it had to be her. The guardianship always moved, like this slow gentle, inevitable.
Speaker 1:She leaned in Albo on his knees, serap burning near his knuckles. They look like they were made to run. He said they were. She answered softly, but not to flee. He picked one up. It hummed in his hand. No flash, no vision this time, just weight and just heat, just the second click of the word changing again. She studied him as he stared at the armor. There was something in his posture, now lower grounded but not safer. It was loaded, like the floor beneath him could tilt at any moment and send him sliding into something he couldn't name.
Speaker 1:She remembered the others the man who tried to run after receiving the shingards. The one who broke his own legs before facing the eighth piece. The girl who taped them to her thighs but walked in the mirror backwards believing it would bring her home. None of them made it. To nine. He stood suddenly, the chair scraped, but didn't echo. The fog didn't move. She felt it then the moment of no return. There is always one every cycle, and once the Shingards appear, it's not about if they'll try to finish, it's about whether they'll survive the attempt. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again it was gone. But his tea was still steaming and where the armor had been, the shawl lay folded neatly in the center of the table, a single crow feather resting on top of it.
Speaker 1:She hadn't slept, not really. She sat curled in her chair, the one near the window that used to overlook a brick wall. Now it overlooked onto something too wide to name, maybe a lake, maybe a sky, maybe a, it didn't matter. She wasn't looking out, she was watching the mirror again. She had moved it to the hallway, thinking it would stop staring at her if it wasn't in her line of sight. But it didn't work like that if it wasn't in her line of sight, but it didn't work like that. Mirror only follows the eyes that remember them. She rose and walked toward it, slowly, each step, soft, deliberate. Her slippers made no sound on the old floorboards. She stared into the glass. It didn't reflect her, only the hallway behind her.
Speaker 1:And then it shifted and he was there, alistair, not walking into frame already in it, perfect, his coat, sharp, his presence, unmistakable, like someone who'd always belonged in the mirror, like the mirror had been waiting to show him, still watching. He asked. His voice was warm, too warm. It scared her more than his cold tone ever had. I don't know what's happening? She whispered. You do he's changing? You all do?
Speaker 1:She blinked and his face was closer, not pressed into the glass, just more present, like the space between them had thinned. He's not ready for what's coming, she said. No one is. Alistair answered but this one might make it. She shook her head. It's going too fast. The fog's getting thicker, the armor's showing up before it's ready.
Speaker 1:She hesitated and looked up Alistair. He's starting to love it. The chaos, the pain, the pieces. Alistair didn't smile, but his eyes did something older than sympathy. He has to. Alistair said he has to love it Because a tenth piece doesn't come to fear. Katsu breathed caught, you mean? Yes, it's already looking at him. The mirror pulsed For a moment. She could see behind Alistair A hallway of doors, each with a sigil burned above it, each dripping something black and slow, and one door at the end shaking, like something behind it was pounding softly, patiently, katsu stepped back.
Speaker 1:The fog crawled across her ankles. You need to stop watching. Alistair said If you don't his voice dropped, the fog won't just come for you. She froze. He stepped closer again. If you want him to reach the end, he said slowly, you need to stop remembering the others. You need to stop looking backwards, and if I don't, the fog will thicken, the walls will bend and when ten arrives, he looked past her. You won't be Katsu anymore. He began to fade. She reached towards the mirror, but all it held now was her reflection Eyes wide, tearless, but breaking.
Speaker 1:She turned toward her living room and the hallway opened into his apartment. Instead, she knew the sound of his footsteps, and these weren't his. They were careful, measured, as if each one was being tested by the floor before it landed. But when she opened the door, it was him, hat in hand, smoke on his breath, face pulled tight from something he couldn't name. Is it okay if I came in? He asked as if he had already been there a thousand times, as if the fog didn't already know his name. She stepped aside. The fog came in with him, curling just beneath his boots like an obedient pet. It always followed him.
Speaker 1:Now Katsu tried not to notice that her hallway stretched two steps longer than it had that morning. She tried not to notice a lot of things. Lately he sat down at her table the same way he always did, like the world was heavy and the chair might be the only thing keeping him up from falling through it. She placed a mug in front of him, the same blue, chipped one. He didn't speak, not right away. She was grateful. Words were getting dangerous.
Speaker 1:His eyes drifted towards the stove, then back at her, then the stove again. You okay, he asked quietly. She nodded too quickly. The sigil had appeared that morning, burned faintly into the back plate of the stove where the old gas coils once sat. It wasn't glowing, it was remembering An angular loop curved at the edges with a second spiral folded inside of the first, like a serpent eating a twin. She hadn't seen that one before the last time it showed up in his apartment.
Speaker 1:The bear lost their mind and begged the armor to forget them. It didn't. I'm fine, she said, forcing a smile, but her hand was trembling as she poured the tea. He noticed she knew he did. I went back to the station, he said suddenly you know the one near the tunnel. You know the one that shouldn't exist. She nodded.
Speaker 1:He was staring at the steam from his cup. There were footprints in the dust my size, my gait, my shoes. A beat of silence. They were fresh. She said nothing. He leaned back, lit another cigarette, didn't inhale right away.
Speaker 1:I know you're hiding something. He finally said I don't think it's to hurt me, but it is. She said softly, whether I want it to or not. She sat down, slowly, folded her hands into her lap. Alistair's voice pressed like a heartbeat behind her ear. If he sees the sigil, he'll begin searching for the rest, and if he finds them all, we won't be able to stop the thing behind the tenth door. She closed her eyes and the voice came again. He has to choose to finish, but he cannot know what finishing truly means.
Speaker 1:When she opened her eyes, he was watching her, not suspiciouslyly, just worried. You don't look like someone who's watching me fail. He said. I'm not. You look like someone watching me walk off a ledge. She didn't reply.
Speaker 1:He stood and walked to the stove. She stiffened. His hand hovered near the metal backplate. His fingers traced it, but stopped just short of touching the sigil. You ever see this mark before he asked, her throat clenched. She wanted to lie, to say it was just a stain, a manufacturing defect, rust, but the room was too honest for that. Now it's a memory scar, she said softly.
Speaker 1:He turned to her A what A leftover symbol From another bear. He didn't move. They only show up when a moment is being repeated, she whispered, when someone's walking too close to the path of failure. He looked at it again. Something in him shifted. He didn't flinch, he didn't panic, he just nodded slowly. So I'm not the first to be here? He asked no, but this place, it only ever remembers the ones who didn't make it. She met his gaze. Yes, the silence grew teeth and in that space Alice's voice returned one final time. This is the closest any of them have ever come. But if she tells him too much now, she'll take away the only thing that's protecting him Uncertainty.
Speaker 1:The tenth piece doesn't come to those who know. It comes to those who remember why they must forget. He stepped back from the stove, Sat again, this time Slower. Heavier, you care about me? He said it wasn't a question. Yes, she said Also, not a lie, but you're not going to stop me. No, he nodded again. You're doing everything you can to keep me from finding out what you know. She licked, donna, the tea between them. Yes, he exhaled smoke through his nose. I hate how much sense that makes. And then a sound, not loud, not near, but deep, like stone dragging against itself, like a door beneath the tenth veil had shifted just enough for the fog to notice.
Speaker 1:Katsu stood. She couldn't stand anymore, she couldn't sit anymore. He watched her. I think we're past the part where I get to be scared, he said. Katsu looked out the window. He picked up his coat, pulled his hat low, didn't speak, didn't ask, just walked towards the door.
Speaker 1:Katsu watched him leave, her hand rested on the edge of the table. Her hand rested on the edge of the table, the sigil on the stove behind her pulsed once faint, like breath beneath skin. She turned her head and softly, so softly, said there's one more sigil. But she wasn't sure if the words made it out of her mouth. Softly said there's one more sigil. But she wasn't sure if the words made it out of her mouth, she wasn't sure if she had said them at all. And the door closed. Her door closed and she didn't move. At first the tea had gone cold. The air had stilled and the fog had taken its time, sinking back underneath the door like it's been eavesdropping. Katsu stared at the stove. The sigil faintly paused Once then again, she should have told him, or maybe she did, she didn't know anymore.
Speaker 1:The silence wasn't quiet. It was full, heavy with weight, of voices that had once lived here, of other bears who were in pieces of the armor. Too soon, too desperately, too blindly. She heard them, sometimes in dreams, sometimes in the crack of her walls, and now One of them stood at the edge of her living room. He wasn't whole. His body flickered like smoke caught in light. But she recognized the gate, the curve of the shoulder, the way he looked at the floor like it was about to betray him. She had loved that one too. He didn't speak, he just looked at her and then he bowed, not deeply, just enough. And then the fog pulled him back.
Speaker 1:Cassie sat down slowly. Her body felt like it belonged to someone, someone else. Someone had waited too long to stop waiting. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run after him. She wanted to open every door in the building until she found the one where the 10th place had been waiting, but she didn't move. Not yet.
Speaker 1:The mirror in the hallway had gone dark, but she looked toward it. He was there, alistair. Just his face this time. No coat, no frame, just his eyes watching, unblinking, saying everything without sound. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She wanted to ask him why he didn't help, why he let her fall in love with lost causes, why she wasn't allowed to warn them earlier, why she chose him this time. But the mirror went black. But the mirror went black and Katsu sat in the fog that now lived in her bones. Behind her, the sigil on the stove pulsed one last time and disappeared.
Speaker 1:You know, there's a moment in every journey where silence weighs more than confession, where not saying what you know, in every journey where silence weighs more than confession, where not saying what you know isn't cowardice, it's mercy, or at least it feels like mercy. Katsu stood in that moment, and maybe you stood there too, because sometimes, when you love someone, you'd rather hold the blade yourself than let them know it's coming. She didn't lie, but she didn't tell the truth either, and in between those two edges is where most of us live, when we're trying to protect someone we care about. It's easy to say be honest. It's harder to say be ready, because sometimes people need to grow into the truth. And you see it, you feel it, the edge they're walking, the storm they don't know was coming, that shadow at their feet. They haven't noticed yet. You could stop them, you could shake them, you could scream the warning. But here's the thing no one tells you If they don't earn the understanding themselves, it won't stick. That's what Katsu knew, that's what Alistair knew and that's what you might need to hear now.
Speaker 1:There's a difference between protecting someone and robbing them of their own rite of passage. We don't grow because someone explains it to us. We grow because we have to, because the fire gets close enough to make us move, because the silence gets heavy enough to make us move, because the silent gets heavy enough to make us speak, because the lesson doesn't just land, it breaks us and in that breaking a new shape gets formed. So if you're holding on to something right now, something you know, something they don't, and it's tearing at you because you don't know whether to say it, ask yourself this Will telling them help them evolve or will it just relieve you of the discomfort of watching them struggle? Because not all silence is betrayal. Sometimes silence is sacred.
Speaker 1:Katsu didn't warn him because she didn't love him. She stayed silent because she did. She had seen what happened when the truth was handed over too early. The mind fractures, the path derails, the armor rejects them, because some truths have to be walked into, not handed out. And you, you've probably been on both sides the one that's keeping the silence and the one desperate to know what's being kept. And if that's you now, whatever side you're on, let's do a reflection and have some ways to walk through it.
Speaker 1:Okay, reflection one, I should say reflection exercise one. Who are you trying to protect? Think of someone you're holding back the truth from. Write it out. What are you holding? Why haven't you said it? What are you fearing will happen if you do? And then ask this question Is this about their growth or your fear of being rejected and misunderstood? That's reflection exercise one.
Speaker 1:Reflection exercise number two when did you need to learn it yourself? I want you to think of a time where you told something too early or too late. Did it help? Did it change you? Would it have landed if you weren't ready? Did it change you? Would it have landed if you weren't ready? See, this helps build empathy for others while walking their own paths.
Speaker 1:Okay, so that's exercise number two. Number three what is the cost of your silence? See, silence always costs something. Is your silence keeping peace? Is it preventing growth? Is it avoiding confrontation? Write out the emotional cost. What part of you is carrying the weight? Exercise number four this is the mirror exercise.
Speaker 1:Okay, stand in front of a mirror. Say the truth you've been holding out loud, not to the person, but to yourself. Hear it, feel it. Then ask what part of me is afraid of being the messenger? Sometimes the fear isn't about the outcome, it's about being the one to deliver the blow. And number five the door you won't open. In your journal, draw or write about a door Behind. It is one thing you haven't admitted yet. What's behind that door and what would it mean to let someone else find it out for themselves instead of you showing them? That's a big one.
Speaker 1:Here's what I'm going to tell you guys guardianship. It isn't passive. It's honestly one of the hardest forms of love, because you have to watch, you have to ache, you have to carry the memory of what happens when someone chooses wrong, and still, you still let them choose, because the deepest form of belief is this. I trust you that you can find your way, even if I can't walk it with you. See, that's what Katsu had to learn. That's what Alistair already knew, and maybe, just maybe, that's what you're remembering now too. Just maybe that's what you're remembering now too.
Speaker 1:You know, writing this and looking at everything from Katsu, it reminds me about, like, if you're an older brother or an older sister, if you're a parent or whatever, and you got to watch loved ones struggle and you got to sit there and watch it happen and just be supportive. It's, honestly, one of the hardest things to do, but it's life, right. You can't fight everyone's battles, and you got to let them grow and mature, and that's one of the hardest things to do, especially when you love somebody, but it's a needed thing and that's really what this was all about. I wanted to give you Katsu's perspective, kind of what's going on, so you get a different perspective of, obviously, what's going on, but what's going on in the building, and give you an insight of her and Alistair's relationship. That's what this all really was for. So you know, guys, I want to thank you. I mean, I know I do this all the time, but I'm going to keep doing it. So much for your guys' support. I cannot tell you honestly how much it means to me that you guys support this podcast and this show. It just means the world to me.
Speaker 1:Now, if you want to show your support or if you want to ask me any questions, there's three ways you can do this, right? Well, actually, let's talk about support first. Sorry, if you want to support this, share this with somebody right, like this. Leave a review, that would be amazing. Share this with a friend or family member that would be amazing. Okay, support always helps, trust me, and it doesn't cost you anything to share this and it doesn't cost you anything to like this. So I'd appreciate that. So, thank you.
Speaker 1:All right, I'm going to get off that soapbox and go on this one. So if you want to get a hold of me, you want to have a conversation about this episode, this series, the five or six other series I have out there now and the 200 plus episodes we have on this show. There's three ways you get a hold of me, okay, or reach out to me. First is going to be in the description of this podcast, so it'll say let's chat. You click on that and you and I can have a conversation again about this episode, this series or whatever you'd like to talk about. Okay, that's one way. Second way is going to be through my email. My email is anthonyatgentsjourneycom, so feel free to reach out to me there. And, last but not least, you can always go to my Instagram. My Instagram handle is my Gents Journey. Feel free to reach out to me there too. Okay, so again, guys, thank you so very much for listening today. And remember this you create your reality. Take care Bye.