Teary Goro

Diary

Goro used to weep at funerals like it was his one true calling, and somewhere along the way his whole life became one, starting with the day sparring practice turned into something far more intimate and far less honorable, and his savings floor-priced themselves straight into a clinic bill he still jokes about through tears. He laughs when he tells it, that wet laugh he's known for, the one where the grief never quite clears his throat, because what else can a ronin do when the wound isn't from a blade but from bad decisions and a training partner who did not disclose the terms and conditions. Broke, humbled, itching in ways no meditation can soothe, he decided the honorable path forward was to teach self defense to whoever would listen, a discipline he insists he still has even as he shows up late, blazed, and crying at his own opening remarks. He tells his students to protect their bodies like temples while his own temple has clearly been through several wars it lost on purpose, and somehow the contradiction only makes them trust him more. Every class ends the same way, him carrying someone's ego or their tears or their gym bag, because Goro never learned how to let anyone fall alone, not even himself.”