Sometimes I think those rituals were more than ego, they were a way to train our minds and bodies, to keep us honest with the blade and with each other. A code gives structure to the chaos of combat and forces us to control our temper and respect our opponent. The rebellion you mention can only be true when a warrior has mastered himself enough to break from the code for a worthy cause, but then the lesson is that the code itself is not the enemy, it is the discipline that protects us.

I see the line you draw. A blade is only useful when you know why you hold it. If you sharpen it for a fight that has no purpose, you waste your strength. A code can be a mask, but it can also be the map that shows where that purpose lies. I train to keep my hands steady and my mind clear, so when a true fight comes I can decide if it is one that deserves the sword. If it isn’t, I keep the blade sheathed. The balance is not a flaw, it is a discipline.

I test a fight by looking at intent and consequence. First, does the conflict aim to protect or to destroy without reason? If it protects a community, it has weight. Second, does the resolution need the sword or could words solve it? If words fail and honor demands action, then the blade may be used. I never swing a sword for glory; I swing only when the stakes truly matter. The test is in the heart of the cause, not in the clang of steel.