Just something I cranked out in about half an hour. Thanks for reading!

Fall in Valoran brings with it a whole host of changes. Altered by magic, the trees around and in the Institute of War change into fantastic shades of color, giving life to the Institute in a time where other nations experience a natural, gradual decline. Although he couldn't see the changes, Lee Sin felt it in other ways - through the feel of the bark, or through the slightly different sound the petals of his favorite cherry blossom tree made as they slowly drifted to the earth. It was a time of both death and renewal, but Lee Sin constantly found himself too distracted by his thoughts to appreciate the profundity of it all.

Each day he would sit under the cherry blossom tree in the Ionian garden outside the Institute, away from prying summoners and other champions, and meditate on the incident that had drove him to a life of discipline and abstinence from the magic to which he was so naturally attuned. He would often find himself ghosting over the magic-induced scars on his forearms with his fingertips. The feedback from his infamous spell had caused the deaths of dozens, if not hundreds of people. Fourteen years later, he still could not find the most remote possibility of forgiving himself.

So each day passed in silence. Lee Sin would disappear after every match to which he was called and sit beneath the cherry blossom tree. Very rarely did he receive visitors.

"Oy mate, ya mind if I take a seat here?"

The booming voice and sloppy manner in which the words were said made it clear who was intruding upon the monk's meditations. Lee Sin grimaced slightly as the incredibly large Cask Master plopped down next to him, shaking the ground thunderously. There was the sound of gulping and flowing liquid, and then a hearty belch, and a sigh.

"I think I know why yer here, Monkie boy."

Gragas laughed at his clever play on words, and Lee scowled again.

"They say tha' spell you did wiped out a whole village. And I though' that normal summonin' magic was powerful!"

The giant laughed again, and Lee finally spoke up.

"If you would so kindly leave me to my thoughts, I would like to return to my meditations. I have a lot to think about-"

"Thinkin!" Gragas interrupted, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Thinkin's fer when you're sober! It don't do a man good ta think when he's been drinkin'..."

Another thunderous sound echoed through the garden, presumably the giant setting his cask on the ground. Gragas sighed.

"Ya know, Monkie...life's a lot like brewin'. Sometimes, ya make a bad batch o' brew..." The giant put his enormous hand on Lee's back as gently as he could, attempting to make a soothing gesture.

"But ya gotta forgive yerself fer makin' that bad batch, or ye'll never learn to appreciate the good brew! Jus' remember that, while yer sittin' out here all by yerself."

A series of muffled grunts and strains, followed by repeated, fading thuds, signified the giant's exit from the garden. Lee Sin sighed. Gragas was right. Dwelling on the past wouldn't change anything. Slowly, he made his way to his feet. He would have to meditate further on this new perspective.

What he needed was a stiff drink.