He started hitting the piece using the small hammer, slowly drawing out its length until it was about fifty centimeters in length. Using the same hammer, he roughed out the shape of the weapon’s hardened tip, its boshi. “The first piece is thus complete, my son. The general shape of the weapon, which shall become its edge and upon which the rest of the pieces shall be fused. Now, we work on shingane.”
“For the core, father?”
The old blacksmith grinned. “Precisely. The edge of the weapon must be strong to slice through flesh and bone, and its core must be flexible to withstand its wielder’s strength. Thus we use the softest steel, Senshi, to create its ji and nakago.”
“The core and tang?”
“Just so.” Munesuke heated the piece of softer steel and slowly drew it until it was close to eighty-five centimeters, the latter part of which was slightly thinner, as it would become the tang of the weapon. “Now the third piece,” he said, “is made of kawagane, the medium-strength outer jacket of the blade, made to be used defensively by a skilled swordsman. It must not be as strong as the edge, nor as soft as the core, but a middle point.”
Kain nodded and placed the third piece of steel into the furnace, watching intently as his father struck it against the anvil and drew it to be as long as the core, ending but two centimeters into the tang. “Now what, father?”
“Now the pieces must be combined within the forge,” he said before taking the tightly affixed pieces into the raging fire of the forge. The metal heated up and melted into a single piece, giving birth to the blade itself. “With the pieces together, Senshi, follows the greatest miracle of an artisan’s craft. You must observe carefully, my son.”
Munesuke reached for a small hammer and chisel, and started carving along the outer end of the core, shaving metal off and carving the katana’s hi—the groove running through its length. When the groove was present on both sides of the blade, Munesuke took a smaller chisel and carved a notch at the lower edge of the blade (where its guard would later be inserted.) Slowly, the master blacksmith carved the hamachi, holding the metal at arm’s length to verify the base of the weapon was complete.
Munesuke straightened his back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Are you well, father?”
“Yes. I am merely preparing myself for what will soon follow. Once the blade is quenched, it must be awakened.”
“Awakened?” Kain asked with sincere curiosity.
“Patience, my son. We are not yet done with the construction of the weapon, and every step along the way must be taken after the last. Now comes yakibatsushi, the coating of the blade.”
Differential heating, Kain reasoned, to ensure the variability in steel strength. Though Nipponese blacksmiths ascribed a spiritual meaning to the coating of the blade, Kain saw it in more practical terms, as his metallurgical studies had taught him the facts behind the method. The coating of the blade was intended to create a different heating and cooling rate along the blade, leading to contrasting patterns in the weapon, as well as varying degrees of tempering. The changes in temperature formed the wave-like pattern running along the edge, its hamon.
Kain limited himself to watching intently as his father coated the ridge of the blade, its center, and a part of its edge with different mixtures of clay, charcoal, and other minerals. Once the metal was completely coated, he thrust it into the furnace, letting it become heated before he instructed Kain to remove it and shove it into the water trough. The liquid within the container sizzled and evaporated the moment it came into contact with the red-hot metal, producing a cloud of mist around Kain and his father. Once the mist dissipated, Kain removed the weapon and handed it over to Munesuke, who carefully peeled off the layers of clay, revealing the grain of the metal and the hamon along the edge.
“It is beautiful,” Munesuke said before closing his eyes. “Now witness carefully, son, for this may be the last time I am capable of performing the awakening, and the completion of the sword will fall upon you.”
“Wait, father!” Kain stopped Munesuke. The old man stared at his son in befuddlement, and Kain hastily added, “What are you speaking of? What manner of ritual is the awakening that this is the last time you may perform it?”
Munesuke shook his head. “Have you been so tainted by westerners that you must be told things, rather than reasoning them?”
“Please,” Kain said, “indulge me, father.”
“Fine. If only so you don’t contaminate our family name with your ignorance. Kennomezame, the awakening of a blade involves tapping into the metal’s kotodama and giving into it a piece of yourself, so that it may become a true ikiteiruken.”
This is it! Kain thought earnestly, this is what I have waited to behold. He wanted to fully understand the procedure, even if his father judged him foolish. “Forgive my ignorance, father, but I fail to understand.”
Munesuke sighed in defeat. “Senshi, have you been rendered an imbecile by your time in exile? Is the son returned to me but an addle-minded waste of breath?”
“Neither, father. I wish to fully understand what is expected of me, so that I may bring honor to my family name and as such appease the gods.” Once again his father’s expression softened. True or not, saying the right words moves mountains, he thought, feeling a pang of guilt as he admitted to himself that he was lying to his father.
His misgivings were quickly assuaged as Munesuke said, “Perhaps. Once again, ignorance should not be tolerated. Very well, Senshi. Kennomezame, the art of awakening a sword is the art of giving. A piece of your self, the vital energy coursing through you must be gifted to the metal to stir its kotodama into full awareness, transforming the katana into an ikiteiruken. But one cannot give without losing in the process, and the life energy of the blacksmith is irrevocably diminished,” he paused and took a deep breath, quietly accepting his own fate. “I am weakened, Senshi. Diminished to the point where my vitality falters. This ikiteiruken may be the last one I create.”
Damn, I must act quickly. “In that case,” Kain said, trying to sound reasonable, “Wouldn’t it be preferable that you guide me through the awakening?”
Munesuke’s eyes grew wide. “Are you demented, Senshi? Doing so would be blasphemy! That you, a returned one awakens an ikiteiruken is inconceivable!”
“Yet isn’t there a proclivity for error inherent in my inexperience? Consider this: If I see you doing it, I will only see the outside of the process; I won’t truly know what you are doing,” he paused before sardonically adding, “And the dead are quite reluctant to give guidance.”
The aged blacksmith shook his head dejectedly. “What manner of sin have I committed that the gods punish me so?”
“Father,” said Kain sternly, “Throughout my life I have been told that everything happens through the will of the gods. Isn’t it the will of the gods, then, that we are here having this conversation, so that you can show me the way?”
“What you say teeters at the edge of heresy, Senshi, to presume to speak for the gods is uttermost blasphemy.”
“As is assuming one knows their will, father, and I admit myself ignorant on that matter. Yet am I not here, alive despite the duress I endured, learning what should have been taught to me since childhood?” Time to drive the point home. “How else, but by the will and intervention of the gods, could such a thing be?”
Munesuke sagged into himself. “You are far changed, Senshi. You are not purely Nipponese in thought, yet you speak reasonably unlike the western barbarians. Who are you?”
“I am your son, father, and through my sojourn I upheld your teachings.”
The smith took a deep breath and said, “Very well. Come, Senshi, remove your smith’s gloves and grasp the blade’s nakago.”
Kain did as told, removing his gloves and clasping his hands around the tang. “Like so?”
“Like so. Now close your eyes and focus your intent into the metal. You are adept at an alien way of magic, so this should come
naturally to you.”
Kain closed his eyes and focused on the metal of the blade. He had seen the likes of it many times before—the wholeness prior to taking away its essence to create a vessel blade. A thought rushed through his mind. If creating an ikiteiruken is the art of giving, then creating a vessel blade is the art of taking! Through years he had wracked his thoughts trying to devise an answer to the riddle of the living swords of Nippon, now that clarity dawned upon him it seemed painfully obvious. The purpose of a vessel blade is to be bent to the will of its user, so the wielder can pour his intent into and through its metal, degrading its components because... “Because it lacks kotodama!”
“What is it, son?”
“Nothing, father. I can feel the essence of the metal. What follows in the process?”
“Now comes the difficult part. Accept yourself a vessel for the will of the Emperor and the gods, and give in to the will of the blade.”
The will of the blade? Kain wondered as he prodded the metal. I wonder what he means. He knew how to beseech the metal to do something and he knew how to take away the length’s essence to turn it into a vessel blade. Perhaps, he thought, thinking of the magical channeling possible through a vessel weapon, I can reach my will towards it and—
His thoughts were interrupted as his will encountered something within the metal. The katana’s kotodama, its essence tying it to the world, struggling to stir into wakefulness and become an ikiteiruken.
By consuming a part of Kain’s essence.
Kain panicked, feeling the kotodama violently grasping at his own essence and trying to forcibly draw it upon itself. “Do not resist, son,” said Munesuke as he saw Kain’s struggle. “A smith is but a humble servant and must know himself an instrument for the Emperor’s will!”
“I... will not!” uttered Kain through gritted teeth.
“Senshi, you must! Give yourself to the kotodama, fulfill your destiny! It is the will of the gods and the Emperor himself!”
Kain felt his essence being greedily drawn into the metal, diffusing over its length as the entity within the weapon struggled to become alive. The young smith winced as part of him was inexorably removed. But he was a warrior, and ‘will of the Emperor’ or not, he refused to let himself be diminished against his will.
No you won’t! He turned his willpower against the kotodama. Just as the being within the metal tried to draw away from him, Kain drew away from it as he would when creating a vessel blade. For a moment, he felt himself locked in a stalemate with the sword, neither giving nor taking, but something between. A mutual homeostasis.
But he refused to let it last. Kain focused his will into taking away the metal’s kotodama, drawing it into himself and turning the would-be ikiteiruken into a vessel blade, ready to admit a warrior’s will, rather than bond with it. Kain opened his eyes and breathed heavily as he processed what had just happened, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction as he overpowered the kotodama.
“No!” Munesuke yelled in terror. “What have you done, Senshi? What the hell have you done?”
“I... refuse... to be diminished, father.”
“And in being so selfish, so inconsiderate, so, so...” Words failed the elder blacksmith as he struggled to find an insult that reflected the degree of his anger. “You doomed us, Senshi, you doomed the both of us!”
“I did no such thing, father. The creation of an ikiteiruken, the price to be paid,” he took a deep breath, trying to still his frayed nerves. “The price is evil, father.”
Munesuke glared gape-mouthed at his son. “How can you utter such heresy? How have the gods not transformed your mouth into an anus fitting for the crap you spew?”
“Father,” said Kain calmly, “Once more, I can’t presume to know the will of the gods to—”
“Oh shut the hell up, damn it!” Kain was taken aback. It was beyond unusual to hear his father cursing, but when he did, it could only mean one thing: He was impossibly mad. “Senshi, the ikiteiruken was meant to be delivered three days hence! Do you even grasp what that means?”
“I…”
“Don’t speak! I am forbidding you from talking! Senshi, it took three months, three impossibly long months for me to produce the necessary amount of tamahagane for that sword! And you... and you... You have ruined it in a matter of minutes!”
“Father...”
“The audacity, the atrocity – that a son of mine would refuse his gods-given duty to give himself in service of the Emperor!”
“Father...”
“O Hallowed Kamenomegumi Shinsein-sama, Emperor, forgive us, unworthy sinners who have besmirched your grace!”
“Father, goddamn it!” The yell brought Munesuke to a numb silence, and Kain seized his opportunity. “Father, I can fix this.”
“How?” Munesuke asked. “Through your black arts? Nonsense.”
“Father, listen. As I was enslaved to the Albionese, I found myself in predicaments worse than this one, and I learned the gods help those who help themselves. I have been given the secrets to ore-gleaning and metal-casting, and I can use them to expedite the process to create an ikiteiruken.”
Munesuke scoffed. “Even if you were to do such a thing, Kain,” he spat the name, “The Emperor’s onmyooji would discover the deception!”
A grin parted Kain’s lips. “On that account, father, you are mistaken.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed and he said, “Explain yourself.”
“As I arrived at the port of Nagasaki, I was required to relinquish my Zweihander to a diviner so he could ascertain whether there was any enchantment on the metal,” he shrugged. “The onmyooji found nothing.”
“You fooled one of the Emperor’s diviners?” Kain nodded, feeling himself filling with satisfaction as he recognized his father’s expression: He was carefully contemplating Kain’s words. “Even if I were to consider your... methods, Senshi, we lack the materials to do it.”
“There’s the steel you ordered me discard.”
Flatly, Munesuke said, “Unlike you, I know a limit to the degree of insolence I am willing to espouse, Senshi. That metal is corrupted and offensive – I refuse to give Hanataro-sama spoiled steel.”
So it’s for that samurai? Kain thought, folding his arms. “I offer you as follows, father. Allow me to recreate the procedure of making an ikiteiruken, making it indistinguishable from the actual thing: I will glean the metal off the iron sands, then work it at the forge as you have taught me, and by the end,” he paused. I must be careful with my words. “I will give into the kotodama.”
“Hm. You say it would be indistinguishable?”
“I do, father: I shall use shingane, kawagane, and hagane as is proper and necessary, fusing them together into a katana fitting for the Shogun himself.”
Munesuke groaned, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Such blasphemy... to not follow tradition, to muck the production of tamahagane with deplorable western means... I find it difficult to conceive.”
“Father,” Kain said calmly but firmly, “I was trained as a battle blacksmith. When in war—a situation I must say our venerable samurai have never experienced—results are the difference between watching the sun rise, or finding yourself at the business end of a noose. I have gone through duress such as this, and I have survived. Not by strictly following tradition but by clinging, tooth and nail to life. I offer you the same, father, what say you?” Munesuke stared inexpressively at Kain. “Or perhaps you want the Kajiya name to be stained beyond redemption?”
The aged smith sobbed in defeat, taking a second to gather himself before saying, “Even if you were to take control of the production, Senshi, that too is impossible. As I said, we lack the iron sand and pine charcoal necessary. And judging from your expression I can easily glean your thoughts, and the answer is no. I don’t have the mon to purchase more, the sole expense is insurmountable. The money Hanataro-sama was to give me in return was meant to see me through until my next commiss
ion. Either way, Senshi,” he scoffed, “We are done for.”
Kain smiled before wryly saying, “Perhaps you don’t have the mon, father, but I do.”
“What do you mean?”
The young smith shrugged. “Did you rummage through my things?”
“Please, I wouldn’t debase myself by peeking into another person’s property. I stowed all away into the rucksack you carried with you.”
“Clothes and everything?” Munesuke nodded. “Then I suggest you let me know where you stashed it.”
Munesuke shrugged dismissively. “By the house’s entrance.”
Kain grinned. “Let’s go then.” Together they walked the short way to the once grandiose archway leading into the Kajiya house. Kain saw his rucksack and quickly sifted through its contents, eventually finding what he was looking for: The shirt containing the pouch with his Nipponese mon.
When Munesuke saw the amount of coin in Kain’s possession, his eyes widened. “By the gods! Son, where did you happen upon so much coin?”
“Sometimes, father,” Kain said somberly, “Those who know less live the happiest. Do you judge this humble amount sufficient to purchase materials?”
“I... definitely, yes. But how much do you have?”
“Enough,” Kain said finally, returning the pouch to its place. “Let’s leave it at that. Let’s go to the marketplace tomorrow, father, and purchase the materials we need.”
“Must I remind you, Senshi,” the old man folded his arms, “That in the outside world you are Gizoo?”
Kain smiled. “Please, father. I’m not as stupid as you think me to be.”
“Very well. I figure that this insane gambit of yours is the only option we have. If it doesn’t work, we are doomed.”
“Just as we are doomed if we don’t try it. Please father,” he said intently, “Trust me.”
Munesuke sighed. “Gods... we are screwed.”
A smile crept across Kain’s face. “Not if I can help it. I have just returned to you, father.
Heretic's Forge: A Crafting Fantasy Adventure (The Warrior Blacksmith Book 1) Page 5
