“That was impressive,” Kain said to the weapon, “But draining, I am hungry. I am...” He paused, realizing what had happened. “Naginata, I realized you took energy from me to do what you did, yes?”
“I did, why?” the weapon asked.
“Because of this. Open yourself to me, as I did to you.”
“Are... you sure of this, Kain?”
“Trust me,” Kain said confidently.
“Alright then,” the weapon returned, and Kain felt a change in its essence. It became similar to that of a vessel blade, but with the consciousness of a living sword. Kain channeled his will through the weapon’s metal, willing its edge to become terrifyingly keen.
Kain slashed Naginata at the anvil and exclaimed “Holy shit!” in amazement as he loped off the horn at its end.
“Holy shit indeed, that was impressive!” Naginata exclaimed in return before adding, “But now I feel ravenous; that was damn taxing!”
Kain felt elated. He had channeled through an ikiteiruken as if it were a vessel blade. Moreover, the blade was hungry! He had inadvertently realized his endeavor; he had created a weapon capable of enhancing him as an ikiteiruken, and being enhanced as a vessel blade. He had created a ravenous weapon.
Kain held Naginata at arm’s length and saw the signs of deterioration along its surface. “You said you were hungry, did you not?”
“I did.”
“Well, what would you eat, then?”
Naginata scoffed. “What kind of stupid question is that? Metal, of course!”
“Metal?”
“Well not any old metal. I feel like having some iron, please.”
Kain shrugged, bent down and picked up the metal horn sheared off the anvil, then said, “Well, now how would you ‘eat’ it?”
“That... is a really good question, Kain. Any suggestions?”
“Hmm,” Kain thought for a moment before an idea came to his mind, “Alright, I’ll open myself to you, and you try to consume the metal through me.”
“As you say.”
Kain opened himself up to become a vessel for the sword’s will, sparing a chuckle at the irony of the matter, before he felt the metal in his hand vanishing. He saw as the anvil’s horn dissolved into dust, coursing through his body and into Naginata’s blade, repairing the signs of damage from his previous channeling.
“You were right, Kain, that worked wonderfully. Perhaps the same could be done with the blood and body of your enemies?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh you know. Stick the pointy end o’ mine into a poor bastard’s midriff and you can nurture yourself through me!”
“That...” Kain said, considering the possibility. “That is rather horrifying, but not entirely impossible. Let’s hope we don’t have a chance to try it out any time soon, Naginata.”
“Hmm, a pity. A bout of combat would be delightful.”
“Brave words, considering you’re not the one at risk of being skewered!”
“Oh please, Kain. As long as we work together, I assure you,” Kain felt another strange sensation coming from Naginata, and recognized it as a grin. “We’ll be unstoppable!”
Kain returned the grin. “Yes. Indeed we’ll be. But for now, I must make a yari for a client. It will be no good if it’s not completed.”
“Go ahead, just prop me by those ironsands, I want something to snack on from time to time.”
Kain did as asked, still unable to believe what had happened. Not only he had created an ikiteiruyari, he had created a weapon that worked as both a vessel blade and a living sword, one of his life’s dreams inadvertently realized as he grazed his hand on the weapon’s edge. He had an infinity questions for Naginata, an infinity techniques, methods, and ideas he wanted to try. But all in due time, he thought as he took a deep, calming breath, and set himself back to work.
Along the process of recreating the spear blade, he was distracted. Though he remained fully conscious of the blade’s integrity, he paid no attention to the process, his mind returning to the ravenous weapon he had just created. When the blade was quenched, Kain set himself to sharpen it, I don’t want the same to happen, he thought, as the moment to awaken it came. When he reached for a piece of metal to awaken the blade, he realized he had no more steel to feed into its kotodama.
He picked up Naginata and said, “Hey, er, can you help me?”
“What is it?”
“I need to awaken that blade over there, and I’d rather not give my essence to it, because—”
“And a good thing too. If you only gave it from yourself, it would be a stunted, incomplete weapon.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Kain asked curiously.
“Just as you can’t be sustained on metal essence, your fleshy spirit couldn’t properly rouse the consciousness of that metal. It’d make an incomplete thing—an imbecile, by your terms.”
A dreadful realization reached Kain’s thoughts. Every other ikiteiruken ever forged is thus incomplete! Alive but bereft of an essential part of itself! And to Naginata he said, “What do you suggest?”
“Hmm. Well, you can channel from the ironsands through me, and into the blade, but that would completely drain what little iron you have here.”
“I can always purchase more. Let’s try it.”
Kain held Naginata in one hand, and plunged it into the ironsands, while holding the other spear blade in his free hand. He channeled his will through Naginata and into the ironsands, before opening himself up for the yari.
As it had happened the first time he had used the method, the yari latched onto Naginata’s essence, and through Naginata into the ironsands’, drawing from them instead of Kain or Naginata itself. As expected, the ironsands dwindled drastically, their color changing into a near-white as the iron they contained was drained away.
But the process was successful, and the weapon was awakened.
“How are you feeling?” Kain asked Naginata.
“I am fine. I am not stupid, Kain, I took care not to be diminished myself.”
“Good. Thank you for your help,” he said, leaving the blade in the ironsands as he returned to work on the commissioned weapon.
There’s so much more to learn, so much more to discover, he thought as he drew the Kajiya signature on the tang. But that much I will learn not here, but in my own forge, and under my own terms. He finished chiseling the signature onto the metal, feeling proud that he shared the family name he had inscribed.
Kain set himself to work on the weapon’s haft. He reached for a length of hardwood two and a half meters in length, then took a wood brush and started shaving off the excess material. Slivers of wood fell around him as he slowly shaped the shaft into a flattened ovoid. When it had the shape he desired, Kain took a thin file and started filling one of its ends at the middle, creating a groove he would elongate to slot the tang into. Sawdust made him cough occasionally, but after some time, the groove was sixty centimeters deep. Enough to take in the yari.
The haft itself was as thick as a katana’s grip, as planned, and Kain reached for one of the tsubas—the guards his father used for katanas—and inserted it firmly into the haft. Kain took a small drill left beside the forge and drilled three holes into the blade’s tang. Once they were done, he held the tang over the wooden shaft and used a small piece of coal to mark the positions of the holes, before drilling them through the shaft. He slotted the tang into the wood, and nodded in satisfaction when the holes matched together, then he took three brass rivets and hammered them into the slots, permanently locking the blade, guard and haft together.
Kain proceeded to take a piece of leather from a nearby crate, covering it in glue before slowly and carefully wrapping it around the length of the haft, giving it a comfortable grip. He needed multiple pieces of leather, and as many coats of glue, but the full length of the haft was eventually covered in leather.
Kain lifted the weapon and felt its construction; it was solid as he tur
ned it around his hands. He thrust and slashed with it, feeling its top-heavy weight nearly dragging him along but easily controlling its mass. Of course, he was careful not to graze himself with it, as he didn’t want to repeat the procedure again.
Judging the weapon complete, he went to his father’s residence, and once inside, he said, “Father, the weapon is ready!”
“Let me see,” Munesuke ordered, extending his hand to take the weapon. “Aye, Senshi. You are a master smith on your own right, but there is still much you need to learn. This is a fine weapon, misunderstand me not, but it’s created with utility, not beauty, in mind.”
“How do you mean, father?”
“Well, I applaud your idea of using a tsuba at the end of the blade, and wrapping the haft in leather, but traditionally, a yari would be made entirely of polished hardwood and have a metal piece—a dogane—separating the ho, its head from the e, its shaft. Besides, you missed the shoe.”
“Well father,” said Kain, “As you said, there remains much to be learned and discovered. But as it is, I believe I followed the writ to the letter.”
“And you did, Senshi. I cannot fault the weapon’s construction and technique, and I’m certain our client will be satisfied when it’s delivered a week hence.”
“A week?”
“Of course, you can’t expect this kind of weapon to be ready any sooner,” he grinned before saying, “Not every smith is fortunate enough to have you as their assistant.”
“True enough, father.”
“Well, Senshi, settle down and join Ryusei and I for supper. You have earned it.”
“Thank you,” said Kain before adding, “And father?”
“Hmm?”
“Tomorrow we must purchase more ironsands.”
Munesuke’s eyes widened. “What, why?”
“Let’s say I needed more than I expected,” Kain said.
Munesuke shook his head, “Unbelievable!”
“Many things with you are unbelievable, father,” Kain quipped, “But that makes things interesting, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yea. Yes, I agree. Now, where is Ryusei? I’m starving!”
***
Humiliation had a taste, Hanataro mused as he nursed his bruised pride. It tasted bitter and metallic. It tasted like blood.
He realized the taste he felt in his mouth was, in fact, blood, as he gritted his teeth, still seething over the humiliation he had suffered on account of the blacksmith, Munesuke. Ishida-sama reprimanded me. He could not see the justification behind my actions! He was not there, he did not see the impropriety, the insolence I was victim of!
Hanataro sighed. Despite the days that passed since, the wound remained open, especially since his soon-to-be betrothed, princess Yumei-hime seemed to spurn his attentions, no matter how silver-tongued they were. Why? Why did she reject him so vehemently? He was the best party available for her; he was kind, noble, well educated, a capable warrior and perfectly able to provide for her, and yet she snubbed him!
She is a highborn lady, he thought, closing his eyes. Not a common wench eager to lift her skirts the moment I glance her way, but Yumei is... Different. There’s more to her, a spark, a sort of defiance. I see it when she glances at her father, when she stares at me, he chuckled under his breath. “And I can’t wait to bring her into submission.” She needed to be taught propriety, that much was evident, and Ryokawa Hanataro-bushi was the right man for the endeavor.
If only he hadn’t been so humiliated! It was ludicrous, that a mere inferior had gotten so much praise while Hanataro’s efforts had been dismissed, it was inconceivable. Something ill and improper had to be afoot, and Hanataro intended to find answers.
A knock came on the door of his living quarters. “Step in,” he replied.
The doors opened, and an unassuming man in his mid-forties entered. He wore perfectly ordinary clothes, and his expression was the very face of neutrality. The man was unremarkable in every way, And that’s what makes him dangerous. The man bent down and said, “Hanataro-bushi,” even his voice was monotonous and unremarkable.
“Kuroinu-dono,” Hanataro replied. “Thank you for answering my summons so quickly.”
“Please, there’s no need. You called, and I heeded. Now tell me,” he grinned—the only distinctive feature in his visage. “Why does a samurai require the services of a ninja? Must someone be removed from the way?”
“No, Kuroinu, nothing so drastic. All I need from you is a bit of surveillance.”
“Surveillance?”
Hanataro stood up and began pacing in his living quarter. He stepped around the small, circular table at the center and stepped in front of a wooden painting depicting him in a suit of full armor. He took a deep breath and said, “There is a blacksmith in Nagano, Kuroinu, an unassuming old man who has peddled his trade throughout his long decades. Perhaps you have heard of him?”
Kuroinu shrugged. “I dislike making assumptions, Hanataro. Please, enlighten me.”
Hanataro scoffed and continued, “Kajiya Munesuke, born a blacksmith and likely to die the same way. His trade has been perfectly proper and unremarkable for the longest time. He’s prized by the daimyo as he’s an artisan capable of producing living swords, and I admit he’s competent at the task.”
“But?” Kuroinu interrupted.
“What do you mean ‘but?’”
“There’s always a ‘but,’ Hanataro. If he were as prim and proper as you purport him to be, you’d hardly want me to watch over him.”
“Hmm. Well, here’s your but. A few days ago, he turned in an ikiteiruken commissioned by Yorunokenshi Ishida. I brought that blade in, and I admit it was a sufficiently well-made weapon, but that’s not what caught my attention. What I found to be... unusual, is that the daimyo judged it to be of a quality so exceptional that he bestowed his praise upon the artisan,” he sneered, remembering the event, “While spurning the punishment I rightfully bestowed upon him over his insolence!”
“Let me see if I understand this, Munesuke. You want me to use my espionage arts to watch over an aged artisan because your ego was bruised?”
Hanataro’s face reddened in anger. He reached for his sword, unsheathed it and said, “Careful, Kuroinu, I may just—” He was interrupted by a blinding flash, and gasped as he felt a knife pressed against his throat.
“Or you may just what, Hanataro, shit your pants in fear? Let me make things sufficiently clear, samurai: I may owe allegiance to Lord Yorunokenshi Ichiro, and he may have made me your aide—against my wishes of course—but understand this. We are not equal and, gods damn me, you are not my superior.” The knife was removed from Hanataro’s throat, and the samurai gasped as he took a hand to his Adam’s apple. “The sooner you realize this, Hanataro, the better for you. Now, I will ask again, nice and civil-like. Why do you want me to spy on Kajiya Munesuke?”
“I want you,” Hanataro croaked, clearing his throat before adding, “I want you to watch over him because I think there have been serious breaches of protocol regarding the making of that weapon. Something is amiss about the ikiteiruken, and I want you to find out what it is.”
Kuroinu shrugged. “Isn’t it simpler to accept that it was an excellent weapon, and you may have behaved as an utter asshole?”
“Nonsense, Kuroinu! You know I conduct myself with absolute propriety and honor! That you suggest otherwise wounds me deeply.”
“Uh-huh, whatever you say, samurai.” Kuroinu sighed, shook his head and said, “Fine, what do you want me to discover about the blacksmith?”
A grin split Hanataro’s lips as he said, “I want you to see the process he uses to forge his weapons. I want you to find out whether he does something, anything out of the ordinary—whether he taints the metal, botches the awakening, anything unusual you bear witness to, I want you to inform me of it!”
Kuroinu folded his arms and scoffed. “And if there’s nothing out of the ordinary?”
“Then
I’ll gladly accept that, perhaps, I incurred in a slight lapse in judgment.”
“Wouldn’t be your first ‘slight’ lapse in judgment, now would it?” Kuroinu asked mockingly.
“What do you mean, ninja?” the samurai said, danger in his voice.
“Nothing, I’m just saying that it wouldn’t be the first time a sword gets you in trouble, Hanataro. Only,” he chuckled before adding, “The first one was made out of flesh, wasn’t it?”
Hanataro’s jaw ached as he grinded his teeth to dust. “Careful, Kuroinu, I don’t know who do you think you are, ninja, but—”
“But I am not your damned caretaker, Hanataro, I am an agent at the service of the Lord shogun, not your personal problem solver. Do you think that the incident has been so easily forgotten, Hanataro?”
The samurai folded his arms. “It should have been adequately suppressed.”
Kuroinu sighed. “I don’t think you understand the finer elements of what espionage entails, samurai. You can erase evidence, threaten witnesses, and fabricate evidence, Hanataro, but you can’t erase gossips, murmurs and rumors. Those spread like wildfire, and let’s say you caused enough of a ruckus to give rise to a lot of speculation.”
“The woman’s husband became rowdy, I acted in self-defense.”
“Because you were raping his wife, you impossible buffoon!”
Hanataro scoffed. “It was not rape. She was an inferior, and I am a samurai. I merely took what is mine.”
Kuroinu took a deep breath, shaking his head as he said, “Your self-importance shall be your undoing one day, Hanataro, mark my words.”
“That is not for you to decide, ninja. Please, content yourself with performing your duty, can you do that much at least?”
The ninja bowed and said, “As you command, Hanataro-sama,” he added mockingly before leaving Hanataro’s quarters.
The samurai was left alone, and seething in rage. Unable to find anything to focus his anger on, he lifted the circular table and smashed it against one of the walls, before shattering the pomades and ointments on a small stand beside his bed.
Hanataro smashed every single thing he could get his hands on, and when nothing breakable remained in the ravaged room, he dropped to his knees and screamed his fury until his throat was raw.
Heretic's Forge: A Crafting Fantasy Adventure (The Warrior Blacksmith Book 1) Page 13
