Now comes the difficult part. Let’s see if I can awaken the kotodama in the metal without diminishing myself. He picked the pitted metal of the discarded, unawakened katana and focused his will into it. It was empty now, a vessel blade in every regard, but some of its energy lingered in the crystalline structures composing its metal. Let’s see if this suffices.
He channeled through the metal and into the newly forged katana, feeling an internal pull as the kotodama within the sword stirred and latched onto the essence syphoned into it. Instead of getting hold of Kain’s, however, it clung onto the metal, sapping away what remained of its essence. Kain watched in a mixture of fascination and horror as the discarded steel slowly dissolved into nothingness. Damn, I’m glad father is not here to watch this! He looked around to make sure Munesuke was, in fact, gone, and exhaled in relief when he confirmed he was alone at the forge courtyard.
After the metal was fully consumed by the katana, Kain extended his will into it. The metal felt different, more complete somehow, as if it were… Alive, he thought as he realized that he was, in fact, sensing consciousness. The sword was alive, aware, and waiting to bond with its master. But that shan’t be me, Kain thought as he recalled who’d be the weapon’s recipient.
The blade itself was complete. A true ikiteiruken, expertly forged, and duly awakened. Kain removed the layers of clay coating its length, revealing the blade’s hamon and the grain in the metal, and saw an inkling of the perfection his father had derided. There were no pits on the metal, no grain on its surface, and no imperfections. Kain grunted, Will this be a problem? He wondered, recalling the first time he botched a blade when enslaved, and the severe beating it had earned him; since then he had striven for perfection in every piece he crafted, but now he wondered if the distinction in quality would be to his detriment.
He had no time to worry, as the weapon needed to be completed. “Father, come, please!” He called again, now that the weapon was awakened. “It is done,” he said as he heard his father’s footsteps.
Munesuke stopped. “It is done? Have you performed the kennomezame?”
“I have,” Kain confirmed. “See for yourself.”
The smith took the blade, closed his eyes momentarily, before opening them wide. “Incredible,” he wheezed, “You created an ikiteiruken!” He turned to stare at Kain and asked, “Did you give yourself to it?”
“Yes, father,” Kain lied, unwilling to admit his experiment. He bent down, picked a small hammer and a chisel, and offered them to his father. “As I understand it,” he said, “the blacksmith honors the nakago with his signature, yes?”
“No,” Munesuke blurted out.
“No? What do you mean no, father? You are the master blacksmith, I’m but the apprentice.”
“This might be so, son, yet you are the maker of this piece, not I. It is neither correct, nor honorable, that I should take credit over your creation.”
“Hmm,” Kain folded his arms and added, “Yet we have little choice, father, considering that you’re the one who’s supposed to have made it.”
“Ay, Senshi, a true dilemma indeed.” Munesuke brought a hand to his chin and stroked it pensively. After a moment, his expression lit up. “Senshi, there is a way.”
“Oh?”
“Engrave the kanji of our family name on the weapon’s nakago. Thus it symbolizes not the individual, but the legacy.”
Kain smiled. Our family, he thought, appreciative of his father’s words. “As you say, father.” Kain bent before the finished blade and used the hammer and chisel to slowly engrave a signature on the weapon’s tang:
鍛冶屋
“Kajiya,” Munesuke read satisfied. “Our family name, Senshi, never forget that.”
“I won’t, father.” It was a strange, unusual sensation of Kain to be praised by his father, but he welcomed it gladly.
“Good. Now wait here,” the old blacksmith said before heading back to the house.
While Kain waited, he picked up the finished blade, and though its grip was missing, he still tested its weight and construction. Every weapon he created made him feel proud. It was a tool, expertly made, masterfully crafted and oriented towards a singular purpose. The taking of life, he thought with a hint of shame. But taking life needs not be done for ignoble purposes, sometimes the taking of life is necessary to protect what one cares for the most.
He took the blade by the tang and swung it around, not as a ronin would swing a katana, but as a western warrior would brandish a longsword. The weight distribution felt awkward that way. The katana was meant for chopping and was top-heavy, while his Zweihänder had been meant for quick maneuvering and was balanced at the hilt. Still, he could understand the appeal of the Nipponese weapon, and the reason why there was an air of mysticism surrounding it.
Giving and taking, thought Kain, reflecting on the awakened sentience within the weapon, I wonder if something can be made in the middle? A weapon that’s both awake and empty at the same time, a weapon that’s more... He paused his train of thought, chuckling as he realized what he meant to say. “A weapon that’s more human, in a way.” He glanced at the remnants of the dissolved blade; they were but unrecognizable pieces of bent metal, after their essence was used to awaken the ikiteiruken. An idea came to his mind: A weapon that works both as a living-sword, and a vessel blade – a weapon that feeds from the essence of its victims, metal and creature alike... A ravenous sword.
As Kain devised a way to make his idea possible, his thoughts were derailed by the sound of footsteps coming from outside the courtyard. He lay the blade down and assumed his guise as Gizoo, as his father said, a deaf, a mute, he chuckled, And an imbecile. Though he remained silent and merely glanced at the forge, he remained attentive to the nearing footsteps. Four people, it seems. Three adults and... a child? His gut twisted slightly as he realized the footsteps were accompanied by the clattering sounds of metal. Weapons? He wondered.
Seconds later he saw the causes for the noise, three gruff-looking men led at the front by a scared-looking child were making their way towards the forge courtyard. Kain watched their movements from the corner of his eye, careful not to be discovered as he studied the interlopers’ expression. The three men carried weapons, of that there was no doubt. One had a sharpened hoe, one had an axe and the third one, the leader as judged by his demeanor, had a saber at his hip. Odd, thought Kain, where did he get that weapon? He didn’t linger on the thought, as he realized they also wore thick pieces of leather crudely stitched together under their garments as a form of armor. So three armed men wearing armor and carrying weapons walk into a forge; this doesn’t bode well. He remained focused on the furnace ahead of him, idly placing the metal tongs in it.
A high-pitched voice reached his ears. The boy was talking, “See? I told you! The old smith’s come into a lot of coin!”
“Truly?” the man with the saber asked, “All I see are piles of ironsand and coal, nothing special.”
“But he purchased those right this mornin’, and paid up front too!”
“Indeed?” the man scoffed, “Well, perhaps we need ask more directly, yes? You,” he called, addressing Kain, “Hey, you! I’m talking to you.” Kain ignored him as befit his role as Gizoo.
“Think he don’t hear you, chief,” another of the men said, the one wielding an axe.
“Perhaps, or perhaps he’s pretending not to listen.” The man with the saber unsheathed his weapon and walked towards Kain. “Hey, asshole, I’m talking to you!”
Again, Kain said nothing, but he felt his muscles growing tense. Come on, lift that weapon, give me a reason to finish you off, he thought, weighing his defensive options, and readying himself for an attack.
The man snarled, lifted his saber and exclaimed, “I said I’m talking to—”
“Good evening gentlemen,” Munesuke’s voice called from the house, “May I help you today?”
Kain closed his eyes. Gods damn it, father, why must you
be so inopportune?
“Are you the owner of this...” the man with the saber said derisively, pausing before adding, “Workshop?”
“I am. Kajiya Munesuke, at your service.”
“Well, Munesuke,” the man said without adding a respectful –san at the end, “This fella has insulted me and my friends!”
“Truly? How so?”
“By ignoring me as I called to him!”
“I see. Did you, sir, yell, scream, talk, or otherwise made noise his way?”
“Why is that relevant?”
“Because sir, you see, he’s a deaf, a mute, and an imbecile. He’s not ignored you out of malice, he genuinely can’t hear you.”
The man sheathed his saber and said, “Is that so? What good is having him around for, then? He’s but a waste of oxygen if you ask me.”
“I did not, friend,” Munesuke retorted, and Kain noticed a thinly veiled hint of contempt in his voice. “He is my assistant, and a good one at that. Now,” he clapped his hands, “What can I help you with?”
“Now that’s something of mutual interest. May we come into the house?”
Munesuke folded his arms and said, “Whatever business concerning the forge is to be conducted at the forge, sir. Now, let me know what you may need of me, or please, vacate my estate.”
One of the men—the one wielding a hoe—stepped forward and said, “Kuno, this is growing tiresome,” he pushed the man named Kuno behind and continued, “We’ve heard, Munesuke, that you’ve come to quite an extraordinary sum of money. A sum which we see reflected in your recently purchased materials. Now, you are a blacksmith, an elder, and I assume a reasonable man. I think we need not waste words, yes?”
Munesuke’s expression was unreadable as he said, “Afraid I fail to see what your intent is. If you want weapons or implements forged, then I can help you. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask you to leave immediately.”
The man hefted his hoe and held it threateningly before him. “Don’t play stupid, old man. We merely want our fair share of your profits.”
“Your fair share?”
“Please, Munesuke,” Kuno said, “You know that times are... difficult, so to speak, and we all need to help each other, don’t we? You’ve come to an unexpected wealth, and we still struggle, don’t the gods teach us to help the poor and the downtrodden?”
Munesuke glanced at the weapons carried by the men and said, “The gods instruct us to help those in need,” he scoffed, “And to denounce those who do ill upon others. Let me ask you, if I refuse your ‘fair share,’ what exactly do you plan on doing?”
“Those are unsavory topics for a savory conversation, Munesuke. Suffice to say that everyone needs a means to subsist,” a sickly grin formed on Kuno’s lips as he added, “And the hands to manipulate said means, yes?”
“Let me see if I understand. You come to my home, to my forge and threaten with loping my hands off should I not pay you off?”
Kuno shrugged, “That’s quite trite a way to put it, Munesuke, but in essence yes, such is the case.”
“Well, I will have you know I am under direct employ of daimyo Yorunokenshi Ishida-sama, and I’m bound to report to his samurai Ryokawa Hanataro-sama. Would you risk their wrath only for a fistful of mon?”
“I have a question for you, Munesuke: How would either know if an accident were to happen to you? How would anyone know that it was us? You’d be indisposed, and your assistant is an imbecile, what precludes us from simply teaching you a lesson. Cutting off your hands and tongue, then looting your house? Would your assistant tell on us?” he scoffed derisively, “I don’t think so.”
“What I think,” said Munesuke, “is that you are but a group of brigands without respect or shame. A canker invading our society, and nothing more.”
Kuno chuckled, unsheathed his saber again and held it at Munesuke’s throat. “I don’t give a fuck what you think, old man,” he said.
Kain had heard enough. That does it! He thought as he removed the now red-hot tongs from the forge and pressed them on Kuno’s exposed left hand. The man shrieked as skin sizzled, and dropped his saber to clutch at his wounded hand.
Before the man’s companions could react, Kain seized the opportunity and rammed the tongs through the hem of the man’s camisole, dragging it over the man’s skin. Kuno fell to the ground, struggling and failing to remove the scorching metal as Kain rolled and deftly picked up the forgotten saber, holding it in front of him with a single hand.
“Senshi, what the hell are you doing?” His father asked terrified.
“Son of a whore!” exclaimed the man with a hoe as he charged towards Kain. He thrust his sharpened utensil, but Kain deflected the blow, twisting his saber’s blade over the haft of the hoe and making the man lose balance.
The axe wielder stepped into the fray, wildly swinging at Kain; Kain ducked beneath a blow, and bent backwards before another swing nearly caught him on his chest. “Stay still, damn it!” Spat the man as he tried to shove the haft of his axe in Kain’s midriff. Kain dodged once more, but the man with the hoe returned; he had no time to react as the haft of the tool struck him across his face.
Kain groaned and fell, quickly rolling before the follow-up attack caught him. He quickly jumped to his feet and caught the axe’s head against the flat of the saber, causing the blade to bend. “Shit!” he exclaimed, as the two men advanced on him. I need a weapon, he thought as he discarded the useless saber. The man with the hoe attacked him again, but Kain was ready. He rolled away and towards the forge, quickly picking one of the blacksmith’s hammers. Though far from ideal, it was as close to a weapon as he could find.
The axe wielder chuckled. “You are a blacksmith, you wouldn’t use your tool to strike us, it’s a sin!”
Kain grinned. “To whom?” He furiously hurled the hammer at the man’s torso. And when it connected, it made a wet, cracking noise as the man toppled backwards. Before the hoe wielder could react, Kain picked up the axe; he parried an attack on its haft, ducked a second blow, and finally used the axe’s head to chop off the hoe’s haft, rendering it useless. He leapt forward and sank the axe into his attacker’s forehead. Red spurted from the gash as Kain removed the axe and made his way towards the man named Kuno.
When Kain reached Kuno, he knelt beside him. “Please,” said Kuno, “Mercy.”
“Mercy?” Kain asked, “The kind of mercy you were going to show an old man by chopping his hands off and severing his tongue?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I don’t think so.” Kain lifted Kuno, making him howl as he touched his burnt chest. “You wanted a fair share of my father’s profits? Then it’s only fair you earn them.”
“No, please, I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes,” Kain cut him off, “You did,” then he forced the man into the furnace, holding him inside as he thrashed wildly. After but three minutes, when Kuno’s struggles ceased, Kain removed the charred ruin that remained in the forge and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. “No mercy for petty brigands and killers,” Kain said before looking for his father. “Father? Father, where are you?”
“I am here, Senshi. I hid when I heard those horrifying shrieks, I couldn’t… Gods ABOVE, SENSHI! What have you done?” he asked as he saw the results of the engagement. “This cannot be... this is... this is...”
“Father!” Kain exclaimed as he rushed to hold his fainting father. “Father, are you well? Answer me!”
“Senshi, why have you done this? This... cruelty?”
“They threatened you, father. They threatened your life, and would have made good on their promise.”
“They wouldn’t have,” Munesuke declared, “I am employed by the daimyo, they wouldn’t dare…”
“Of course they would dare, father! Honor and law don’t mean as much as they used to anymore. They’d have made you a cripple, looted the house, and done gods know what else!”
“But why... was the cruelty necessary?”
K
ain sighed. “Perhaps not, father, and I apologize that you’ve witnessed it. Yet when your life, and the life of those you care about, is on the line, you don’t—” He was interrupted by the scurrying of small feet. His eyes widened as he exclaimed, “The child!” he turned on time to see the boy running away through the forge’s courtyard. He carefully lay his father down, jumped to his feet, and chased after the kid.
Though the boy was a few meters away from the house, it took Kain no time to reach him. He jumped on the boy, wrapping his arms around his frame and turning over to not harm him on the fall. “Let me go!” the child shrieked, “Let go of me!”
“Oh, don’t think you’ll get away so easily!” Kain said before adding, “Now hush, or should I start breaking things?” The boy was scared silent, and Kain felt his body trembling in fear. “Good,” he muttered, “I’ll let you loose and we’ll walk back to the forge. If you try to run, I will catch you, and I’ll clip your wings, am I understood?” the boy nodded shakily, and Kain let him go. “You have much explaining to do.”
They walked back to the forge. Kain watched the kid for signs that he would try to escape but he showed none. Scared him witless... may have overdone it, he thought as they went under the courtyard’s archway. His father saw them and said, “Senshi, what now?”
“I have brought before you the cause for this massacre, father.”
“Whatever for? Do you plan to cook him at the forge too?”
Kain’s eyes widened. “Father, please. I am not a monster. My intention is this,” and to the child he said, “What is your name, and why did you do this?” The boy said nothing, and calmly Kain added, “I will not hurt you, I swear.”
“Truly?” the kid asked, and Kain nodded. “I-I-I’m, Ryusei, I saw you at the market the other day and saw you had money, and those fellas, they promised they’d give me some if I told them and I…”
Heretic's Forge: A Crafting Fantasy Adventure (The Warrior Blacksmith Book 1) Page 8