“Apologies, blade, I meant no disrespect, it’s just I’m used to—”
“Let me guess, to seeing swords as pieces of metal, as mere tools?”
“I... no, that’s not what I wanted to say.”
“Then what is it, Ishida? No disrespect... Pah! I know your name, yet you still call me blade, would you prefer if I called you ‘human’ instead?”
“No, my apologies. Who are you?”
“I am...” the ikiteiruken stopped, and Ishida could sense the weapon’s struggle as it tried to answer his question. “Zweihänder.”
“Zu-ai-han-da?” Ishida asked. “What kind of name is that?”
“It’s a name I heard once, or dreamed, perhaps.”
“You can dream?”
“I am alive, Ishida. If I can think, thus I can dream. My name is Zweihänder.”
“That’s a difficult name,” Ishida admitted. “Would you be content if I called you Zuaihan?”
The sword sighed—It sighed!—but acquiesced. “Very well, considering we are to work together, it’s best if we get along from early on. Call me Zuaihan.”
“Zuaihan,” Ishida repeated loudly. “That is my weapon’s name, Zuaihan.”
“A quaint name for a weapon,” Hanataro said, “I had never heard its like.”
“Now you have,” Ishida said dismissively before asking of Zuaihan, “Who created you?”
“A blacksmith, a warrior,” it paused, “a heretic.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Ishida, I have been awake for all of one day. What do you expect me to tell you?”
“A blacksmith, a warrior, a heretic.”
“What is it, lord?” Hanataro asked.
“Nothing. It’s not important. Thank you, Hanataro, you’ve brought a magnificent weapon, created by a brilliant artisan. I assume you compensated Munesuke adequately?” Hanataro said nothing, and Ishida asked, “Hanataro, did you pay Munesuke for his services?”
“I withheld payment, Lord, on account of his... untraditional methods.”
“Untraditional methods?”
“He, uh... took an apprentice using an old permit.”
“Permits are transferable, Hanataro, you knew of this.”
“Yes, but—”
“Let me see if I understand,” Ishida said, trying to remain calm, “You withheld payment from a master blacksmith because of a technicality?” Hanataro said nothing, and Ishida sighed. “Very well, Hanataro. Yumei?”
“Father?”
“Let’s not bother Hanataro-bushi any longer, I’m certain he must have a busy day ahead of him.” Saying that, he stood up and walked towards his daughter. “Thank you, Hanataro-bushi for bringing my weapon.”
Hanataro bowed respectfully and said, “I’m at your service, Ishida-sama.”
Ishida nodded, and led his daughter back into the living quarters, trying not to grind his teeth as they walked.
“Quite an asshole, if you ask me,” Zuaihan said.
“You offer commentary on my samurai too, Zuaihan?”
“If you wanted a silent sword, Ishida, why go for a living weapon in the first place?”
Ishida smiled. “Fair enough.”
“Father, what is so amusing?” Yumei asked.
He glanced at his daughter, and let his smile grow larger. “Yumei, my dear, you are not going to believe what I’m going to tell you.”
“What is it father?”
“All in due time, first, I have a task for you. You said you wanted to help me with the documents and stuff, yes? Well, I need you to take my seal and draft letters of recommendation for Kajiya Munesuke. Hanataro has withheld payment from him, and paying the man behind the samurai’s back would be grievously dishonorable.”
“Oh, Hanataro would die of shame, I’m sure.”
“Undoubtedly, but instead we can pay Munesuke with the next best thing. More work. So please, do that!”
A grin formed on Yumei’s face as she said, “At once, father! Before that, though, what were you going to tell me about?”
Ishida smiled. “First off, would you happen to know just what the hell is a ‘Zweihänder?’” he couldn’t help but laugh at his daughter’s confused expression.
Chapter IX: Life and Tragedy
“I can’t help but wonder if us giving part of our essence into an ikiteiruken somehow... diminishes them, just as it diminishes us. There comes a point where the kotodama can no longer draw any more from the blacksmith, otherwise it’d kill him, yet betimes I wonder if what we give is enough? I wonder if, perhaps, our living swords are incomplete, missing an integral part of their sentience? Missing, perhaps, their personalities?”
-Urahara Kuromaru, in “A Blacksmith’s Dissertations on the Ancient Art of Nipponese Swordsmithing.”
Three days can be either too short, or too long a time.
It all depends on perspective, Kain thought as he returned the barrow into Nagano. Three days had been too short for him to bring the ancient forge up to full speed, and though he had managed to restore a good portion of it, it still required considerable amounts of work. And it had been too long when he considered the changes he encountered at his father’s forge.
At first, he had been surprised at returning to the Kajiya household and finding it, of all things, clean, in a better state of repair, and even cozy. It had been even more surprising to see his father working beside Ryusei in making the house at least half-decent. Kain even admitted to feeling a pang of jealousy at the paternal way his father treated the young boy, but he couldn’t blame him for it. After all, I was gone for a decade, he had reasoned.
The next surprise came the afternoon of his arrival, when a new commission writ arrived for his father, coming from a local merchant who wanted a sword “as magnificent as the daimyo’s.” Although it would put his new endeavors on hold for a moment, Kain welcomed the writ, especially considering that Hanataro had withheld payment from his father over a simplistic, even idiotic reason.
“Ah well,” he said nonchalantly as he kept rolling the barrow. At least his father had been straightforward in letting him know that he’d be the one forging the weapon, since he was too old and Ryusei had hurt his elbow. And my “arts” would help. He scoffed, So now they are arts huh?
Despite his thoughts, he couldn’t help but feel satisfaction at his father’s change of attitude both towards his abilities and towards following tradition for tradition’s sake. His father still found it unthinkable that Kain would create his own, western-styled weapons, but that’s why Kain needed to make the forge at the forest clearing ready. So he could experiment on his own.
He had already made a mental list of the things he’d require for the forge. It mostly amounted to tools such as hammers, tongs, gloves and aprons, and materials such as iron sands, coal, and wood for the furnace. Problem was, how was he to purchase what he needed? Perhaps I can don a disguise and come to the market – no one recognized me at first, he laughed as another thought came to him, Or I could just go as Gizoo. That would be ridiculous. Why would a mute, a deaf, and an imbecile need blacksmithing implements?
As his thoughts tried to answer the question, he heard a familiar voice behind him, “Kain, hey Kain!”
He turned around and smiled. “Ren!”
“Hello Bushi-sama!”
“And Yuki-chan too! Hello, how fare both of you?”
Ren shrugged and replied, “We fare, and that’s the best that can be said. And you?”
“I’m bringing this barrow back to the market, it’s where my father and I carried the materials we purchased, remember?”
“I remember,” she replied, “and I wonder, how is Gizoo going to tell the owner of the barrow why he is bringing it back?”
“Ah! My father gave me a note to present.”
“Neat! What does it say?”
“I... don’t know. I haven’t read it.” Moved by curiosity, Kain produced the piece of p
aper, unfolded it and began reading: “Dear reader, my name is Gizoosha, I’m a deaf, a mute, and an incorrigible imbecile who… Oh come on, father!”
“That bad it is?” Ren asked.
“That bad it is. Sometimes I wonder if he relishes the chances of pointing out I’m an idiot.” He sighed and said, “I can’t show this to the ironsand peddler, and I can’t exactly speak to him, considering the, ah, backstory I’m trying to maintain.”
“Well,” said Ren gingerly, “We could come with you, right Yuki?”
“Yes okaasan!”
“Come with me? But I assure you, there’s no need to.”
“Please, Kain, or,” she chuckled, “Gizoo, we insist.”
Kain nodded and replied, “Alright then, you’ll do the talking, I’ll do the lifting. Let’s go!”
Together, the three of them entered Nagano and made their way to the market. The streets remained muddy and slick with manure and animal droppings, but Kain didn’t mind. He surprised himself by realizing that he was, in fact, enjoying the time with Ren and Yuki. Their presence made even the stench of civilization bearable.
“Hey Yuki,” said Kain, “Want to ride on the barrow?”
“Yes Bushi-sama!”
“Right then, hop up. There you go!” Kain hoisted the girl onto the barrow and carted her along the streets; Yuki giggled and laughed, urging him to go faster.
“You have a way with children, Kain.”
“An odd thing,” he said truthfully, “I haven’t been around many, at least not in, er... peaceful settings.”
“What do you mean?”
The smile on Kain’s face disappeared slowly. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Look, there’s the peddler my father purchased from. So, I turn in the barrow, and you do the talking, yes?”
“Mhm, lead on, Kain.”
Kain nodded and rolled the barrow towards the peddler. When the man noticed Kain’s presence, he lazily lifted an eye and asked, “Can I help you?” Kain said nothing and the peddler repeated, “Can I help you, sir?” No answer. “Boy, are you daft? I said, can I—”
“Please forgive him,” Ren said, “He’s a deaf, a mute and…”
“An imbecile! I remember now, this is Munesuke-san’s assistant. I wonder just where the devil did he find this boy? I ain’t ever seen him before. In fact, would you say he looks a little like Munesuke-san, Ren-chan?”
“I...” she paused, blinking as she stared at Kain, then continued, “I couldn’t know, really. But we’ve come to bring your barrow back.”
“Well,” said the peddler, planting his fists on his hips, “About damn time too! It’s been over three days since they took it, what’s taken so long?”
Ren shrugged, “I don’t know, I only came to tell you Munesuke-san is thankful for you lending him the barrow.”
“Eh, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, don’t mention it. Now, I don’t suppose he’s also sent this cutie over, did he?” the peddler said to Yuki. The girl said nothing and climbed off the barrow. “I thought not. Send my regards to Munesuke-san, and wish him good luck with his, er... assistant.”
“Will do. Let’s go, Yuki.”
“Yes!” Exclaimed the girl and added, “Let’s go, Bushi-sama.”
The peddler laughed, “Warrior, he? He’d sooner be a blacksmith than a warrior!”
It took the entirety of Kain’s willpower not to chuckle as Ren ushered him and Yuki away. After they were out of earshot, he said, “Well, that fella would have quite a shock if he knew I’m both.”
“A warrior and a blacksmith, what else are you?” Ren asked suspiciously.
“Is something amiss, Ren?” Kain asked.
“What’s amiss is that you’re quite clearly not telling me everything. I hadn’t seen it before but I can see it now. You’re Munesuke’s splitting image!”
“Ren, I…”
“And that makes no sense. Munesuke-san had a son, long ago, but he was drafted into the army in our war against Goguryeo, but he never returned, unless...”
“Ren, listen, we shouldn’t talk here. The market has ears.”
“This cannot be,” she said, shaking her head. “This just cannot be. You are Munesuke’s son, aren’t you? You are a returned one! You are—”
Kain clamped his hand on her mouth and muttered, “Ren you are putting the three of us at risk. Listen,” he sucked on his teeth and said, “Listen, come with me, I will tell you everything.”
“Why should I listen to a... returned one?” she spat.
“Because I saved your sister. If I were as despicable as propaganda would make you believe I am, why would I have saved her from Hanataro?”
“A curse disguised as a gift, perhaps?”
“Nonsense, Ren. Please, come with me, and I will tell you everything you want to know.”
She folded her arms and asked, “And where would you take us, then?”
“To a special place. A clearing in the forest where my father used to meet with my mother, long years before now.”
“So, a secluded location then? How convenient.”
“Ren, please,” he said, “I wouldn’t harm you nor Yuki. I’m not Hanataro. Please, come with me?”
“Please, okaasan, Bushi-sama is saying the truth!” the girl pleaded.
Ren sighed and said, “Fine. Take us to this ‘special place,’ but I warn you. If you try anything…”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more. Kain let out the breath he was holding and took the lead. “Follow me, it’ll take us a bit over an hour to reach the place.”
They left Nagano and headed along the forest trail. Kain led them through the narrow pathways. Ren walked beside him while Yuki skipped happily ahead. Though Kain was leading Ren and Yuki through the forest, the path was easier without dragging the barrow along.
Ren sniffed and asked, “What’s that stench? Smells like something died nearby!”
“It’s nothing, an animal carcass most likely.”
“Hm. Hey, listen Kain, I... I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Treating you the way I have, it was unwarranted. You are right; you are not like Hanataro, nor like most people in Nagano, Shingano, and likely Nippon. Is it because you are er...”
“Returned?” he scoffed. “Perhaps. I have seen more of the world than many have in their lives. I guess I’ve been exposed to different ways of thinking too, ways which don’t necessarily stick to tradition. Would you call that a bad thing?”
“No,” she replied without hesitation. “No I wouldn’t. It’s just, we all have lived all our lives being told that tradition is the only thing that holds us together, and deviating from it is the worst crime imaginable because it makes you a... it makes you a...”
“A heretic,” Kain uttered.
“Yes, a heretic.”
“Do you know what the word means?” Kain asked.
“Someone who... breaks tradition?” she asked with a shrug, and laughed under her breath. “Truth is I don’t know, I just assumed that’s what it was.”
“Many people assume because the priests and traditionalists treat it that way, but no. A heretic is by definition, a person who thinks by themselves, regardless of what they are told to think or believe. For example, you may have been told that a samurai is always venerable and honorable, then you meet Hanataro and, through your own reasoning, realize he’s a fucking stuck up prick.” Ren laughed, and Kain joined in momentarily before declaring, “That would be a heresy!”
“But it’s the truth!” Ren retorted.
“Strict tradition would brand truth heresy to perpetuate itself. That’s why the priests and noblemen dislike returned ones such as myself. Because we can see life with different eyes.”
“And how do you see life, Kain?”
Kain wasn’t prepared for that question, and wasn’t certain how to reply. He kept walking for a moment, organizing his thoug
hts before finally saying, “I see life as a series of tragedies orchestrated by people we don’t know, to satisfy needs we don’t care about, because of beliefs that don’t concern us.”
“What do you… By the gods!” She exclaimed as they entered the clearing and she saw the ruins, and the nearly ready forge. “This place is beautiful! Did you fix the forge?”
“Mhm, I had to stay here three days, having returned just today.”
“Truly? Why?”
“My father needed to get some matters arranged, it doesn’t quite matter. I want to use this forge for myself and practice my trade on my own.” Ren chuckled and Kain asked, “What is it?”
“So you are indeed a blacksmith.”
Kain smiled, “I am. And a warrior too, at times. But I promised you I’d answer your questions, didn’t I? Well, ask away.”
They sat down on one of the low, ruined walls in the clearing, basking in the stillness of the forest. Ren asked, “What is your real name?”
“Kajiya Senshi,” Kain answered without hesitation, “But I have lived over a decade as Kain, to the point it’s what I use now.”
“And during that decade, what did you do?”
Kain stared into nothingness, trying to find an answer to that question. I was a slave, a warrior, a mercenary, a blacksmith, and many more things, Ren. Many things I’d sooner not have become, but became. He sighed, closed his eyes and said, “I learned that there is no glory or honor in war; I learned that wars are fought only for a few individuals to keep power, and us, the soldiers and the people, we’re just fodder to feed into the machine of violence. No gods, no beliefs, no morals or traditions can justify the constant loss of life.”
“But the Goguryese…”
“Ren don’t misunderstand me, I despise Goguryese as a matter of principle, for I have seen what they are capable of doing. But in all fairness, we Nipponese are capable of horrifying acts of cruelty too.”
Ren sighed. “You make it sound so bleak.”
“In a way it is, Ren. But it’s not all there is. There are beautiful cities, grandiose forests, feats of skill that rival imagination. And here’s the trick; you need to know how to separate the good things from the bad things, appreciate the good and understand the bad so it’s not repeated.”
Heretic's Forge: A Crafting Fantasy Adventure (The Warrior Blacksmith Book 1) Page 11