CHAPTER 296: INITIATION

 

Once Zen and I had finished talking, Souji—who’d been stubbornly silent up to this point—finally opened his mouth, as if he’d made up his mind.

「U-um! I—I want to join the Suigetsu Dojo!!」

It came out loud and clear—bold, if a little desperate.

Zen didn’t answer right away. Instead, he quietly shifted his gaze to me and Kinu.

His expression practically screamed, Huh? Isn’t he your attendant?

「This kid’s Souji. On the way into town, we found him getting attacked by a kamaitachi and helped him out. We only asked him to guide us because we didn’t know where the dojo was.」

「I see…」

Zen turned back to face Souji.

「Souji-kun. Have you ever held a sword before?」

「Ah, um…! A wooden sword, yeah…!」

「Then take a stance for me.」

Prompted, Souji sprang to his feet in a panic and drew the wooden sword tucked at his waist.

His movements were stiff. His stance wasn’t refined in the slightest. It looked like he’d only ever held a bokken by copying someone else.

But—

Souji’s eyes were fixed on something. On something real.

Probably the monster that had nearly killed him on the road—the kamaitachi.

The memory of fear… and the will that still tried to push through it… was there, lingering in his gaze.

「…Not bad eyes.」

Zen gave a small nod.

「Very well.」

「…Huh?」

Souji’s eyes went wide.

「U-um…! Th-that means…?」

「It means you’re in.」

It was so offhand an answer that Souji’s brain lagged a beat before it caught up.

「N-no test…? Like… an exam or something…?」

「At the Suigetsu Dojo, we do not reject the will to learn the sword. Therefore, there is no special test required for initiation.」

Souji’s face brightened instantly.

「…However.」

As if slicing through the air itself, Zen continued.

「Whether you can remain here is another matter. The sword is not something you can keep up with half-hearted resolve.」

「…Yes!」

Even so, Souji nodded at once.

It was the kind of voice that had been offered an escape route—and still chose to walk forward.

「From today on, you are a disciple of the Suigetsu Dojo.」

A brief silence.

Then Souji bowed so hard it was more like he threw himself down.

「P-please take care of me!!」

He bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched the tatami.

Seeing that, Zen’s mouth softened—just slightly.

Soon, one of the dojo members led Souji away. Right before he left the room, he turned back and flashed us a beaming smile.

—Good for you.

The boy’s back—now that he’d found a place to pursue the sword—looked just a little bigger than it had before he came here.

◇　　◇　　◇　　◇

The next morning.

After being allowed to stay the night at the Suigetsu Dojo, we were brought back to the same Japanese-style room as yesterday.

A man was already waiting for us there.

He looked a little past fifty. Unshaven, with a weathered beard, and an old, well-worn hammer satchel at his waist.

He wasn’t a warrior, and he wasn’t a merchant either—he had the unmistakable presence of a smith, wrapped in the scents of earth and fire.

「…Zen-sama. The sword you requested is finished.」

With that, he offered up a single weapon wrapped in cloth.

Zen accepted it, carefully unwrapped the bundle, and drew the blade from its scabbard.

A water magic sword.

The very one he’d used when facing Kinu in the ranking match.

Its steel caught the light and gleamed quietly—and from the quality alone, it was obvious this blacksmith was the real thing.

「As expected of Magoroku. Flawless work, as always.」

「You honor me.」

The smith called Magoroku bowed once—then lifted his gaze.

「…Zen-sama, these people are?」

「Aun and Kinu-san. My friends… my comrades… and my rivals.」

「Rivals… I see.」

As Magoroku nodded, his eyes suddenly wavered.

Then, as if drawn in—

His gaze shifted to Shiranuemaru, resting beside me.

「…Pardon me.」

He offered a brief word to me and stepped closer.

But the finger he’d started to extend toward Shiranuemaru stopped dead halfway.

As if… touching it carelessly was forbidden.

「…This blade is…」

Silence, with no words to follow.

Magoroku let out a slow breath, then lowered himself into a formal seiza.

「…Aun-dono. Would you draw it yourself?」

「Huh? Sure, I guess…」

I drew Shiranuemaru the way I always did.

Even so, that gritty, rasping sense of wrongness I’d been feeling since just before we came to Bukyo still hadn’t gone away.

Magoroku received the blade, carefully removed the guard and hilt, and checked the tang.

—「Kunimitsu, Second Generation」.

After confirming the inscription carved into the tang, he quietly reassembled it—and then, with grave weight, he spoke.

「…Let me be blunt.」

His voice carried the resolve of a craftsman.

「Continuing to use this sword as it is—would be dangerous.」