CHAPTER 298: TO THE TOWN OF FIRE AND ASHES

 

The next morning, Suigetsu Dojo carried a quiet heat.

Footsteps rang across the wooden floor, and bokken carved the air with sharp, whistling cuts. Sweat that had caught the morning sun made the boards gleam dully. Their breathing was rough—but there was no waste in their movement.

Watching from the far end of the hallway, I realized the corners of my mouth had lifted on their own.

In the last row of the dojo, Souji’s figure was mixed in, too. His motions were still rough around the edges, but the hesitation he’d shown up until yesterday was gone. That was the back of someone who’d decided to stand here—not as a guest, but as the one being taught.

（Not bad. You’re learning how to put out the right kind of air.）

I didn’t call out to him. I turned on my heel and headed for the same tatami room as yesterday.

I sat down, and handed Shiranuemaru to Magoroku, who was kneeling properly across from me. After examining it once more, he set Shiranuemaru down carefully on the desk.

「Any wavering… about yesterday’s decision?」

It was a short question.

I nodded silently, and as if it were a final confirmation, he repeated the same explanation from yesterday.

「Jinri Town is a special place even within Bukyo—a town where smiths gather. Kunimitsu the Second has made his home there.」

After a breath, Magoroku continued.

「He is a difficult man. There is no guarantee he will agree to take your blade—no guarantee you will even be allowed to meet him.」

「Yeah. I get it.」

「…And it will take time.」

There was a slight weight to Magoroku’s words.

「Two months remain until the Shurasaki Festival. Depending on how many days the forging requires… there is a chance you may have to face it in less-than-ideal condition.」

In other words, there was a possibility the sword would be gone for a long time—and wouldn’t make it back in time for the Shurasaki Festival.

…Even so.

「I’m not giving up on Shiranuemaru. This is my beloved sword.」

I answered without hesitation.

「I’m not planning to break it, and I’m not planning to grind it down until it’s ruined. If that’s the case, there’s only one thing to do—go meet him, right?」

「Mhm. …As expected of Aun.」

Kinu narrowed her eyes slightly. Zen said nothing—he only watched me.

「In the worst case, there is a possibility the sword will not return.」

Even at Magoroku’s follow-up, I didn’t look away.

「Even then, if I don’t face this now, it means nothing. …And I trust the skill of Kunimitsu the Second—the man who actually made this blade.」

After a brief silence, Magoroku let out a small breath.

「…Understood. Then let us depart at once.」

For a moment, it felt like a gentle light had settled in Magoroku’s eyes.

The words ‘I trust his skill’ carried real weight to a smith.

 

◇　　◇　　◇　　◇

 

Preparations were finished in no time.

I bundled our things, then took Shiranuemaru in hand one last time. The feel through the scabbard was no different than ever.

And yet—from Shiranuemaru, I felt something strange.

Like it was holding its breath… waiting for something.

That odd sensation lingered deep in my chest.

And then, just as we passed beneath the dojo gate and were about to head into town—

「Aun-niichan!!」

A voice came flying at me from behind.

When I turned, Souji was sprinting up, out of breath.

A wooden sword in his right hand. His sleeves in disarray. Sweat beading on his brow.

—Mid-practice, huh.

「…Hey.」

I found myself stopping.

「It’s practice time, isn’t it?」

「I-it is! But…」

Souji swallowed his excuse, then gripped his bokken again.

「Before you go, I really had to say this!」

Eyes without hesitation.

Good eyes—eyes packed with resolve.

「I’m going to learn the sword here… at Suigetsu Dojo, with everything I’ve got!」

His tone shifted—from the childish way he usually spoke into polite speech.

That was probably his way of showing what this meant to him.

「…I see.」

I took a breath, then continued.

「Then from now on, put sword practice above everything else.」

「…Yes.」

「Arrive earlier than anyone, and leave later than anyone. Even when you think you’ve hit your limit, keep swinging. In the end, the one who’s still standing is the guy who swung even one more time.」

Souji’s eyes went wide, and he nodded hard.

「Yes!」

「Don’t ever pull something like sneaking out of practice again. If you’ve chosen the path of the sword, don’t let your heart wander halfway.」

「Yes!」

Souji kept his chin raised.

I averted my gaze, left a beat of space, and then added—

「…But.」

It was a little embarrassing, but this was the one thing I wanted to tell him.

「Thanks.」

At that, Souji blinked, confused.

「I’m glad I got to meet you, Souji.」

I tacked it on gruffly, and after a brief silence, Souji’s face lit up.

「…No, thank you very much!!」

He bowed deep—again and again.

「I’ll get strong enough that we can meet again!」

「Yeah.」

I answered shortly, then turned my back.

In that  ‘meet again’, I could hear what he really meant: ‘Strong enough to compete in the Shurasaki Festival’. For people who lived in Bukyo, that was a weighty line—one you couldn’t say without being ready to stake your life on it.

…So the last thing I should give Souji wasn’t a parting word.

「Next time—as a swordsman.」

「Yes!!」

Over my shoulder, I saw a smile fit for his age.

But it wasn’t the same face as when we’d first met. Not even close.

Feeling a look on me, I glanced at Kinu beside me. She was smiling softly as she watched.

「That boy, he’ll become strong.」

「Yeah. If we’re lucky, he’ll get strong enough to stand alongside us someday.」

After we’d walked a little farther, the sound of bokken striking each other rang out again from behind us.

—A straight, honest sound, full of heat.