CHAPTER 308: FORGING THE SWORD 2

 

~Second-Generation Kunimitsu’s POV~

I set Shiranuemaru, glowing red-hot, upon the anvil and brought my hammer down on its center.

The first strike rang out far sharper than I had imagined. It sounded like the first cry of a newborn granted new life.

—I’m not letting you die. I’ll bring you back into this world as ‘Shiranuemaru’ once more.

I hammered it a dozen and some times, then returned it to the forge.

Leave what was strong. Shave away what was excess.

Stronger.

Stronger still.

As I repeated that over and over, the foundational shape slowly took form, becoming the core of the new blade.

The soul of the new sword.

Next, I placed Hihiirokane atop the Shiranuemaru serving as the base, slid it into the forge, and covered it with charcoal.

The moment I worked the bellows and fed air into the fire, the color of the flames began to change.

White, gold, and crimson crossed within the blaze. The fantastical colors were so beautiful I found myself staring, and for an instant it felt as though time itself had stopped.

The heat pricking my skin snapped me back to myself.

The sheer intensity of it felt enough to crush the air itself; every breath seared my lungs. Mixed into it, little by little, was the faintest sweetness.

A bewitching fragrance that made me want to breathe deeper began to fill the forge, but I could not let my concentration break.

This ore seduced the smith through all five senses.

As if to say only those who could overcome that temptation were the real thing.

Before long, the melted Hihiirokane and the core began to merge into one.

「Aye. Now’s the time.」

—CLANG!!

The first blow landed.

The feel of it coming back through the hammer was nothing like ordinary steel.

In the vibration that rang through my bones, I could almost hear it urging me on. Hit harder. Give me more. Is that all you’ve got?

「Fine by me.」

Breath slipped through my teeth.

I struck.

I struck.

I struck.

Wiping away the sweat dripping down, I laid straw against the heated blade, poured clay water over it, and fed it back into the forge.

With each repetition of that process, Hihiirokane and Shiranuemaru fused further together in the white-hot heat.

The fierce, crackling sparks that burst and danced looked like great fireworks blooming across a night sky.

And the metal glowing orange within that light looked like a monster evolving again and again inside the flames.

「Naming you ‘Shiranuemaru’ sure was a damn good call, if I do say so myself.」

I set it upon the anvil, hammered it flat, and folded the drawn-out metal over on itself again and again.

Layer upon layer, the blade gained strength, growing harder and more supple all at once.

—Clang. Clang.

With my vision dyed red by flame and molten metal, the sound of the hammer falling, the shock of the impact, and the heat of the flying sparks all came back into my own body without fail.

It was harsher than any sound I had ever heard.

More vivid than any sight I had ever seen.

I no longer knew how much time had passed… but by then, I truly no longer cared.

All I wanted was to carry every last step of this process through in this state of absolute concentration.

…Not yet.

Just a little more. A few more steps. I can still forge this thing further.

Still too shallow.

Still not there.

This steel has more in it than this.

There’s something deeper beyond it.

More.

More, more—

「…Here.」

At the very brink of the material’s limit—the absolute limit of forging—I saw the line.

And I brought down the final strike.

「So this is the shape you wanted, huh…? You’ve gotten a whole lot bigger.」

It had gone past the size of a tachi and into the category of an ōdachi. It would be far harder to handle than before, but if the Shiranuemaru I had used as its core desired this form, then this had to be the right answer for Aun.

I heated it in the forge once more, then plunged it into the well water I had drawn.

With a sharp hiss, steam exploded up as the steel cooled, and white swallowed my vision.

A few seconds later, a silence so deep it made my ears ring settled over the forge, and I slowly raised the blade from the water.

Next, I coated the blade in tempering clay, hardened it again, and let it cool to bring out its hamon.

That would preserve both the blade’s hardness and its toughness as a whole, letting it absorb shock—but…

「This thing really is… from top to bottom…」

When I drew it from the water, a beautiful gunome hamon had appeared.

A wavering pattern like a quiet shoreline.

And yet within it, a design that truly seemed alive—like some uncanny being breathing beneath the steel.

It was beautiful enough to steal the breath right out of me.

What I held in my hands was no longer mere steel.

「…All that’s left now is the final step. Polishing.」

Relief and reluctance ran through me at the same time, but I could not let my focus break here either.

I carried it to the whetstone and gently set the edge against it.

—Shari.

The first note spun out by metal and stone.

Compared to the festival of fire from moments ago, it was a quiet, peaceful sound—as if all of that had been a dream.

「A blade like this doesn’t need extra force when you polish it.」

All I had to do was trust my senses and guide it carefully, one pass at a time.

Each time my fingers picked up the steel’s voice, a sweet thrill ran through my fingertips.

The more I polished, the clearer its outline became.

The more I pressed, the more vividly the hamon rose to the surface.

In these few hours, it had shown me face after face.

One moment it bared emotions fierce enough to make it almost unmanageable; the next, it let me glimpse a quiet, alluring side.

And beneath it all, I could sense even a bottomless kind of generosity.

…Damn. You really are the finest blade there is.

Then I let out a short breath.

I might even have forgotten to breathe for a while there.

「…It’s finished.」

Once I calmed down, the thought came to me all over again.

I had created…

something outrageous.

I’ve wanted to cut with a blade before… but this is the first time I’ve ever wanted to be cut by one.

The blade gleamed in the forge’s dying embers, and merely by existing there in silence, it ruled over the very air around it.

Its sheen was neither wholly silver nor wholly red, shifting ever so slightly depending on the angle, pulsing as if it breathed.

And the gunome floating in its hamon no longer looked like simple waves—it looked like the beating of something alive.

「…This is what you wanted, right?」

The words slipped out softly.

Of course there should have been no answer.

And yet—

I was certain I felt one.

The instant my hand touched the hilt, what reached my fingertips was neither cold nor warmth.

It was will.

「Aun…」

That cheeky young brat’s face rose in my mind.

Reckless. Unconventional. Freer than anybody alive.

This sword had chosen him without a doubt.

If that was so, then—

「—Then show me you can master it.」

With a small smile, I slid the blade into its scabbard.

Click.

That sound rang out with strange weight.

As if something had switched over—

Or else been sealed away.

It was an ambiguous sound, one that could be taken either way.

The heat, the scent, the ringing noise that lingered in the forge—

all of it slowly receded.

And yet one thing alone remained.

Only the ōdachi continued to exist there.

「Completed… no—this is where it begins.」

When I turned my eyes toward the window, I saw a single star outside, shining brighter than all the rest.

It burned with a presence so strong it seemed capable of drawing even the darkness of the heavens into itself.

「The name of this ōdachi is—‘Shiranuemaru Hoshimeguri’.」

On this star that turns, and turns—

what kind of story would Aun and Shiranuemaru go on to write?

Spending the rest of my life reading that tale from the closest seat a swordsmith could have…

might not be so bad after all.