Chapter 87 The Whirling Blade of Wind
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Wait—this is a grilled rice ball with tsukune inside, isn’t it!? The surface has been brushed with a soy glaze and grilled until slightly crisp, yet underneath it’s so soft it almost melts like mochi. The mildly spicy kinpira mixed with that sweet-salty soy sauce gives it a deep balance—the crunch of burdock and carrot blends beautifully with the freshness of lettuce. And the star of the dish, the tsukune… actually, this isn’t the usual Hizuru-style tsukune at all, is it? It’s practically a hamburger patty! It’s packed with juice, and the flavor of the meat bursts across the tongue. The glaze and kinpira bring out that richness perfectly—it’s absolutely delicious!!”
”…Hinagiku, what exactly is that lecture supposed to be?”
”My mother-in-law, she’s been quiet about it lately, but yes—this is Hinagiku-san in her natural state.”
”…So for the matchmaking meeting, a restaurant is out of the question. We’ll have to make it a food-free event.”
After our morning training, breakfast began—and for the first time in a while, Hinagiku-san’s food-review frenzy returned. She’d been restraining herself ever since her mother-in-law scolded her into silence, but today her spirits seemed high. Probably because the “idiot” was coming to learn katana technique. Judging her mental state by her food reports might sound weird, but it’s oddly reliable.
Hinagiku-san wore a worn T-shirt under a tracksuit jacket. Somehow, she looked like an exhausted office worker trying to save money by wearing her old school uniform at home. Ethelena and Yohira seemed to feel the same vibe; both avoided looking directly at her. Meanwhile, Ichika didn’t care at all—she just kept eating her rice burger in silence.
”Tatara-san, the one coming today—is he your childhood friend?”
”Yeah. We used to play together, and fight too. He’s like a brother to me.”
”The one who said he wanted to give you a katana, correct? I’m curious what kind of person he is.”
”I think you’ll like him, Mother-in-law. He’s straightforward, dependable, the kind of cheerful guy who looks after everyone. He’ll probably get along well with Hinagiku-san too.”
”Oh my, I’m looking forward to meeting him then. Perhaps I could even give him some basic instruction myself—nothing too advanced, of course.”
Mother-in-law’s eyes lit up with interest. Watching her, Yohira’s face stiffened with quiet dread. Don’t tell me… Yohira’s katana technique was originally taught by her? That would explain the fear.
”Tarabō, mind yer manners ’round my friends now.”
”Eh? You mean… you, Master?”
”Disciples shouldn’t get curious ’bout their teacher’s company.”
Yeah, I’d prefer you didn’t. And Ethelena, whispering “Tatara’s first time was with me” is not helping—definitely not in that sense.
After that cheerful breakfast, everyone split up for their own goals. I was supposed to work with my Master on blacksmithing, but before that, we’d watch the idiot’s katana training. I needed to see his movements anyway, to design the right hilt for his sword. So, I’d watch closely.
An hour after breakfast, the doorbell rang. When I went to the entrance, there he was—as expected, dressed casually.
”Morning!”
”Yo! I’ll be in your care from today, Tatara!!”
”Hey, I’m not the one training you—that’s Hinagiku-san.”
Grinning at his usual energy, I led him to the garden. There stood Hinagiku-san in her tracksuit, wooden katana in hand—and thankfully, not in her dorky T-shirt anymore. Standing straight with focused composure, she actually looked quite dignified. Let’s just hope she doesn’t get lazy and flop over later.
Beside me, the idiot froze, eyes wide in awe—or maybe admiration. Wait, does he actually like her type? The serious, disciplined kind? If that’s the case, maybe I should help keep the illusion going a little longer.
”You’ve come well. I’m Hinagiku, and starting today, I’ll be your instructor. Pleased to meet you.”
”Y-yes! Please take care of me!!”
He bowed deeply, stiff with nervous energy. Honestly, I wanted Hinagiku-san to stay exactly like this. The idiot, who’s always been too busy supporting his younger siblings to care about romance, seemed genuinely interested in her—and that alone made me want to root for him.
”Oh—almost forgot. Hey!”
He stopped mid-step, startled as I called out.
”Wha—what is it, Tatara!?”
”I forgot to give you this. Make sure you train properly, man.”
I tossed him something from my inventory. I’d wanted to craft it from red oak, but none was available in Whirlwind. So instead, I’d made this wooden katana from orc material. Standard length—three shaku and eight sun—with a steel core inside to match the real weapon’s weight. Swinging this full force at someone could probably break bones, but even so, hitting Hinagiku-san would be nearly impossible for him.
He caught the sword, puzzled, until he noticed that Hinagiku-san held one identical to it. Only then did realization dawn. Of course—you can’t train properly unless both teacher and student use the same weapon. He must have been too nervous earlier to think of that.
”From today, I’ll be teaching you katana technique. I am Hinagiku, royal guard of the Hizuru Empire. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”
”Y-yes, ma’am!”
He answered loudly, then tilted his head in confusion.
”Wait—did you say… royal guard? Of the Empire?”
Yeah, can’t blame him for being shocked. An imperial guard from Hizuru showing up here would confuse anyone. Not that it’s entirely unrelated to me.
”Now then, let’s begin with your stance. This sword differs slightly from the ones you’re used to, so mind your grip.”
”Ah—y-yes!”
And thus, the training began. The idiot followed Hinagiku-san’s words without complaint, his expression serious and focused. Every movement, every word—he absorbed it all with sharp intent. Though he stumbled a few times, his progress was astonishing. At first, he merely copied her motions, but gradually he began shaping them into his own.
Noticing his pace, Hinagiku-san’s teaching grew faster. Sometimes she left him behind, but he would stop to ask about the parts he didn’t understand, catching up with earnest effort. Watching them, Mother-in-law sighed softly, a hint of amusement on her face.
”She’s doing well… though it seems her student is helping her along.”
She wasn’t wrong. Only someone with the idiot’s rare blend of talent and dedication could keep up at that speed. If I’d been thrown into that same crash course on day one, I’d have been completely lost.
Mother-in-law looked thoughtful, likely seeing inefficiencies only a seasoned teacher could spot. She used to train nobles in etiquette, after all—her eye for structure and pacing was sharp. I taught two apprentices myself, but I wouldn’t dare to critique Hinagiku-san’s teaching in a field outside my own.
”Still,” Mother-in-law added, watching the pair with quiet approval, “Tatara-san’s friend truly has talent. Even though this swordsmanship is from a different lineage, he’s already grasping the flow of katana strikes.”
”Well, he’s the most gifted swordsman I know,” I replied simply. “That much is only natural.”
I met Mother-in-law’s praise with a simple nod. “Of course,” I said. “He’s going to be the best Explorer in Whirlwind someday. This much is only natural for him.”
”Besides,” she added with a knowing smile, “he must have experience wielding something similar.”
”Right. The sword I forged for him—a single-edged straight blade—isn’t far off in technique. Still, being able to adapt it so easily to a katana form… that’s pure talent. He wouldn’t be himself otherwise.”
For some reason, Mother-in-law gave me a gentle look, like she was watching something endearing. But it’s nothing strange, really. He’s my childhood friend, my rival—of course I’d be proud.
Hinagiku-san was now teaching him the basics of katana technique—the Five Forms: seigan, jōdan, gedan, waki, and hassō. One by one, she demonstrated each stance, adjusting his posture with careful precision. As she explained their purposes, he listened, thought, and molded them into his own movements. Even just learning those Five Forms was probably worth its weight in gold to him. His swordsmanship had always been self-taught, his stance more instinct than form. Now that he was learning structured theory—while keeping his old instincts alive—he’d surely grow even stronger.
”Tarabō, you’ve found yourself a fine friend,” my Master said warmly.
”Yeah,” I replied with quiet pride. “My best one.”
”He’ll make a fine swordsman. I’d like to forge one blade for him myself.”
”Even if it’s you, Master, I won’t give that up. I’m the one who’ll forge his sword.”
”Ha! Now that’s the fire I like!”
My Master burst into hearty laughter, and I couldn’t help but grin. Somehow, her joy ignited my own.
”Tarabō!” she barked suddenly, eyes blazing. “Let’s get to the forge! My blood’s burning!”
”Yes, Master! Teach me again today!”
That wild gleam in her eyes caught fire in me too. Maybe it’s a blacksmith’s instinct—when you meet a worthy swordsman, you just can’t help but want to forge for them. And since her passion always drags me along, maybe we really are two of a kind.
”Oh, Mother-in-law,” I asked as we turned to leave, “will you be joining us?”
”I’d like to, honestly,” she said, glancing toward the garden. “But I’ll stay here. Someone has to supervise in case Hinagiku makes… an accident.”
”…Do you really think she will?”
”She’s Hinagiku,” she replied with a sigh. “If she accidentally exposed her lower half mid-training, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”
I wanted to deny that—but couldn’t quite manage to.
So my Master and I headed into the forge. Today I’d be her hammering partner. I’d planned to imitate the rhythm she’d shown me yesterday, though our builds were different—my arms shorter, my strength lighter. A perfect imitation was impossible. So I’d compensate with mana control and strike timing. Whether it would work, I didn’t know. It might even ruin the process. But if I wanted to truly learn from her, I had to make it my own, even if it earned me a beating.
And so, we began her forging method—this time, a katana of magic metal, inspired by yesterday’s work, “Peony.”
Our home was the only place in Whirlwind that could even refine magic metal through water tempering. I was eager to see how much of her traditional katana craftsmanship would still apply. My style was… unconventional, almost heretical. Unlike her universal weapons, mine were made for a single person—never meant for general use. Perhaps that’s why they sometimes awakened as conceptual weapons, born with their own will. A blade made only for one soul might very well take on a life of its own.
There have been weapons with consciousness before. The only one I’d seen myself was “Kérav,” the sword Calmys-san left at the Head Temple. In one of our old company’s series, the main character even joked around with a demon lord turned sword—and later, in the DLC of “Beyond the Deep Darkness,” that same demon lord returned in their original form, complete with a child. It shocked everyone.
…Yeah, and when the text log revealed that the protagonist had kids with nearly eighty percent of the cast, I felt kind of betrayed. Seriously, fighting the final boss born from your heroine’s child should’ve left some trauma, right?
Anyway, in that company’s works, life-bearing weapons weren’t uncommon. The only difference was—they were never human-made. Which means… I really did something big this time, didn’t I?
After all, I’d already succeeded once—as a child. The “Archangel” sword was literally half of Archangel herself, a living blade. Each enhancement strengthened both her and the weapon. I’d felt something precious slip away inside me back then, and maybe that loss was part of the process. If that’s true, then I might already possess the key to forging life-bound weapons. It might’ve even been Archangel’s doing that I wasn’t erased from this world back then. If she knew about my near-banishment, that connection would make sense.
My thoughts drifted, but my hands stayed steady. I started hammering. My mind emptied—no thoughts, no hesitation—only motion and rhythm. My body moved on instinct, adjusting each strike to the perfect force. I kept the mana rotating in reverse phase, stabilizing the metal’s resonance. My goal was simple: to help the Master’s ideal blade take form. When distortions appeared in the steel, I altered the mana’s quality to match, my control improving naturally. My proficiency must have risen; maybe my “Magic Attack Increase” or “Mana Boost” skills leveled up. I hadn’t checked lately. I’d do that after we finished.
Before long, the blade took shape. My Master began sharpening it—four-sided construction, though this time she’d used orichalcum for the edge steel.
The result was magnificent—but not what we aimed for.
”…It didn’t become a conceptual weapon,” I said quietly.
”Aye,” my Master replied, scratching her chin. “Didn’t think it would. But this blade’s a beauty all the same.”
She smiled wryly, but the truth was clear: this sword was better than her last conceptual katana. As a weapon, its performance was on another level entirely.
”Well, that’s the craft growing stronger,” she said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Tarabō.”
Her grin was rough and proud, and I couldn’t help but feel the same warmth. I’d actually been useful to her—that alone was enough to make me happy.
”Oh, right, Master—sorry to ask, but could you teach me about the katana fittings? I haven’t finished that part for his sword yet.”
”Ah, right. I forgot.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead, exhaling in amusement. I laughed softly—both of us had been so obsessed with forging that we’d completely ignored the details. Truly, two of a kind.
After that, she taught me everything: the scabbard, the handle, the wrapping style. The only issue was the conceptual weapon’s sheath—it couldn’t be made like a normal one. She was still experimenting with that. Honestly, considering how insanely sharp conceptual weapons were, they’d probably slice through any normal sheath—even one reinforced with spell-engraved magic metal.
Then, I asked to see how short swords and concealed blades were made. I wanted to craft a guardian’s katana, so I begged to learn. She looked skeptical but agreed. Working alone this time, I followed her demonstration—simple construction, with an outer iron wrapped around a core. Because of the short length, complex methods like fourfold compression or triple-layered forging weren’t viable; the blade would end up too long and heavy to fit in a sleeve. And, as she pointed out, if it shifted in your coat and fell out mid-battle, that would be humiliating.
Still, the way she quickly forged a short katana from a steel ingot left me awed. The thirty-centimeter blade looked fragile compared to the full-sized, fourfold-forged ones. Then an idea struck me—if weight was the problem, why not make it from light mithril instead?
The exploration team had brought back an incredible amount of mithril—enough to craft eight full sets of Arcane Armor and still have plenty left. It might not suit a conceptual weapon, but for a guardian’s katana, it was more than ideal. I wanted to try forging one immediately, but I knew if I rushed in again, someone would stop me. So, I decided to cool my head, review today’s work, and check on the idiot’s training first.
When I mentioned it, my Master gave a look of visible relief. …What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?
Back in the garden, the idiot was sparring with Hinagiku-san, striking at her with his wooden katana. His movements still carried the weight and heaviness of western swordsmanship—more hacking than cutting—but I could already see flashes of true katana form. The way he tightened his grip at the moment of impact, the slight pull with his left hand—it was all there. He’d not only understood but was already embodying the technique. His talent really was terrifying.
As I watched, Mother-in-law spoke up beside me.
”Tatara-san, you truly have a wonderful friend.”
”He’s got what it takes to become the greatest Explorer in Whirlwind someday,” I replied lightly. “Just don’t try to recruit him to Hizuru, alright?”
”Oh my, could Hinagiku not tempt him over?”
”If you plan on luring him,” I said dryly, “you’d have to take his entire family along. Otherwise, no deal.”
She hummed thoughtfully, clearly calculating something. Maybe she was weighing the cost of such an offer against the exchange rates between nations. Personally, I wanted him to stay here—to teach katana technique, maybe even help raise a new generation of swordsmen in Whirlwind. But if he chose to move to Hizuru, I’d let him go proudly. That decision had to be his.
”Still,” she mused, “since Yohira and Ichika are marrying into our side, we’d like a groom to come the other way for balance.”
”Ah… I’m really sorry about that,” I said, wincing.
As one of the grooms in question, that comment stung a little. It was only fair, though. Talent exchange worked both ways. Maybe I should make up for it somehow—perhaps a gift. I could forge guardian katanas for Mother-in-law, the City Mayor, and my two disciples, with one extra as a spare. I’d also craft a fine broad katana as a ceremonial blade for the Acting Head of the Family. Yes—that would balance things out.
As we talked, I kept my eyes on the idiot’s training. The speed of his progress was absurd. Hinagiku-san, now holding a sheet of paper, set a new challenge: cut it with air pressure alone—no contact, just the wind of the swing. Impossible, right? Yet on his first attempt, his strike sliced two centimeters deep before the paper fluttered to the ground. I stared, half in disbelief. Just what kind of monster talent was this? And if even he admired Ethelena’s swordsmanship, how extraordinary must she be?
”…Hinagiku,” Mother-in-law finally said, her tone mildly scolding, “it’s impressive that you’re adjusting to his pace, but that task is premature.”
”What? But he already cut it easily!”
”That’s not the point. Skill without the right mindset is fragile. He’s focused, yes—but he hasn’t truly faced the katana itself. After physical drills, he should sit in meditation, reflect, and confront his blade.”
Yeah, this was definitely a world I didn’t understand.
She continued calmly, “More importantly, he needs to visualize his ideal movement clearly and let his body follow it. You do something similar, don’t you, Tatara-san, when you forge?”
”Ah… now that makes sense.”
So that was it—maintaining a clear image, and moving your body to match it precisely. Focus and synchronization. It was fundamental to martial arts… though as someone without much combat sense, I still couldn’t quite feel it the same way.
”Your friend looks exhausted,” Mother-in-law noted. “He’s been repeating unfamiliar movements for hours. I’ll step in for a moment.”
With that, she stood and walked toward Hinagiku and the idiot. Honestly, if anyone could manage that pair, it was her. I checked the clock—it was already past noon.
Guess I’d make lunch. Something simple, easy to eat—rice balls and miso soup. Ichika had made some nori paste and soy-braised eggs earlier this morning, so I could use those as fillings. If I added something rich, like bacon and mayo, it’d be perfect fuel for someone training all morning. Time to get started.
In the kitchen, I opened the rice pot and was greeted by the warm scent of freshly cooked rice. Ichika must’ve set it to finish just in time. She really was thoughtful. The aroma carried a faint mix of kelp and pickled plum, and there was just enough salt that it could be eaten plain. I smiled. I’d have to pat her head later.
I fluffed the rice to release steam, then cooled my hands in water and scooped a portion into my palms. I placed the filling in the center and shaped the rice loosely, leaving air inside so it stayed soft. Without roasted seaweed, they looked like plain salted rice balls, but that was fine.
Working steadily, I made about thirty in total—six per person. Mother-in-law wouldn’t eat that much anyway, so it should be plenty. Too much food would just slow them down for the afternoon training, so this was the right amount.
For the soup, I used dried sardines and bonito flakes for broth, with onions and potatoes in a white miso base. The salt would help them recover from sweating, but too much wouldn’t be healthy either.
I set everything on a large tray and carried it to the veranda. The idiot was sitting there, panting and gulping water. His breath came rough, sweat pouring as his body tried to cool down.
”Good work,” I called out. “How’s the katana coming along?”
”Oh, Tatara. I’m dead tired—but learning something new like this? It’s amazing.”
He took another long drink from his water flask. I frowned. Too much water would just bloat his stomach and kill his appetite. But since nobody here really knew much about modern health logic, I couldn’t exactly explain it. So, a different approach then.
”Careful not to overdo it,” I said. “If your stomach fills with water, you won’t be able to eat. Here—lunch.”
”Oh! Thanks… but wait, what’s this?”
”Quick meal from Hizuru—rice balls and traditional miso soup. Eat up.”
He looked puzzled until I grabbed one and bit into it. The salt balance was perfect, especially after sweating. Seeing me, he swallowed hard and followed suit, taking one for himself. The moment he bit down, his eyes widened, and then he devoured it in seconds.
”This is great!”
”I’m glad to hear it. Drink some miso soup too—otherwise your throat’ll dry out.”
”Got it!”
He took a sip, then alternated between soup and rice, his grin spreading wide. He’d figured out the harmony between the two instantly. It really was a simple yet perfect combination.
”This texture is incredible!” he exclaimed. “Soft and airy, and the rice melts on the tongue without any effort! The filling’s balanced too—not too much, not too little—just enough for both flavors to shine!”
”Well, it’d be even better with seaweed,” I said casually. “I’d usually roast some and wrap it around the outside.”
”Roast… seaweed?”
”Wait—you don’t have roasted seaweed here?”
”Tatara-san,” Mother-in-law said, eyes narrowing slightly, “might I ask where you learned that?”
Ah. Landmine.
”Um… do you at least have nori sheets?”
”They exist,” she admitted. “Rare and expensive, but yes.”
”Then you can lightly roast the surface. It boosts the aroma and keeps it longer.”
”…In this city, where seaweed is scarce, how do you even know that?”
Crap. I couldn’t exactly say “previous life.” So… fine. Time to throw Archangel under the bus again.
”Well, I know someone—an acquaintance who’s kind of, uh… from the Angel race, I guess.”
”‘Kind of from the Angel race?’” she repeated, intrigued.
”I’m actually not sure if she’s really from the Angel race,” I said, scratching my cheek. “That person—well, that being—once gave me some nori sheets. I didn’t know if I could eat them as-is, so I held one over the fire. It started to burn almost immediately, so I stopped at a light roast instead. Turns out it tasted amazing. I, uh, ended up eating the whole thing before I could share it with Ethelena. Please don’t tell her that.”
Of course, Archangel had never brought me any nori. The whole thing was a lie—a cover story built from pure fiction. But telling the truth about past life memories? No one would believe that. And I’d rather tell a small lie than deal with the confusion and suspicion that always followed the truth.
”Grilled seaweed wrapped around rice balls…” Mother-in-law murmured thoughtfully.
”Well, you could also use shiso or perilla leaves, but neither are available here,” I said.
”That sounds rather like a kashiwa-mochi.”
”I’m more of a sakura-mochi person myself.”
And just like that, the topic drifted toward sweets instead of seaweed. Good—distraction successful. Apparently, Mother-in-law was skilled at making sweet bean paste from azuki beans and had already taught Yohira the recipe. Maybe someday, they could make ohagi or other traditional sweets at home. It could even be a fun family project.
”Tarabō, your rice balls were delicious,” my Master said suddenly.
”Oh, you liked them?”
”Eh, Tarabō?” the idiot blinked, confused.
Right, I hadn’t introduced them yet.
”Oh, sorry—I forgot to introduce you. This is Amatsu-san, my Master. She came all the way from Hizuru to teach me. Her speech might sound old-fashioned, but she’s a good woman.”
”Name’s Amatsu,” the Master said with a grin. “Pleasure meetin’ ya.”
”Uh—what!?”
”She said, ‘I’m Amatsu. Nice to meet you,’” I translated.
”Oh! Right! Nice to meet you, ma’am!!”
The idiot smiled brightly once she understood, and my Master chuckled, clearly pleased. People like that—earnest and straightforward—were always easy to like.
After that, we finished our cheerful meal, and I cleaned up the dishes before heading back to the forge. Something had sparked in my mind—an idea I needed to test.
I took out a kilogram of mithril from my inventory and placed it into the furnace. The metal glowed red-hot as I began the familiar process of water-tempering. Separating core iron from outer iron, I started shaping the blade with the usual fourfold forging technique.
Then I tried something new—splitting it. If short or concealed katanas were too inefficient to forge individually, why not craft several at once and divide them later? One by one, I hammered out each blade, five in total. The split caused slight warping in the grain, but it was manageable. Soon, I had five completed short katanas. Their white sheen reflected the pure brilliance of mithril, and I couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction.
”Tarabō… you really went and did it again,” came my Master’s voice from behind.
I turned to see her clutching her head in disbelief.
”I taught ya to forge blades, aye—but five divine katanas at once? That ain’t what I meant!”
She practically shouted, half in awe, half in frustration. Apparently, every single one of the short katanas I’d made had turned into conceptual weapons. When I checked with Concept Appraisal, the same phrase appeared on all five—*’Cursecutter.’*
”…Uh, Master, what exactly does ‘Cursecutter’ mean?”
”It’s just what it sounds like—wards off misfortune,” she explained, her tone low. “But considerin’ who forged it, I’d wager it does more than that.”
So it wards off misfortune… That could mean it blocks all kinds of harmful interference. In that case, I’d better have Mother-in-law help me test it. My Master’s involvement would probably not be great for mental health.
”Anyway,” I said, “you’re wondering why I made these, right? The truth is… I have two apprentices. They’re young, but they call me their teacher.”
”Tarabō’s got disciples now!? Ha! Look at ya growin’ up!”
”Why do you sound so happy about that, Master…”
She laughed heartily, and I couldn’t help but laugh too. But the next part wasn’t funny at all.
”Those two,” I said quietly, “were hit with a charm spell. By some worthless woman who found it amusing to toy with them.”
The anger in my voice darkened the air. My Master fell silent, her expression sobering.
”I loved teaching them,” I continued. “Watching them improve day by day. I was even excited about what lesson to give next. Then one day, they came into my workshop—pale, exhausted. And behind them was that woman. I couldn’t even let her in by rule, so I went to stop her… and saw it. Both of them, under Charm.”
”…I see.”
”I wanted to kill her right then. I really did. But they begged me not to. They didn’t want me to vanish over something like that. So I held back. Barely. But I swore to myself—I’ll never let them suffer like that again. That’s why I’m forging these. A protection strong enough to cut through any curse, any evil. One will go to the City Mayor, two to Mother-in-law for research—but the last two… those are for my apprentices. The ones who trusted me. Do you think I’m foolish, Master?”
I spoke with my emotions laid bare. My Master listened quietly, then nodded once.
”Foolish? Not at all. I’d do the same.”
Her words eased something deep inside me. If she’d rejected my resolve, I wouldn’t have known what to do.
”Those ‘Cursecutter’ blades,” she added, “will ward off any curse, sickness, or malice—so long as ya made ’em with that intent.”
”…That powerful, huh?”
”They’re your work, Tarabō. Of course they are.”
I sighed softly. When she put it like that, it was almost scary.
”Tarabō,” she said more gently now, “ya still can’t forgive yourself, can ya?”
”Forgive… myself?”
And I finally understood. What I couldn’t forgive wasn’t the one who harmed them—it was me, for failing to protect them. Pathetic, really.
”…Guess I’m a fool. Didn’t even realize what was really eating at me.”
”That’s human,” she said quietly. “Even gods don’t fully understand themselves.”
”Yeah… maybe you’re right. Wait—hold on.”
Something about her words sounded different, clearer somehow.
”What is it?” she asked.
”Uh, sorry, one sec.”
I opened my status window in a rush—and nearly jumped. My skills had all hit max rank: *Mana Boost II, Magic Attack Increase II, Physical Attack Boost II,* and *Archaeology III.* I hurried to rank them up.
”Something change?” she asked, curious.
”Yeah, actually. I can understand your speech more easily now. My skills must’ve improved.”
”Hah. Guess that explains it—my tongue’s a bit old for modern ears.”
She smiled wryly, and I laughed. The tension finally lifted from my chest.
”Well then,” I said, straightening. “I’m going to talk to Mother-in-law—see what she can tell me about this ‘Cursecutter’ enchantment.”
”Go on then,” she said with a grin. “Find out what it can really do.”
With that, I left the forge and headed toward the garden. The only question now was whether Mother-in-law—someone of the Torakuma family, and one of Hizuru’s most influential women—had resistance to charm effects herself.
Notes:
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
• Amatsu – A master blacksmith and a female. Demonstrate forging skill to Tatara. The duel arises from Tatara’s request for guidance. Senior craftsman guiding Tatara. No kin known. Golden right eye and calm mastery define her.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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