Chapter 91 The Blacksmith Cannot Escape Fear
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”I completed the scabbard, which had a unique purpose. Next, I needed to attach a hilt to turn the blade into a true katana.
Without a tang to work with, I couldn’t use a standard hilt. I drilled two screw holes at the hilt’s end and five more, spaced three centimeters apart, twenty centimeters back. I placed rubber-like material on both sides, pressed Demonsteel ingots against them, and used my Crafting skill to shape the hilt. I crafted a curved clamp for the spine side and a shallow, inward-curving part to match. Since the scabbard’s concept only affected the blade, the hilt resembled a handguard fixed behind the blade. I extended the hilt from the blade’s end to balance the large blade during swings.
The final design oddly resembled the main weapon of a giant robot from a novel I read in another life—the hero’s ultimate model. The details differed, and I added personal touches, but the weapon shared the name of a real katana.
Next, I worked on the scabbard. I poured a fluid between the blade and scabbard—not dungeon slime. It was a mixture of slime monster mucus, not from this city’s dungeons, and finely crushed Mana Stone, used for Artificial Orichalcum. Once hardened, it would be three times stronger than polycarbonate, the hardest plastic from my past life. I positioned the blade, hardened the fluid with Crafting, and pulled. The scabbard’s concept prevented cutting, so both came free together.
With the blade pointing upward, the hardened fluid split under its weight, freed from the scabbard’s concept, revealing the blade. I returned the blade to the scabbard, split the plastic-like material, and checked inside. Relieved to see the blade intact, I smoothed the scabbard’s interior with a paper file. Usually, one tests for snags by drawing the blade, but the scabbard’s concept could bend the blade if it caught. So, I carved the interior with my Crafting skill, using a mental blueprint. After five minutes, I pulled the blade out, inserted the material, and slid it back in. It fit perfectly, sliding smoothly. I secured the material with Crafting, completing it.
Now, what to do with this katana? It’s too difficult to handle. In this city, only Calmys-san or the old man might manage it. However, neither knows katana techniques. The blade will cut if it lands, but it’s wasted without proper skill. Without an inscribed name, Appraisal reveals nothing. Only a sword master could likely use it.
A novice might injure themselves swinging it.
”Ah. The mounting is finished, then,” my mother-in-law said from behind me just as I finished fitting the katana’s gear.
She might know someone. I turned and asked, knowing it sounded terrible.
”Uh, Mother-in-law. I have a rather difficult and incredibly irresponsible request, but —”
”…Tatara-san, I’m not sure I want to hear this, but go ahead.” she replied with a dry tone.
”Do you know anyone skilled in katana techniques? Someone with maxed ‘Sword Aptitude’?”
She listened, stared at the katana, understood my purpose, and thought hard.
”…There is one person I have in mind,” she finally said, her voice strained as if squeezing the words out.
I felt guilty burdening someone, but keeping it was risky. Asking Calmys-san to offer it to the war god’s shrine was dangerous. Divine aura could make it problematic.
”I want to give this katana to that person,” I said.
”…I thought you might say so,” she replied with a long sigh.
She looked troubled. Pushing this felt wrong, but only someone she knew could resist its sharpness.
”Accepting it offers benefits beyond sharpness. Anything else?” she asked.
”It’s not just that the cut is sharp. This thing acts on the single concept of ‘cutting.’ It can perform actions similar to ‘yakugiri’ — cutting away curses,” I said.
”No way!” she blurted out, half in stunned disbelief.
She reacted quickly. Its power is sealed in the scabbard but could affect a large area if displayed. It won’t fortify like her wards, but it’ll cut any spells or curses aimed at the house.
It can’t judge like my earlier ‘yakugiri,’ but that’s not a major issue. If it develops a will like ‘yakugiri,’ it might judge, but that’s distant.
”How similar are they? How different?” she asked.
”It slashes out against harmful things indiscriminately. While inside the scabbard, its output is limited, I believe,” I said.
”That’s still exceptionally powerful,” she whispered.
She looked troubled, then answered.
”Give me one night. I cannot simply hand over such an item to someone without consulting them,” she said.
”That’s fair,” I replied.
I felt guilty. I’ve been reckless before, and it hit me.
”For now, please store that exceptionally dangerous item in Tatara-san’s vault. I will give you my answer by tomorrow night at the latest,” she instructed.
”Very well. Thank you,” I said.
”Then, shall I return to supervising Hinagiku and the others’ training?” she asked.
I stored the katana in my Inventory. The scabbard prevented slashing, making it safe.
In the living room, the idiot sat in zazen, wearing a dirty tracksuit. My daughter and twins poked him. He maintained composure despite distractions. They showed no mercy, tickling him relentlessly.
Hinagiku held the mind-injection rod, ready to strike his shoulder if they lost focus. She was too harsh for day two, striking without pity even when he reacted reflexively.
”…The Torakuma household’s training is brutal, isn’t it?” I said, trying to convey my shock to my neighbor.
My mother-in-law looked at me as if I had insulted her. Her expression clearly stated, “That’s outrageous to even suggest.”
”No one does that normally. It’s cruel — pure barbarity,” she snapped.
”Right,” I answered.
I repeated “that’s cruel” twice because it seemed important. I felt a sudden sense of relief. If that kind of training were normal, I would have crawled and begged that idiot for choosing the wrong training partner.
”My, I’ll go talk to Hinagiku. Tatara-san, please prepare lunch,” my mother-in-law said.
”Ah, is it that time already… I got too absorbed in my work,” I muttered and headed to the kitchen.
What do three-year-olds like? I had one idea.
I boiled water, minced onion, ground meat, added salt, pepper, onion, and egg. I shaped smaller patties for kids and larger ones for adults. I warmed the hotplate, added patties and water, and covered them. After fifteen minutes, I checked doneness, flipped, and covered them again.
I heated a pan, added oil and butter, cooked onion, then stirred in rice. Seasoned with salt and pepper, butter rice was done. No ketchup, so no chicken rice. I omitted garlic for the kids.
I boiled pasta and chose carbonara sauce. I prepared eggs, milk, Parmesan, oil, and sausage. I sliced sausage, beat eggs, and mixed. I heated oil, browned sausage, then stirred in the egg mixture. I added pasta and heated until thickened. I plated butter rice, mini hamburgers, carbonara, and corn soup. A child’s one-plate meal was done. No child-lunch culture here.
Did he give snacks? I hadn’t received any. Could I give my own?
For adults: hamburger, salad, rice, consommé soup. Less oil for kids and training.
Children carried plates with antigravity spells, making them easy to handle.
They placed plates on the small table. I added meals for the idiot and Hinagiku.
I set plates for me, my master, and mother-in-law at the usual table.
”Tatara-chan, let’s eat together!” my third daughter called out.
She invited me. Little room, but she helped with the scabbard, so I joined.
”All right, I’ll squeeze in — make some space,” I said.
”Yay!” the children cheered and made room. It was a tight fit, but I slid in.
”Too cramped!” they shouted.
”You knew it would be like this. Don’t complain,” I warned, half amused.
The idiot scolded them with annoyance and care, acting like a big brother.
”But Tatara-chan, you’re bigger than big brother!” they argued.
”True, I am larger than him,” I answered.
I was taller and heavier, but we had similar body fat. Swinging a heavy hammer daily built my muscles. Odd growth, but real muscle.
”Between my daily expeditions and my crafting work, why am I so different from you?” I asked.
”Maybe it’s nutrition. I grew up with only my parents and one child, while he’s from a family of seven,” one of them said.
”Yeah, that explains it,” I sighed.
The Julon family had two explorers and one child, so better nutrition. His family had many children, so food was spread thin. Yet he’s nearly 180 cm, likely from his father’s genes. I tried not to imagine the twins that big.
”Tatara-chan, do you have a fork-spoon?” one child asked.
”I can’t eat like this…” another whimpered.
”Oh right, I forgot,” I said.
I made child cutlery from mithril, shaping rounded tips for safety.
”Here. Sorry, we don’t have kid dishes,” I said.
”No, it’s fine!” they answered.
”Thanks, big brother Tatara!!” they shouted with genuine thanks.
They were well-taught. Would they advise me with kids if I brought a gift?
”Hey, Tatara. The cutlery material?”
”Mithril,” I said.
”…You don’t just use that for kids’ cutlery, do you?” the idiot groaned and buried his head in his hands.
”I had plenty. It’s more stocked than iron or steel here,” I shrugged.
He felt it was wrong—mithril is rare. Even wooden dishes are hassle—sterilization takes time. Mithril, or Hizuru, is stronger than silver. It conducts electricity perfectly, with near-zero resistance. Mana flows easily, so mages favor it. It kills bacteria. Surgeons use mithril blades for sharpness and cleanliness. It might kill beneficial bacteria, but no records of sickness from mithril dishes. It’s a convenient fate.
Mithril cutlery is for nobles or kings. Nobles demand fancy designs, raising prices. If the emperor asks for a royal dining set, it’d crush me.
”T-Tatara-chan, can we start eating?” one of the kids asked, eyes shining.
”Oh, sorry. All right, let’s eat,” I said.
”Let’s eat!” the little ones echoed, bright and cheerful.
They thanked me and ate. I watched, nervous about my cooking.
”It’s delicious!” they cried.
They liked it. Kids are honest—I expected criticism.
”So much meat!”
”The soup has flavor!”
”The pasta has sauce!”
I winced. His face twisted—proud and pained. He couldn’t stop them. His meals are rough, even with explorer pay.
”Well… yeah,” he muttered. “We reuse the kids’ clothes, and the rest of the money goes into fixing the house.”
”I could take on the repairs,” I said. “I’m not a specialist, but I can do it cheap.”
”How much?”
”I’ll do it on a no-interest loan, thirty million. With your land, a three-story house with rooms for every sibling. What do you think?”
”…I’ll think about it,” he grumbled.
If I built it, I’d add an underground pantry for vegetables and fruit, maybe racks for drying. The property tax would rise a little, but a bigger kitchen and proper storage could improve his sales — turning bad harvests into jam. The mayor would probably say thirty million is too cheap, but if I framed it as a test house for new techniques, I could excuse the cost. If he filed monthly reports, I could write it off as experimental cooperation and cover seventy percent of his tax burden. It’d make life easier for them.
Though, the idiot and his parents would hate feeling like I was doing charity.
”T-Tatara-chan, what are you talking about? It sounds hard,” one girl asked.
”It’s a little complicated,” I smiled. “Maybe I’ll talk about it next time with your dad too.”
”What kind of talk?”
”Hmm… about fixing your house cheap.”
”Then you’ll fix the leak from our roof, Tatara-chan!?” she shouted.
”…Yeah. I’ll do it soon,” I said softly.
That one simple plea from a little girl sealed it. Of course I’d fix their damn roof.
”Hey, Tatara,” the idiot called.
”I owe your little sister,” I said. “She helped me earlier with crafting. Fixing your house for free doesn’t even cover the debt. Hell, I’ll put it under welfare expenses. I can’t ignore that my contractor’s family is struggling.”
I was born with the Crafting skill. Since childhood, I’d fix things around our house and get praised. The idiot never had that kind of skill to rely on. Helping him isn’t a sin — it’s justice. What’s wrong with good people being rewarded?
”I feel like I rely on you too much,” he muttered.
”Then repay me by giving back to this city,” I said. “I’m going to be Chief Crafter. Helping this city helps me.”
”What kind of logic is that?” he asked, half exasperated.
I didn’t want any direct thanks. He’d helped me too many times already. He can save others now, pass the kindness onward. If one day someone calls him a hero, that’ll be thanks enough.
”Well, enough talk. Eat properly,” I said. “You’ll need strength — you’re going to get hammered again soon.”
”Tatara-dono, surely you don’t mean to go that hard on day two…” Hinagiku protested.
”Remind me, who knocked out the trainee on the first day because they got too fired up?” I asked, staring deadpan.
She went silent. Yeah, I didn’t forget how she made this idiot faint from a head hit.
”How’s your fatigue?” I asked him.
”Still there, but I’m fine. I’ve been stretching at home,” he said.
”Damn, that discipline… all right, wait a second.”
He looked fine. You can’t erase fatigue completely, but I had something to ease it.
”Here — lemon slices in honey. Good for tired bodies and brains,” I said.
”Oh, thanks!” he said, grabbing one.
He bit in, closed his eyes tight as the sour lemon cut through the sweetness.
”Ah, I want some too!” the kids cried.
”This is for your brother — to help him train better,” I told them. “Oh right, what about their snacks?”
”Oh, right! My bad,” the idiot said, digging in his Inventory. “My parents sent these as thanks for you.”
He handed me some misshapen fruits — not good enough to sell, but sweet and fragrant. His family’s fruit was always good. Ugly or not, once cut it’s the same. I’d slice them and serve with yogurt for the kids.
He gave me more than enough for snacks. I realized it was a gift and told him to thank his parents for me. He said they’d just brought what they couldn’t eat at home, but still — I couldn’t leave it unacknowledged. That fruit would cost a fortune in the market, maybe ten thousand. I could sun-dry them into dried fruit… or maybe I’d build a magical food dryer. I could test it at his place and let them sell dried fruit for income.
”…Tatara, you go quiet like that and it freaks me out,” he said.
”Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking — if I make a magical food dryer, people could make dried fruit at home.”
”And what would you do with it?”
”I’d test it at your house. You’d report if it’s good for making dried fruit.”
”Stop trying to upgrade my house, damn it.”
”It’s a prototype test. I’ll even pay you if you file reports.”
He groaned. “No. You can’t be reasoned with.”
This world didn’t even have food dryers yet — dried fruit was made only by sun. The mayor would probably yell at me again for patent chaos, but whatever. It’s a useful invention.
After the break, the idiot began sparring again with Hinagiku. They practiced nine cuts, repeating each stance until it sank into the body. I watched them, imagining armor suited for his katana technique. The kids had all fallen asleep from full bellies. I laid towels over them and sat beside them, watching the two train.
Little by little, the idiot’s habits started showing in each strike.
When he struck the target post, his swing came from high above, wrists twisting, the spine of the blade nearly brushing his back before the strike landed.
Diagonal cuts — normal and reverse — came down from above, aimed at the collarbones.
The side cuts swept from a low guard, carving arcs across the ribs.
Upward strikes from either side came from the hip, the spine of the blade close to his back, driven by the twist of his waist.
And the reverse-wind strike — that one rose from below, the point almost grazing the ground before the swing soared upward.
His movements bore the mark of a man who once wielded Western blades. He struck to crush, not to slice. Fine with a wooden katana, but with a true blade, that kind of force would tear its lifespan to shreds. Maybe I should let him swing a real katana once, to teach his body what kind of weapon it truly is.
”What troubles you, Tatara-san?” my mother-in-law asked, her voice calm behind me.
I sighed. “I’m no master of katana technique, and it’s not my place, but… maybe he needs to feel the weight of a real blade, to understand.”
”Hm. True enough,” she said. “He’s still striking with brute strength. Not fit for katana yet. But for now, that’s fine.”
Her words settled my heart. I stopped worrying. Those without the right to instruct should trust those who do. All I could do was believe in her experience and judgment.
I think I understand, now, why parents become meddling fools. When it’s your own child, you can’t see the method, only the fear. You want results — to believe they can do more. If I ever have a child with the gift of the sword, could I really watch Hinagiku train them and keep my mouth shut?
”…Tatara-san,” my mother-in-law said quietly. “When you have a child, you need not trust their teacher completely.”
Her words reached through the fog in my mind.
”As a parent, it’s natural to fear for your child’s future. If you trust their mentor blindly, you risk missing their cry for help. Doubt is not a sin — it’s protection. But you must also watch how your child grows. Judge if that mentor is truly fit. Humans never match perfectly. Even the most renowned teacher fails when hearts do not align. Watch both your child and their teacher. Train your eyes to choose the better path.”
Her slow, deliberate words — the creed of a parent — struck deep. They felt heavy, almost painful, but I knew they’d serve me well one day. I’d carry them until I could pass them on, when my own child becomes a parent in turn.
”It’s frightening, isn’t it? Watching something beyond your reach,” I said. “Did you go through much of that yourself, mother-in-law?”
”Oh, countless times,” she said with a faint laugh. “When my sons trained under their father, I wanted to jump in and stop him so many times.”
”That bad, huh?”
”He was once called the ‘Sword Demon,’ now the ‘Sword Saint.’ Calm as head of house, but under that skin, still the same madman who lives and dies for the blade.”
Uh-oh. Her voice was heating up now. This was turning into dangerous territory. I could already feel the cold sweat forming — better not interrupt.
”In his youth,” she continued, “he fought off a dozen suitors to claim me. I’ll admit, I found that thrilling. But once we grew close, he turned out hopelessly shy. The fool thought kissing alone could make a child! He was so obsessed with swordplay he barely knew women existed. To make it worse, he started behaving like you — lending a hand to everyone, making half the women around him think he was in love with them. One even tried to trick him into bedding her and nearly got him killed by a lust-crazed succubus! My rage that night was divine. I had to dance a seduction right before his eyes just to snap him out of it and make him mine for good. Yes, I still love him — but I’ll never forget that madness. Sometimes I remember and want to hit him all over again.”
”Ah… I see,” I said faintly.
I felt like I’d been skewered by words I hadn’t earned. And the look in her eyes — wide, burning with old fury — froze me solid. I dared not speak.
”Still,” she said suddenly, softening, “you’re a good one, Tatara-san. You love Yohira honestly. You’ve lain with her, even if only once. My sons take after their father — all swords and study, no romance. My daughters, fierce as oni, scare suitors off. I may be young for a demon still, but I’d like to hold a grandchild before long. Tatara-san, I’ll send soldiers from House Torakuma. Take Yohira and give her a child, won’t you?”
”Please calm down, mother-in-law,” I said quickly. “You’ll give the city mayor an ulcer with talk like that.”
Gods, how long has she been bottling this up? And “Torakuma’s private soldiers”? That sounds ominous as hell. They’re not the kind to tear spines out of knights and roar, are they?
”Of course not,” she said smoothly. “They don’t tear out spines. They just cut off ears and noses as trophies.”
”That’s still barbaric!” I groaned.
At this rate, we’d need an ear mound by next month. And could she stop reading my damn mind already?
”Do any families in your lands shout for heads or challenge entire enemy lines?” I asked warily.
”Not in the Torakuma lands,” she said. “But in others, yes. Some human noble families were even granted demon titles for their savagery.”
I sighed. It felt like I’d poked a hornet’s nest — or a serpent’s den.
”But I think you’d get along with them, Tatara-san,” she added cheerfully. “You always try to understand others’ words.”
”I can manage ancient speech,” I said, “but dialects might kill me.”
Like my master, I’d try to learn, but whether I’d succeed was another story. Hopefully, I wouldn’t just piss them off by misunderstanding.
As we spoke, a heavy thwack rang out. I looked over — Hinagiku’s wooden katana had just slammed into the idiot’s shoulder.
”Good grief…” my mother-in-law sighed. “I know it’s fun to train someone with talent, but show some restraint, Hinagiku.”
I groaned and rushed over, pulling a healing salve and potion from my Inventory for the poor bastard.
(The author notes: Event arcs “Tatia” and “Poster Girl” continue, as does Tatara’s strengthening event. Caught a damn cold, took forever to write, sorry for the lower quality. On day one of the cold, I made beef curry with tendon — replaced all the water with red wine, simmered until the tendons turned to jelly. Mixed spicy and medium curry roux, but the onion, tomato, and wine made it so sweet I doubted it was spicy at all. Still, it was damn good. [Intelligence: 5])
Notes:
• 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.
• 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.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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