Chapter 94 The Blade That Cuts Through Bonds
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
I wanted to test the hammer I’d just been given—my fingers itched to feel the weight of metal, to hear it sing—but my master slammed her fist into me before I could even lift it. She ordered me to take the day off from blacksmithing. The only thing I was allowed to do was fine-tune Ethelena’s and the others’ weapons. Nothing more.
Part of me wanted to argue, to throw at least one complaint her way. But I knew better. I wasn’t balanced—not in body, not in mind, not in spirit. My body still carried the exhaustion from hammering blades until dawn. My muscles ached, my bones throbbed with leftover heat. I understood that. So I obeyed.
I sat on the porch, watching that idiot practice his forms, my hands busy preparing the katana’s fittings. As I studied his grip, his stance, the distance between his hands, the shape of the handle began to form naturally in my mind—like it was building itself through the rhythm of his movements.
”Tatara-san, you make fine fittings,” a soft voice said.
I looked to my side and realized my mother-in-law was standing there. The scabbard wasn’t finished yet, but I’d already attached the guard, wrapped the handle, and set the menuki in place when she spoke.
The sword looked plain—no decoration, no flourish—but it had a kind of presence, a quiet strength that almost made me proud to look at it.
”This katana will stand beside him in everything he achieves,” I said. “I didn’t want it to be flashy or loud. I wanted it to feel solid, trustworthy. Like something that won’t ever betray its owner.”
She nodded slightly. “No unnecessary shine. The essence laid bare. True strength through simplicity.”
Good—she understood the direction. Though, I did plan to paint the scabbard in vermilion, the same red as his personal color. That much sentiment I’d allow myself.
”By the way, Tatara-san,” she said, tilting her head a little, “I have something I’d like to ask.”
”Yes? What is it?” I replied, sliding the katana into my inventory before turning to face her.
”This morning, I saw several blades in the forge. Do you intend to give them to someone—or perhaps sell them?”
That was an odd question. Those blades were only practice pieces. I had no intention of handing them out. I was going to reforge them again and again—crush them, reshape them—until I could recreate my master’s Sky Rend.
”No, I don’t plan to give those away,” I said. “I’ll probably destroy them and reforge them again.”
She blinked. “You’d destroy such beautiful blades?”
”They’re just tests—checks for technique. They’re not fit for anyone to use. Even the first one I engraved and gave to her is worth more than those. Those blades have no soul.”
I meant every word. Even my master would agree. I made those pieces purely for the sake of learning, for the joy of forging itself. I didn’t make them for anyone. Giving something like that away would earn me a solid punch from her.
”So yes,” I concluded. “I’m not giving them to anyone.”
”…I see.”
She looked… disappointed. Her face fell slightly, as if a plan had just gone wrong.
”Actually,” she began, “I spoke with Hizuru yesterday.”
Her tone shifted—careful, deliberate.
”I was trying to arrange something. To send over the sword instructor the Torakuma family employs, in exchange for one of ours.”
”That’s… a pretty dangerous trade,” I muttered.
She smiled tightly. “Yes. And to sweeten the deal, I thought I’d offer one of your so-called failures as a gift.”
”…You couldn’t have asked me first?”
If she’d already gone and promised it, I was in trouble.
”Did you already make the offer?”
”My husband was rather enthusiastic about it,” she admitted. “He even went to discuss the details himself.”
”Wait—why are you trying to bring in someone that dangerous in the first place?”
”Well,” she said, glancing aside, “Tatara-san, your friends are incredibly talented. With only Hinagiku acting as a supervisor, the balance of instruction is… fragile.”
”…Yeah, that’s on me. Sorry.”
So this was my fault. Which only made me less willing to part with even one of those “failed” blades.
”That instructor really wants one of those?” I asked.
”Of course. A sword crafted by the direct disciple of Amatsu—the first of her kind in generations? Even if it’s rough, any collector would kill for it. Especially when it’s a mimic of the legendary Sky Rend. It’s irresistible.”
”I’ll never understand collectors,” I sighed.
Still, I decided to keep those blades, just in case. If she told me they weren’t needed, fine. But until then, they’d stay with me.
”I’ll hold onto them,” I said. “But… are you sure this person’s reliable?”
”She can be picky, yes,” my mother-in-law replied, “but once she accepts a job, she’ll see it through. Her screening process is simply… harsh.”
”…I don’t feel reassured.”
I’d better ask my master if she knows this instructor. Something about this smelled like trouble.
Then, from across the yard—
”Guh—!?”
”A-ah, I’m so sorry!”
The idiot’s cry split the air, followed by the solid thud of impact. I looked up to see him doubled over, clutching his side, while Hinagiku rushed toward him, panic written all over her face. My mother-in-law sighed, drew a deep breath, and barked out:
”Hinagiku! No lunch for you!”
”Whaaat!? That’s so unfair!” came her pitiful wail.
I grabbed some healing salve and medicine, heading straight for the idiot. A quick appraisal showed minor internal damage—just like my mother-in-law warned yesterday. Hinagiku looked devastated. They’d only been doing form practice, moving slow and controlled. So how the hell had she hit him hard enough to bruise his organs?
”Here, drink this,” I said, handing him the vial.
”Sorry,” he groaned. “Guess I messed up again.”
”I don’t even get how you could hit that hard during form practice,” I muttered.
It was supposed to be a safe drill. Yet somehow, it ended in injury.
”I think I stepped in too deep while adjusting my stance,” he said. “And when I tried to stop, she swung right as I froze.”
”So she hit you full force? That’s totally her fault.”
Apparently her reflexes had gone full battle mode—instinct kicking in hard enough to break ribs. Great. Maybe I’d chosen the wrong instructor after all.
I glanced back and saw my mother-in-law’s anger growing as she started lecturing Hinagiku again. Leaving those two unsupervised, even for a moment, was clearly a mistake. Still, if she had to take a bathroom break, she’d have to halt practice every single time at this rate. We’d need to fix that mindset from the ground up.
”Good thing the kids aren’t here,” I said. “Would’ve been humiliating to let them see me like this.”
”Are you kidding? Your little brothers and sisters would be furious,” I told him.
They always asked about his progress at the academy, glowing with pride. To them, he was the perfect big brother. That family deserved happiness. All of them.
”Still,” I said, looking at the wound, “even full armor wouldn’t’ve stopped that. The strike slipped clean through the gaps.”
He groaned. “If you say so, I’ll believe it.”
”Don’t. You really shouldn’t trust my word that much.”
”What else am I supposed to trust, if not your judgment?” he shot back.
That shut me up. The words hit deeper than I expected, embarrassing me in a way I couldn’t quite hide. My face was probably red already.
”Maybe,” I muttered. “But remember—I’m the idiot who paired you with Hinagiku as a teacher.”
”Well, maybe she’s rough as a teacher, but as a swordswoman she’s damn impressive,” I said.
”And your type, right?” he shot back with that annoying grin.
”Shut it, idiot Tatara!”
Honestly, after getting beaten up that badly, most people would lose any crush they had left. But this fool? He just blushed and yelled at me to hide it. Poor bastard’s completely gone for her. Guess I’ll help him out a bit—he’s hopeless, but he deserves a fair shot.
Still, where the hell do I even start? Maybe tell him about her tastes?
”…Not that it matters, but Hinagiku likes relaxed clothes,” I said after a moment.
Casual. Simple. She’s got a thing for lame T-shirts, actually.
”…That really doesn’t matter. So, specifics?”
If it’s so unimportant, why’s he staring like I just revealed state secrets?
”She likes loose shirts—bigger sizes, nothing tight. But if it’s for fashion, she can pull off something proper too.”
”…Why do you even know that?”
”When she first came here, I bought her some plain clothes so she wouldn’t stand out. Did the same for Yohira and Ichika.”
”Oh, so those two from the Tatara harem too?”
”…Yeah, and the worst part is you’re not even wrong.”
For the record, the only person I love is Ethelena. She was the one who asked me to accept the feelings of the others—to not reject them just because it complicated things. It’s twisted, sure, but if it keeps them happy, I’ll bear it. If I can make them smile, I’ll do what it takes.
”Still,” I muttered, “you know I’m not the kind of guy who could run some harem. Why’d you even call it that?”
”You’re clumsy when it comes to that stuff,” he said quietly, “but I’ve watched you long enough to know you can’t carry everything alone. So the people who love you—they either need to have enough love to wrap around you completely, or be willing to share it with others. Ethelena’s the latter, right?”
Why does he understand me and Ethelena like he’s lived in our heads?
”And besides,” he went on, “you can’t abandon anyone. Even if they betray you, even if it burns you, you’ll still reach out to someone new.”
”…I do pick who I help, you know.”
”Yeah. And I think that’s fine, just as you are.”
If he’d said it with a smirk, I could’ve brushed it off. But he said it straight-faced, calm, certain. I’ll never win against this guy.
”Oh, and one more thing,” he added.
”Hm?”
”I don’t care if your kindness makes your harem bigger. But if you so much as touch my little sisters—I’ll cut you.”
His face went blank when he said it. Completely serious. The premise was ridiculous, though.
”Why the hell would I go after your sisters? They’re good kids, they’ve got their lives together. Why would they ever look at me like that?”
”…You’re so trusting it’s sad. Like a deer walking up to a lion thinking it’s a friend.”
”What kind of metaphor is that!?”
The guy was impossible to understand sometimes.
By the time we’d finished arguing, the healing salve had done its job. He tested his body lightly, then started form practice again, waiting for Hinagiku’s lecture to end. I used Concept Appraisal to check his stance, comparing it to my mother-in-law’s and Hinagiku’s forms. Whenever I saw unnecessary tension, I pointed it out, pressing the muscle and explaining where he should relax. It wasn’t much, but if it helped him even a little, it was worth it.
A little later, Hinagiku returned, visibly deflated, and stood before him again. They started from the top, keeping about a meter more distance this time, just like we’d discussed. My mother-in-law looked impressed—his stance was cleaner, smoother. But it wasn’t just him; it was her training, Hinagiku’s guidance, and my corrections layered together that made it work.
Lunchtime was close, but I didn’t want to distract them. If he lost focus again, we’d be back to broken ribs.
”…Tatara-san,” my mother-in-law said finally, her eyes never leaving Hinagiku, “I’ll watch her. Please prepare lunch.”
”…Understood.”
”And no portion for Hinagiku.”
”…Right.”
We didn’t break eye contact with Hinagiku for even a second while talking. Trusting her skill was hard when we had proof of the opposite still fresh in our minds.
We didn’t break eye contact with Hinagiku for even a second while talking. Trusting her skill was hard when we had proof of the opposite still fresh in our minds.
So, lunch prep it was. Ichika had already helped earlier—when I opened the fridge, there were several side dishes ready, neatly labeled. One of them had my name on it, my favorites inside. That had Ethelena and Ichika written all over it. Some pieces were burnt or misshapen—maybe Yohira tried cooking too. If so, that alone made me stupidly happy.
With no kids around, I didn’t overthink it. The main dish Ethelena planned was breadcrumb-crusted fish. Knowing her, she’d mixed grated cheese into the crumbs and rubbed herbs on the fillets. I heated olive oil and butter in the pan, laid the fish skin-side down, poured a bit of white wine, and covered it to steam-fry. When one side turned golden, I flipped it and let it finish. Perfect.
I plated the fish, added a small portion of kinpira burdock, then warmed the miso soup prepped earlier. Simple, balanced, done. For my own plate, I used Crafting—a little mana trick that vibrates the molecules just enough to heat the food. Not for living things, but handy for lunch.
”Lunch is ready,” I called.
My mother-in-law, Master, and I sat at the usual table. The idiot and Hinagiku’s plates went to the one the girls used yesterday. Just the two of them. Perfect setup. He glared at me for it, of course. I just grinned. Don’t get shy now—go for it.
Then Hinagiku took her first bite, and the floodgates opened.
”Ah! The buttery richness of the cheese-laced crumbs mingles beautifully with the olive oil’s aroma! Beneath it, the firm red fish bursts with salty, herbed flavor—divine! And this tartar sauce, as Tatara-dono suggested, pairs perfectly with fried dishes! A squeeze of lemon balances the oil, cleansing the palate! Even that foolish fox’s kinpira—though it pains me to admit—is excellent! This meal calls for rice! More rice!”
”Goddamn it—she’s doing a food review again!?”
My mother-in-law pressed a hand to her forehead. Right, this was why she banned any future marriage meetings from taking place at fancy restaurants.
”Uh, Hinagiku-san,” the idiot ventured, “you… really like food, huh?”
”Of course! Food enriches life and keeps the heart and body healthy!”
”Th-then maybe… you’d like to visit a farm sometime?”
”A farm, you say? The fruit yesterday was exquisite. A carefully tended orchard that produces such delicacies would be fascinating to see.”
”Th-then maybe… you’d like to help out there sometime?”
Wait. Wait. Did he just turn her food monologue into a date invitation!?
Even my mother-in-law froze, then clenched her fist in silent cheer. Go on! Push through! Let it bloom, kid!
”That sounds… truly tempting,” Hinagiku said, flustered but smiling. “However, I am currently assigned as the lady’s guard…”
”You have my permission,” my mother-in-law interrupted. “Take a day off—and even stay overnight if you wish.”
Support fire. She was serious about this—helping both her disciple’s love life and Hinagiku’s long-standing singlehood.
”If Lady Okusama insists… then…” Hinagiku began.
”Yes! Please come!” he blurted out.
”T-then… forgive my inexperience, and I’ll do my best,” she said, cheeks glowing crimson.
When Hinagiku said yes, both my mother-in-law and I threw silent victory fists in the air. If anyone else had been around, we’d have done the full Columbia pose. I shot her a quick glance—time for the next move.
”We’ll need to get Hinagiku some decent clothes for the farm date,” I murmured.
”Would those… ‘T-shirts and jerseys’ work?” she whispered back.
”They’d do, but the text printed on them could be… problematic. We’ll go with plain shirts and sneakers instead. Underwear’s already handled. Nothing flashy—she should look natural, not out of place.”
”Indeed. Bright clothes wouldn’t fit a farm visit anyway.”
All of this passed between us through the subtlest eye contact. By the end of it, I was officially in charge of buying Hinagiku’s outfit. My master, watching the exchange, just sighed like a woman whose disciples had become too much.
After lunch and dishes, I headed to the clothing shop that’s always helped me out. The owner froze the instant she saw me—probably remembering the last “fashion crisis” I’d caused—but once I mentioned it was about Hinagiku, she brightened right up. This city’s crafters are like that: part artisans, part matchmakers, all suckers for a good love story.
With her image in mind, I worked with her to pick a light-pink dress shirt with three-quarter sleeves and cropped denim pants. Perfect balance—clean, mature, approachable. Just what that idiot liked: a mix of calm grace and soft strength. We added a small handbag for style’s sake—no one really needs one since everyone’s born with an Inventory, but accessories matter—and a new wallet to match. The total cost hit the tens of thousands, but hell, that’s a small price for a successful first date.
When the shopkeeper offered a “maturity discount” for good luck, I took it—then slipped her back the same amount as a tip. Her smile froze mid-thank-you as I left, grinning like an idiot.
”Ah, Tatara-san?”
Of course. The moment I stepped outside, I ran into the squad leader and her patrol team. She was holding the prototype Sticky Launcher for emergency use, her subordinates gathered nearby.
”Ah, squad leader! Everyone, thanks for your work.”
”Thank you. Out shopping, I see?”
”Yeah—and wait till you hear why.”
And that was how I ended up telling the entire patrol about the farm date plan. They listened with ridiculous enthusiasm, especially the female deputy who kept leaning forward like she was watching a drama.
”Even someone as skilled as Tatara-san buys clothes, huh?” one of the women said.
”Well, design sense isn’t part of the crafting skillset. Especially when it comes to women,” I admitted.
”Facts.”
”Woman, I can’t even tell hair lengths apart.”
”Or when they bring two outfits and say, ‘Which looks better?’ Just pick one already!”
”Seriously! If you’ve made up your mind, don’t make me the scapegoat!”
”So, what do you do then, Tatara-san?”
”I just simulate both outfits in my head using Crafting—see which one suits her best. If it’s a tie, I buy both.”
”Absolute flex.”
”Goddamn rich, handsome types… you’re all the same.”
”…You guys ever realize how mean you sound?”
We all burst out laughing. The women gave us that you boys are hopeless stare, but honestly, we deserved it.
”Still,” one of them said, “you’re really living your youth, Tatara-san—even if it’s your friend’s love life you’re helping.”
”I’m already engaged, actually.”
”Eh!? Wait, you mean that black-haired maid girl?”
That was the deputy again, practically jumping forward. Must’ve meant Dahlia.
”She’s more like an adopted sister. I put her on the family register for safety while living in Whirlwind. My fiancée’s someone else.”
”Oh! Then that maid outfit is just… fashion?”
”Her choice, yeah. Says she feels fate in it or something.”
The deputy’s relief was palpable. Great, now I knew she’d been picturing me as some kind of maid-fetish weirdo.
We were still laughing when a sudden shout split the air.
”THIEF!”
Instantly, the squad leader sprinted toward the sound, her team right behind her. The deputy shouted a quick apology to me before dashing off. Damn, they looked cool—every time I saw them in motion, I remembered why people trusted this city’s guards.
It took me about an hour to get home, shopping bag in hand. The training field was quiet. No more sparring sounds—just calm breathing. The idiot and Hinagiku were sitting side by side on the porch, meditating. I didn’t dare interrupt that peace. Instead, I headed straight to the forge.
I wasn’t planning to continue Sky Rend’s reconstruction today. The hammer Master gave me had its first real task already waiting—something special, something that couldn’t be rushed. Once the exploration team returned tonight, I’d begin.
Inside, Master sat before the cold forge, eyes closed, facing the anvil like it was an altar. Her meditation radiated focus so deep it stilled the air. I watched quietly, trying to memorize even that rhythm of breath.
”…Is watching an old woman meditate that entertaining, Tatara?” she asked suddenly, eyes still closed.
”I wouldn’t call it entertaining, Master—more like educational. The way you circulate mana while meditating… it’s insanely precise.”
She chuckled. “That’s exactly what I mean. You always notice that kind of thing.”
I couldn’t help laughing too. She had a point.
”So,” she asked, “planning to forge now?”
”No. I’ll forge one blade tonight—and ask Yohira to stand witness.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, catching on immediately.
”You intend to forge the young lady’s Concept Armament.”
”Yes, Master. I want this hammer’s first work to be hers.”
She smiled—quiet, proud. A first forge dedicated to someone precious was a mark of trust and devotion. I believed that too.
”When you forge, make sure I’m there to see it,” she said. “And invite the mistress as well, or she’ll have your head.”
”…Right. Fair point.”
I hadn’t called her when I forged Ichika’s Peony. This time, I would. She deserved to witness it.
After that, we talked lightly while staring at the unfinished Sky Rend.
”I’ve been thinking,” I said. “These failed versions—you think they’d shatter after a single use?”
”Oh, they definitely would. All edge, no endurance. Can’t take their own sharpness.”
”So… technically brilliant, completely useless. A beautiful failure.”
”Seeing it through your eyes really drives that home,” she said with a dry laugh.
It took star-forged steel, perfect mana flow, every ounce of skill—and still, all that effort made a one-swing blade. In the old stories, Sky Rend was used only once too, the wielder’s body breaking from the strain. Maybe I’d been too faithful to the original.
In contrast, the conceptual weapon I’d made before could be swung endlessly—it cut with the idea of the blade, not the metal. Sky Rend cut the very space itself. If you pushed it, it could cleave everything you saw. The difference between them was huge.
”In close combat, my conceptual blade wins,” I said. “For range destruction—yours.”
”Hmph. Being compared to your dangerous nonsense offends me.”
”Master, aren’t you a bit harsh today?”
Something about Sky Rend felt untouchable for my master—maybe because even if the current version was a “failed creation,” it was still the result of her full devotion. Some things you just don’t compromise on.
”Tatara,” she said quietly, “you’ll keep inventing new techniques. One day, even my Sky Rend will be nothing but a relic of the past.”
So that was her fear.
”If old methods are forgotten, the new ones might be misunderstood. That’s what I fear most,” she admitted.
”…Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m afraid of that too.”
Even if the government archives the techniques as patents, records are only words unless someone alive can use them. I’d always believed skill has value only when it can be inherited—and now I realized that’s exactly what weighed on her. If I didn’t pass on what I’d learned, even her own art could fade with me. The thought hurt more than I expected.
I wanted it to live beyond me—to keep breathing after I was gone. Funny, coming from someone who’s already died once.
”Tatara,” she said, “if you can, teach my methods here in this city.”
”I will. I’ll spread them as best I can… though Sky Rend itself, I’m still not confident about.”
She burst out laughing at that. Fair. I couldn’t even reproduce it myself—teaching it would be absurd.
By the time our laughter faded, the world outside had turned to dusk. I hurried to the garden, where Hinagiku was showing the idiot something about footwork. From this distance I couldn’t hear the details, but the way they moved said enough.
”Sorry for keeping you so late,” I called.
”Nah, don’t worry,” he said, smiling. “I learned a lot today.”
”Sorry for keeping you so late,” I called.
”Nah, don’t worry,” he said, smiling. “I learned a lot today.”
That grin—pure satisfaction, the kind that comes only when he knows he’s grown stronger. He never wavers. Not once.
I handed him a few things for the night and told him to head home. Even he could get into trouble walking alone after dark. Ichika had mentioned suspicious people lurking around lately—better safe than sorry. Actually… wait.
”Hinagiku-san, do you have night vision?” I asked.
She went bright red. “N-night—y-you mean… marriage!?”
”What!? No! Not that!”
Gods, she’s hopeless. If she’s that flustered about marriage, I’ll just have to help make it happen myself someday.
”I meant, if you can see well at night, could you walk him home and then fly back?”
”Ah… I see,” she said, finally understanding.
She nodded once, realizing I was talking about the surveillance issue. Acting as his escort made perfect sense.
”Understood. I’ll take him home safely.”
”Wait—won’t you be in danger coming back?”
”Tatara,” I reminded him, “Hinagiku’s a tengu. She can fly. She’ll be fine.”
He hesitated, still wearing that worried look, but finally gave a reluctant nod. Kind-hearted fool.
Then my mother-in-law’s voice cut in like a thunderclap.
”Oh, that’s right—Hinagiku.”
”Yes, Madam?”
”You don’t have to come back tonight. In fact, go meet his family, and while you’re at it—ask for marriage approval.”
”M-marriage!?”
Ah. There it was. She’d dropped the bomb herself. The idiot froze too, his face crimson. Perfect timing.
”Hey,” I added with a grin, “you two need any soundproofing charms or contraceptive wards?”
”HELL no!” he yelled, voice cracking.
I couldn’t help laughing. Embarrassed as hell, the two of them finally left together. Hopefully they’d at least stay out till morning.
Later, when I sat down for dinner—
”So that’s why Hinagiku’s missing from the table?” one of them asked.
”Yeah. She might be back tonight, might not. Knowing her, she’ll probably return before dawn,” I replied.
The exploration crew had come back by then. When I explained, Ethelena nodded in understanding, mumbling something about how nice it was that no one was stealing her food for once.
”I just hope Hinagiku hasn’t done anything too rash-degozaru,” Ichika said.
”She’s strict, but not reckless,” Yohira added. “…She isn’t, right?”
The way they hesitated made me wonder if their memories of her proper self had already faded. Honestly, maybe the polite version of her really was a myth by now.
”So, Tatara-san,” my mother-in-law asked, “your friend’s family—what are they like?”
”He’s got his parents and six younger siblings, including the ones who visited earlier.”
”That’s quite the big family.”
”Yeah. His parents are basically newlyweds year-round. They’ve even won the city’s ‘Most-Loving Couple Tournament’ ten years in a row—made it into the Hall of Fame.”
That event was the highlight of the city’s founding festival—a half-century-old tradition where married couples competed in ridiculous displays of affection. Ten straight victories had earned them the nickname Sugar Factory. Poor Hinagiku… she’d probably die of secondhand embarrassment if she met them.
”Then,” my mother-in-law said slyly, “will you and Ethelena be entering someday?”
”I’d like to start next year, if we can.”
”Oh, Tatara…” Ethelena’s cheeks turned pink as she lightly hit my shoulder.
Newlyweds were expected to show their faces there—it was almost cultural duty. But honestly? I just wanted to brag that I’d married her.
”This time, I envy the official wife-degozaru,” Ichika sighed.
”In my homeland, we had a similar tradition,” Yohira mused. “Perhaps I should stand beside Tatara as well…”
”Yohira,” my mother-in-law interrupted sharply, “even if you bear the blacksmith’s name, you are still a daughter of the Torakuma house. You must not lose.”
”Yes, ma’am!”
”…That’s not the point!” I muttered.
So even that—competitive romance—was family pride for the Torakumas. No wonder the old couple was still madly in love. I couldn’t help but smile at that.
”By the way,” I said, “I have a favor to ask you both—Yohira, Mother.”
”A favor?” Yohira tilted her head.
”Something to do with the Torakuma household?” Mother added.
I nodded. “After dinner, give me a bit of time, then come to the forge. Yohira’s katana—tonight, I’m forging it.”
They both drew a sharp breath.
”…Why have us there?” Yohira asked softly.
”I’m not like Master,” I said. “I can’t forge for a crowd. I’m best when I make a blade for one person. So I want to be near the person I’m dedicating it to.”
Ichika’s eyes softened; she remembered Peony, the sword I’d forged for her, and understood immediately. Yohira met my gaze, silent for a long second, then nodded.
”Very well,” she said quietly. “Tonight, forge my blade.”
”With honor,” I replied.
Her trust pulled me upright again, steadier than before.
”Tatara-san,” my mother-in-law asked, “why do you want me there?”
”For the record,” I said, smiling, “technical exchange. And because you and Master both deserve to witness it. Is that… all right?”
”…Of course. I’d be honored.”
Her answer was soft, her expression unreadable.
Then Dahlia, who’d been listening, chimed in eagerly. “Master, if it’s a new magic device, I’d love to see it too!”
”Not a magic device,” I said. “It’s a conceptual weapon. Totally different. Your kind of devices will have to wait. Speaking of which, I was planning to start on that soon, but the katana takes priority.”
”‘That’? What’s that, Master?”
Dahlia’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. But this wasn’t the time—she’d just get in the way. The sword demanded focus, and if anyone interrupted, I might snap. Besides, her armor still needed one missing piece of tech.
”The magic propulsion system,” I said at last. “I call it… the jet engine.”
”Magical reactive propulsion system…” I murmured.
Dahlia’s eyes lit up—she must have remembered the flight mechanism I’d shown her once before.
”We’ll start work after Master and the others leave,” I said. “That one’s gonna take time.”
”In that case, we’ll set aside a rest day for the exploration team and aim to finish it then! Don’t worry—if it’s a Magic Device, it’s our Automaton Maidens’ specialty!”
She was practically glowing. Couldn’t blame her—she hadn’t gotten to make anything new in a while.
After a few more exchanges, we finished dinner. When I whispered to Ethelena, “Later, in our room,” her face lit up like a firework. I planned to thank her properly tonight… hopefully it’d stay at “nurse roleplay” and not get more intense than that.
Once I’d asked her to give me some time alone, I took the couple’s bath, cleaned up, and changed into fresh work clothes. When I entered the forge, Master was already there, waiting.
”Master, thank you for joining me tonight.”
”No, I’m honored to be invited—to witness Tatara’s craft firsthand.”
We bowed to each other. Both smiths, both focused—each determined to learn from the other. There was no room for hesitation.
”Apologies for keeping you waiting,” came a soft voice.
”My apologies as well,” followed another.
My mother-in-law and Yohira entered, freshly bathed, their hair still damp and skin faintly flushed. They wore white underrobes—pure, ceremonial, and serene.
”Then,” I said, taking a breath, “we will now begin the forging of Lady Yohira Torakuma’s katana. Please, bear witness.”
I bowed. They returned the gesture, and a still tension filled the air—focus sharpening into purpose.
From my mother-in-law’s hands, I received the materials: mithril, orichalcum, and adamantite. I placed them in the forge and stoked the heat until the metals glowed red.
As Master had done when crafting Sky Rend, I synchronized with the mana’s pulse, channeling heat and magic into the metals. Gradually, their impossible hardness softened.
One by one, I pulled the glowing bars out, struck them, and returned them to the fire. The hammer—its first true use—fit my hand perfectly, like it had always been mine. The metal stretched smoothly, obeying every thought.
Then, without fully realizing why, I stacked the three bars—each nearly the same thickness. For an instant, the air changed, the world pausing around me. Then it settled. No distractions. Only the forge.
Under my hammer, the three became one. The seams vanished, the layers flowed together with a harmony that felt inevitable, as if this alloy had always waited to be born.
When it was ready, I quenched it in the tank. Steam roared up, but the piece came out intact, the fracture lines frozen into a perfect pattern.
I welded it again—folding, compressing, purifying. Impurities flew out as sparks. Excess mana scattered like blue fireflies, dancing in the air.
Now it was ready for true shaping. Each strike resonated with the memories of Yohira—our first meeting, her guarded eyes, her hesitant hope. Her smile the day she opened up.
The joy when I told her about Ethelena.
The pain that followed, when her affection deepened into something that hurt.
Her tears when she confessed she still cared.
And the warmth of acceptance when she chose to walk beside us anyway.
We had shared strength, sorrow, and even bodies. Every swing of my hammer carried those memories, that bond.
And with every blow, the metal changed—taking on a form all its own.
I worked it into a four-sided block, tapering toward both edges: a double-edged katana. The metal itself seemed to want that shape—broad, long, balanced.
A 10-centimeter blade width, 180-centimeter length. That was its will.
I followed, forging on, pouring every ounce of feeling into each strike.
When the form was complete, I coated it with hardening clay and heated it again, never taking my eyes—or my Concept Appraisal—off it. When the color reached the perfect point, I quenched it once more.
The hiss of steam filled the forge, the sharp crack of metal echoing. I didn’t blink. The blade lacked the overwhelming presence of Sky Rend, but this was right. This was what I’d wanted.
I drew it from the water, tapped off the remaining clay, and saw the blade beneath.
It shone in a deep blue—like the sky just before dawn.
As I polished, the color deepened and shifted, becoming a soft hydrangea hue. A tranquil blue-violet glow. Perfect for Yohira.
When I finished sharpening, I cut the tang, engraved the signature, added the date. It was done.
”…Yohira,” I called quietly, “it’s finished.”
She stepped forward. The fittings weren’t attached yet, but the blade itself was complete—whole. It didn’t need any fancy sheath or device. I knew, without question, that as long as Yohira wielded it, it would never break.
”…It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
”Like a hydrangea, right?”
”Yes… Did you plan that?”
”Not at all. It just happened.”
She held the blade to her chest. It didn’t cut her—not even her clothes. The sword knew its master.
”Name it,” I said. “You forged its meaning into being. I only shaped it.”
”But you’re the one who made it.”
”I brought it into this world. Giving it purpose is yours.”
”…I don’t quite understand, but if you say so.”
Compared to Ichika’s Peony, this sword was far more willful. But when I whispered, “Protect her,” the blade shimmered faintly. Promise sealed.
”Then I’ll call it Temaribana,” she said. “Like me—named after the hydrangea.”
The moment she spoke it, something clicked deep inside my mind. I used Appraisal—and there it was.
Katana ‘Temaribana’
Physical Attack: 120
Magic Attack: 120
Range: 3
Special Abilities: Unbending Resolve / Exclusive to Yohira Torakuma
It even surpassed Kelav. The only thing weaker was its range—which, for a katana, was absurd anyway. As for “Unbending Resolve,” I didn’t yet know its full meaning.
But one thing was clear: this blade existed for Yohira—and Yohira alone.
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.
• 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.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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