Kogure Kiminobu

The forging of Akira is a story of deception and trickery. A noble weapon of such great renown deserves a better story, but unfortunately, this is the truth of it.

It was I - the one misnomered as the Second - who went to The Great Smithy. It was deathly quiet. A dark and imposing mound of a building nestled like a huge granite boulder amid the landscape. No one came here anymore. The fires were unlit. The winds of war had not fanned this forge in millennia. It was an old, creaking relic. And institute that persisted by tradition, but without purpose. I was familiar with such things. The House of Swords was much the same.

Jin, the master, met me at the door. He looked tired, although I knew he had barely a handful of apprentices to oversee. He had a wary look on his face. I guessed he had expected me or known I was coming.

"Apprentice," he acknowledged me reluctantly when I drew close.

I put my hand to my chest politely. "I am Kiminobu Kogure, Apprentice of the House of Swords," I introduced myself, although I was certain he already knew me. I was rather infamous. Me; the consort of the damned.

I saw his eyes dip to the sword at my hip. He stared at it while I waited quietly.

"My Master forged those swords," he said eventually. "They are his greatest masterpieces." He gave me a look of intense dislike. "It bothers me that scum like you and your bastard brothers-"

He stopped himself, visibly reigning in his words. Swallowing his anger before it could overcome him. I gave no reaction, my face remaining pleasant and soft in the face of his vitriol. He shook his head in annoyance and took a breath. "What do you want, sodomite?" he demanded.

"I need you to forge a sword," I said simply. I ignored the insults. Heavens knows, I was used to them by then.

He scoffed. "The forge is cold."

"Nonetheless," I insisted. "I have the Council's instructions."

I held out the scroll the Master of Swords had provided me with. It gave official approval to my request.

Jin perused it with disapproval, his frown deepening with every line he read. "A Watcher's blade?" he said incredulously.

"Is it difficult?" I asked.

A thundery look crossed his brow at the implied slight on his skill. "No," he retorted. "But I can't make it from nothing. Watcher's blades represent a blood bond. They must be forged with blood."

I tilted my head, feigning ignorance. "What kind of blood?"

"Mortal blood," Jin told me severely, making it clear that I was stupid. "The blood of a mortal slayer, to mix with yours."

"How much blood do you need?"

"Just a drop is enough."

I pulled the two glass vials from my robe. One glittered silver, drained from Kaede's veins. The other was a meagre splash of red. Everything that Kaede had managed to wring out of his blood-soaked sleeve. I shook them meaningfully. "Is this enough?"

Jin looked increasingly annoyed. He took both vials from me with a thin tinkle of sound. "This is your blood?" he demanded.

"Yes," I lied. It was easy to lie to Jin. Much easier than lying to the Master of Swords had been.

"And this is from a mortal slayer?"

"Correct."

I recall the way he stared at the vials crossly, as if they were a personal insult. But Jin was a master swordsmith with vast talent that was grossly underused. The opportunity to forge such a blade in these times of isolation might never come again. So I knew he would do it, and do it well.

As expected, Jin created a blade truly worthy of legend. Unfortunately, he never saw it in its glory. When I received it from him, and pledged my false vows upon it, naturally the sword failed to respond to my hand, for it was not really mine. For centuries Jin believed that he had failed at his one chance to create a masterpiece. I chose not to correct his mistaken assumption. After all, I am not one to be called a sodomite without consequence.

Well, regardless, this is how the great blade known as Akira came to be forged.