Sacred Blades
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG...
The artisan meticulously scrutinized the beautiful blade. Not near his own standards, he cast it aside and began to reforge it. For her it needed to be perfect. She wouldn't carry it until she was older, but he did have time to perfect it and the other. Only his best for his precious daughter.
Hours upon hours, he'd spent in the forge, hammering the blades out on the anvil. Folding, heating, folding again until it had been done thousands of times, more that he could count. Now, laying before him were the perfect blades for his daughter, the one that would carry on the family name in honor. Even if she would never see or speak to him and his wife, she would have these blades in memoriam.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up at his love. "Wife... My sweet, you should be resting." He scolded.
She shook her head with a smile. "Husband, it's been long past sunset. Please come to dine."
He nodded and smiled. He carefully stored the blades in the fine sand. He extinguished the flame of his forge, washed the soot from his face and hands, then took the raven-haired beauty's hand and gently pulled her to him. He stared with gold into blue. "Shall we?"
She nodded shyly. "I prepared your favorite." She told him tiredly.
"You shouldn't have worked yourself like that, my love." He scolded. "You need to rest for our little flower." He smiled.
She giggled. "And what will you do if we have a son?" She asked as she stroked her swollen belly.
He shook his head. "She will be a beautiful little girl, just like her mother. Our little lotus flower. She will bloom more beautiful than even the most rare flower in all of Japan." He told her proudly.
She giggled. "Then she should not need such blades my dear."
He smiled as he escorted her to their home. "She shall need a blade more than a husband dear. I wish for her to be able to stand on her own. I refuse to give her to any man. She may not find a man that cherishes her as I do her mother. I wish for her to be able to make that choice on her own. None will be worthy of our little Momiji."
Long ago, Kotetsu Uesugi had touched those special blades. The ones that had been handed down to him through the generations. When he touched them, the visions flowed through him. He never dreamed that he would see that face in reality, but when he did, he knew that he'd found their true owner. He'd lied and told her that both blades had been fashioned for him long ago, he would not tell her the truth. Not to the true owner, if she had the visions she didn't tell him. He would only watch in silent awe as she spun and twirled, as if she'd been training her entire life as a kunoichi. The true master of the sacred heirloom blades of the honorable Momiji Uesugi. The one that refused to leave her family name and passed it on to her sons and daughters, along with her blades.