If you pop over to my forum at the Stealthy Stories site, you can find the picture of Karai wearing her furisode that I requested from Rummery, and Redwater's own coloured version of it. HUZZAH!
Thanks to Jessiy Landroiz, Reijiro and Dierdre for beta-reading!
CHAPTER 3 – PREPARATIONS II
Only one day was left for preparations.
Although they had known this day would come, months in advance; it was earlier during the week that they had begun their preparations for Monday, as the master requested of them. What was decided by him was doctrine, and that alone was enough to motivate them into following his orders, regardless of how strange they first seemed. They were hardly members of the esteemed Elite Guard, but they couldn't deny that the thought of serving someone other than the Shredder was almost…blasphemous.
Actually, that's what it would be, if they weren't familiar with whom that someone was, and why their allegiance to her was important, although rather ironic. As far back as they could recall; they had endured long and hard in their efforts, to reach the high levels of status they each had achieved within the Foot. It took years to make themselves stand out back then, and it took years for the Shredder to finally notice them enough to promote them to the superior ranks they held now. It was difficult, proving their potential to become something more than mere Foot ninja with little worth in their master's eyes; and even now, despite the power they held, contact with their revered lord was still limited and distant.
Hence, no words could have described the shock the chunin of the Foot clan had received, once they discovered that the Shredder had taken in a student.
In fairness, they had already seen the small girl with their master, some time before they were given the task of uncovering personal details about her identity and whether anyone had alerted the National Police Agency or orphanages about the disappearance of a young girl.
After a good few months of searching thoroughly for information, the two men had found nothing. The child had no mother, who constantly wept for her return; no father, who stressed day and night over where she could be. Not even hospital records, or a date of birth. She had no official existence in society, whatsoever.
The child belonged to no one, and no one seemed willing to accept her.
The chunin didn't appear to expect that this little girl would be changed, from a mere nothing, into one of the most important people they would ever know. However, it became their duty later on, to work secretly with the authorities in creating a new biographical profile for her: her family name, the place where she was born, her supposed mother's identity (and tragic death from labour), her age (an educated guess, at the most) and the placement of the Shredder's name as her father. The latter immediately made them aware of what their master had in store for this small urchin's future, although it could have been their obligation, to remain discrete, which kept them from commenting on the matter.
And besides, it was already surprising that the Head of the Foot clan had chosen to teach the basics of martial arts to anyone, let alone a small child.
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Back inside the walls of the Foot Headquarters, the young woman was continuing on with her individual training, when the Head of the Foot clan decided to pay a visit during the midst of her practices. Immediately, she stopped what she was doing and kneeled down to show her high esteem to her sensei.
"Good evening, Master." Oroku Saki waved aside the greeting.
"I simply wished to see how you are doing." Ah.
"I am keeping fine…my lord." Best not to let him see that she was really trying to divert herself from her anxieties. A true warrior never lets his mind become so distracted by thoughts of the future, that they get in the way of his conduct towards his master.
However, the Shredder already knew that his student was trying to hide something, as she'd appeared to be doing for the past few days.
"Are you looking forward to tomorrow, Karai?" There was an uneasy silence between the two. "You can be open with me…you know there's no need for us to hide secrets from each other." There was a moment's pause before she finally gathered the words to respond, despite the excitement that was beating repeatedly in her head.
"Yes…yes. My mind has been recently focused on what tomorrow will hold for me, Master, when I will become an adult and enter into our clan!" No more than what every child would want. But not every child had to manage operations in an entire country, as part of their responsibilities after they came of age.
"I see." As has mine. He gave a single nod of acknowledgement. "I trust that you'll do very well as part of our clan, Karai." Her ears pricked up at this sign of reassurance.
"Do you believe so, Master?" This wasn't meant as an affront to his authority, but merely an urgent question made by a pupil to her mentor.
"You have my full support that you will." She bowed her head, respectfully. Ever since she was a little girl, he had always shown her his trust and confidence in her abilities. Even when she made mistakes in practicing kata, he simply watched and guided her through the moves again, carefully, until she could perform them with perfect ease. And now that she would soon be old enough to help him in controlling the Foot…under him, she had made it so far.
"Thank you, my lord." My father. He returned her bow slightly, and then left the dojo. After a few minutes had passed, Karai got up to her feet and resumed her training. This time, she finished off by making the usually well-directed, roundhouse strike…and knocked the full body of the practice dummy off the chain from which it hung, standing firm over her immobile opponent with a proud feeling of victory.
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Somewhere among the less industrial parts of Tokyo, there stood a building. It would have seemed more reasonable for it to join other companies and businesses, amongst the skyscrapers and moving masses of the city's urban floor. As one would assume, such a location would enable it to enjoy more profitable earnings, as well as a higher reputation.
But this was not true.
This structure was positioned further away from the ebb and flow of the city, simply as testament to its humble origins during the turn of the Meiji era, when a dynasty fell and the true descendant of the gods was restored to his seat of power.
Some had managed to survive amidst the incredible changes they witnessed and were helpless to stop, as the Land of the Gods became exposed to the backward beliefs and ideals of the accursed world outside it. Proud, strong warriors, previously held by their obedience to great lords, had no choice but to break off from the dedication and honour they previously followed to work alongside former comrades driven by loyalty to money. Even the revolutionaries, the ones who brought on such a change in the name of equality and justice regardless of caste, were given over to the seductive lure of power and adoration from the masses; going as far as to put to death those who had helped their 'cause' to succeed.
The sword itself – the sacred symbol of the Warrior's soul – later became banned from being seen in public, unless the wielder had been offered permission from the new heads of authority who sold their own hearts and minds to the corrupting influences of the Western world.
Although this didn't mean the use of the sword smiths was completely abandoned after the passing of the Swords Ban, such restrictions were not without their repercussions. Quite simply, if some of the former warriors – now known as 'shizoku' – still wanted to maintain any sense of pride in the new era, a number of them did not wish to do so without their most important possession: their blade. Even if it meant that they had to make do with it being concealed in the humble guise of a walking cane, they did not wish to lose their dignity any further. And the remaining sword smiths were prepared to comply with such needs, among other callings for their skills. Just because the soul of the samurai was no longer used in combat, did not mean it could not be displayed as their finest piece of art.
However, not all of them agreed to this. There was one man who did not wish to pander to this charade, regardless of whether he would face arrest or not. There was no necessity for him to produce cane swords instead of katana. He could have attempted some arrangement with a merchant to sell off his works overseas to the many gaijin interested in owning a part of exotic culture in their homes, which could have perhaps earned him more wealth and a higher reputation, than his ancestors dreamed of in the time of the Shogunate. But this was not what he did, since he didn't have that many secure connections with merchants, and his own business skills were shoddy at best. He kept on insisting that he would not waste his time crafting blades for gaijin, the common public, or the people sitting at the head of the country; which they in turn had betrayed. What dignity was there in publicly displaying a soul that could never experience a true purpose?
It would have been only a matter of time, before he would be taken away for such anti-social behavior…but a certain man showed up.
The sword smith had never seen him before in his life; he appeared to him via a horse-driven carriage and pressed to speak with him privately at his own mansion. He was about to decline, and repeat the same ranting and raving he made daily, about the new upper-classes of society and how they were nothing but happy dogs, fed and lavished by the leeching government – before he heard that there was actually a way for his work to be put to use properly, as was done long before the black ships had arrived.
It was because of the deal that was made between both men, that this small building had enjoyed profitable earnings and funding over the decades and centuries that rolled forth, even during the country's defeat by foreign devils. For every descendant who took over the company, it seemed that they were free from having to pander to the whims of the so-called Divine Being who ruled in the safety of his courts, away from the pain and anger he created among his own subjects.
They had a much better god to serve, and it was for him that they supplied his army with the weapons they needed. Even more so, that the manager had volunteered to work personally on crafting a special blade; ritually fasting and cleansing himself in advance before actually going ahead with the creation process.
As the master sword smith, it was his duty to oversee the purification of the working area, before they could begin with this creation for their sole client. Afterwards, dressed in the ceremonial robes of white, it was his task to supervise the pounding of his assistants' hammers, as he kept his grip onto the stick holding the welded piece of steel at its end. With each change of the metal's shape, it was cut and refolded many times to give it its thinner appearance and add to the several layers necessary for its strength. But this was not enough. It needed to be stronger, especially if his esteemed master was to appreciate his demanded offering.
To achieve this, he placed the metal near the heat of the oven, and then thrust it immediately into the cooling water inside the trough close by. Afterwards, the manager set off to sharpen the elongated steel, pressing it with his tools enough to maintain a sense of its intended width and smoothness without grinding too much to wear into the metal. Once this was completed, he picked up his coating stick and painted a spread of clay along the blade, making sure to avoid applying more than enough on certain areas of softer steel.
And then came the crucial stage, before its final completion. Returning to the darkened room that was his workshop, the manager repeated a prayer to himself that had been passed down in his family from father to son, as he lowered the sword into the oven once more and waited until it reached the right degree of heat. Keeping steadfast in his prayer, the man again thrust the blade into the water, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as this occurred. If he took it out too soon – all his efforts, all his dedication would be lost, scarring him forever with the humiliation of failure. But if he did so at the correct moment, he would keep face and not be stripped of his honour.
Upon pulling the sword from the water, the man realized that his personal request for success had been answered.
Soon after, he called upon his trusted co-worker to carry out the other most important task: polishing the sword. Although the stage of re-heating was achieved well, it was this process that caused even more anxieties for the manager, in that paralleling the curves and lines with the jihada – the pattern of the sword's steel grains – required a much greater level of attention, patience and focus that only the polisher was capable of. Hence, he worked cautiously in refining the blade, using his thumb and carefully selected pieces of Narutaki stone to bring out its correct texture.
It was only a matter of time, after continuing on with further stages, including burnishing and polishing its point at an upright angle, that the gift for their master was now finished and prepared with its new scabbard and handle.
The entire process happened throughout the week, up till this Sunday. Sitting down with the weapon in front of him, the man who was master-sword smith and manager of the company behind this creation now calmly anticipated the arrival of two men, who were representing his client (if, apparently, only until tomorrow).
"Has the blade been completed, Toshi-san?" asked the tallest of the pair.
"Yes; the blade that has been requested by our lord is finally complete." The manager lifted his finished masterpiece under his palms, gently placing it into the hands of the taller man. As he did so, he recited another prayer in his heart; offering thanks and praises to the one who was not only his client, but his master appointed by the Heavens. The two men in black and white bowed towards the manager of the Toshi Sword Company.
"Thank you. Our master appreciates your services, Toshi-san." He returned their formality, prostrating graciously and with profound sincerity.
"And my family remains indebted to him, with all our being."
A/N:
Characters belong to Mirage and 4Kids! Entertainment
Toshi Sword Company and this story belongs to me
Traditional sword-making still goes on in Japan, along with the religious rituals that are performed in making them (dating back from the Feudal era). Apparently you could go inside and see how it's done!
Apart from a feature in Usagi Yojimbo (which shows how a sword is made), I read up on the Japanese sword's history and creation process from some essays via the net. I'll link back to them in my profile if you want to check them out :) and the UY story is "Daisho", which features in the graphic novel volume under the same name.
Rurouni Kenshin manga was also an influence for this chapter (set in the Meiji era, and has some historical info to check out :3)
'The true descendant of the gods' – the Emperor, who is believed to be descended from the Sun Goddess Amaterasu. He was apparently also responsible for making Japan join in the second world war, and we know what happened later…
Gaijin – Japanese word for foreigners, and can be used in a very nasty context.
'Black ships' – foreign traders which were American or European. Not only where the foreigners seen as demons, but they were seen as a corrupting force on Feudal Japanese society, as some of them brought over diseases and Christianity (which seemed to have caused political concern for the Shogunate)
I reckon that in order to keep people from probing into whether Karai is legally his daughter or not, he arranged for fake personal information to be created about her (since he took her from the streets and I think it's unlikely there'd be some existing officially recorded stats such as her DoB…maybe he's a good guesser, having lived on earth for ages? shrugs)
Reijiro helped me with some ninja terms for this chapter :)
These are the terms she gave:
Jonin – the leader (like the Shredder)
Chunin – the second-in-command who relays orders between the leader and the lower ranks, and takes care of operations (like Karai was, or, perhaps, her aides before she was initiated)
Genin – which would be the regular Foot ninja, not the Elite or the Mystics