Author's Note: I just want to let readers know that there may be an extended pause between chapters. On May 16th 2018, I lost my mother to dementia. I have had a tremendous load of responsibility thrust upon my shoulders and some horrific stress. There is unimaginable things that must be done and most days leave me exhausted. Lets not forget the heartache and sorrow. I am taking folks advice, I need time to grieve.
8.
It took some time for the ray-skin on the old tsuka to loosen from the wooden handle. When it did, Hira was able to show Kotaro just how the handle to Nanashi's katana had broken. She transferred the samegawa to a half dowel piece to re-stretch it, and showed the boy where the split in the wood was.
"So how do you fix that?" Kotaro asked that night as they settled by the table.
"This? It is nothing more than kindling now," she said holding the two pieces of handle that made up the ho. The 'inside' showed where the tang had been custom fit for the blade. "So, if you hand me that tube under the table we'll make a new handle."
Passing her a weighty tube, she pulled the lid off/ She shook out several bundles of wood, each neatly tied together, and of varying lengths. They were partially made already, having the necessary notches and holes to fit caps, pins and silk for the final manufacturing of the handles.
"A samurai's tsuka is custom made for them to handle properly," Hira said. "They are measured from their wrist to their elbow of their dominant hand. So," she picked up a half of Nanashi's old handle and set it up against a few of the wood bundles until a near perfect match was made. "We'll use this one to make the new katana." She smiled at the boy, setting the old handle aside. "Here," she handed him the new ho. "Untie this while I put these away and get out a new blade."
Kotaro grinned, tackling the leather thongs used to tie the dual pieces of ho together while Hira slide the remaining bundles back into their tube. Setting it aside, she pulled out the longest tube she had gotten out and pulled the lid off. There were four long bundles of cloth inside and she pulled one out, setting it on the chabudai before putting the lid back on the tube and joining it with the other one.
"Don't they custom make the blade too?" Kotaro asked as he finished untying the two pieces of the ho.
"In a way, yes," Hira said. "All katanas are generally the same length, between 24 and 31 inches long. That goes for the wakizashi as well. Those are 12 to 20 inches or so. The tanto's are even smaller and are really considered to be daggers rather than swords." Hira said as she untied the bundle of clothe she had laid on the table.
"What do you mean by wakizashi's and tanto's?" Kotaro asked.
Hira glanced at him, a wry smile on her lips. "Well, in most battles, samurai's carried two swords and a dagger. The katana being the longest."
"You mean they fought with two swords?" Kotaro asked in awe as Hira carefully unfolded the cloth from around the long blade it protected. A light of fire seemed to gleam from the boy's eyes.
"Yes, they often did. He most certainly knows how to wield two at a time." She nodded her head at Nanashi. "They also made even longer swords than these, and they made a blade of this length mounted on poles called a naginata. There's one above the genken there." She glanced at the home's entry.
Kotaro, mouth opened in awe, looked that way but couldn't see what she mentioned.
"There's a recess along the lintel post there, I just reach up and pull the naginata down," She said.
"Why put a sword on a pole?" he asked.
"It gives the wielder a longer reach than that of a sword. Besides..." Hira smiled slyly as she smoothed the fabric out away from the new blade. "It's an easier weapon to master for the women of the household. We have to defend our homes with more that just kaiken knives..."
"You mean...?" Kotaro looked at her.
Hira only winked. She held her hand out for the new ho.
Grinning, Kotaro dropped it into her hands.
"Now, if you look in the little bag of tools you will find a tiny chisel, can you get it for me?" she asked as she took one of the halves of the ho and slipped it under the tang of the new blade. Reaching into her sleeve she pulled the kaiken knife out and unsheathed it.
Kotaro handed her the chisel which had a very small blade end to it.
"Now, slip you fingers under the mune side of the blade and lift it so that the tang is flat against the ho." She instructed, centering the tang on the wooden handle. Kotaro obeyed, watching what she was doing over her arm. With the knife, she carefully scored the outline of the tang onto the ho, including the placement of the mekugi hole. Once that was done, she switched it for the other half and repeated her scoring.
"Why does the blade look so dull?" Kotaro ask as he set it back down on the cloth.
"It hasn't been furbished yet. That is where it gets a final sharpening, then polished until you can see your reflection in the blade. These have been in storage, that's why they darken." She nudged the blade away for her and picked up one of the handle halves. "So, now that we know where the tang will fit. We drill out the mekugi pin holes and carve out the wood inside the outline so the two halves of the ho are custom fit to the width of the tang."
A companionable silence fell between them as Hira worked on carefully drilling out the holes and then painstakingly chiselling the space for the tang. Completing one, she got a very fine file out of the sack and showed Kotaro how to smooth the edged of the holes and the tang notch while she worked on the other half. As they worked, Hira heard Nanashi sigh and shift.
A quick glance his way and she could just make out the sheen of perspiration on his face. She studied him, waiting to see if he would relax and settle. His head slowly tipped, facing towards them, his eyes closed and he stilled, his breathing evening out. She watched him a moment longer then turned back to what they were working on.
"Once we get these smoothed out, we'll glue the two halves together and let it set."
The reconstruction of the tsuka stretched out over several days. The ho needing to be glued together and the handle's fittings needing to be customize to the new wooden handle. The samegawa also, the ray-skin grip, had to be stretched carefully into place to make a full battle wrap around the ho. Here, Hira had to carefully shave the edges of the skin to get it to lay perfectly flat at the seams. Each step was an exercise in precision and craft.
During the day, despite the cold and occasional snowfall, the two tended to the animals and birds. Weather permitting, Hira left Kotaro to go exploring, giving him time to play. She prepared herbs, bark, and roots for future uses and the both of them worked on preparing meals. She even managed to squeeze in time to help the boy with his reading when the weather grew bad.
Nanashi's days descended into jumbled confusion. The worst part being, not so much the fever itself, but the breaking of the fever as he fought against the infections that threatened to overtake him. Two things, however, were a constant anchor. The sounds of Hira and Kotaro quietly murmuring to one another in the evenings, and Hira's continual presence by his side as she helped him through the delirium aspects of his fever.
Delirium cared nothing for the person it affected. Things come to the surface which folks often wanted left buried, or better yet, forgotten. He was no different. It was revealed, with no rhyme or reason, and Hira heard the most of it in Nanashi's incoherent ramblings. There was a world of hurt, anger and indescribable anguish welling up out of him as the fever relentlessly went through its course.
He lay prostrate, barely able to move as the fever wreaked its havoc and Hira spent longer and longer times between sleep and rest tending to him. Often recruiting Kotaro to help with his care.
Ensconced by the fire one evening, the reassembling of the katana was reaching its peak. Hira, having put away the various tubes and most of the tools, settled by the chabudai with an intricately ornate black lacquer box, a hank of burgundy silk for the ito, and the various bits of equipment that needed to go back onto the sword. There was even a new sheath of walnut wood, polished to a glowing dark brown, its end cap of brass glinting in the firelight.
The blade sat exposed on its wooden block, the different caps and washers, the ho and the pin spread out around her as she set the box on the table. Kotaro looked at it, then up at her curiously as he folded yet another crane for an impressively long string of them. Tobimaru had managed to wriggle his way under the chabudai, setting his head down near the boy.
"That's getting mighty long now..." Hira commented with a wry smile.
Kotaro grinning, rattling a number off proudly as he slipped his newest crane into place with all the others. "What's in there?" he asked, nodding at the box.
"The last few pieces I need to finish this sword." Hira replied, settling down next to him. She pushed back a little ways and swung the blade around so that the tang pointed at her. Pulling the box over she lifted the lid, revealing three sections all covered in black silk. "We need the menuki, the kozuka, and a new hand guard to finish the work. I think I only have one tsuba left..." She mused, tugging the silk back on a section and revealing several small silver ornaments. She picked out two and held them in her hand to Kotaro.
"They're leaves..." he commented, eliciting a smile from Hira as he picked one up to look at it. In the center was a pair of ginko leaves braced on either side by a pair of maple leaves and ending with sprays of pine needles in the cluster. The ornament no longer than an inch long and with incredible detail.
"Were you expecting dragons? Or fire? Or tigers?" she asked. "Or fearful Shinto gods?"
"Well..." Kotaro drawled, blushing, "I mean, it is for him right?" He glanced over at Nanashi. "He should have something strong and fierce!"
"I am afraid," Hira replied, "those are in short order around here. What these represent are the crests of my house." She pointed out the ginkgo leaves. "The ginkgo represents hope, peace and longevity. Qualities that are essential to healers and highly desired by samurai. Pines also represent longevity and virtue. Maples represent the wind, peace, balance," Hira paused, settling her fingers on the maple leaves of one of the menuki as a flash of grief appeared on her face. "They also represent serenity and..." she stopped, gazing down at the ornament.
Kotaro looked at her, waiting for her to answer, seeing the troubled look on her features. "And?" he asked.
Hira shook herself, looking at the boy. "What?"
"You were about to tell me what the other meaning of maple leaves are."
"Oh..." Hira pulled her hand back, "It also means lo..." She balked at the word. "It also means longevity as well. Three different symbols all meaning the same thing." She said hastily, setting her menuki on the table. "Real samurai do not seek fights or battles. They seek peace, and hope. An end to wars..." She glanced momentarily at Nanashi.
Kotaro frowned gazing down at the menuki in his hand. In his very short eight years he had developed an extraordinary and nearly paranoid ability to detect deception in others. Hira had just lied to him. All about maple leaves. He looked confused as he set the other menuki next to its mate.
"Remember when I showed you that hidden slot built into the side of the sheath?" She asked, turning her attention back to him and flipping the silk back into place over the menuki. She pulled aside the silk on long middle compartment in the box.
"Yeah?" Kotaro asked, watching her carefully, trying to sense any more deception. The previous evening she had assembled the new saya or sheath, a fairly quick affair as it was, mostly, already made. It missed only the silk knot of the sageo. There was a knob, with a hole, called the kurigata where the sheath could be attached to an obi. This sheath also included a slot where a small knife called a kozuka could be inserted.
Hira pulled out a slim, six inch long, blade with a nearly flat handle. "This is the kozuka," she said showing him the handle of the same polished wood as the saya. The handle was inlaid with abalone representing the ginkgo, the maple and the pine needle cluster. She reached over for the sheath and neatly slid the kozuka into place in its slot, thus completing the saya. She smiled and held the sheath out to Kotaro.
"What we need now is a tsuba that can fit not only the katana blade, but the end of that kozuka as well." Hira said as Kotaro took the saya and began experimentally pulling out and reinserting the kozuka.
Hira reached into the box and flipped the remaining cloth aside. On its bed of silk sat a single, round katana hand guard. The centre clearly defining where the blade went, but with an additional keyhole like slot to the right to accommodate the kozuka. It was far more ornate than any tsuba Kotaro had ever seen. Which really amounted to only Nanashi's broken one. Here the tsuba had three ginkgo leaves separated by pairs of maples leaves. It glinted with silver light as Kotaro peered at it. The piece had spaces cut out to define each leaf, but was more that capable of preventing a hand, or even a blade, from getting past to injure the user.
"So," Hira said lifting the tsuba out, closing the lid of the box. "Let's get that handle wrapped shall we?"
In a matter of a few minutes, she slipped the habachi sleeve and first seppa into place before sliding the tsuba and second seppa onto the blade. Here she paused, slipping the saya onto the blade, making sure -with a push of her thumb on the kozuka handle- that it slid easily in and out of its keyhole slot on the tsuba.
Satisfied, she then slid the fuchi cap onto the tang, making sure everything fit snugly into place. She then reached over for the ho.
As she worked the tang into the customized slot on the handle, Kotaro anticipated her next moves, sliding a smaller wooden block under where she worked, snatching up a custom made bamboo pin and the small hammer. With an ease of long practice, Hira twisted, tugged and adjusted the blade of the katana into its new handle then slid the mekugi pin into the holes made to accommodate it. Picking up the wooden mallet she looked down at Kotaro.
"Ready?" She asked with a smile.
"Yeah!" he said with anticipation.
Hira proceeded to secure the blade. Seconds later, she picked up the sword, sliding the sheath off. Gripping it securely in both hands she lifted the blade up to glint in the firelight. Turning it sideways, she turned up her finger and settled it under the habaki collar.
The sword balanced as neatly as could be atop her finger. Hira smiled in satisfaction, looking over the new sword. She glanced at Kotaro and invited him to balance it as well.
He breathed out an 'oh' of amazement, then said. "It's beautiful!"
"Yes, katanas can be a thing of beauty, as well as a weapon." Hira said, watching as he carefully balanced the sword. "And this one isn't even finished yet!" She pulled over the hank of burgundy silk and began reeling off arm lengths of it. With her kaikan she cut it off the skein then gripped the ends together, pulling on them to find the loop forming the midpoint of the wrap.
Kotaro meanwhile, settled the unsheathed blade back on the block and slid the other out of the way, exposing the grey, samegawa wrapped handle and the new tsuba with its habaki and fuchi collars. He even flipped it so the right side faced up.
"Before you know it, you might be making these on your own," She said to him with a smile. She found the abalone handled hook and the long, thin, dowel tool, then slipped the loop of the silk over the ho, positioning it tight up against the fuchi collar. Nudging the loop in snug with her fingers, she proceeded to flip the sword over, pulling one end of the ito into place, then pull it up, carefully twisting it once, then twice, and settling it firmly into place. She repeated the process with the other end, two twists and firmly settle, smoothing the silk down as flat as it could get.
Then she flipped the sword back over and repeated the process.
Almost immediately the distinctive diamond pattern of a silk wrapped tsuka-ito could easily be seen emerging. Another pair of twisted wraps and Hira flipped the sword over, right side facing up.
"Hand me a menuki..." She murmured to Kotaro.
His little hand instantly picked up one of the inch long ornaments and handed it to her. He was fascinated at the process unfolding before him.
"The first menuki goes here, on the right side, just above the large nobs of the ray-skin's center." She set the silver ornament into place and neatly twisted the silk over it, holding the one end down. "It also goes behind the mekugi pin." The new menuki neatly hid the discolouration of where the old decoration had sat.
Another flip, another twist, and in moments the menuki was in place. She took the metal probing tool, making sure ito and menuki were firmly and solidly set. She then proceeded to do several more of the wraps in rapid succession. Throughout the process she made sure each was snug and pushed up tight to where they needed to be before having Kotaro hand her the last piece.
With the sword now facing left side up, she neatly had the second menuki cinched down and finished, wrapping the ito to the end. She pinched the ends onto the ho, leaving a pair of strands. "Now," she said to the boy, picking up the kashira end cap. "We tie this into place with the ito and finish it."
As she worked, she could hear Nanashi shifting around on his shikibuton, followed by a soft groan. Using the abalone tool and the metal dowel, she began the intricate job of securely tying down the ito and kashira cap into place. She hid all evidence of where the silk had been cut off. All the while keeping a weather eye on her patient.
"There,"she said at last. Examining her handy work, turning the katana over and around, inspecting the handle and new tsuba. "Tomorrow, I'll show you how the knot is made for the sheath and we'll get it polished up bright and sharp. Then when he gets better, you can give it to him."
"Yeah!" Kotaro said in satisfaction as she handed the sword to him to look at. Within minutes though he began suppressing yawns.
"And while you take a look at that, carefully, I'll get this all cleaned up. Then I think someone needs to go to bed, its rather late!" Hira said and slowly rose to her feet.
Winter nights being what they were, often times Hira would settle besides her patient, tending to him and telling Kotaro stories of her childhood and members of her family. He had asked about her husband, but she gently declined to tell him about the man she had married. Instead she regaled him with stories of her brothers, father and uncles. Eventually, with images and exploits dancing in his head, Kotaro would drift off to sleep.
With the boy blissfully unawares, Hira focused all her attention on Nanashi. The stress of trying to heal the man soon appeared on her face. She looked worn and tired with circles under her eyes. No longer needing to put up a solid front, the rigors of what she dealt with weighed her shoulders down. She hauled over a small bamboo tube, then pulled the kakabuton cover down. Luckily, he was mostly on his stomach that night, giving her access to his back, starkly criss crossed with old scars.
She poured an oil tincture onto her hands and set about working on him. Applying the shiatsu she had been trained in. Working silently, she lifted up whatever prayers she could think of as Nanashi eventually began voicing the anguish and internal struggles forcing their way out of him. Hira relentlessly carried on, determined to work as much of the stress and tension out of his muscles as she could, working down his back, his arms, his legs, then eventually his chest where she could work around the bandages.
Murmurings, mumbles, whimpers, even tears, escaped from him as she worked to soothe, and comfort. That night, his distress woke up Kotaro. He twisted around on his bed, looking over at Hira as she diligently sat besides the man, wiping his face, his brow, his neck and shoulders. She didn't hear Kotaro yawn and sleepily stumble to his feet. Nanashi shivered, his head rolling from side to side. Hira kept up a soft hushing and nearly jumped out of her skin when Kotaro suddenly appeared besides her.
"Kotaro!" She gasped, almost dropping the damp clothe in her hand. He was half asleep, one hand rubbing a barely opened eye. He had picked up the new katana and sheathed it.
"Try this..." he murmured, holding the sword out, and yawning.
Hira looked at him perplexed, wondering if he was actually sleep walking.
"He never slept without it," the boy mumbled. "Since its been broken, he hasn't hardly slept at all. Maybe it will help?"
Hira paused then slowly set the cloth back into the bowl. She reached up and took the katana from him. Without a word he returned to his bed, burying himself under the comforter. Hira didn't move, just holding the katana in her hands. Then she looked at Nanashi.
Reaching over, she lifted his left arm, sliding the katana under it and curled his fingers around the saya at the hand guard, setting sword and hand on his chest. At first nothing happened, he just shivered again, head rolling, until his fingers reflexively jerked around the hilt.
Hira would have sworn he let out a soft gasp, before he drew in a deeper breath of air and noticeably relaxed. Reaching for the cloth, she moistened it, wrung it out and dabbed at his face, watching his eyes as they slowly ceased moving under his eyelids. He finally fell into a feverish slumber.
Hira sat there a moment and watched him, before turning and looking over at the boy. Then she dropped her gaze to the bruises and small cut on her arm where he had grabbed her in the throes of his nightmare. Her fingers brushed her arm as she frowned in thought.
She waited just long enough to be sure he was truly asleep, then she gently slid the katana out from under his arm. Silently, she got up, settling by the chabudai, weary beyond belief, knowing this fever had to break soon or they were in real peril of his death. Gazing thoughtfully at the katana, she carefully wrapped it in the blade's cloth and set it besides the table.
Heaving a sigh, she rested her forehead in her hand, glancing back over at him and made the mistake of closing her eyes.
Within seconds, she was draped over the low table, succumbing to her own fatigue.
