[Bishop-chan's notes: A scenario detailing what happens when weapons of war gain sentience. Remind me never to go to that musclewoman's place...]
Forged Fangirls
by Nicholai
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Kofu wiped the sweat from her brow as she placed the two finished swords in the rack to await their owner. Hopefully these two will be less talkative than all the rest, she sighed to herself.
"So you made us for someone special, right Momma?" the one on the left asked slowly. Lizbeth tried to ignore the vein above Kofu's temple that was beginning to tick rapidly.
"Yes, yes. You are a custom order for a very respected client, so behave yourselves!" Kofu snapped.
"Who is going to be wielding us?" the one on the right asked in it's chipper voice.
"That Super Spriggan Liz introduced me to a few weeks ago."
"Super Spriggan?" they asked in concert.
"Kofu-san is being rude. His name is Kirito," Lizbeth helpfully interjected.
Kofu blinked as the two swords seemed to vibrate in place. This cannot be good, she thought to herself.
"Kirito?" the one on the left asked quickly.
"Yes," Lizbeth answered with a puzzled look.
"The Black Swordsman, Kirito?"
"Yes," Lizbeth answered after a beat. "How do you know about him?"
At this point the two swords were actually bouncing around in the rack. Kofu bolted for the door.
"SQUEEEEE!"
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(An hour later at the local hospital)
"We think a Puca botched a cast near these two. It's the only explanation that makes sense for ruptured eardrums and what looks like a massive saccharine overdose."
"And why does the pinkette have a concussion?"
"Have you seen the hammer the other one is carting around?"