Hellhound V
"I need to see your skills before we can begin," Muramasa says after our conversation about swords and swordsmanship ends.
I nod and look around at his forge and the assembled tools in the workspace, feeling awkward about this. I possess inherited knowledge about forging from assimilating my ancestor's spirit and I've used his method of forging cursed weapons from bone. The knowledge I obtained regarding normal forging however is untested.
Muramasa seems to notice my hesitation and rubs his chin, "Just do what you feel is natural. Do not feel the need to constrain yourself."
"If you're sure," I respond with a shrug.
Before I start forging though, I break off my horns to create a pair of clones.
"One of you two continue training Tobio and the other, sort through those journals outside and separate the ones you think are useful for us," I order them, getting skeptical looks in response.
"We still don't transfer memories. How is that going to help?" One asks and I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Do you think you'll be able to train Tobio to the point I won't be able to judge his progress? Even if I don't know what you're teaching him, I'll be able to see the result and know where to go from there. As for the journals, I'm saying to sort them so I can read them later, not try to learn from them." I roll my eyes because they're my clones; they must already have known my reasoning and only asked to annoy me. "Hurry up and leave."
The two give me mocking salutes and stroll out of the room, playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who takes which task.
"Are they always so quirky?" Muramasa asks with an amused smirk.
"Sadly, yes," I respond sounding defeated.
I shake my head and make my decision. I'm going to demonstrate the bone forging method to show off my skills rather than something untested.
I pull out a dragon bone from my subspace and smile at the lingering malice within the bone. Yes, this will do nicely for the demonstration.
"Let's begin," I say, focusing my attention on that core of malice and drawing it out with Yojutsu.
Slowly, yet violently, a dark flame begins to emerge from the bone as the malice announces itself to the world. I mold the flame carefully, forcing that violent curse to crash into the bone every time it attempts to surge out toward me.
Each time the flame is redirected, the bone distorts further from its original shape. Again and again, the flame becomes a hammer directed by my will, crushing the bone into the shape of a weapon.
Ash flakes off the bone as it warps, the outside slowly taking on a metallic sheen.
Finally, as the malice within the bone starts to run dry and the bone has taken the shape of a blade, the lingering energy sinks back into the weapon, glaring outwards with the promise that it will grow patiently until it can strike again.
With the blade finished, I wipe off my brow and glance at Muramasa. "How was that?"
Muramasa is shaking his head with his arms crossed, "If that was the extent of your skill then forget ten years, forty might not be enough to train you to an acceptable level. That wasn't even blacksmithing! What you did was closer to Alchemy than a proper craft."
He sighs, "You crushed bone into a shape similar to a sword. How does that show your ability to control a furnace's temperature, your intuition for molding metal, your hammering technique, or your eye for forming an edge?"
"There's not even an ounce of a craftsman's spirit in that weapon. All you have proven is that you know the vague shape of a blade." Muramasa says, his disappointment evident in his frown. "Your technique is interesting and I'm certain powerful weapons could be made if you honed that method. However, it is not and can never be blacksmithing."
Glaring at Muramasa, I toss the blade away and walk over to the furnace. With a small use of Yojutsu, the furnace ignites into white-hot flame.
"Fine, let's do it properly then," I growl in frustration.
"Ha, show me your best!" Muramasa responds with a wide smile.
Muramasa sighs internally as he watches Ibaraki demonstrate her blacksmithing skills, properly this time.
Is she worse than he expected? No, quite the opposite in fact, the skill she's demonstrating is impressive even.
Her hammering technique, her control of the heat source, and her intuition for the process; all are above what he expected. Not enough to call her a master, or even come close to the level of skill he needs, but she could be considered a capable journeyman in the craft.
No, the problem is easily evident for someone of Muramasa's skill to discern. Ibaraki has no real connection to the craft, whatsoever.
There is no craftsman's spirit in her work, it's like watching some machine forge a weapon rather than the hands of an artist.
Worse, it's as though he's watching someone apply techniques they've only read about for the first time, yet somehow doing it perfectly.
It's almost as though she is using someone else's experiences or memories of the craft and merely copying their efforts.
So when she presents the completed blade with a proud grin, Muramasa can only frown and feel a faint sense of offense, "This is… adequate."
Muramasa watches as Ibaraki's eyes narrow and her grin turns into a tight frown, "What do you mean 'adequate'? This is a good sword!"
Muramasa coughs and quashes his instinctual offense at the sword. She's right, it is a good sword and itisenough to prove this endeavor is worthwhile.
"I'm not used to having an…apprenticeof sorts. Compliments don't come easy to me since I'm so used to working alone and demanding perfection from myself." Muramasa says to placate her.
Her eyes narrow before she grins again, "Adequate is good enough for now, I suppose. I'll have to improve quickly so you'll call my swords amazing, huh?"
Muramasa feels a sense of relief and closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath, "That you will, Ibaraki. Now how about I give you my critiques and begin imparting my techniques to you?"
Ibaraki looks excited as Muramasa picks up his hammer and starts to demonstrate his hammering technique while explaining the flaws in her own.
"When you swing the hammer, you should never be in a rush, nor should you be too relaxed. Just like with your heat source, you should always be in control of the metal you are shaping, but you should never forget that your work needs to be precise…" Muramasa continues to explain, his heart feeling light as he sees the rapt attention from Ibaraki.
A stray thought briefly enters his mind as he works, 'this might be more enjoyable than merely completing his life's work.'
"Your hammering technique has improved so much, Kiddo," Muramasa says, leaning against the wall of the forge as he watches Ibaraki hammer out the ingot, "It's night and day from your attempt a week ago."
Ibaraki sighs as a bead of sweat rolls down her forehead, "It's still far from your technique, Old Man. I still say I could copy yours instantly if-"
Muramasa sighs, cutting her off, "I'm not attacking you with a hammer because you think you can copy my technique if it's a fight. I'm your teacher and I'm not interested in assaulting my disciple."
"As if you could hit me," Ibaraki grumbles under her breath, "Besides, I'd regenerate any damage even if you did."
"Ease up on the hammer a little, you're swinging harder from frustration." Muramasa interjects and nods approvingly as she adjusts her swing, "It's not that I doubt your ability, I just think that as a teacher I should teach. If I was teaching you how to fight it would be different but I'm imparting my craft to you. My hammering techniques are for striking metal only."
Ibaraki looked up at him fondly for a moment before scoffing and continuing to hammer away at the metal, "Some Demonic Blacksmith you are."
"No, no! That flame is far too hot! What are you thinking?! Are you even thinking!" Muramasa bellows at his apprentice.
"I'm thinking it's two degrees off! At most! You crazy old ghost!" Ibaraki screams back, the fire in the forge flaring up hotter as her focus lapses.
"You're going to ruin the blade!" He yells, "How can someone profess to be skilled with fire magic and be so terrible at managing a flame?!"
"Do you think this is normal steel for a mundane blade? Your technique needs to be perfect and the heat precise. Even a simpleton would understand that forging a divine blade requires perfection!" Muramasa huffs, a wild look in his eyes.
"Hah? Is this coming from the so-called 'Legendary Demonic Blacksmith' who couldn't even create a blade that rivaled the gods in his lifetime? Your rival managed that but you couldn't, so why are you getting angry at me?!" She spits back, her face contorted with rage.
"A pathetic shade who only exists to chase a goal they can't reach shouldn't lecture the living!" Ibaraki screams, clenching her fists as her Touki flares wildly in response to her rage.
They both growl at each other before Ibaraki stomps out of the forge.
"I'd like to apologize for earlier," Ibaraki says, looking embarrassed, "The flamewastoo hot and I shouldn't have insulted you like that either."
Muramasa rubs the back of his neck feeling ashamed, "No, I poked at your insecurities as well. The forge is always hot and our temperaments are hotter. It's the way of blacksmiths, all fire and ash."
During their time together, Ibaraki had confided in him her insecurity about her lacking magical talents. Over the last two weeks, they had both learned much about each other's lives as they grew closer. What started as a loose agreement to work together had turned into something resembling a proper master-and-apprentice relationship despite neither officially acknowledging it.
They both laugh and shift awkwardly in their seats as Izanami smiles at the two of them, "I'm glad the two of you worked things out. I've enjoyed watching two of my closest friends become close to each other. I would have been saddened if you drifted apart."
"Ah, we would've worked it out quickly either way, My Lady," Muramasa says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture he adopted from his time with Ibaraki.
His hand stills and he grabs his cup of tea from off the table and takes a long sip to hide his embarrassment.
Izanami laughs gently as she notices this, demurely covering her smile with her hand, "I'm sure you would have. How are your goals progressing though? There is little time left before you are scheduled to leave again, Ibaraki."
Ibaraki snorts in amusement at Muramasa and shakes her head, "It's going really well, honestly. My clones have been busy organizing those journals in Muramasa's forge and training Tobio since I've been too focused on training under the grumpy shade of a blacksmith over here."
"As far as I'm aware, my first clone is almost finished going through all the journals. They've been really smug lately and I've thought about killing them but then I wouldn't know how they've sorted them," Ibaraki sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
"If they're that happy about themselves it must be a treasure trove though." Ibaraki itches the bumps left by her severed horns, "I wish they'd hurry up so I can get my horns back. It's so annoying to be left with these nubs for so long."
Izanami smirks and leans her elbows onto the table, resting her chin on her palms, "Really? That's not what you were saying when Suzaku visited you earlier this week. Someone was blushing and giddy because she thought you looked cute like this."
Ibaraki groans and hides her face in her palms, "Izanami! Stoooop it! Can't you let me be enamored by my girlfriend in peace?"
Muramasa laughs heartily, leaning back in his chair, "Hahaha, you've gotta admit you two are adorable, Brat. Almost makes me regret the way I spent my youth."
Ibaraki peaks out from behind her hands to glare at Muramasa, her blush still visible, "Old men who only think about swords can't comment!"
Izanami titters happily before gesturing for Ibaraki to continue, "What of training your new apprentice?"
Ibaraki glares at Izanami while pouting, "Surely you know better than me how he's progressing? My clone has been handling that and I know they visited you."
"Think of me asking as a light punishment for bringing a user of that Longinus into my domain and not introducing him to me yourself." Izanami's eyes narrow playfully, "Clones don't count."
"I've been busy." Ibaraki grumbles, "I haven't even been able to check on him."
"Well that is fair, I suppose. I had an interesting time getting a close look at his Sacred Gear." Izanami smiles wistfully, "It was… nice, to feel my son's spirit once more, even if it was trapped in my ex-husband's sword. I was even able to alter the wards within the Sacred Gear slightly."
Ibaraki perks up at that, "Oh?"
"Mhm, I couldn't do much. The Biblical God's mastery over his creations is far beyond my skills, no matter how much it pains me to say. Still, I was able to bring out more of my son's spirit than what would normally be accessible from that accursed blade." Izanami puffs up with pride, preening under Ibaraki's gaze.
"That's incredible! As expected of Izanami." Ibaraki praises her, clapping happily.
Muramasa nods along reverently, "I'd expect nothing less from my patron."
"Stop it you two," Izanami blushes, not meaning her words in the slightest. "Putting my achievements aside, your disciple is growing quite well here. You're in for quite the surprise when you finally have the time to catch up with his growth."
"Don't leave me in suspense!" Ibaraki says, grinning excitedly.
"All I'll say is, every day he hunts deeper and deeper into Yomi. He's not progressing as fast as you did when you first arrived but… If he stopped holding little Jin back as much, he would probably reach my palace in another month or two." Izanami says with a thoughtful expression.
Ibaraki rolls her eyes and sighs, "Heroes and their constant need to hold themselves back."
Muramasa nods along wearily, "Truly one of the universe's greatest mysteries."
I sigh as I stare down at Kenmyoren, shifting the divine blade in my grip consideringly.
I decided to finally stop putting this off and greet the spirit sealed within today. To either greet Otakemaru and come to an agreement or slay his spirit so I would never have to worry about him getting any ideas.
With so little time left before I needed to leave Yomi again and deal with the events of Slash/Dog, it was more than time to finally deal with Otakemaru.
Still, I've been hesitant to do this for a reason.
Simply put, I have no idea how strong Otakemaru is at the moment or how he will react. I don't doubt I can defeat him at this point, I've grown quite strong and my soul is more powerful than some remnant spirit that has been sealed for a thousand years.
My concern is that he would choose death over submitting to me and becoming the village protector I desire, or worse, pretending to submit and making problems for me later.
No, better to just kill him and figure something else out rather than deal with that.
Not taking any more time to second guess this, I let my consciousness seep into the blade, Yomi fading away around me as my perception shifts…
A heady scent pierces my senses and after a moment I recognize it, forcing me to bite back a curse.
…Fucking sandalwood incense
As my 'vision' returns to me and my eyes open in the spiritual space within the sword, I'm greeted by an absolute mountain of a demon god, looking so similar to me and my kin if not for the size difference.
His sharp red eyes glare down at me and above them sits a crown of sharp horns. Laced through those horns are long wild locks of white hair, contrasting with his rough dark grey skin.
He breathes out slowly and I catch a glimpse of sharp teeth like swords hidden within his mouth. His muscular body shifts as he breathes, rippling with restrained power, and he crosses his arms over his chest.
'Great Mountain Peak' indeed.
Yet despite his identity as a living calamity and demon god… his aura is almost peaceful.
"What's up, little cousin?" Otakemaru asks, sounding happy despite his voice deep voice rumbling like crashing boulders.
"...You aren't what I was expecting," I say with a sigh.
He laughs shaking his head, "You were expecting, what; Endless rage, bottomless hunger, a dark calamitous storm, eager to be unleashed to ravage the world once more?"
He stares at me with suddenly dead eyes, "I listened to Buddhists chant ceaselessly for a thousand years. I literally could not shut out their teachings even if I wanted to. A hundred years in I was still eager for revenge. Three hundred years and I wanted to kill every Buddhist and every Buddha. After a thousand… I'd just like to be able to live again. To see the sky, maybe find some companionship, to talk to another person."
I blink in shock, feelingsadfor this poor demon, and wet my suddenly dry lips.
"Um… would you like to be released-" I barely have a chance to get those words out before he interrupts.
"Yes, please, thankBuddha,Yes! I'll accept any conditions, just let me out of this damn sword." Otakemaru cries out, slamming his head into his palms and his shoulders shake.
Now it would be natural to be suspicious that this was a trick but he isn't even attempting to hide his aura from me and I can read his emotions like a book. He's just sad and relieved to finally have a chance to leave here.
"Welcome to the village then?" I say in bewilderment at how this meeting went. "I'll release you soon, I guess."
As I remove my consciousness from the sword I dismiss what sound like sobs of relief as a trick of the mind.
"This is it, huh? Your final day in Yomi for now?" Muramasa mutters sadly, feeling regretful that his apprentice is leaving.
"Don't be too sad, Old Man." Ibaraki says shifting awkwardly, "Today should be a day for celebration! We're going to finally finish your life's work."
Muramasa scoffs and smiles fondly, "That remains to be seen. You can do a decent imitation of my hammering technique now and your heat control is impeccable but you still have no craftsman's spirit!"
That was the biggest hurdle for them to overcome today. Ibaraki may have a solid technical foundation at this point, worthy of being called a master blacksmith but her spirit as a smith was that of a novice at best. She lacks even the most basic heart that an artist requires to bring their works to life.
"A swordsman's idea of a weapons spirit and a craftsman's are incompatible," Ibaraki repeats an argument they've had multiple times over the past couple of days.
"I'm starting to understand that," Muramasa grumbles, "That doesn't mean I have to like it. My apprentice shouldn't be making such lifeless works!"
Ibaraki just flashes him a cheeky grin, "That's what you're here for, Old Man! Besides, this is going to be your work once it is finished, I'm merely a part of the process."
Muramasa smiles and reaches over to pull her into a surprise hug. He ignores the squawk of protest she makes and holds her tightly, starting to laugh softly.
"Thank you, Ibaraki, for this past month. Even if we don't succeed today, I've felt more alive teaching you than even before my death. I count you as one of the few people I've truly cared for in my life or my death. Even if our time together has been short, you will always be this Muramasa's cherished apprentice." He draws back and gives her a wide smile, the features of his face becoming more defined as his spirit radiates joy.
Ibaraki sniffles and glares at him, "You sappy old ghost… I've enjoyed my time here too… Master. Now stop acting like this is goodbye forever! We have a sword to forge!"
She slips from his embrace and heads over to light the fire, her shoulders drawn inward as she feels the weight of his proud gaze upon her back.
Muramasa shakes his head fondly and looks over the assembled materials, feeling himself fall into a state of absolute focus as he prepares for this endeavor.
Simple iron would not suffice for the sword they are creating today, instead, Izanami had bestowed upon them multiple types of divine metal drawn from the depths of Yomi. Neither he nor Ibaraki had asked for this boon, Lady Izanami had merely supplied the material and left them after giving quick encouraging hugs this morning.
The metals all had varying hardness and temperances which when combined would produce the ideal sword according to the traditional forging methods that Muramasa employs. A hard, medium, and soft metal, each with its unique traits… metals he had only worked with a handful of times due to how much strain it placed on his soul to forge with such powerful materials.
He would need to use all his skills to create harmony within the materials but he had long ago decided that everything would be for this moment. A special nine-layered lamination would be used, far more complex than the seven-layered lamination that his rival employed, and one he never managed to succeed in creating during his lifetime due to the complexity.
Beyond that, Lady Izanami had felled one of the cherry trees within her private gardens to be used alongside the divine metal, stating that she wished to also be a contributor to both their successes.
With the support of his lady and his apprentice, Muramasa would not fail this time.
He was ready, his apprentice was ready. Now would be their moment.
With a firmed resolution and confidence beyond what he had ever possessed, Muramasa began his final attempt at surmounting this endeavor.
"Apprentice! Raise the temperature of the furnace! We are working with more than simple iron today!" Muramasa calls out with a grin, watching as Ibaraki nods and the flames turn a bright white.
"Thank you for your support, Ibaraki." He mutters softly under the roar of the fire and places the ingots within the furnace gently with his tongs.
He watches carefully as the ingots grow hot, ready to bark out instructions as he prepares to set the rhythm at the anvil.
"The first ingot!" Muramasa barks out with narrowed eyes as Ibaraki removes the metal from the furnace.
Muramasa begins to tap the anvil with a small hammer as Ibaraki wields a full-sized hammer according to his rhythm.
Muramasa is filled with pride as Ibaraki's powerful physique drives the hammer down with such immense skill. His prized apprentice, and dammit if he hasn't grown fond of her, is using his hammering technique nearly perfectly in such a short time.
Wisps of sword intent manifest around her as she enters a state of intense focus, the only things entering her awareness being the rhythm Muramasa is setting and imbuing the metal with her sword intent.
Muramasa does the same, slowly filling the vessel they are creating with his craftsman's spirit, the essence of his soul.
They create the beginnings of a rough block and insert the first ingot back into the furnace.
"The second ingot!" Muramasa barks out, and Ibaraki complies.
"Yes, Master!" Ibaraki shouts back over the roar of the furnace executing his orders to perfection.
Yet they still have a long way to go.
Ibaraki hammers the second ingot into the proper shape and despite the sweat dripping off her form, her eyes are bright and ready to meet the challenge ahead.
"The third ingot!" Muramasa barks once more.
Once the final ingot is in the proper shape, Ibaraki forge-welds them together into the proper structure for the laminated core, something that they had practiced hundreds of times over the past few weeks.
"Raise the temperature!"
They have both unceasingly filled the metal with their spirit, and the core is visibly glowing with that energy despite the brightness of the furnace competing with that radiance.
Muramasa sets down his small hammer and takes up a full-sized hammer, stretching the ingot into the shape of the sword must be done by him now.
"The core, Ibaraki!" He shouts with a manic grin, feeling the muscles in his arms and shoulders fill with energy.
Ibaraki is sporting her own wild grin as she places the core upon the anvil.
Muramasa wastes no time andswings his hammer.
Ibaraki's eyes widen as she witnesses something shockingly familiar, the image of Hades' spear thrust overlapping with Muramasa's hammer blows.
Each swing of Muramasa's hammer blurs, sliding off the onlooker's perception, yet emitting an unrestrained aura of divinity that is impossible to interpret as anything else. It isn't quite the same as what Hades displayed, how could a mortal's ghost show technique equal to one of the strongest gods? Yet it touches upon a similar realm nonetheless.
Muramasa laughs a joyous sound that carries over the roar of the furnace and the crash of his hammer against the metal, his hammer swinging faster and faster as he draws out the metal into a sword.
His form grows brighter and more distinct with each impact, the energy he is sending into the sword growing more complete with each moment. Ibaraki matches him, pouring more of her sword intent into their work till the corners of her vision darken and blur.
By the time the blade has taken shape, Ibaraki is struggling to maintain consciousness, yet she perseveres.
"Now the heat treat!" Muramasa shouts happily.
Ibaraki wordlessly nods, placing the sword into the furnace and focusing intently. She has to precisely manipulate the flames within the create a differential heat treatment across the completed shape of the blade, a difficult thing to do normally, made even harder by her tiptoing on the precipice of unconsciousness.
Her vision sways but she pours everything she has into the heat treat, the blade gently bending as she performs her role perfectly.
"It's done, Ibaraki!" Muramasa shouts and Ibaraki's hand snaps out, ripping the blade out of the furnace and tossing it to Muramasa.
The flesh of his hands bubbles and burns as he catches the blade but he pays it no mind, smiling as he reverently sets the blade down.
His body is filled with energy and his soul is emitting a radiance he cannot understand but his focus is resolutely upon their creation now.
"Good job, my apprentice. I'll take it from here." Muramasa says, turning to send her a proud look only to see her passed out against the furnace.
Rushing away from their creation, he picks her up and carries her away from the furnace.
Setting her down outside the forge, he stares down at her fondly, "Rest now, when you awaken our masterpiece will be complete."
Rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms, he heads back into the forge to put the finishing touches on the sword and create the scabbard.
