The Blade

Kenta Ibushi stood over his forge, sweat dripping from his body. A lot in his life had changed after decades of being a swordsmith, but this was something that hadn’t. Steel rang in a perfect pitch as his hammer came down – he smiled. The katana order sent to him last week was almost finished. But just as quickly, the smile dissipated. This might be the last true katana he would ever forge.

It was rare these days. The world was modernizing. People hadn’t needed swords for practical purposes for a century or two, but he decided to keep the swordsmithing tradition alive. His dad was one. His grandfather was one. His great-grandfather was the greatest sword maker of his time – his katanas made names for themselves through their conquests in battle. Kenta’s options were less glorious. He made fully-functional weapons based on famous fantasy video games and movie weapons, and found fame through his flawless work. But it was rare that someone would put in an order for something real and useful. It excited the blood in his veins, almost magnetically drawn to the steel.

His tattooed chest continued to stream sweat as he hammered and folded the steel – kitae. Despite the toll smithing with just his hands and traditional tools had on his body, he made a conscious effort to avoid any modern day contraptions. This process took longer of course, but he thought it was well worth the effort. He was tens of hours into it now but he still had many, many more to go.

As he started polishing the blade, his thoughts started to drift towards the man who sent the order. It came in the form of a written letter from a powerful man whose son was coming of age. The man wanted an Ibushi to forge his son’s katana – just as Kenta’s family had done for their kin in centuries past. The man had also personally requested Kenta’s services to become his bodyguard and confidante. Arguments of the past were just that – arguments. The man wanted an Ibushi by his side as his family’s corporation prepared for intense, global competition. The offer was tempting. Kenta had hid himself from the world in the past decade. Maybe it was time to re-enter humanity.

A glint of sunray reflected up into his eyes. The blade was starting to sharpen – it might be his best work yet. Lucky kid. What did he say his son’s name was? That’s right. Hayato.

THE END