Chapter 8: Special-Type nichirin blade
Tetsugane Iwao looked up. Beneath his straw hat was a Hyottoko mask with a long, protruding mouth. His arm muscles tensed as he steadily lifted the wooden box and placed it flat on the ground.
"Your nichirin blade is right here." He paused, his tone suddenly growing heavy as a visual effect of resentment seemed to swirl around him. "You want a custom-made blade? Then reach the rank of 'Hashira' first!!"
His roar echoed through the courtyard.
In the next second, that Aura abruptly vanished, and he regained the composure expected of a calm craftsman.
"However, seeing as you are a user of Stone Breathing, I have forged this special-type blade for you using three times the amount of tamahagane Ore."
"Special-type?"
Ryuji asked curiously.
Seeing the irrepressible curiosity in Ryuji's eyes, Tetsugane Iwao said no more. He simply leaned down steadily and gently unlatched the wooden box with both hands.
With a soft click, the lid slowly opened.
What met his eyes was an exceptionally striking Odachi.
The blade shimmered with a restrained silver-white luster. The edge was straight, ground in a full-tang tapering style. The tip was flat and slightly wider than the rest of the blade.
The hilt was incredibly long, enough to accommodate a two-handed grip by two people if needed. It was clearly designed for heavy two-handed slashes that required power from the entire body.
White hilt-wrapping cord was wound tightly and evenly around the entire handle, outlining a simple yet reliable grip area that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. At the end of the hilt hung a sword tassel braided from the same colored cord, swaying gently in the breeze.
The blade was wider than a standard nichirin blade, with a thick and full spine that transitioned steadily from the back to the edge.
Most strikingly, this blade had no tsuba. There was no barrier between the hilt and the blade; the lines flowed in one continuous stroke.
The entire sword's design was minimalist to the extreme; every inch was born for the most direct of cleaving strikes.
"She was cast as a single piece, which is why there is no tsuba. This curvature, this edge line... they are perfect."
Tetsugane Iwao's fingers brushed over the blade with extreme gentleness, inch by inch, as if touching the cheek of a daughter about to be married. A sense of reluctance and treasure almost overflowed from his fingertips.
Ryuji: "..."
That seems... to be my sword, right? Why do I suddenly feel like I'm the 'other man' in this scenario?
Setting aside this strange sense of deja vu, Ryuji liked the blade more the more he looked at it. Its heavy, powerful design—born specifically for cleaving—seemed almost tailor-made for him.
He no longer hesitated and reached out to take it.
"A word of warning..."
Tetsugane Iwao's voice rang out again. His gaze remained lingering on the sword, but his tone carried the stubborn seriousness of a craftsman. "She is no delicate little girl... if you don't have the skill, she'll drain you dry."
Are you sure you're talking about a sword?
Ryuji complained inwardly, but his hand had already firmly grasped the white-wrapped hilt. The corners of his mouth curled up into a knowing smile. "Then I know exactly what she wants..."
Before his voice had even faded, he easily lifted the Odachi, which was significantly heavier than an ordinary nichirin blade, with one hand.
As soon as the sword was in his hand, he could clearly perceive its unique design.
The center of gravity was clearly biased toward the tip, increasing the potential energy and destructive power during a swing, but also greatly increasing the difficulty of control and the consumption of physical strength... It really wasn't the delicate type. No wonder Tetsugane Iwao said it required some skill.
This is clearly a battle-hardened 'big sister' type!
Coincidentally, the thing Ryuji lacked least was physical strength!
He raised the specially-made sword with one hand and swung it down gently. It was merely a seemingly casual air-slash, yet where the wind of the blade reached, a clear shallow mark was left on the ground.
Following this strike, the silver blade began to change color. A faint purple emerged on the blade, transitioning along the spine.
From the edge to the spine, from light to deep.
"It seems you've already figured out her temperament, and she is very happy too... I can rest easy now."
Tetsugane Iwao stared at the mark, a hint of relief and approval finally appearing in his voice. "Remember, treat her well."
With that, he turned around decisively and walked away.
As he walked, tears fell from beneath his mask. "Waaaah, my lovely daughter has been swindled away by another brat again..."
Then, he raised his hand to wipe the mask. "Still, if she can be married to someone who treats her well, that is a stroke of good fortune."
Ryuji had originally wanted to see off this sharp-tongued but soft-hearted swordsmith, but upon hearing those drifting murmurs, his footsteps came to a dead stop.
Better not.
He wasn't some 'other man' specialized in abducting people's daughters.
Having obtained his exclusive nichirin blade, Ryuji was very happy and even ate two extra bowls of rice at home.
He even gave her a name: Little Purple.
At dusk, Little Red returned with a flutter of wings. It landed precisely on top of Ryuji's head, stepped on his hair haughtily, and opened its throat to caw loudly:
"Uncultured Ryuji! Depart immediately for the town to the east to hunt demons! This shall be the beginning of the legend of this Great King's mount!"
Ryuji: "..."
Mount?
I just gave you a name... is it really necessary to hold such a grudge? Is it really necessary?
When we first met, you were affectionately nuzzling my hand. The change is too drastic.
Forget it, there's no need for a human to lower themselves to a bird's level.
[Ding! Marine Headquarters mission detected: Wipe out the pirate crew active in the eastern town. Please set out immediately, Host!]
A mechanical voice rang in his mind. Ryuji shook his head helplessly; even the System was joining the fray.
Then... let's set out.
It's a good chance to test the depths of 'Little Purple' and see how she handles.
He said goodbye to his master, Mochizuki Tosaburo, and then donned the dark haori of the Demon Slayer Corps.
To avoid drawing attention, he wrapped the blade in layers of bandages, shouldered it like a common carrying pole with wooden boxes hanging from both ends, and disguised himself as a peddler.
He then set off quickly toward the eastern town.
Along the way, Little Red was unusually quiet, only letting out a lazy "caw" and pointing with its wingtip to the correct path whenever Ryuji occasionally took a wrong turn.
Before long, the town appeared in Ryuji's field of vision.
Unlike the small fishing village that had only the sound of waves and cooking smoke, this was a city that had prospered rapidly due to its port.
The streets should have been crowded with merchants, sailors, and travelers from all over. The air should have been filled with the salty sea breeze, the aroma of food, and the noisy sounds of peddling and laughter.
It should have been a bustling place full of life.
Yet at this moment, what met his eyes was a tense silence.
Ships were sparse at the docks, and many sails had been furled. Not just the ships, but even some street-side shops had closed early.
It wasn't even evening yet... Although there were still pedestrians on the street, they were all in a hurry with their heads down, as if they had 'do not approach' written on their faces.
"It seems there's a big problem here..."
Ryuji whispered to himself. He quickened his pace through the streets, pretending to be a peddler shouting his wares while observing the surroundings.
Following Little Red's instructions, he came to the edge of the city and stopped next to a building that looked like a church.
Supposedly, this was the location where the first murder occurred.
Ryuji looked up. The church was somewhat old, with a towering octagonal spire paired with a Neo-Gothic bell tower that seemed almost to pierce the sky.
Pointed arched window frames were inlaid with stained glass. Sunlight filtered through, casting a floor of magnificent spots of light.
It was incredibly gorgeous and beautiful beyond words!
Atop the bell tower, a copper weathercock pointed quietly into the distance.
The entire building was peaceful and solemn, showing no signs of hidden danger... "Hey, who are you!"
A coarse shout suddenly rang out from the side.
Ryuji looked toward the source of the voice. It was a sturdy middle-aged man dressed in simple Japanese work clothes.
He held a short club in his hand, his face full of vigilance.
"Ah, Mr. Guard, I'm just lost."
Ryuji explained with a smile, opening the wooden box to show his goods. "Mr. Guard, would you like to buy something?"
"So you're a peddler. You're lucky you ran into me. Our Eternal Paradise Cult..."