I knew the next four days would be brutal. I started working as soon as Ren left, and didn’t stop, not even when the sun went down, until Nya came into the shop at about eleven. Her black bob cut looked like it had been recently brushed and she had changed out of her worn red cheongsam and pants, indicating that she was going to bed soon.
“Kai? What are you doing? I’m sure whatever you’re working on can wait until tomorrow.”
“No, it can’t, Sis. I’ve only got four days to finish this,” I explained between strikes of my hammer.
“Four days? What are you even making? And who’s it for?” She grabbed my hammering arm before it could strike metal again. “Spill.”
So I did. I told her about the strange man, the intricate katana, the high pay, and the impossible deadline. And how I was determined to finish this no matter what. No matter how impossible. It would be my greatest creation yet. It would be perfect. It had to be.
I could tell that Nya didn’t believe I could do it, but she let me work anyway.
I pounded late into the night, the tiredness I was expecting never making an appearance. The heat from the fire was making me sweat buckets, but I didn’t mind the normally unpleasant wet feeling whenever I was near the blazing forge. It was as if the flames were fueling me.
Before I knew it, the sun was up and Nya was reprimanding me for staying up all night. But I barely heard what she said. I was in hyperfocus mode. The steel billet had transformed into the long, rough shape of a katana. Channeling my father’s skill and strength, I pounded the metal until it was in the curved form I was going for. It was perfect. Too perfect for my skill level.
But I knew my luck would run out eventually, especially with what was coming next: the quench. The quench is when the blade is hardened and set. It has to be heated in the forge until it is bright orange, then lowered into a tub of oil or water to cool rapidly. This process is very risky since the blade can warp or crack from the stress of the rapid change.
I nervously ran a hand through my hair as I pumped air into the forge to heat it up. The flames leapt and danced on the coals, creating a calming effect. I stuck the katana into the flames, and the metal slowly heated up. I wiped my sweaty hands on my worn leather apron. I was about to put on my heat-protective gloves when I noticed the state of my hands. Calluses covered my palms and fingers where I had gripped my hammer for so long, but they were mostly hidden under a black layer of soot. A few streaks of dried blood trailed from my chipped and broken fingernails. I had been so focused that I hadn’t even noticed breaking them.
Forgetting to put on my gloves, I reached for the tongs to pull the bright orange blade from the fire. I started to slide it out, but the movement caused a flaming coal to suddenly fall out of the forge and onto my unprotected hand. I hissed and instinctively shot my hand back as the coal tumbled to the stone floor, where I stomped it out. It took me a moment to realize that my hand didn’t hurt. I looked at it, but it was impossible to tell what damage had been done because of the soot. I walked over to the other side of the shop and dunked my hands into a basin filled with water. I gasped. Apart from my broken nails, my hand was completely fine. Not even a red mark where a nasty burn should have been.
Miraculously, I’d never been burned before in all my time as a blacksmith. That isn’t to say I’ve never been hurt—no, I’ve sliced myself with my work countless times, and still have the scars to prove it—but I think I know where burns come from. I definitely should have gotten one.
I didn’t have time to wonder. I pulled gloves over my strangely unburned hands and removed the katana from the forge. I held it vertically above the tall tub of oil and paused. This was it. If the blade cracked, there was no way I’d be able to forge another one in time.
I plunged the blade in quickly. It hardened with a hiss, and I held my breath as I listened for the tell tale pings that indicated that the blade had cracked.
A few seconds passed, and then…
Silence.
I pulled the sword from the oil and the black liquid dripped onto the floor and let out a sigh of relief.
Too soon.
When I held the katana up to eye level, there was an ever so slight bend.
A fatal error.
One that rendered a blade useless.
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