“KAI!” Nya screamed, and my head snapped up instantly.
I was disoriented for a second, staring at my sister in confusion, then I remembered. I fell asleep.
“No. No! NO!” I was suddenly fully awake. I was vaguely aware that the forge was lit again, but my panicked mind only focused on one question. “How long was I asleep?!”
“I don’t know when you first drifted off, but it’s the evening of day three! I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you! I can’t believe I was so stupid! I stopped hearing the noises from your work a while ago, but I thought—”
“Nya, it’s fine,” I told her, even though we both knew it wasn’t. “Did you light the forge?”
“Yeah, I thought you still needed it. I guess you don’t. I’ll put it out.”
“No, let it burn.” I caught her shoulder before she could extinguish the flames. She didn’t ask why, but just nodded.
“Is… there anything I can do to help? I feel so stupid letting you fall asleep like that.”
I inwardly cringed. Nya knew nothing about blacksmithing. She usually was the one who made deliveries and brought in orders. But I really did need help if I was going to finish this in time, and with the way she was acting, I couldn’t turn her down.
Wait a minute, maybe she can help with something...
“First of all, you’re not stupid. I’m the one who’s always saying not to come into the forge when I’m working. Second of all, yes, you can help. You’re way more artistic than I am. Let me show you how to use an etching needle.”
She set to work as soon as I explained the basic etching process to her. Somehow, she transformed the scribbles I had made on the hand guard into life-like roses in no time. I polished the katana and gave it to her to etch the battle scene onto the blade.
With Nya now working at the other end of the shop, my calm facade collapsed. I ran both of my hands through my hair and gathered the supplies I needed for the rest of the work that needed to be done, since there really wasn’t much else I could do while Nya had the katana. I knocked over more than a few things in my rush. Fortunately, it only took Nya about an hour to etch the battle scene, and I was back to working with the blade as soon as she finished. I asked her to get some wood for the scabbard. I didn’t want to risk stepping outside the forge and falling asleep again. Not with the deadline this close and the amount of work to do.
I hastily fitted the guard and glued the handle to the tang with epoxy, freaked out when I realized I did it hastily, then hastily checked to make sure I hadn’t messed up. Suddenly, a realization hit me, and I kicked the table leg in frustration. I had forgotten to sharpen the blade. And even though the epoxy dried quickly for its type, I still couldn’t touch the handle for hours.
I had two choices. I could take off the handle while the epoxy was still wet, or I could do the little work that didn’t require the blade itself while waiting for the epoxy to dry.
I didn’t really have a choice. I carefully slid off the handle, trying to save as much epoxy as possible. There was no way I was going to sit around doing nothing while waiting for it to set. I wiped the sticky adhesive off the tang and found the largest whetstone I had. I poured a bit of honing oil onto it and began the extremely long process of turning the pretty piece of metal into a pretty deadly weapon. Each time I scraped the blunt edge against the flat stone, I was reminded of the many times I watched my father do this. He had always managed to create sparks every time he skated a blade across the stone. When I was little, I used to be scared of the tiny flares.
“Don’t be afraid, Kai,” my father had told me one time when he noticed me flinch when the sparks flew. “These are just tiny glints of life. What a fire starts as. And fires are never something you have to fear. There’s fire in your blood.”
At the time, I thought he was just creatively telling me not to be scared of fire, because someday I’d be a blacksmith myself, but looking back, I think there was something more to his words.
Fire in my blood...
***
It was three in the morning when the katana was sharp enough to be worthy of a samurai. Nya had come in at some point with the wood for its scabbard. She wanted to help more, but she finally retreated back into the house when I assured her for the fiftieth time that there was nothing else she could do.
I glued the two halves of the handle onto the tang, making sure the tang fit snugly into the grooves on the inward faces of the handle. While that dried, I chopped the long piece of wood Nya had gotten me in half to start crafting the scabbard. I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked to make sure the forge was still glowing from a healthy fire. Even though it still burned brightly, my arms were tingling with soreness and the thought of sleep was starting to sound appealing. I guess my body could only take so much. But there was no way I was stopping now. I still needed to carve the halves of the scabbard to match the length, width, thickness, and curvature of the blade. And attach the two halves together. And wrap them. And lacquer them. Oh, and wrap the handle. All before Ren came to pick it up later that morning.
I forced my tired limbs to work faster. I never took my eyes off my soot-covered, blood-streaked hands, desperately hoping that I didn’t make any mistakes.
Four in the morning. It was still dark outside. The light from the fire caused the shop to glow a faint orange. I chipped away at the wood, feeling splinters pierce my skin, but I didn’t care or stop to remove them.
Five in the morning. The first half was nearly done. The groove in the wood almost matched the shape of the blade. I knew that it had to match it perfectly. If the groove was too small, the sword wouldn’t fit into it. If it was too big, the katana would slide right out. I stretched my sore fingers and started carving slower to make sure I was precise.
Six. The sun had started to rise, and songbirds were announcing the new day. The first half of the scabbard was done. I had triple-verified that the sword would fit it, and carved the outside into half of a tubular shape. I chiseled at the second half twice as fast, but twice as carefully.
Seven. Sunlight drowned out the fiery glow from the forge. I had somehow finished the second half in record time. I glued together the two halves, wrapped the scabbard in raven-colored cambric, and coated the sheath with lacquer.
The man would be here any minute now. I wrapped the handle with a strip of black woven cotton, staring at the sketch to make sure I wove the cloth correctly. Nya suddenly burst into the room.
“He’s coming!” she said, breathless. She must have run here to beat him.
I slid the katana into the scabbard, knowing this would be my last few moments with the weapon. “I’m done.”
“You actually did it,” a familiar voice said from the doorway, startling both Nya and me. Despite his words, Ren didn’t look the slightest bit surprised. “Let me see the blade.”
I hesitated just a second before handing the katana to him. It had taken me ninety-six hours (give or take however long I accidentally slept) to make the weapon for the sole reason of selling it, and for some strange reason, I didn’t want to let it go.
No, it wasn’t strange. I had shed sweat and blood over it. Sacrificed sleep for it. I had slaved over every little detail (with some help from my sister). I had done it not for myself, but for Nya. My only living family. My little sister, who I would protect and love until my last breaths. I handed the man the sword.
He inspected it for a few suspenseful moments. I ran a hand through my limp, sweaty hair. Finally, he smiled. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful blade,” he said. He randomly produced an apple from his stiff leather satchel. Suddenly, he slid the katana from its scabbard and cleanly sliced the apple, which he had tossed into the air, in one fluid motion. It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to react. “Or a more deadly one.”
He pulled the heavy bag of coins from his satchel and tossed it to me. My aching fingers scrambled to catch it. “Take care of your sister. And yourself. You’ve earned it,” he said.
For the first time in a long time, I smiled. “Thank you.”
The man nodded, sheathed his new katana.
“Wait,” I said, just as he turned to leave. Ren stopped, then faced me again. “How did you come up with the etching design on the blade and guard?”
“It’s a bit of a metaphor,” he said. “The blade itself can cause so much grief, destruction, and fear, making it ideal for battles. But why do soldiers fight in battles? Though some won’t admit it, many do it because of love. Love for their families and people. They fight to protect their loved ones, and ones who cannot protect themselves. They are the soldier’s anchor. And just like your hand would be the anchor holding your weapon in place, the guard protects that anchor from the violence of the blade at whatever cost. That’s why I designed the hand guard with roses etched into it, to symbolize love.”
I nodded and thought of my sister. His words had a deeper impact on me than I conveyed in my expression. “Creative,” I said.
Ren smiled, and left without another word.
I turned to Nya, my grin growing even wider. I shook the bag of coins. “Looks like we’ll be set for a while, Sis.”
Nya laughed and hugged me tightly. When she finally let go, she took the bag and dumped its contents on the table, just to stare at the coins. Just to make sure this wasn’t a dream. As she returned the coins to their pouch and put them in the drawer of our father’s old desk, she looked me right in the eye and said, “Rest. Now. I’ll clean up the forge.”
This time, I didn’t argue. I stumbled through the doorway connecting the shop to the house and barely made it to my bed before I was asleep. My work was done. I had the money to support Nya. Nothing in the world could wake me from my dreams now. Not even the ear-splitting sound of a window shattering long after Nya was done cleaning up the forge.
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