Selah

We finally get past the surprisingly organised town growing in a nook between a mountain and a flowing stream that somehow never reaches the tundra. Our pace more moderate and reasonable after only a single rest in nearly 10 hours of running, how did Sachihiro get 10 hours ahead?

I have both Vanster and Hoger in my hands as we move slowly through the large ornate gates that mark the Forging Complex. There are warriors about the entire yard, maybe 16 or 17 by my count, all wearing weapons, all at the very least first level Awakened but Ikigaia doesn’t hesitate as she walk into the courtyard with a longsword trailing on the ground making a furrow through the peddles.

The girl feels uncanny as bloodlust oozes of her in waves, she is not in the rage and this isn’t aura but a spirit presence of some sort I presume. Someone walks towards us as the girl moves eerily towards a beautiful side building with two Hito casually sitting about the entrance.

"Move,’’ the girl, Ikigaia says to the Hito man a few metres ahead on our path to the guarded door.

He doesn’t move and a second latter there is a clash of metal on metal as the two swords clash to sparks raining the pressure vibrating the peddles on the ground as the two move in two more exchanges that ring through the cool air as the two test each other. Two quick exchanges follow the first and a frustrated Ikigaia ducks and rolls back coming to a standstill a meter ahead of me.

I eye the potential threats watching us unmoving.

‘’Move,’’ The girl says again in a lower voice to the clearly superior skilled man she has just had a sword exchange with but the threat in her voice has only gained weight not slackened after the brief exchange.

‘’That will be enough of that Ikigai.’’ Another voice booms and the girl slowly turns her head to look at the new arrival.

‘’My father is in there and he isn’t happy.’’ The girl says to the new arrival, a short unassuming man that looks to be in extremely good physical condition but besides that he bears no threat. Not even carrying any visible weapons on his person.

‘’Release Sachihiro, I think I have an inkling what his intentions are here.’’ The man says to no one in particular but one of the two giarding the door disappears into it and Ikigai lowers her guard, her stomach-curling bloodlust also receding and she stands loosely with blade still in hand.

‘’We were trying to calm him down Master Hiroku-san, but he seems to be out of control.’’ The one that was in our way says angrily to the new arrival.

‘The girl spits onto the soil at that and I grin at the insult, my blood is still pumping from the threat of violence still hanging in the air around us. I’ve heard these Hito are some of the finest swordsmen this side of the Gates, fighting them would be a great opportunity.

‘’If my father were out of control more of you would be dead,’’ she states with all confidence and a few of the warriors chuckle at her claim but some don’t. Some remain stone faced and weary especially as a very coolly controlled looking Sachihiro exits the building, surveys the entire courtyard in a single glance and moves towards the large building without a word for anyone.

The girl follows and I follow the girl with this Master what what bringing up the rear as we enter the large tall building and move towards the stairs from the entrance hall. I follow to a dimly lit hall with a number of closed side rooms that Sachihiro doesn’t even attempt to breach.

At the end of the hall is another set of stairs that spiral down in the twisting shape of a snail’s shell. The stairs are dark and narrow and deep with only a single side turn which we pass without even hesitating before reaching a locked gate with spokes locked deep into the rocks. Somehow someone knows we are here though and the gate starts lifting slowly as a young man in a robe turns a lever on the other side.

Sachihiro is somehow through the small still opening gap and his daughter is a step behind sword still naked and in hand from outside, sword still dragging by the point on the stone floor. We move down a passage past large enchanted stone doors until reaching one Sachihiro stands in front of as the young man who let us in rushes ahead to open it.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

We enter the round room with polished wooden floors and six alters of some sort decorating the middle of the room. On the alters are weapons, prayers sticks, incense, banners scribbled with the strange Hito script, pieces of armour or items of clothing; on some even the painted likeness of the man or woman being honoured.

Sachihiro stands looking at the altar at the front with a beautifully done spear as the centrepiece placed on a velvet cushion. The spear blade is wide, flat and long with the shaft looking like it’s made from a pitch black metal alloys with specks of red visible here and there. There is a little cone shaped point at the back end of the long heavy looking spear that Sachi seems to be looking at intently.

‘’Have you seen what you expected to see?’’ the cool Master swordsman that accompanied us down here asks but we all ignore him, Sachihiro steps fully into the room, and after a moment’s hesitation walks directly to the alter and grabs the spear off its platform to block a strike from the Hito Master that was behind me but a moment ago.

‘’We do not touch our forged dead.’’ The Master says looking at Sachihiro with such anger that I again unsheathe my blades but something strange happens.

A silence fills the room, fills the entire underground space clearly emanating from Sachihiro and the spear he has in hand. I’m not sure what sorcery this is but I find myself unable to utter a single physical sound as the world becomes deeply quiet to me for the first time in my life.

‘’I think it’s time we touched those forged that now desire to be again used,’’ Sachihiro says into the silence.

His voice seeming sacrilegious somehow as it breaks the moment and the Master Hito man steps back with a considering frown on his face.

There is still a katana sword and a short sword on the altar both clearly exquisite work, both clearly artefact weapons. In fact, there is a similar assortment of weapons on the other alters, all as exceptionally made like the one in Sachihiro's hand and if all the rooms we passed are similarly equipped these Hito have rooms of powerful weapons that are just sitting here...

Crazy, extravagant or just stupid but I’m sure they have their reason; every culture has its reasons for practising stupid customs ma always tells me.

*

Sachihiro

The moment the enchanted door to the alter chamber opens the wail of the metal takes on an aspect of his voice to my ears which breaks my heart to listen to. The is unfulfilment, despair and hopelessness in that wail that comes from what my friend has now become.

Like all soul weapons, the zanpakutō is exquisitely done, there is an aspect of the beyond in forging things with souls. As though one of the gods or the Universe itself always has a hand in the forming of any creature or object with a soul, there is more than just human craftsmanship to the finish of a zanpakutō.

Ever since I got a zanpakutō before he did there has always been a rift between us, subtle but there and it didn’t help that I had bought myself one instead of getting it the honourable way and move through the ranks from samurai to soul samurai. And after I got a zanpakutō there was no comparison as there once was between us in a fight.

I listen as the zanpakutō that is my friend Hiroshi ring at a frequency apparently only I can hear. Why did he do this, why did he bring me here when it failed? There is a deepening of the ringing sound and I move my emotions still whirling but I don’t hesitate to take the spear from the altar on which it sits. Hiroshi is silent the moment my hand grips the shaft, a silence so complete that even my previously tumultuous emotions quieten.

Then I’m released from the silence by the still surprised creature my friend has now become. Hiroyuki is on me not a moment later and it's reflex as much as skill that saves me from having a hand cut off again.

There is no sound as I block his strike on the haft of the weapon Hiroshi has become but there is a power in the absence of the expected sound of metal striking metal, a power which the spear uses to spread the silence that was just within me out into the world. What Hiroshi has become speaks to me in the silence and I understand, this thing isn’t a person anymore but it recognises me as I recognise parts of it.

‘’We do not touch our forged dead.’’ Sensei Hiroyuki Sanada says to me seething with affronted anger. In his eyes I have shamed him, I have done a taboo and he is the one that vowed for my release, he is the one that was responsible for my initial training years ago.

‘’I think it’s time we touched those forged that now desire to be again used,’’ I say and the thing within my hand recedes within itself as though going to sleep.