Chapitre 88: Chapter 88: Who's Great? Not Me!
Turns out, babies cry a lot. It started around ten at night, the first wail piercing the silence and jolting Retsu and I into action, both of us on high alert, looking around for intruders. It wasn't until a second or two later that we realized Eri was the source of the noise. Apparently, she'd had a bit of an accident, and that's when it hit me, I hadn't bought any diapers.
So, in the middle of the night, I ended up rushing to a nearby store, grabbing as many packs as my shorter arms could carry. The cashier gave me a look somewhere between suspicion and sympathy, but I didn't care, I just needed to get back.
When I returned Retsu, the only one who seemed to know how to handle Eri's little crisis, expertly took over and changed her. As soon as Eri was settled, I managed to slump back into the chair, passing out.
An hour later, the second wave hit, waking us up again. This time, we turned toward the crying Eri without a clue about what to do. It took a few attempts, trying different ways to soothe her, before we realized what it was, Eri was hungry. So, for the second time that night, I headed out, grabbing every baby formula I could find. The store manager approached, asking if I was alright because of the scar on my face. I sent him the meanest glare I could muster in my tired state, and he backed off quickly.
When I returned, I prepared the formula, and Retsu fed Eri, the two of us sitting side by side as she gently rocked her. We finally headed back to sleep, thinking our night was over.
But it wasn't. For the next four hours, until three in the morning, we woke up to Eri's cries. At last however, around that three mark, she seemed to have quieted down and drifted off into a deep sleep. I however wasn't so lucky, I couldn't get back to sleep.
With a sigh, I slipped quietly out of the hotel. 'Hope Retsu will be fine without me.' Moving across the rooftops toward a place I vaguely remembered from my earlier days in Hokkaido. Back then, I had accidentally stumbled into a restricted area under the jurisdiction of the Youkai that governed the region. I never figured out exactly what was there, but I did know that there was a cave, one heavily guarded and strictly off-limits. Now, curiosity pulling me along, I was determined to find a way inside.
As I reached the edge of the restricted forest area, I lowered my Reiatsu even further than I was doing before when we left Kyoto, shrouding myself in an cloak of a tiny amount of Reiatsu to mask my presence I took a cautious step forward, I felt the slight tingle of a barrier, one that would have detected my presence instantly had it not been for the Reiatsu. 'I shouldn't be far from the cave entrance.' I thought, leaping silently from tree to tree.
Dodging the occasional patrol, I kept my movements sharp and quick, aware that even with my presence hidden, Youkai could still detect me if I got too close.
In less than ten minutes, I had reached the cave entrance, and after twenty more of carefully observing the guards rotation I found my opening and slipped inside. 'Who's a ninja? I am.' I thought, a smirk crossing my face. I'd tried plans like this before with... less success, but this time, I actually pulled it off.
As I ventured deeper, my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through cracks in the rock above, illuminating the stalactites hanging from the ceiling like jagged teeth. Everything seemed ordinary at first glance,until I noticed the sealing ropes lining the walls and stalactites, strung with wards and talismans that fluttered in the faint draft. More talismans were scattered on the ground in intricate patterns. I took notice of how they seemed aged and old. 'Must've been here for centuries.'
Following the ropes that seemed to have an end carefully, I remained alert for any movement. The guards outside clearly weren't supposed to enter here, which only fueled my curiosity. 'Whatever's hidden in here.' I thought. 'it's bound to be something worth seeing.'
It might've been half an hour of walking through the cave before I reached the end and saw what was being sealed, a wrapped katana. 'Really? That's it?' Without access to my cursed magic, something I'd only gained from the Blood River. I still had a heightened sense for the supernatural. And this katana didn't radiate anything. Ducking underneath one of the sealing ropes as I moved closer, I couldn't sense any aura from it. What I did notice was how it sat on a simple sword stand, with a small worn piece of folded paper placed in front of it.
'Hope this was worth the lack of potential sleep.' I thought irritably, sighing as I reached for the note. I picked it up and unfolded it, reading aloud in a mocking tone. "Beware to whomever reads this. This katana is called Honjo Masamune, forged by the benevolent swordsmith Masamune."
'Masamune? Are they a descendant of Muramasa's creator?' I wondered, continuing to read. "Sengo Muramasa challenged Masamune to forge a katana, and the one who's was sharper would win."
I snorted. 'Obviously Muramasa wins.'
"Sengo created his finest piece and named it after himself, Muramasa. And Masamune created his greatest piece, Honjo Masamune. They tested their blades, with Muramasa's being so sharp that it cut everything from butterflies that flew into it to stones. Honjo Masamune, however, could only cut falling leaves. When I witnessed this during my youth, I wholeheartedly believed that Sengo had forged the better blade."
'No shit he did.' I thought, feeling a pang of sadness over the loss of Muramasa. I kept reading.
"Sengo taunted and belittled Masamune, but a traveling monk intervened and asked to judge. They agreed, Sengo confident he'd win."
My grin faded as I read the next part.
"They repeated the tests, from cutting animals to stones, even slicing through water. But when the monk gave his judgment at the end, it shocked both myself and Sengo."
My grin vanished entirely at the next words.
"The monk declared Masamune's katana the better, explaining that Honjo Masamune did not cut indiscriminately nor kill unnecessarily."
'What's so great about that?' I thought bitterly, flipping the paper over to reveal more writing.
"For why I have warned to whomever reads this, I have no doubt that a wielder of the now-cursed blade Muramasa still exists, no matter the generation. Throughout my lifetime, those who wielded Muramasa and Honjo Masamune were fated to clash. One would revel in killing without remorse, and the other would rise to protect the weak and stop evil."
I snorted, tossing the paper aside and turning my attention to the katana. 'So that's what you are.'
I reached out, grasped its handle, and tore it free from the seals.
...
...
I waited, expecting something to happen. After an hour of silence, with nothing stirring in the cave, I finally unwrapped the Honjo Masamune to see what I'd be wielding for now. A frosted looking scabbard of blue and white met my gaze, with a white wrapping around a black handle. 'That's one of the brightest things I've held.'
Slowly, I drew the blade, revealing a light blue edge. I set the scabbard aside, running my hand carefully along the blade's edge. 'Sharp.' I thought in surprise, even though I had lightly glided my hand over the blade, it sliced my hand with no resistance. I sheathed it again and grabbed some sealing rope, tying it around my waist. Once I checked to make sure the katana wouldn't slip, I started making my way to the exit.
Ducking under the sealing rope from before, I started hearing cracks behind me. Slowly turning around, I saw that the stand Honjo Masamune rested on had cracked and then shattered into dust. 'That's not good.' I faintly heard yells of anger and panic coming from the exit and turned toward it. 'Fuck.'
{Honjo Masamune}
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone