Chương 746: 89
Chapter 89:
Over two years ago:
The sound of metal beating against metal rang out continuously, setting a steady rhythm. Over and over again, Murasame brought the hammer down, each blow compressing and spreading the metal he held. Gradually, bit by bit, the steel billet laid out in front of him thinned and flattened. When he deemed it ready, he brought the glowing chunk of steel to the edge of the anvil. Turning the head of his specially-designed hammer, Murasame cut a thin channel with the chisel-shaped edge on the backside of the hammer's head, nearly all the way through the billet, before bringing the flat head down on the part that extended out over the edge of the anvil. Bringing the whole thing back to the center of the anvil, he hammered the bent portion back over the base, pounding them together, then beating the whole thing down again.
Over and over the process went, first folding latitudinally, then longitudinally, forming overlapping layers within the metal, evening out its carbon content, and forging the steel into a structure similar to a mesh, building its strength. Murasame would repeat the folding process sixteen times, each of these a process, in and of itself, that he would be repeating seven times, all of that a process he would be repeating twice. Creating a sword was an involved process, with a great deal of work, even for a master-smith, like Murasame. If anything, because of his elevated level of skill, Murasame's swordsmithing process entailed even more work.
Most smiths within the Mibu were served by as many as two or three apprentices. The apprentices wielded large, heavy hammers for the purpose of pounding out the metal, while the master set the pace and took care of the fine details. But Murasame did all the hammering himself. With his Aura and technique, he could give his small hammer impact and effect of the larger hammers an apprentice would usually wield, allowing him to perform the entire process himself. Of course, that meant he was essentially doing three people's-worth of work singlehandedly.
On top of that, most smiths focused solely on the forging of their blades. The finishing stages, polishing and sharpening, were taken care of by dedicated craftsmen, who were recognized as artisans in their own right. However, in the course of his long life, Murasame had learned the sharpener's and polisher's trades...and had mastered them as well. He also took care of the smelting of his own steel, and the acquisition and preparation of other necessary materials.
Thus, forging a sword was a lengthy process for him. To put forth his absolute best work, Murasame would invest a month or more. This particular pair of weapons promised to be an investment of time and effort surpassing any of his previous works.
Still, such work had never daunted him. Indeed, the thought of the task that lay before him only further incited Murasame's enthusiasm. He was excited and eager to see what his work produced, to push his mastery of his craft to its absolute limit. His creations were born from inspiration, that inspiration could come from any number of sources. Murasame had been inspired by things that might have never seemed to have any connection to swords.
He had been inspired by the flowing waters of mountain streams, by the undulations of the ocean waves, by the leaves of the maple tree drifting on the wind. He'd been inspired by the layered colors of the setting and rising sun, had his creative energies stirred by observing the phases of the moon. It could be the simplest, most mundane things in life that brought forth his artistry. This time, his inspiration came from a different source.
On rare occasions, Murasame was inspired by the thought of the one who would wield the blade he forged. It was rare for him to forge a blade for a specific person, and only a small number of people could have been said to have been honored to be the source of Murasame's inspiration. This was one of those exceedingly rare occasions. This time, Murasame had been inspired by a young girl, a child who would be turning thirteen, later this year. Through meeting her, and seeing the nature of her small and simple soul, he had seen a potential that had excited him, and moved him to create.
Though he had only just begun forging the steel this day, the process of this sword's creation had begun long before now. It had begun shortly after Murasame had met that little, silver-eyed child. Watching her grow, seeing her mature, he had found the idea for the sword he wanted to forge for her take shape in his mind, its form becoming more and more clear by the day. And now, with this girl only a little over a month away from turning thirteen, the sword he wanted to make became clear to him.
To further refine his idea, Murasame had turned to the ancient scripts of previous Mibu Blademasters, going so far as to research the texts produced by the great Muramasa, the swordsmith revered above all others by the Mibu. Muramasa's true masterpieces remained unsurpassed by any of his successors, particularly the mighty Tenro, passed down by each generation of the royal line. Even though it was less-impressive, the Hokurakushimon, his legendary demon-spear, had yet to be matched. Even the supposedly flawed Shibien maintained a peerless edge and refined spirit. The least of his masterworks, an unassuming kodachi, was still a masterpiece beyond the reckoning of even the greatest of the smiths that had come after him.
However, in his researches, Murasame had come across something else, a forgotten masterwork. It was the most unusual of all of Muramasa's designs. A sword that was not one sword, but two. It had apparently been destroyed in the conflict between the ancient Mibu and the First Kyo, the progenitor of the line that, even now, bore his name. Before Murmasa had forged the kodachi that would be his final work, it was that forgotten pair of blades that, together, made up one of the four legendary masterpieces. Upon setting eyes on that design, Murasame had known instantly what he wanted to create, and the still-blurred image of the sword he wished to forge snapped into perfect clarity.
When he had set to work, his hands had started moving of their own volition, their actions guided by the pure artistry born of Murasame's mastery of the forging arts, fueled by the image that hung within his mind. It would be a difficult task for him, one that would take him past the absolute limit of his skill. With this...he would achieve a new pinnacle.
His first billet completed, Murasame moved to the next. The basic katana usually contained at least two different steels, with differing carbon content: the softer core-steel, and the harder outer, or edge, steel. The differing types of steel enabled the creation of a blade that could withstand the trauma of battle, while holding an edge that could be honed to a razor's sharpness. Different, more advanced, forging techniques altered the arrangement of of soft and hard steels, adding different layers.
Murasame's creation would have seven.
Seven layers, the school of forging known as Soshu Kitae, said to have been developed by a mastersmith who predated even Muramasa. The sword Murasame forged would consist of seven separate layers. First, there was the block of soft, core-steel at the center. On either side of it were welded the slightly harder panels to further enhance its resistance to impact. Then, outside would be the jacket-steel. With the ridge-steel running along the spine of the sword, and the edge-steel forming the edge itself, Murasame's method used the differing types of steel to produce blades of unmatched durability...somewhat.
In truth, the method Murasame utilized had been born in an era when smiths had limited access to high-quality steel, whether due to a lack of purity in the source iron, or the limitations of old-school smelting methods. Thus, they had produced these designs to enhance what was otherwise a poor material to produce swords of superior quality. Advancements in metallurgy could produce steel blades of a single type of steel that would hold their edge and withstand impact even better than that of the traditionally-forged katana. The steel that Murasame smelted via the traditional Tatara Method didn't hold a candle to the advanced alloys born from Atlesian science, which would have been able to produce a superior blade with only a fraction of the time and effort.
Yet Murasame persisted in relying on this ancient, outdated, inferior method of forging. Why? Because, above all else, Murasame was an artist. There was no artistry in a lifeless blade, forged and honed by machines, made from steel that might as well be cooked up by a chemist in a lab.
There was more to it than semantics and aesthetics. Murasame's artistry, his devotion to his craft did more than merely shape the steel and bring it together. In the end, his investment of his heart and soul became literal, doing more than simply bringing a blade together, but bringing it to life. It was what allowed him to literally breathe life into his creations, granting a sword an Aura of its own, making it powerful and truly alive, in its own way. The infusion of Aura turned what should have been an inferior object into a weapon of unmatched power, which no amount of scientific tinkering could surpass.
Take Tenro, for example. Forged by Muramasa, the blade represented the pinnacle of his skill. It was born of inferior steel, forged through outdated methods. Yet the sword had survived hundreds of millennia; without scratch, chip, or tarnish. It was virtually indestructible, able to withstand forces that, by all rights, should have snapped the steel the blade was composed of like a twig; its edge able to cleave through substances that should have been well beyond its ability to cut. It was no dusty relic either, locked away and painstakingly preserved against the ravages of time. It had been passed down through the generations, each holder wielding the sword with incredible vigor. Yet it showed no mark of all that time and use. The Aura born from it had made the sword immortal.
With that goal in mind, Murasame pressed forward, beginning the process of folding the next steel, putting his soul into every blow of his hammer, not minding the sweat that streamed down his face, both from his exertions and the sweltering heat of his forge. His mind had entered into an almost trancelike state, the process seeming like a dream to him. He had been lulled by the music of his art, the varying tempo of his hammer, and the crackling rumble of his forge, fueled by the fires of the mountain itself. It was a symphony of fire and steel. On he worked, not minding the time that passed, not even noting the hours.
"Ruby-chan! This way!"
"Coming!" shouted Ruby, jogging lightly towards her friends, seated comfortably on a blanket, spread at the base of one of the large maples that populated the park. Said park skirted the side of the royal palace, meeting with the wooded slopes of the volcanic mountain the palace had been built into the side of, open spaces giving way to dense woodland. From here, they had a scenic view, not merely of the park's trees, but of the riot of autumn colors, varying shades of red, brown, and gold, that ran across the sides of the mountain.
The leaves of the tree that her friends were already seated under were a particularly vivid shade of red, their color matching that of the haori that Ruby wore over her black kosode and red sash, with black hakama. It flapped and waved behind her in a manner reminiscent of the cloak she'd once worn. It wasn't quite the same, but it was a better match to the style of dress favored by the Mibu, though Ruby one day hoped that she could find an outfit that properly blended the differing styles of her two homelands.
As she ran to meet her friends, her ears caught faint whispers, coming from others in the park, small groups that had situated themselves for their own Koyo viewings. Even though it had been over three years since she had come to the Mibu Clan, the whispers hadn't stopped, not completely. The sight of a member of the Royal Family, however unofficial her membership might have been, tended to stir at least a passing interest in anyone who saw her. After all, even now, many still saw Ruby as "The Outsider." For most, that merely made her a curiosity. But to a dwindling, yet stubborn, few, it made her a walking insult.
Fortunately, Ruby didn't need to mind such people's opinions all that much. They were limited to harsh, angry whispers amongst themselves. Even if she was an oddity, the majority of the residents of Onmyo had come to accept her presence amongst them, embrace it even.
Of course, the ones who had embraced her presence the most were her friends, who, right now, were setting out food and drink in preparation for the viewing. Her best friend, Natsuki, was waving excitedly, beckoning Ruby over the join them.
Natsuki had grown a fair bit taller in the years since Ruby had first met her. Her long hair, which had once been tied in twin-tails, now ran down to the small of her back in an elaborate braid, weaving together strands of blue and green. Her violet eyes glittered with cheerful excitement, set into a soft face with rounded cheeks, her lips curled back into an almost perpetual grin. She was dressed in a forest-green kimono, with a white sash.
"Hi, everyone!" chirped Ruby, settling herself down on the blanket beside her friends, setting out the box of food that she'd brought.
"We were wondering if you were gonna make it," said Natsuki.
"She's not that late," said Miyu.
In contrast to Natsuki's energetic, almost childish, cheerfulness, Miyu practically exuded an air of refined elegance, something she had carried with her to some degree or another ever since Ruby had met her. Her hair; a bright, vivid, scarlet; cascaded down her back in a smooth wave. The smooth contours of her face helped frame a pair of serious, blueish-gray eyes. She had settled onto the blanket, dressed in a pale-blue kimono, held together by a green sash.
As she settled onto the blanket, Ruby glanced at the other member of her circle of friends. Setsuna was a stern-faced boy, rarely smiling. His silver hair hung in a short, bowl-cut around his head, while amber, slit-pupilled eyes stared outwards with an air of pronounced gravity that belied his age. Rather than a kimono, Setsuna's attire consisted of a loose, white shirt, tied together at the front, tucked into a pair of pale-blue shorts. Setting on the blanket next to him were his weapons, a pair of kama; small, handheld sickles.
Setsuna wasn't that big of a talker, so he had nothing to add to the conversation. The sight of his sickles though reminded Ruby that her own weapons were still holstered at her back. Reaching behind herself, she slid the two sheathed katanas she wore out of her sash, and set them on the blanket beside her. When she'd started, Ruby had trained with kodachi, a particular type of short-sword, due to the small size of her young body. However, as she'd gotten older, she'd soon outgrown her kodachi, and had been moved up to katanas instead.
Said kodachi now rested on the blanket next to Natsuki, who had been glad to receive them from Ruby for her own training. While Ruby had trained with kodachi because of her size, Natsuki had taken up kodachi for their own qualities, which, when wielded by a full-grown fighter, had their own particular techniques. Natsuki's father was a master of dual-kodachi techniques, and was now training her in them, even as she studied Manifestation under Keikoku of the Goyosei.
The four of them chattered excitedly as they got their food and drinks set up. They had each picked up different boxes of food in the city to prepare of the viewing, and were excited to try out all the different delicacies they'd acquired. Ruby was especially excited, having come to adore the colors of the fall trees. In her eyes, it was a sight even more beautiful than the cherry blossom groves in the springtime.
"Enjoying yourselves already, I see," observed a familiar voice from behind Ruby, who squeaked.
Instantly, all four of them surged to their feet, turning and bowing respectfully to the woman who had come up behind them.
Mibu Sora; head of the Taishiro, wife of the Crimson King, and Ruby's own adoptive mother; beamed at the quartet, returning their slight bow in an acknowledgement of the necessary formalities. As always, she looked resplendent, the varicolored plumes of feathers descending from her head in lieu of hair shimmering in the light of the fall afternoon. Also as always, she wore three, layered, kimonos. Today, the outermost was a pale, cream colored one. It was accented by an inner layer of dark-red, followed by an earthy brown.
Beside her stood Mitarai Sasame, personal apprentice to the Mibu Clan's Chief Physician, and Ruby's adoptive sister. As always, Sasame's diminutive stature, now putting her at slightly shorter than Ruby, was somewhat disconcerting, Ruby remembering how much bigger Sasame had seemed when she was little. Very little had changed about Sasame's appearance over the years; still sporting that same head of flowing, auburn hair; chocolate-brown eyes; and the fox-tail, wagging slowly behind her.
Sora and Sasame had brought boxes of their own, Sasame even carrying another blanket, which she laid out right next to the one set up by Ruby and her friends. They all shifted to better arrange themselves, talking as they finished setting up. Sora settled next to Ruby, occasionally pausing to gently brush fingers through her hair.
The arrival of the head of the Taishiro herself had caught the attention of everyone in their vicinity, even if they hadn't seen the pair arrive. Using Suppression, and completely erasing their presence, Sasame and Sora had passed amongst the rest of the people in the park without attracting a single glance, until they had ended their Suppression upon reaching Ruby's group. To everyone, it would have almost seemed as though the pair had emerged out of thin air.
Her awareness spread around her, Ruby could sense a vibrant tapestry of different feelings. Admiration for Sora and Sasame stood at the forefront, their presence attracting no shortage of excitement and adulation. Beneath that was an undercurrent of jealousy. Some people were more than a little unhappy that Sora and Sasame were gracing a foursome of rather unimportant children with their presence, leading them to wonder just what a few children had done to earn what seemed such an exalted honor.
Beneath that, there was a tiny trickle of genuine malice...anger...outrage. People weren't merely jealous of the fact that Ruby and her friends were associating so freely with two such exalted people, they were offended by it, particularly by Ruby's association. The most prideful people in the vicinity considered it a grave insult that a lowly Outsider would dare presume to act so casually in the presence of the head of the Taishiro. The fact that Ruby was Sora's unofficially-adopted daughter was only kindling to the flames of their anger.
But such anger was nothing more than a minuscule itch at the back of Ruby's mind, easily ignored. Ruby had learned to not be bothered by such negativity, training herself only to take notice when anger evolved into intent, and someone began to act on that anger. Right now, those who were angry at her were merely stewing away in righteous indignation.
The group ate and drank freely, laughing and talking. When they had finished the food, they settled back to enjoy the sight of the fall colors. Her belly full, Ruby found herself leaning contentedly against Sora, until Sora had pulled Ruby down so that Ruby could rest her head in the grown woman's lap, staring up at the magnificent colors around them.
Nearby, Natsuki grinned cheerfully, laying back and staring straight up at the leaves dancing above, gasping softly as the wind knocked a few of them loose, sending them drifting through the air. Meanwhile, Miyu leaned against Setsuna, resting her head against his shoulder, her hand going to rest over his knee, with Setsuna resting his hand over hers, while leaning back against her, resting his cheek against the top of her head, one of his rare smiles appearing on his face.
The sight of the couple sent a pang of envy through Ruby's gut. It was somewhat unfortunate that she, Miyu, and Natsuki had all developed an interest in boys at roughly the same time. Given that he was the boy that they most-frequently associated with; combined with the fact that Setsuna was kind, intelligent, and patient; on top of him being quite handsome, especially with his shirt off (as they had discovered last new-years, when they'd watched Setsuna and some of the other boys vigorously pound mochi in the traditional practice); all three of them had begun to nurse crushes of varying intensity over the boy. Natsuki's interest was fairly fleeting, and she gave up rather quickly, upon noticing the interest of her friends. Miyu and Ruby, on the other hand, had been more seriously invested.
However, in the end, it had been Miyu who had won out, her quiet nature meshing nicely with Setsuna's, helped along by the fact that Setsuna had apparently hosted a crush of his own on her, for an even longer time. Reluctantly, Ruby had bowed out, swallowing her own disappointment. She bore Miyu no ill-will for being the "winner". But that didn't stop her from feeling the occasional pang of jealousy, whenever Miyu and Setsuna were "lovey dovey", as Natsuki had put it.
The sting of her missed chance passed quickly though, and Ruby returned to simply observing the scenery, listening to the sound of the wind through the branches above, and the chatter of distant voices. It was a beautiful afternoon, perfect for a Koyo viewing, only a few small, puffy clouds of white drifting aimlessly through the sky.
Eventually, what stirred Ruby from her position on Sora's lap was not hunger, nor was it boredom. Instead, it was the inevitable result of partaking in so much food and drink...particularly the latter...that drove her to get up. Politely excusing herself, Ruby picked up her swords, sliding them back into place in her sash, before heading for the park's restrooms.
Walking briskly along the park's paths, Ruby relaxed as the low, wooden building came into sight. It was but a few minutes to take care of her business and wash her hands. Then she was out, and heading back to rejoin her group once more.
However, just a few steps away from the restrooms...Ruby came to a sudden halt, her entire body freezing in place. The relaxed smile on her face vanished, replaced by stern look that was a match for one of Setsuna's. Her body tensed in readiness, her arms slipping beneath the hem of her haori, hands closing around the handles of her swords.
An eerie silence fell over the scene, the sound of people talking and shouting in the distance seeming to fall away. The wind seemed to go dead, the leaves no longer stirring in the breeze. Even the myriad noises of birds and insects became insubstantial, leaving Ruby alone...yet most definitely not alone.
Abruptly, Ruby blurred backwards, her sudden step kicking up a small flurry of red petals from her feet. Her swords emerged with a flash, sunlight flashing off the silvery metal of the blades as Ruby wove them in front of her. The air filled with the sound of several small objects striking against the metal surfaces of her swords, as she batted away the incoming projectiles.
Coming to a stop, Ruby's eyes glanced downwards towards her feet, seeing several long, thin needles imbedded in the ground, where she had been standing, others spread out farther, after she'd knocked them away with her swords. Up above, a dark shape dropped down from the branches of the nearest tree, descending towards her behind a tide of murderous intent.
It was hard to imagine that someone so large could be so stealthy. Ruby's attacker was nearly a full seven feet tall. He was an oddity to be sure, with black skin that seemed to absorb the light around him. It was a pure, pitch-black ebony that was not the product of any particular racial phenotype, but something more artificial-seeming, a product of Manifestation probably. On top of that, the man's eyes were little more than small spots of white set into his bald head, with no sign of iris or pupil. There didn't seem to be a trace of hair on his body either, nothing but a smooth expanse of toned muscles, much of which was readily visible, thanks to the sleeveless haori he wore, with no accompanying clothes beneath it, along with a set of short hakama that exposed much of his long legs.
And his legs were long...unusually so, a length that was nearly matched by his arms, giving the man the appearance of being stretched out. While his limbs weren't lacking in muscles, their unusual length, in comparison to his body, served to give him a spindly, almost insectile, sense of proportion.
The assassin landed soundlessly, brandishing a fist, more needles extending from between his fingers in rows. His arm blurred, and he launched them in a fierce barrage. Ruby could sense the Aura imbued into those tiny projectiles, not merely enhancing their piercing power, but also imbuing them with whatever properties. She wasn't sure what those properties were, but Ruby did know that she couldn't allow herself to take a hit from them.
Turning her body, Ruby swept out the flap of her haori, channeling her Aura through the cloth. The combination allowed her to smoothly deflect the thrown needles. A second later, Ruby blurred again, closing with her attacker before the needles she'd blocked had finished falling to the ground.
Her swords flashed, but only cut through empty air, the man displaying agility at odds with his size, allowing him to take to the air with impressive ease. A flying leap took him over Ruby's head, his other hand lashing out to fling another barrage of needles her way. Ruby continued to move in the same direction, turning about and deflecting the needles she couldn't avoid.
Her opponent touched down in front of her, nearly right in the spot Ruby had charged from. His arms flopped down to dangle limply at his sides. However, his intent allowed Ruby to easily tell that he hadn't given up already. Instead, he inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, ballooning outward from the volume of air he was taking in. Ruby could sense his Aura, gathering there, as well as in his mouth.
With a sudden lurch forward, the man, blowing his breath out in a fierce, powerful exhalation, cheeks puffing, and lips pursing, firing a stream of dozens, possibly hundreds, of needles from his mouth, all of them flying with lightning-speed at where Ruby stood...or rather...where she had been standing.
Ruby was already behind the man, her haori streaming behind her as she came to a stop. The only indicator of her passage was the dancing cloud of petals, drifting before her attacker's eyes, almost taunting him, their movements stirred by the passage of the countless needles he had fired. The man jerked, then lurched forward, a spray of blood erupting from a diagonal cut across his chest, stretching from the lower-right side of his torso, and extending up to his left shoulder.
With a pained grunt, the man fell forward to land face-first on the earth.
Ruby exhaled softly. However, even though her attacker was down, she did not relax her body. Instead, her stern bearing remained undisturbed. A second later, the reason why became apparent, as she abruptly shifted to the side, her swords flicking upwards, deflecting another set of slashes with a pair of loud clangs, her next attacker using the impact of her parry to dart away out of her reach, before she could counterattack.
The second attacker touched down lightly, a short distance away. He wasn't as large and imposing as the first, being of average size, though that still left him as a fair bit taller than Ruby herself. In contrast to the first attacker, this man's build was thinner and lighter, almost to the point of being willowy, though his proportions were much more average. His skin was also a contrast to the previous attackers, practically the inverse, an almost ghostly-pale. He wore a rather unassuming brown kimono, which seemed to blend in with the trees around him. Underneath it, there was a tight, black cloth undershirt of some kind, the neck of which stretched up to cover the lower half of his face. Above the mask, flat, gray eyes stared at her with an insidious malice. His gaze made Ruby shiver. His head was topped by a mass of black hair, which was pulled back and tied behind him, before expanding into a spiky mass, straight out behind his skull.
In the man's hands were his weapons, which resembled Setsuna's kama. However, unlike regular sickles, where the blade emerged from the side of the shaft, these had their blades mounted on the end of the shaft, though still perpendicular to the shaft's orientation. The blades were broader, almost teardrop-shaped, curving and tapering to a fine point on one end, with a wider, more angular tip on the other. The edge ran all the way around the blade, only interrupted by the point where the shaft was mounted. They were surprisingly elegant-looking weapons.
For a moment, Ruby and the new assassin stared each other down. Then they blurred towards each other. They met nearly exactly halfway between their starting points, their blades coming together loudly, before they danced apart. For a few seconds, they circled, maneuvering and striking at the same time, their weapons flashes of silver in between them, sparks flaring from where their blades met and their Auras clashed.
Retreating away from each other, Ruby took up a defensive stance. Her opponent's retreat kicked up a few of the fallen leaves around him. Then, abruptly, the leaves the man had sent dancing through the air began to multiply, their numbers increasing exponentially, flowing through the air in a torrent of red, brown, and gold. They converged on Ruby, enveloping her from all sides, completely swamping her vision.
Frowning, Ruby narrowed her eyes, sweeping her gaze around, seeing almost nothing but swirling leaves. She tensed, realizing that her senses were being blocked by the attack. The assassin clearly planned to use this technique to mask his approach, and strike a fatal blow. Then Ruby caught sight of a shadow flitting amongst the leaves.
Darting forward, she slashed at the shadow, feeling her blades connect with something that felt almost solid, yet too insubstantial to be an actual body. Her eyes widened as the shadow dissolved into yet more leaves, revealing itself to be nothing more than a dummy. More shadows flickered at the edge of her vision, and Ruby realized that she was being surrounded by decoys.
Lashing out blindly wouldn't work. Nor would trying to escape. There was no way the assassin hadn't prepared for such a simple solution to the problem presented by his technique. Instead, Ruby closed her eyes and waited. She ignored the input of her physical senses; the sight of the leaves swirling around her, the omnipresent sound of their rustling, the continuous feeling of them brushing against her skin and clothes. Instead, she relaxed her body, and devoted herself entirely perceiving her opponent's intent. If she couldn't find him in this storm of autumn leaves, then she would wait for him to come to her, and allow his intent to strike to reveal himself.
It was a dangerous plan. The assassin's level of skill would determine the interval between intent and action. If his skill was high enough, his intent and his attack would come at practically the same time, leaving Ruby with virtually no chance to defend herself. Ruby would just have to trust in her own skills, and hope that her response would be able to match his attack.
The swirling leaves in front of her parted. Silver blades flashed amidst the mass of fall colors, the two cuts creating a leaning-cross formation in the air, splitting Ruby's form into quarters. The man's momentum carried him past her, the leaves created by his technique scattering as he came to a stop, and turned to regard his handiwork.
He saw the red fabric of Ruby's haori, cut into four by his attack...right before it dissolved into a cloud of red petals, which rapidly mixed into the swirling leaves. The assassin's eyes widened in shock at seeing her turn his own trick against him. off to his right, where a significant portion of his leaves still twirled through the air, Ruby appeared, almost seeming to materialize amidst the red maple leaves. The man caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, and turned to defend. His movements were too late though, and Ruby flashed past him, her swords etching an X-shape across his chest, and sending the man's blood spraying through the air. The second assassin collapsed to the ground with a gasp of pain.
Coming to a stop, Ruby relaxed her body a little, then let out a long breath, before flicking her swords to fling the blood off of them. Then she carefully slid them back into their sheaths, and turned to regard the results of her battle.
Her two attackers lay on the ground, motionless. Ruby could sense their Auras beginning to fade, indicating that they were dying. She swallowed back an unpleasant feeling in her throat.
"Two, this time?" noted a familiar voice behind her.
"Takezo-san?" Ruby turned and saw a mid-sized man of seemingly average build standing there, dressed from head to toe in the loose-fitting black of a shinobi shozoku, having appeared out of her own shadow. Only his dark-blue eyes were visible, through the gap between his hood and mask. Despite that, Ruby could see the man's smile in the crinkling of his eyes.
This was one of Sora's Imperial Guard. They typically served as the Mibu Clan's couriers, the nerves connecting the clan's capital with their scattered settlements. However, within the confines of the capital, including the area of the Royal Palace, there were always at least a few on hand, waiting, quite literally, in the shadows.
"That was well-fought," he complimented her.
"Thank you," said Ruby, bowing her head and blushing slightly. She wasn't exactly keen on getting praise for dealing fatal blows to people, but she supposed that defeating two assassination attempts in succession was worth taking pride in.
"I'm here," said Sasame, arriving so quickly that she seemed to just appear out of thin air. Within seconds, she had stooped down beside the second assassin, her Aura streaming out to stifle the bleeding, before closing the X-shaped cut across his chest. She was done in less than a minute, standing up and moving to Ruby's first attacker, even as black bands extended across the skin of the man she'd just treated, locking down his Aura, and fettering his body to keep him from escaping or threatening Ruby again.
After giving the black-skinned assassin the same treatment, Sasame stood up, dusting off her hands. "Well, that was quite the exciting interlude," she commented. "How were they, Ruby-chan?"
"Um...the second one was better," said Ruby. "He was faster, and he didn't broadcast his intent so much."
"That would make sense," said Takezo, already moving to bind the limbs of the two assassins, even though that was merely a formality at this point.
"And which ones are they this time?" asked Sora, coming to stand by her Guard.
Takezo gestured to the smaller of the two, the second one. "Kato Hiroki, of the Shirogarasu-Ryu." He gestured to the larger, black-skinned one. "Ito Masaru, of the Kurosasori-Ryu."
"Hirelings then," noted Sora.
"Your orders, Sora-sama?" asked Takezo.
"Give them the usual punishment," said Sora. "And find out who hired them."
"Of course," said Takezo, throwing the smaller of the two assassins over his shoulder, while hauling the other at his side. A few seconds later, he sank down into his shadow, taking Ruby's attackers with him.
"Shall we return to your friends?" asked Sora.
"Yeah," said Ruby. "Were they worried?"
"A bit," said Sora, as she, Ruby, and Sasame began to walk. "But this is the sixteenth time this has happened now, so I think they are getting used to it."
Ruby nodded, wondering if she would see her attackers again. She'd only had one assassin make a second attempt so far.
Though Ruby's status as a member of the Royal Family was informal, when it came to would-be assassins, those who were caught (which was all of them so far) were subjected to the penalties applied to an assassination attempt against official royalty. To an outsider, that might have seemed like a form of favoritism, but it was actually the inverse. The penalty for attempted murder of a member of the Mibu Clan's Royal Family was much lighter than the same thing against a civilian. A failed assassin was imprisoned for two weeks, then set free without further penalties, compared to a potential punishment of up to life-imprisonment, for attempting to kill a civilian.
Of course, the reason for such mild penalties was the absolute confidence most members of the Royal Family had in their skills. Both Sora and Kyoichiro had been subjected to dozens of various assassination attempts over the course of their lives, and tended to regard attempts more as a form of entertainment and exercise than anything else. Kyo was the exception. As the Crimson Cross Knight, those who attempted to kill him were not subjected to any penalty at all…assuming they survived, of course. In Ruby's case, both she and her family had quickly come to see assassination attempts made on her as a form of extra training.
The first attempt on Ruby's life had come only a couple of months after her tenth birthday, where it had been revealed that she was living with the Royal Family. Shinrei had taken her outside the walls to work on practicing her techniques in the winter snows. At one point, he had disappeared from sight, and Ruby had been jumped by a masked man, wielding a katana.
It had been a terrifying battle, up there with her fight against Morgan in terms of the fear Ruby had experienced in that moment. However, in response to the threat to her life, the skills she'd been so constantly practicing had kicked in, and she'd defended and countered, fighting for her life. It was a fierce exchange, where her would-be killer had been surprised by the unexpected resistance, having clearly not expected much of a threat from a novice child who hadn't even been training for a full year.
He'd still won in the end, successfully disarming Ruby, and even cutting through her Aura to wound her side. Only then; with Ruby prone, blood streaming from her side to stain the snow around her red, and her attacker poised to deliver the finishing blow; did Shinrei appear, bringing down the assassin in a matter of seconds. Sasame had shown up a minute later, quickly healing the wound to Ruby's side without even leaving a scar.
Afterwards, Ruby had realized that Shinrei had deliberately left her to draw out the assassin, and allow him to make the attempt, allowing Ruby to get real-world experience against an opponent out to take her life. Much to Ruby's shock, her family had actually thrown her a small party to celebrate her fighting through her first assassination attempt. Once Ruby had realized how valuable the experience was, she had come to embrace the attempts, whenever they came.
Ruby's fending off two assassins had not gone unnoticed by the other people in the park, and several were watching her as she made her way back to the others. Ruby could sense that a few people had increased their respect for her, after seeing her defeat two assassins in succession, though a tiny number remained ensconced in their contempt for her, clearly rankled by the fact that the assassination had failed.
Ruby's friends had heard the distant sounds of the fight, even sensing the clashing Auras of Ruby battling her opponents. As soon as she'd settled down, they asked her who had attacked her this time.
"Oooh!" gasped Natsuki. "A Shirogarasu-user? That's cool!"
"I've heard that the Shirogarasu-Ryu is quite refined," commented Miyu. "But I had thought that their technique was based on cherry blossoms."
"It could hardly be considered an effective technique if it could only be used during that brief period of spring, when the blossoms are in bloom," commented Sasame. "In some ways, fostering that thought makes it easier for them to catch an opponent off-guard."
"You'd think those losers would give up by now," grumbled Natsuki, pouting.
"Well, those who persist will persist," said Sora calmly. "I am subjected to attempts, every now and then, particularly when I implement a new policy."
"I didn't think people would hold that against you," said Setsuna.
Sora shrugged. "Ultimately, you can't please everyone all the time. A new policy will invariably wind up making someone unhappy in some way. Occasionally, the anger is sufficient that the one offended will either hire someone to kill me, or make the attempt themselves."
"That just seems immature," mused Miyu.
"Oh, it is," regarded Sora. "But it certainly livens up the day. In Ruby-chan's case, one cannot deny that attempts on her life provide an excellent opportunity for her to put her training into practice."
"Not that Ruby-chan's going to have to worry about it for much longer," said Natsuki. "You're going on another trip after New Years, right?"
Ruby nodded. "Sasame-nee and Kyo-nii are taking me on a trip across Anima."
"That should be quite the excellent experience," said Sora. "Anima's terrain encompasses a wide variety of environments. That kind of journey will afford you some great opportunities."
Ruby nodded, her insides squirming with excitement at the prospect of another trip with her siblings. For the last one, Kyo and Sasame had taken her on an extended tour of Leng, visiting the various Mibu Settlements, shortly after her eleventh birthday. But she was looking forward to this opportunity to visit foreign lands even more.
The Koyo viewing continued throughout the afternoon, Ruby and her friends filling it with chatter and fun.
Seven pieces...each folded sixteen times...well over four-hundred-fifty-thousand layers in total...then repeated.
It had taken days of work for Murasame to finish the folding of the fourteen different pieces of steel that would make his masterpiece. Next came the assembly, one of the trickiest parts of the construction. Assembling the different steels together into a single billet, he would forge-weld them together into a single piece, then draw it out into the proper shape. It took careful precision to ensure that all seven layers would come together to form the proper cross-section. On top of that, since he was forging two blades together, Murasame had to assure that they were of the exact same dimensions, without there being even a nanometer of variance between them.
The forge was filled once again with the sound of hammer on steel as Murasame pounded out a steady tempo, shaping the assembled billet into what would soon be its final form. The metal, having been successfully forged together, was now drawn out into the elongated shape to form the actual sword. Applying the Soshu Kitae method of forging ensured that the sword was completely laminated on all sides by the same hard steel that formed the cutting edge. Down at the far end of the sword, where all the sections of high-carbon steel had come together, Murasame cut the excess away at a sharp angle, forming the sword's tip. Then, using his first creation as a guide, Murasame began work on the second.
It took all his skill and focus to ensure that that the two blades were perfectly identical. However, when Murasame was finished, he was pleased with his work, able to feel the absolute perfect parity between the two swords. If he could follow this process all the way to its end, then his masterpiece would be realized.
At present though, they didn't resemble swords so much as long sickles. Rather than forge them straight, Murasame had hammered them out into a subtle inverse curve, with the cutting-edge on the inside. Once he was completely finished, that shape would be different, but it played a specific purpose.
After forging came another intricate method, requiring perfect precision. Murasame had cooled his creations, then carefully checked them, smoothing out rough spots, and ensuring that no warping had occurred. It was a long, tedious, detailed bit of work, as well as ensuring that the edge was properly formed. What came next was one of the most important steps in the forging process.
Murasame created two different types of clay, diluted with water until they formed thin pastes that could be easily spread across the surface of his creations. The black clay he spread in a thin layer along the section of the sword that would form the edge, while a thicker layer of red clay was spread along the body, the wavy line where the two different types of clay met denoting the boundary of the hamon, the pattern that indicated where the hardened martensitic steel of the edge transitioned to the pearlite and ferrite of the body, creating a blade with a fearsome edge, and a supple spine that could help it to weather impact.
Applying his artistry, Murasame painted lines of red clay across the black, creating patterns that reached nearly all the way down the edge, ensuring that the softer steels would reach across the hardened ones, reinforcing the strength of the edge along the length of the blade. If the hamon joined with the rest of the blade along a single line, then it was possible for it to eventually break along that line. Introducing lines of softer steel down, almost all the way to the edge, enabled the two types of steel to enmesh with one another, ensuring that the harder edge remained in place.
Then came the final steps. After the coating was complete for each blade, Murasame heated them in his furnace, carefully monitoring their color with his eyes to ensure that they were uniformly heated. Using his Aura allowed him to manipulate how the heat moved into the steel, making sure that everything was absolutely perfect. Then, once the perfect temperature had been reached, the blade was removed, and immediately transferred to a tub of water.
The heated steel hissed angrily as it entered the water, throwing up clouds of steam and boiling fiercely. Within seconds, the cooling process was complete, and Murasame performed the same with the second blade. The quenching completed for both of them, he carefully examined the products of his efforts, and smiled...they were absolutely identical, and perfect…and completely straight.
The unique manner in which katanas were quenched was also responsible for one of their most-defining features, that graceful curve for which they were well known. The differing speeds at which the steel cooled meant that the softer, more-insulated, steel along the spine cooled more slowly, contracting more, pulling the sword into its curve. However, what Murasame had sought were not curved blades, but straight ones. To that end, he had forged them with that unusual inverse-curve, so that, when the steel cooled, the contracting spine would pull the blades back into a straight, rather than curved, shape.
With this, his project was finally beginning to near completion.
Now...for the finishing touches.
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