I Became a Tiny Girl Blacksmith
That was the most devastating line I heard in my new life.
“Just stop already and throw her out. What’s the point of keeping a mute idiot girl around?”
Around the age of three, the memories of my previous life came flooding back.
In those memories I had been a severe communication wreck, a freeloading shut-in who got kicked out of even my own home and ended up sponging off my older sister’s tiny apartment.
When I next opened my eyes, I was a newborn baby in some fantasy world—and on top of that, gender-swapped into a black-haired little girl.
Maybe it was the habit from my old life of never having anyone to talk to, but I kept my mouth shut until I was four. Idiot or not, I didn’t care what they called me.
Then that shockingly medieval line finally forced me to pry my lips open.
For the record, the man who said it wasn’t even my real father—just my adoptive one. And the woman who was supposed to be my mother didn’t seem particularly interested in me either. If I didn’t want to get dumped on the street, I had no choice.
“A-Abaa…”
From that day on, my tongue finally loosened.
It was around then that I realized this world was the setting of the romance-fantasy RPG my sister used to play. The problem was, I knew absolutely nothing about the actual plot. She always left the game running on the living-room TV, but I never cared about the love-story nonsense between the male and female leads.
The only thing I remembered from that game was the RPG grind.
My sister used to whine that the RPG elements were a pain, so I stayed up all night doing the grinding for her. And the blacksmithing content? That was ridiculously fun. The pure satisfaction of heating metal and hammering out a weapon. For a shut-in like me, it had been the only salvation.
The game was so realistic that even talking to NPCs felt impossible for an antisocial introvert like me. So hammering iron alone in a workshop was perfect. Later I even downloaded a custom VR mode that let me control every single step of the forging process by hand. By the time my sister noticed her character had turned into a lonely nerd who looked just like her little brother, it was already too late.
Anyway, blacksmithing was what I loved most.
And now seven years had passed since I reincarnated here. Or four years, if you count from when the memories returned. Either way, I was currently a tiny black-haired girl whose height had shrunk by a good three heads compared to my previous life.
Since I knew nothing about the original story, I had no idea who I was supposed to be. Probably just some nameless Extra A from a random blacksmith’s shop. That was fine by me. I’d been an outsider in my last life too. Better to swing a hammer in a quiet corner than get stuck with some annoying role like protagonist or saintess.
Conveniently, my adoptive father’s shop was a shabby little forge.
“Hey! Tina! Finish that up over there!”
“(nod nod)”
“I told you to answer properly!”
“…Yes.”
My real mother had died of fever the year before.
“Ugh! That damn woman croaks and now we’re short-handed!”
For the record, it wasn’t her fault that she gave birth to someone else’s daughter instead of this man’s. One day when my adoptive father was out, some stranger had forced himself on her.
“A woman who can’t even keep herself pure doesn’t live long!”
Apparently in this era, getting raped was the woman’s fault. I never once saw this adoptive father show her a shred of sympathy.
“Hurry up and work already!”
“!!!!”
Scritch-scritch.
Under the usual barrage of nagging, I hurriedly ground the metal.
Knock-knock-knock.
“Ah! Come right in!”
“Hello there.”
“Ahh, the innkeeper’s daughter!”
“Oh, don’t call me that—hoho.”
The middle-aged woman smiled at blacksmith Hatis’s flattery.
“Could you sharpen this kitchen knife for me?”
“Hmm? Looks pretty clean already.”
“Hohoho. I mean the other kitchen knife you made last time.”
“Ah, that one?”
“That was the one Hatis made and your daughter finished, right?”
“Well, I basically did everything myself.”
“That knife is still so sharp I haven’t had to hone it once. It just glides right through everything.”
“Really? You bought that last year, didn’t you? Even if you resharpened it, it should’ve needed grinding ages ago.”
“Exactly. It’s amazing. Still feels brand-new. Everything from Hatis’s forge is truly something else.”
“Heh heh heh.”
Hatis brushed off the customer’s praise as empty flattery.
“So I was wondering…”
The innkeeper leaned in as if sharing a secret.
“You know those ladies in town who grow plants in pots?”
“Ah, the ones who bought trowels from us?”
“Yes. Well, apparently when they plant with those trowels, the plants grow three times bigger or something?”
“Heh heh heh.”
Hatis let the rest of her chatter go in one ear and out the other.
“Anyway, if I ever need anything else made, I’ll come straight here. Your forge is the best in the city, no question.”
“Heh heh heh. That’s the absolute truth, no matter what anyone says.”
That last part, at least, Hatis accepted with pride. Lately he had even started supplying the city hall, and business was booming. He conveniently ignored the fact that the upswing had begun the moment his daughter started helping in the forge.
Heh heh heh. Not much longer now! Official city-hall blacksmith!
He was already dreaming grand dreams and feeling quite pleased with himself.
“Hey! Tina! How long does it take you to finish one job?!”
The second the innkeeper left, Hatis’s face twisted and he rounded on his daughter.
“I ought to marry you off already!”
He had never liked this girl who wasn’t even his own blood. Raising a cuckoo’s chick was bad enough; he would much rather hire sturdy men than keep this frail little girl around. So once he had enough money, he planned to get rid of her. If marriage didn’t work out, the convent would do just fine.
And so today, as usual, I was busy repairing the various items the townsfolk had left with us.
“Hey, do this one first!”
My adoptive father shoved a silver dagger he had just finished into my hands. I took it and examined it carefully. Freshly made, yet the finishing was sloppy. The edge was slightly warped. The decorations were a little off-center.
Click-click.
Scritch-scritch.
I disassembled the dagger and began reworking every awkward part one by one.
“I’m heading out for a bit. Stay put and behave.”
“(nod nod)”
With a tone that really wasn’t appropriate for a seven-year-old girl, my adoptive father stomped out of the forge. Still, in this pre-modern world, at least he didn’t hit me. That counted for something.
Scritch-scritch-scritch-scritch.
Besides, these moments alone with my work were the best. No one talking to me, just me and the tools—that suited me perfectly.
“……”
My only real complaint was that, because of my age, he still wouldn’t let me handle actual forging. But when I was alone like this, I could do whatever I wanted.
Clang-clang-clang.
Right now I could prove that the skills I’d honed in VR mode hadn’t rusted even after reincarnation.
“Mm. Looks good.”
I secretly forged a shovel handle that Father had taken an order for. It was part of a bulk delivery for city hall, so one or two extra pieces would never be noticed. Making a few of these large-order items on the sly had become my little joy lately. Once our forge became the official city-hall smithy, just as Father hoped, there would be even more chances.
Click-click.
After finishing my short secret project, I sat back down at my workbench and resumed dismantling and refining the various pieces Father had made. Warped parts I straightened. Bent ones I flattened. Twisted ones I smoothed. Rough ones I polished. One by one I turned them into clean, marketable goods.
Meanwhile…
“This is the forge?”
“Yes. No mistake. The daughter’s age matches the circumstances perfectly.”
Two hooded adventurers—a man and a woman—stood in front of the blacksmith’s shop.
“Then let’s go in.”
“Yes.”
The woman, who seemed higher-ranked, stepped forward and knocked on the door. When no answer came after a long wait, she knocked several more times.
Creeeak.
The door finally opened.
“Hmm?”
At first the woman saw only empty air.
“Ah…”
Sensing a presence lower down, she lowered her gaze. There, in stark contrast to her own silver hair, red eyes, and height of about 170 centimeters, stood a tiny black-haired girl who barely reached 110 centimeters, staring up at her blankly.
So this is the child… Father’s illegitimate daughter…
“Ah…”
The moment their eyes met, the girl flinched and scurried back inside the forge.
“A-Adults… aren’t here.”
“Ah…”
“Not here…”
The girl forced the words out in a thin, fragile voice.
“Um… do you know when the adults will be back?”
“……”
“Little one?”
“……”
“It’s all right, you don’t have to be scared. We just… ah, right. I came because I wanted my weapon maintained.”
“…Weapon?”
“Yes.”
Sensing the heavy atmosphere, the woman held out her sword in an attempt to lighten the mood. Instantly the child’s eyes lit up as she stared at the weapon.
“So…”
“I’d like this weapon looked after. When will your father return?”
“……”
“Um… are you listening?”
“P-Please… give…”
“Hm?”
“The w-weapon… please.”
The child had already stepped closer, eyes still unable to meet the woman’s, and quietly held out her tiny hands.
“You want this?”
“(nod)”
“Um… are you saying you’ll maintain it yourself?”
“(nod)”
“Do you… know how to care for weapons?”
“(nod)”
“……”
The female adventurer and her male companion exchanged glances.
“Well… then I’ll leave it to you.”
The woman smiled, trying to keep the situation from growing any more awkward, and handed over her weapon.
“(bow)”
“All right. Take good care of it.”
She figured the child would just wipe off a bit of dust…
Clack.
But then—
“Eh?”
Click.
Click-click.
“W-Wait a second…”
The moment the girl sat down, she began completely disassembling the woman’s weapon in the blink of an eye.
