Wolf Fang (Nanga) (3)
“Hoo…”
Standing in front of the forge, I felt my heart start to race like a kid who'd just gotten a massive birthday present.
The thought of my new katana waiting inside made this shabby little workshop look like a giant gift box in my childlike eyes.
Unable to contain my excitement, I flung open the door with a kick and strode in.
Right away, I heard the click of a lock from outside, followed by the heavy clank of iron chains rattling.
They locked the door? And it sounds like they added some padlock or something…
As if a mere lock could stop my Battōjutsu.
“Mmph…!!”
Not long after stepping inside, I spotted death row prisoners bound hand and foot, mouths and eyes taped shut, wriggling on the ground like maggots.
No matter how desperately they squirmed, those ropes weren't coming loose—but their frantic struggles made it look like they were begging to be chopped up.
No…! Not now… hold it together…!
There'd be plenty of time to slice them up soon enough.
I'd promised not to kill them the moment I grabbed the katana, but I never said anything about keeping them alive afterward.
Iron dummies or straw men would do in a pinch, but nothing beats a live execution for the real thrill.
I shoved the human scarecrows out of my mind for now and headed toward the red glow in the corner.
It was red.
A ruby-like shimmer, yet somehow evoking the image of blood.
At first, I thought it was just a lantern lit to make it easy to find, but up close, I realized it was the blade's light seeping through tiny gaps in the scabbard.
I stared blankly at that beautiful yet eerie glow, then snapped out of it and approached the katana slowly.
…I want to cut.
The longer I gazed at the light, the stronger the urge grew.
Was this the effect of staring at a demon sword's glow? Or was it just my own desire bubbling up?
Definitely the former. I'm not some lunatic who suddenly craves slicing people out of nowhere.
Standing before the table, I gripped the hilt carefully, wary of the blade's magic ensnaring my mind.
Since I hadn't drawn the scabbard yet, there was no real change in my mental state.
If anything, the hilt just felt a bit warm to the touch?
Even before grabbing it, I'd felt the itch to cleave someone, so it was surprising that holding the hilt brought no further shift.
Warm, huh? Perfect for winter.
With that random thought, I pulled the scabbard free, my heart lighter than air.
—Whiiiish…
The moment the scabbard came off, the katana's pent-up light flooded the room.
The intense magic radiating strong enough for even a commoner to sense filled the air, sending the prisoners into even wilder thrashing.
“Mmph!! Mmmphmmph!!!”
No need to throw such a fit begging to be cut—they'd get their turn soon enough. What was the rush…?
Pulling my eyes from them, I looked back at the katana. Words—not quite words, more like the sword's will—poured endlessly into my mind.
Cut them down. Stab them dead. Hack them to pieces.
The nonstop barrage of kill-kill-kill echoing in my head made me grimace and shout.
“Battōōōōōō!!!”
How dare the blade command its master? And telling me, a Battōjutsu practitioner, to thrust?!
Even if it hadn't fully acknowledged me as its owner yet, issuing orders was one thing—but thrusting? Just because its previous master was some rapier-wielding queer, it thought it could force that on me?
“A true katana…!!”
It might've lived as a rapier under some fool owner back in the day, but now it was a katana.
Time to break those bad habits. I launched into a lecture on what it truly meant to be a katana.
“A katana must obey its master and always be ready for the draw…!!”
[Grrrrr…!! Woof!!]
I was sharing wisdom that should've been etched in bone and passed down as a family creed for generations, but all I got back was literal dogshit.
Thrashing its blade wildly while barking nonsense, it acted just like some sassy modern kid slouching defiantly.
Daring to show this attitude while I taught the way of Battō? Were all katanas this spoiled these days?
“You whelp whose blade hasn't even tasted blood yet!!”
I hurled the katana to the floor and plopped down in front of it.
Apparently pissed at being thrown, the fallen blade shuddered, pointed its edge at me, and launched itself straight at my face.
“Bat-ken!!!”
With a shout, I whipped my hand-chop from my pocket and smashed the flying katana back into the ground.
But it wouldn't quit—over and over, it angled its blade at me and came flying.
This insolent punk, blessed to be born a katana, yet trying to thrust like some low-class toy.
Time to whip it into shape for good.
Again and again, I batted away the blade hurtling to impale me, slamming it into the dirt with my hand-chops.
After repeating this enough times, the katana finally trembled and flopped limply to the floor.
[Kiiiiiiing….]
“Looks like you're finally ready to listen. Let's start over. A true katana… you little shit!! Don't you slouch like that while an adult's talking!! Sit up straight, now!”
Furious at its slouched posture, I barked, and the katana shivered, hastily straightening up.
“And what's with flashing your naked edge around strange men like this? You some kind of slut?! Sheathe yourself, you punk!”
I tossed the scabbard from the table, and it scurried back inside like an obedient pup.
“Where was I… right. A true katana keeps its blade hidden until the final, lethal strike. And it always respects its master…”
As I resumed teaching it the proper way of the katana, a heavy clank echoed, and the locked door creaked open.
“……What the hell kind of insane crap are you pulling in here?”
Otar peeked in cautiously and asked. I pointed at the katana on the floor.
“Can't you see?! The katana's got no manners, so I'm disciplining it!!”
“W-what? Disciplining a katana's… manners?”
“What nonsense is that? Since when does a katana have 'manners'?”
“What nonsense are you spouting?! Look how it's misbehaving right now!!”
Even now, it was twisting its hilt toward Otar and Hardi, whimpering like it wanted them to save it.
[Kiiiiing…! Nngh!!]
“W-what the…?”
“When it was with us, aside from the magic aura, it was just a normal sword…”
“Must've been putting on an act. Anyway, I'll handle the training, so wait outside.”
“……Fine. We'll wait. Make it quick.”
“Elder?!”
“Just… do as I say. Arguing more will just give you a headache.”
Hardi looked like she had more to say, but she hung her head and left with Otar.
[Kiiiiing! Kiiing!!]
The katana wailed pitifully after them, but they didn't turn back.
“Now, where were we?”
[Gr… grrr…!!]
As the lesson resumed, the katana rebelled, thrusting at me again—but it never connected.
I dodged or chopped it down, slamming it into the ground time after time.
I kept pounding that lesson home, burying my Battōjutsu philosophy and the proper katana mindset into it until it got the picture.
Finally, it understood its place and transformed into a good, quiet listener.
“Alright, that should do it. Time to wrap up?”
[Woof!!]
Hearing its first enthusiastic bark, I stood, only for sunlight from the window to sting my eyes.
Guess I'd gotten so absorbed in the sermon that I'd lectured straight through till morning.
They said they'd wait outside…
Feeling bad for making them camp out unintentionally, I headed to the hallway.
The prisoners waiting there had tired out and passed out, drool pooling from their gagged mouths.
Given up on escaping, huh.
Or maybe they'd struggled to flee, failed, and crashed from exhaustion.
With the katana tamed, it was time to test its edge. I grabbed one prisoner by the hair.
“Mmmph!! Mmph!!”
The woken man thrashed wildly, but weirdly, he felt completely strengthless.
How many days without food?
Eh, feeding a dead man walking was a waste anyway.
Dragging him by the hair, I hauled him outside—where a tent now stood that definitely hadn't been there before.
“What the—?”
They'd pitched a tent just for an overnight wait? Laughing in disbelief, I nudged it with my foot. Otar emerged, sleepy-eyed.
“Nngh… what? You done…?”
“Yes. Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Check this out.”
[Kuuung~!]
As I touched the katana, it rubbed its hilt against my hand like a dog licking its master's palm.
Otar stared at the master-sword bond, his face screaming what the hell did I just witness?
“What in the world… who tames a demon sword like this? How'd you even do it?!”
“You saw earlier. I just kept preaching my Battōjutsu doctrine and the right mindset for a katana until it sank in. Smacked it down whenever it rebelled, though.”
“……Yeah. Two days of that drivel would break anyone.”
“……Two days?”
I'd thought only hours passed—had it really been two whole days?
Come to think of it, my throat was parched, but I'd chalked it up to all the talking.
“……Sorry, really kept you waiting. Hardi's already gone?”
“Aye, waiting at the inn.”
“Guess I'll have to wait a bit, then.”
Deflated, I dumped the dragged prisoner on the ground.
“Haa…”
I'd wanted to slice him up quick…