The Swordsmith Village had many hot springs. The smell of sulfur permeated every corner of the village. A very suitable place for recuperation.
Though the village chief was advanced in years, his spirits were quite good. He was also crystal clear about village affairs.
I told him I came this time wanting to borrow Yoriichi Type Zero. Though I couldn't see his expression, the village chief's voice carried a trace of difficulty.
"Yoriichi Type Zero, ah... What unfortunate timing. That family's heir of this generation passed away not long ago."
Dwindling descendants was an unavoidable problem. Even in the Swordsmith Village, it was the same.
Heard the thing I wanted to borrow was now damaged in many places. After this generation's heir died, no one understood how to repair it anymore.
If it was completely destroyed, then no one could fix it again.
Yoriichi Type Zero carried generations of their emotions and spirit. This was also where the village chief's difficulty lay. He couldn't forcibly compel others to lend out such an important thing.
I didn't plan to force anyone. But since I came, still had to visit and pay respects.
Genya went out and was called over by the craftsman making the gun. Only Ritsuka obediently followed behind me. Asked enthusiastically: "What is Yoriichi Type Zero? Some kind of secret manual left by my ancestor?"
Mm... Sort of.
If I couldn't borrow it, letting Ritsuka see it would be good too.
But I still warned her in advance not to speak carelessly before taking her to visit.
A small boy came to greet us. He obviously wasn't very used to wearing a mask yet. Struggled to hold up the Hyottoko mask on his face to look up at us.
"Hello, may I ask... is there something you need?"
His gaze paused for an instant on the swords at our waists. Quickly withdrew.
I said I had some connection with his family. Heard they recently encountered unfortunate events. So wanted to visit and pay respects.
During this period there were probably quite a few visitors like us. The boy who called himself Kotetsu quickly politely let us inside.
In the black and white photo hanging on the wall was a very young man. Laugh lines still at the corners of his eyes. But the sickly appearance on his face couldn't be concealed.
I lit a stick of incense. Silently recited a passage of prayers for his next life. Then went to sit in the guest room. Kotetsu had already brought sweets and tea from the kitchen.
Fortunately, people in the Swordsmith Village all had some kinship relations... Though this child lost his father too early, he still had other relatives who could care for him.
I asked about Kotetsu's recent situation. Told him some stories from outside. After a while, asked if he could let us see the Yoriichi Type Zero passed down in his family.
Kotetsu was very clever. Quickly understood: "Do you two want to borrow it for training?"
"Not me." I tactfully indicated only the girl behind me needed it... But we both knew Yoriichi Type Zero's importance to him. So didn't plan to use it. Just wanted to look.
Kotetsu turned to look at Ritsuka again. Stared at her for quite a while. Suddenly nodded.
"If it were someone else, I probably wouldn't want to lend it." He said. "But if it's this big sister, no problem."
He led us out through the back courtyard. Along the bluestone path into a bamboo grove.
In the spacious clearing isolated by the bamboo grove stood a "person." It had a full six arms.
Ritsuka walked close and stopped. Stared at it observing for a long time before cautiously moving over.
She walked to the front. Eyes like obsidian, like mirrors, clearly reflected that somewhat damaged face.
That of course wasn't Yoriichi. But a mechanical puppet made in his likeness.
The craftsmen from several hundred years ago had extraordinary skills. Even such a puppet was carved lifelike. As if the departed had reappeared.
Because it resembled Yoriichi too much, unless necessary, I usually wasn't willing to come see it.
But its meaning to Ritsuka was different. She stared fixedly for a long time. Suddenly raised her hand to touch that wooden face.
"This was made by my ancestor. Its prototype was a very formidable samurai from long ago."
Kotetsu stood behind and said: "Big sister, do you know him? I always feel you and Yoriichi Type Zero are very similar."
Similar? Ritsuka's appearance and Yoriichi's were already worlds apart. But in terms of expression, probably indeed very similar.
Yoriichi's swordsmanship was extraordinarily superb. Even highly skilled craftsmen couldn't perfectly replicate his movements with mechanical arms.
In fact, when this puppet was made, I was also present.
Even if Yoriichi agreed to replicate his swordsmanship, truly recreating his every movement was still a huge challenge for the craftsmen.
Yoriichi could slow down to demonstrate the structure and movements of each technique for them... But if he displayed his extreme speed, none of the craftsmen present could see clearly how his techniques connected.
If they simply rigidly strung together all the techniques, the power would definitely fall far short of Yoriichi himself.
The craftsmen brought people. Painstakingly researched for over half a year. Even I was grabbed to serve as a visual observation instrument...
Stammering to repeat for them how Yoriichi's techniques connected this way and that.
In short, it took considerable effort and time before finally making this puppet.
Kotetsu brought the mechanism key. Fiddled with Yoriichi Type Zero a few times. This puppet whose eye sockets were already cracked trembled slightly. Its aura immediately changed.
All six of its hands held a wooden sword.
At first, Ritsuka was unconvinced. Said I insisted on replacing the real swords in its hands was looking down on her.
Result—after her face took a hit and she flew out with unstable balance, she silently shut up.
She climbed up from the ground. On her fair face was a clear red mark. More striking than the red mark was the fury blazing in her eyes.
All thoughts like wistful nostalgia for her ancestor, respecting and cherishing the Kotetsu family's treasure—all flew out of her brain.
I looked at her expression. She practically wanted to dismantle this puppet into pieces on the spot. Returned to the training ground full of murderous intent.
After that, she wasn't knocked flying again. But her body still took quite a few hits.
When training ended at nightfall and she went to the hot springs with me—
I examined up and down, left and right, the bruises of varying shades on her body and face. Mouth pressed into a straight line. Lightly stroked my chin.
Ritsuka silently buried herself in the water. Only left her head outside.
Though I said nothing, Ritsuka still keenly turned her head. Viciously threatened: "Don't tell Giyuu and Sabito."
If she hadn't mentioned it, I could've let it go. Once she did, I couldn't hold back. Let out a maniacal mocking laugh.
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