Rhett took it all in, laughing to himself, but his face remained calm. He even sighed. "Ah, what a shame..."
The old master immediately asked, "What's a shame?"
When he had declared the Black Tide his final work, it was partly because he felt he couldn't surpass it, and partly because he wanted to rest. But now, a perfect potential, maybe even better than Rhett, was right in front of him. His smith's heart itched like a cat scratching at him!
If he agreed, how could he face himself after making such a big statement?
If he refused, could he bear to see such a perfect material go to waste?
The old master's face was red. His heart was fighting itself. He grabbed the bottle and took a big drink, trying to calm himself. But his eyes kept drifting to Ann.
Rhett was laughing inside, but he looked troubled. He sighed. "Oh well, if you're really retired, I can't force it. What a shame... such a talented girl, and no sword worthy of her. She'll have to be careful in training, afraid of breaking her sword again."
That hit the old man right where it hurt.
His mouth twitched. Finally, he couldn't help it. He forced the words out, looking away casually. "...I'm retired, but I could still... advise on materials. I might have some decent 'Black Iron' in stock..."
Rhett pretended not to understand. He looked grateful. "Oh, thank you! That's very generous! Advising on materials! But I couldn't ask you to forge it. I wouldn't want you to break your promise."
The old man: "..." (That's not what I meant!)
Rhett continued to "worry." "I guess I'll have to take Ann to the Sword Forging Island and take a chance. The 'One-Armed' master there is a bit eccentric and sharp-tongued, but his skills are probably... decent. Maybe he'll help, seeing Ann's talent..."
The words "One-Armed" and "showing off."
The image flashed through the old master's mind:
That damn one-armed old ghost, leaning on his cane, patting the new sword he'd made for Ann, showing it off in that sarcastic tone.
"Oh my isn't this little Hammer? You look so weak! Look at this new work! A Conqueror's Haki potential! A one-in-a-million material! Such smooth lines! Such perfect balance! Some people retired, and that's fine. Saves them from ruining good materials"
(Turning to the air) "Why did she come to me? Because the girl knows talent!"
(Turning back) "Oh, and thank you for retiring. Otherwise, this material wouldn't have come to me. Kukuku..."
Just imagining his rival's smug face and that "kukuku" laugh made the old master's blood boil. Veins bulged on his forehead. He nearly crushed the bottle in his hand.
"No way! Absolutely not!!!"
That would be worse than death.
He had just come back from Sword Forging Island ten days ago.
Even though his Black Tide Greatsword had been given the unpleasant name "Blood Dragon's Calamity," he was the first smith. He wasn't as pleased as before, but it still made him happy.
Just imagining the smug face and that "kukuku" laugh made his blood boil. Veins bulged. He nearly crushed the bottle.
"No way! Absolutely not!!!"
He slammed the table and stood up. The dishes jumped. Ann was startled.
The old man's face was red. He breathed heavily, as if he had fought an invisible enemy. He shook his head violently, trying to rid his mind of the image.
"I can't let that old bastard ruin this material! Absolutely not! He doesn't understand power! He only makes fancy decorations! It would be a waste! An insult to forging!"
He had finally found the perfect reason to convince himself. He turned his head, eyes wide, staring at Rhett. He almost shouted.
"Kid! Leave the girl here! I'll make an exception! Just once! I'll show you what a real greatsword is! Let that one-armed old ghost cry over his fancy junk!"
Evil Rhett grinned. "You said the Black Tide was your final work."
The old master hesitated. "This is... my 'locking the door' work."
Evil Rhett gave him a thumbs up.
Then the old man sat back down, crossing his arms, his chin raised high. As if to say, "I wasn't convinced by you. I'm only doing this to crush my rival."
Rhett looked at him and barely kept himself from laughing.
Evil Rhett: Got him.
The old master cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Ahem... little girl."
Ann looked up. No fear. Just curiosity.
Rhett: My kids aren't afraid of anything.
The old man: "No one asked you!!"
"You..." The old master searched for words, gesturing with his hands. "What kind of sword do you like? What feeling are you looking for?"
Ann tilted her head, thinking seriously. Then she used her small hands to gesture, using her limited vocabulary.
"Um... you know... the kind that goes... BOOM—PONG!" She pushed her hand forward, imitating a heavy strike.
The old master's eyes lit up. He stroked his beard. "BOOM PONG? Heavy and powerful? One hit to defeat the enemy? Interesting."
Ann, seeing he understood, got more excited. Her hands moved faster. "And also... the kind that goes... SWISH—SHING!"
"Oh?" The old master was more interested. "Heavy and fast? That's not an easy combination, little girl."
Ann nodded firmly. "Yes! The kind that goes... HEY HEY, HA HA! Very powerful!"
She waved her little fists, as if she could already see herself winning battles with her new sword.
The old man and the little girl were talking in a language no one else could understand. "BOOM PONG" and "SWISH SHING." They were getting along perfectly.
Rhett: I have proof you're excluding me.