The next morning, Akira and the others woke up early and headed toward the village chief's house for the bet. Originally, only Akira and Erika were supposed to go, but Mitsuri and Tanjiro were far too curious, so they decided to come along and watch.
On the way there, the conversation was still dominated by the Star Wars story Akira had told them the night before.
"I still can't believe Anakin would do that!" Mitsuri cried, almost tearing up again. "Why did he do that? How could he do that!?"
Tanjiro added with a depressed sigh, "And the clones… forced to kill the only people who cared about them… that's so sad…"
Suddenly, Mitsuri grabbed Akira's hand with surprising force.
"Akira-kun! That's so cruel, how you finished the story!" she complained, puffing her cheeks. "The bad guys win and all the good guys are dead! Y-you must tell me what happens next! I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking about it!"
Tanjiro nodded eagerly. "I also want to know how it ends."
Akira sighed lightly but smiled. "Don't worry. That's not how the story ends. A new hope for the universe is already born. I'll tell you about it after dinner."
"It's a deal!" Mitsuri said immediately, her voice sparkling with excitement.
Erika exhaled in defeat. "…Are you really going to tell them all of Star Wars?"
"Yes," Akira replied without hesitation.
Selena's telepathic voice slipped into his mind. "Even the sequels?"
Akira thought back, "No. I don't want to do that to them. It would be too cruel".
As they continued walking, Erika suddenly remembered something and turned to Akira. "Wait… I thought you already knew how to make weapons. Why did you want to learn it from them?"
Akira glanced at her with a small sigh. "You only remembered that now? I don't actually know forging. I usually design weapons and have others make them for me… or I use magic and alchemy to create them. I don't know how to forge them normally."
"I see…" Erika murmured. She had seen him create countless powerful weapons before, but now that she thought about it properly, she had never once seen him manually forge a blade by hand.
Soon, they arrived at the village chief's house.
The village chief greeted them with a loud, energetic voice. "So you really came! Are you truly trying to learn sword smithing in a single day?"
"Yes," Akira said confidently. "Please guide me."
"Very well," Tecchikawahara Tecchin said. "Follow me."
They all followed him into his personal forge, and immediately the space was filled with the scent of metal and burning charcoal. Tables and shelves were stacked with forging materials of all kinds, metal blocks, clay, molds, and half-shaped blades.
"I can't teach you how to make a sword the normal way," Tecchin explained. "That would take far too long. So, I've prepared multiple swords in various stages of completion. This way, you can learn every part of the process in a single day."
Akira smiled. "Thank you."
"Don't worry about it," Tecchin said. "Now, let us begin. The first step is smelting."
Tecchin guided them to a massive clay furnace, the tatara was already blazing in its final hours. The heat washed over them in heavy waves, thick enough to make the air shimmer.
"This," Tecchin said, gesturing toward the roaring furnace, "is the smelting stage. It takes seventy-two hours to complete. Since it's already in the final stage… you're here to WATCH. That's all."
Akira nodded and observed the glowing interior with intense focus.
After a moment, he commented, "Nichirin ore is treated differently than normal iron, isn't it? The temperature and smelting duration seem different."
Tecchin froze. "Wait, how did you know that? I didn't explain anything yet."
Akira tapped his temple. "My eyes are special. They can tell me many things."
"…Your eyes can tell temperature?" Tecchin asked, a bit shocked.
"They can do many things," Akira answered simply.
Tecchin visibly struggled with the urge to question how such nonsense could be possible, but eventually muttered something like, "Magic… it's just magic," and let it go.
He then moved on to teaching Akira how to process and prepare the Nichirin ore once it was removed from the furnace. Akira observed carefully, following every motion, and learned it easily.
In fact, he picked up the skills so quickly it made the chief narrow his eyes suspiciously.
It wasn't a particularly hard process, but Akira's understanding was sharp, almost unnaturally so.
After processing the ore, Chief Tecchin clapped his hands once. "Next is the forging and folding stage."
He led them to another workstation where a glowing block of tamahagane rested on the anvil, radiating heat like a miniature sun.
"This is where you start," Tecchin said firmly. "Hammer it. Fold it. Repeat."
He picked up a hammer and struck the steel with smooth, practiced movements.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Every strike was refined, powerful yet perfectly controlled—technique honed through decades of dedication. After demonstrating long enough, he handed the hammer to Akira.
"This process is crucial. Now, try it."
Akira nodded. He gripped the heavy hammer with one hand, inhaled deeply, and.
CLANG.
A shockwave tore across the forge, whipping dust into a spiraling gust.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Akira hammered with a rhythm, perfect timing, perfect breathing, perfect strength distribution, as if the laws of craft had been engraved directly into his muscles.
Tecchin's jaw trembled.
"H–How?! Your strikes are… precise… not too soft… not too hard… No air pockets at all! It's...it's like you've been doing this for decades!"
The other swordsmiths watching were equally stunned, frozen mid-movement as they stared at the boy forging steel with the ease of a master.
Akira folded the steel again, cleanly, evenly, flawlessly and completed the entire sequence without hesitation.
Tecchin stepped forward, voice slightly shaking. "Explain. How did you do that? Don't tell me… You already knew sword forging?"
Akira shook his head calmly. "No. This is my first time forging anything."
"That's impossible," Tecchin snapped. "There is no way this is your first time."
"It is," Akira replied casually. "I just copied your movements."
"…Copied?" Tecchin blinked, bewildered. "How?"
Akira simply smiled, tapping his temple. "My eyes can do many things."
He said it in such a mysterious tone that Tecchin's eyebrow twitched. The chief definitely looked a little irritated, but he swallowed the feeling and moved on with a sigh.
"Fine. On to the next stage."
Meanwhile, Mitsuri leaned toward Erika, eyes sparkling with confusion.
"Erika-chan, how did he do that!?"
Tanjiro also looked baffled, ears almost wiggling from curiosity.
Erika spoke softly, as if this was normal.
"He can perfectly replicate the movements of anyone he sees. He probably just copied the chief exactly. Remember, he learned all of your breathing techniques that way, too."
Mitsuri's eyes widened. "Ohhh! That's right! I completely forgot he could do that!"
They moved to the next station.
"This stage is called sunobe," Tecchin explained. "It's where we shape the sword into its actual form. This step determines the blade's life, so watch carefully."
He hammered the heated steel with meticulous precision, shaping it into a long, flat bar with a gentle taper along its length and thickness, the foundation for the blade and tang. When he finished, he stepped back.
"Now you try."
Akira picked up the hammer without hesitation. His eyes narrowed slightly, then he moved.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Every strike mirrored Tecchin's earlier movements exactly. Down to the angle, the timing, the pressure, to the millimeter. In mere moments, Akira had created a piece identical to the chief's demonstration.
Tecchin froze mid-step.
"…This process takes apprentices years to even understand, and yet…"
Akira gave a small smile. "Just like before, my eyes can do many things."
Tecchin made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh but didn't comment further. He simply turned to the next stage, his spirit clearly taking psychological damage.
"…Next is yaki-ire," he said. "I will demonstrate."
He coated the prepared blade in clay: a thin layer along the edge, a thicker one across the spine and body.
Then he heated the blade until it glowed with a dangerous, almost living light.
And finally.
SSHHH!
He quenched it in water, steam erupting into the air.
"This may look simple," Tecchin warned, "but this single step takes years to master. Most mistakes happen in the quench. Now… try it."
Akira nodded, lifted his prepared blade, and.
He did it perfectly.
No uneven heating.
No warping.
No cracking.
The water didn't even splash wrong.
Tecchin didn't even look shocked anymore. He appeared… emotionally numb.
Akira turned to him and said gently, "My eyes can do many things."
The chief rubbed his mask, clearly done with existence. "…Next is polishing and assembling."
Compared to the earlier steps, these were simple, and Akira handled them smoothly and efficiently, almost mechanically.
Tecchin eyed him tiredly.
"…Let me guess," he muttered. "Your eyes can do many things."
"Huh? No," Akira said honestly. "These steps are simple. I don't need my eyes for them."
Everyone nearly fell over.
And for some reason, that made Tecchin look even more exhausted.
And just like that, Akira learned how to forge a sword in a single day and completed the impossible bet.
Back in the rest area, Akira sat comfortably with a satisfied smile. "So, Village Chief, I won our bet."
Tecchin let out a long, defeated sigh. "Yes… you did. I never expected anyone to learn forging in a single day, but you really did it."
He looked as if the foundation of his worldview had cracked.
"So," the chief continued, "what do you want as your reward?"
Akira replied casually, "Nothing much. Just let me stay here a little longer and lend me a place and materials to forge my blade. Is that acceptable?"
Tecchin closed his eyes, accepting fate.
"…Very well. You won. I will allow it."
Akira grinned. "Thank you."
And with that, the bet was officially settled. Akira could remain in the Swordsmith Village for as long as he needed.
Afterward, the group returned to their lodging to rest.
Later that evening, after dinner, Akira fulfilled the promise he made earlier, finishing the rest of his Star Wars story.
Mitsuri was bawling her eyes out.
"I knew Anakin still had good in him!" she wailed dramatically.
Tanjiro was also emotional, fists clenched with determination.
"So he was the Chosen One after all… he completed the prophecy… he brought balance to the force…"
Akira watched them with mild amusement.
Mitsuri sniffled and asked, "What happens next, Akira-kun?"
Akira shrugged casually.
"Well, not much. Our heroes all lived happily ever after."
He had no intention of explaining the sequels. He wouldn't do that to them.
"But it's too interesting!" Mitsuri protested. "I want to know more!"
Akira chuckled. "Next time, I'll tell you about what happened during the Clone Wars. What do you think?"
"Yes!" Mitsuri beamed, instantly cheering up.
Tanjiro nodded vigorously, looking equally excited.
Erika, meanwhile, sighed quietly.
"How much will the future change now that he's telling Star Wars in Taishō-era Japan…?"
But Akira simply looked relaxed and satisfied.
He completed all his objectives for this day perfectly. He had won the bet.
He had permission to stay. And now he could finally focus on the real reason he came here.
Yorichi Type Zero.
He would get his hands on it, no matter what.