Hitetsu set the sword down on his knees and leaned close, the mask tipping as if listening to another world. "A cursed sword is many things. Each blade has a personality of its own and its a swordsmans job to tame them . In cursed blades those personalities are more apparent than any normal blade. Some cursed blades thirst for blood ,others drain your life energy to enhance their attack power . They all vary in personality. "
"So thats it " Mamoru felt the metal under his palm like a small animal stalling between sleep and stir. The thirst for blood everytime he drew Yorichii was there although it was very subtle and restrained, he just never knew how to explain it . A cursed blade
Hitetsu's voice softened. "That said cursed blades do not mean that the blade is faulty. Its a swordsmans job to tame a blade . In your case i do not think a sword of that caliberwould have just a blood thirsty personality . There must be more , maybe an awakening that has yet to happen. "
Mamoru, fingers still on the hilt, lifted the blade out again. He drew out Yoriichi ,closed his eyes and focused on it . He felt it ,the restrained bloodlust , its yearning to strike down all those in its path , its desire for being deadly
and a distant part of the blade restrained . Mamoru sheathed the blade , he felt the bloodlust was keeping itself restrainedand not fully submitting to him . That confirmed that he was still far from taming the blade . He sheathed Yoriichi.
"How does one awaken a blades personality or its full potential?" Mamoru asked, almost afraid of the answer.
Hitetsu stroked the sword's polished habaki as though coaxing a story from it. "I do not know. Each blade is different. Ive heard some say blood and battle , some whisper it is the wielder's heart resolve molded by suffering and love. If I am to theorize, a sword like Yoriichi may look for a wielder whose purpose is pure and fierce enough to match the forging or perhaps the answer lies in its name . A sword that was made for one purpose will awaken when its wielder meets its standard of conviction. "
Mamoru's mouth went dry. He turned the thought over in his head. "Like Lord Oden's Enma," he said finally .
Hitetsu's masked head nodded once. "Enma showed what a blade can do when it has the right user ." He leaned back. "If you and your blade ever find that reason ,if you meet the criteria the sword seeks ,then perhaps it will show you more than a sharpened edge. Perhaps it will grant you something akin to Enma's temper."
Mamoru's hand tightened on the hilt, a strange budding of determination coursing through him .
"I cannot teach you how to awaken it. I can only say this: a blade's voice answers to the heart. Train your body. Temper your spirit. Seek purpose . Then one day, this 'curse' will become your strength and not your doom."
Mamoru looked at the sword, then at Hitetsu who had fed them and given them this strange counsel.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Hitetsu inclined his head once. "Keep your wits, Shimotsuki. Keep true to yourself and purpose."
They ate again in silence for a while the simple rice, the warming broth ,but the conversation had settled into Mamoru like a seed. The blade at his side had a hollower meaning now, a question waiting to be answered. Whatever standard it carried, the boy resolved to meet it, with the promise that had been taught to him since he was a child to protect the weak.