Chapter 9: Seeking the Blade
His mind made up, Suoh walked toward the group of children absorbed in their play.
"Ahem."
"Excuse me. Hello there."
He stopped several paces away and cleared his throat softly to avoid startling them, his voice gentle as he called out.
Hearing the call, the children stopped their roughhousing. Four pairs of eyes studied this unfamiliar person who'd suddenly appeared.
"Who are you? What do you want with us?"
One slightly older child stepped forward ahead of the others, his voice bold and questioning.
Suoh crouched down to bring himself to the child's eye level, speaking gently.
"I happened to be passing by and saw you playing. I got curious."
"Could I borrow one of your wooden swords to look at?"
"Just for a moment. I'll return it quickly."
"Be careful with it, okay?"
The older child hesitated, glancing between Suoh's kind expression and the sword. Finally, he carefully extended his treasured blade, not forgetting to add a warning.
"Thank you. Oh, and here—take this as a gift in return."
Instead of immediately accepting the wooden sword, Suoh first placed a package of moon plums in front of the older child.
Though the oil paper wrapped the fruit tightly, up close you could still catch a hint of the fragrance—especially when Suoh crouched down and the breeze carried the scent even faster toward the child.
He'd noticed the older boy's gaze lingering on the oil paper package earlier, unconsciously swallowing.
When others were generous, he shouldn't be stingy. Snacks could be bought anytime. The wooden sword before him was what mattered.
"Really?!"
"Yes!"
The older child's eyes lit up instantly, almost disbelieving. Only after receiving definite confirmation did he accept the oil paper package. His other hand thrust the sword forward emphatically.
His small face seemed to say "take it, take it quickly," as if afraid Suoh might suddenly change his mind the next second.
Only then did Suoh reach out and accept the wooden sword. The first sensation upon holding it—very light. Much lighter than he'd expected.
With just slight pressure from his fingers, he could feel the wood's softness. Clearly made from low-density wood like paulownia or cedar.
He casually executed a simple sword flourish. The sound of the wooden blade cutting through air was weak and brief, light and flimsy with no power behind it.
Just that basic movement revealed the toy's limitations—too light.
He felt that with just a bit more force, the sword in his hand would snap during the swing.
This wooden sword was perfect for children to wield. For him? Forget actual combat—it had zero training value.
His gaze swept over the children who'd just unwrapped their oil paper and were eagerly tasting the moon plums. Once each had swallowed their first piece, he called out.
"I'm done with the sword. Here, I'm giving it back."
A moment later, the older child walked over clutching his oil paper package tightly, looking somewhat nervous and not immediately taking the sword back.
"Don't worry. Since I gave it to you, I won't take it back."
"This wooden sword is quite well-made. Do you know who made it for you?"
Suoh saw through his concern, his tone remaining warm.
"My father! He used to... work as a carpenter somewhere..."
The older child finally relaxed, accepting the sword back while trying hard to remember what his father had told him. His small brow furrowed with the effort.
"I see. Could you take me to him? There's something I'd like to ask his help with."
Suoh nodded, smoothly continuing his inquiry.
"My father should be home. I'll take you there—it's really close!"
The older child looked up at this older brother with the gentle smile. Without any hesitation, he nodded vigorously.
He tucked the sword under his arm and carefully retied the oil paper package, placing it preciously against his chest.
"Big brother, follow me!"
The child turned, one hand protecting the package against his chest as he trotted ahead to lead the way, looking back to confirm Suoh was following.
Seeing Suoh stand and begin walking, the other three children clustered around him, running along together.
After walking barely a hundred paces, Suoh saw a courtyard with rough cloth garments hanging to dry. A simple work shed stood beside the house, wood materials and tools scattered on the ground.
"Father, someone's here to see you!"
Just reaching the courtyard entrance, the older child shouted loudly toward the house.
A man around forty with honest features emerged from inside, his hemp clothing still covered with wood shavings. Seeing this stranger surrounded by children, his expression showed slight surprise.
"What do you need?"
Approaching, the carpenter got straight to the point, his voice rough and direct.
"I'd like to commission a wooden sword from you."
Meeting his appraising gaze, Suoh replied calmly without beating around the bush.
"A wooden sword?!"
"I'm not the only carpenter on this street. Why come specifically to me?"
The carpenter's eyebrows rose, his tone somewhat odd.
In all these years, countless people had asked him to make tables, chairs, and cabinets. Someone commissioning a wooden sword was a first.
But looking at Suoh's smooth, pale fingers showing no signs of training, he found it genuinely strange. He couldn't help asking more questions.
"Being able to make one and knowing how to make one properly are two different things."
Facing the carpenter's slightly interrogative question, Suoh responded steadily.
A craftsman needed proper tools. If all he needed was a wooden object shaped like a sword, any carpenter on the street could make it.
"Creating a true wooden sword requires understanding how blade curvature affects cutting power, balancing spine thickness with material toughness."
"Most critically—the center of gravity must be precise."
"An ordinary carpenter can't even locate the blade's center of gravity properly. With a sword like that, I might as well just swing a stick."
Pausing briefly, Suoh extended two fingers and made a downward cutting motion in the air, continuing.
If a wooden sword's center of gravity was off—top-heavy and unbalanced—it would feel terrible to wield.
For a wooden sword meant for martial training, the maker had to possess specific experience.
"Interesting. You're absolutely right!"
"What school do you study?"
The carpenter listened quietly, his eyes growing brighter and brighter. Without further doubt, his voice carried excitement.
Different schools required different blade lengths and curvatures. A professional would naturally ask more detailed questions.
For him, wooden swords weren't toys. Even if not made of iron, they should still embody a weapon's soul.
"Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu. Single-successor tradition—you probably haven't heard of it."
"Standard regulation specifications will be fine."
Suoh's tone remained calm.
It wasn't complete nonsense. He'd actually practiced Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu Secret Technique: Kuzu-ryusen.
Though in his previous life, his execution probably looked more like "Nine-Headed Dragon Crawl"—absolutely unwatchable.
With his current physical condition, he estimated he could achieve maybe one-tenth of the technique's power. Against ordinary souls, that would still pose a genuine threat.
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