For a moment, his way of speaking was so bizarre I thought he was speaking English, but as I kept listening, I realized it wasn't English at all. He was just stretching out the ends of his sentences and twisting his pronunciation so strangely that it merely sounded like English.
I was startled for a second, thinking he was using English in an era where even cuneiform hadn't appeared in the Human Realm yet.
Calming my racing heart, I picked up a broken blade and examined it from different angles.
To an amateur like me, no matter how much I looked at it, it just looked like a well-crafted katana.
"It looks well-made. Why are you breaking it?"
"Oh!? Wh-who-whooo (who)!?"
"I've been watching you from behind for a while now. I guess you didn't notice. Sorry for startling you."
"You've been in here while I was workin'-go (go)...?"
It definitely wasn't English, but the way it sounded like it made it incredibly awkward.
Wait a minute.... I feel like there was one guy who spoke exactly like this.... Ah.
Right, there was one. The man who created the Zanpakuto, the Divine General of the West.
The man who fueled the 'Zero Division is a fraud' theories with his infamous quote: "Sorry, I'm strong."
An unfortunate member of the Royal Guard whose reputation was only restored after the Thousand-Year Blood War anime revealed that his previous portrayal was just a victim of Kubo's narrative choices.
"Nimaiya Oetsu."
"Wha-what (what)!? How do you know my name!?"
Nimaiya exaggerated his shock like an actor, scuttling backward.
Though his actions seemed unnecessarily theatrical, the vigilance reflecting in his eyes was anything but ordinary.
Seeing that look in his eyes—one that suggested he would cut me down the instant things went south—I waved my hands dismissively.
"Hey, don't worry about it. I just found out about you while looking for a skilled swordsmith. So, why don't you lower that sword you've got hidden behind your back?"
"...I can't believe you noticed-ya (ya).... You're quite the tough customer-man (man)!"
Nimaiya pursed his lips and pointed at me with his fingers shaped like a gun, thumb and index extended.
Seriously, how does every single one of his movements remind me of a rapper?
'Let's not pay it any mind...'
I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose, realizing that worrying about his antics would only make me tired.
"Anyway. I'm looking for a skilled smith. I need blades... quite a lot of them."
"So that's why you came lookin' for me?"
"I've traveled all over the Soul Society looking for blacksmiths, but they all freak out the moment I bring up swords. All this trouble because of one idiot who fell to Hell..."
In truth, I wanted to drag that bastard by his hair out of Hell, beat him into a literal pulp, and give a speech saying, 'Citizens of the Soul Society, the Akudo has been dealt with in Hell, so please return to your smithing without fear!' But I couldn't do that.
From the perspective of peaceful residents, that would be no different from some crazy person turning a stranger into a bloody mess and then telling them to feel safe.
Knowing that, I didn't bother throwing a tantrum.
"Mm-hm. I see. I get what you're saying. But! Why should I forge a sword for you?"
"Is there something you need? I'm prepared to pay a price if there's something you want."
"No! No!"
He shook his head side to side and thrust an index finger in front of my face, flashing a wide, toothy grin that showed his gums.
"I! Do not hammer iron because I need money or fame! You feel me? Eh!? You want to buy my blades with money!? If I really wanted money, I would've become a smith for the nobles, touching thousands! No, ten thousands of gold pieces while singing Hallelujah!"
His speech and actions were light as air, but his unshakeable, determined eyes shone brilliantly even in the dark room.
So this is the future member of Squad 0. Impressive.
I chuckled, stepping aside to avoid his finger, and patted Nimaiya on the shoulder.
"I said I'd pay a 'price,' I never said I'd pay a 'fee.' And I also said 'if there's something you want.'"
"You're sayin' you're different from the other fools who tried to bribe me with cash? Fine! That attitude! I like it! I'll hear you out!"
He was saying that, but I didn't expect him to forge anything for me right away.
Hearing me out was one thing; agreeing to make them was another.
That Jomon bastard used to play word games like that too.
I let out a quiet sigh and took a seat in a convenient spot.
"Eh? Not looking for a chair? Usually, the high-and-mighty nobles start complaining, asking where the chairs are, why there's nowhere to sit, where the tea is, and all that."
"I won't die without a chair. You sit too. It's uncomfortable to talk with just me sitting. My neck hurts from looking up at you."
"I like how easygoing you are compared to the other lords! I like you even more now!"
Nimaiya, who had been looking down at me, grinned and sat across from me.
He began tapping his palm with his hammer as he spoke.
"An axe cuts wood, a hammer drives nails, a chisel carves timber, and a plow tills the field. But a sword is different. It can be used to slay, or it can be used to save."
Thump.
"You—for what reason are you asking me to forge a blade?"
What is the purpose of that sword?
Is it a sword to kill? A sword to save? Or perhaps just for your own pleasure?
"Just so you know! If you can't answer, if you hesitate, or if your answer doesn't satisfy me! I will not forge a single blade! Kill me if you want! I might not look it, but I'm pretty good with a sword! I am a swordsmith, after all!"
"I'm not asking you to make them for my own use, though."
"Hah?"
Nimaiya screamed, pointing his hammer toward me as if he hadn't expected that response at all.
"Then why did you come looking for me!? That's weird! You want a sword forged even though you don't need one!? If you were tryin' to surprise me, you did such a good job I want to praise you! Did I hear that right!? Huh!?"
"It's exactly as I said. I'm not asking you to make them for me to use."
"Then where the hell are you gonna use 'em!?"
"Hell."
"Hah...?"
This time, he seemed truly shocked. He dropped his hammer, his jaw hanging open.
"Hell? He-eeeeell!? You're joking, right!? This is a joke!? Just sayin' it for a laugh!?"
"I'm serious. Want to see for yourself?"
As I struck the air and cracked the space open, the agonizing screams and shrieks began to leak through the crevice, as if some parts of Hell were already in operation.
The screams echoed through the small hut and down the cliff, making Nimaiya turn pale.
Though his skin was dark, it was still noticeable.
"The Hells of the Ten Kings. Destined locations for sinners based on the crimes they committed in life. The problem is, I don't have the tools for the Hell of Blades, the Hell of the Forest of Swords, the Hell of Boiling Water, the Hell of Sawing, or the Hell of the Iron Bed."
Iron cauldrons for the Hell of Boiling Water, iron mortars or iron-studded beds for the Hell of the Iron Bed, or saws for the Hell of Sawing—I could just ask other blacksmiths for those.
"But for the swords and blades needed for the Hell of Blades and the Hell of the Forest of Swords, I don't have anyone who can make them."
As I spoke, I held up the broken blade fragment I had picked up earlier.
"Actually, even receiving broken shards like this would be enough. The goal is to make the sinners atone, after all."
"To inflict pain, then... How grim-man! You want to use my blades for that! To have them stuck in one place like ornaments, never finding a master, never being used as intended, existing only to cause pain to others!? What kind of nonsense is that!?"
"It is grim. If it sounds unpleasant, you could phrase it as 'returning their karma.' Well, if you still don't like it, there's nothing I can do."
I shrugged and let out a deep sigh.
However, Nimaiya's expression didn't change. He still looked repulsed.
"That's a shame.... Can't be helped. I was thinking of inscribing your name in Hell, but what a waste. Since you would have made the swords and blades to uphold the laws of Hell, I was going to call you the 'God of the Sword.'"
"God of War (Tushin)!? Isn't that a bit too grandiose a title for a blacksmith!?"
"No, God of the Sword (Doshin). Using the character for 'sword.'"
"Oh..."
I chuckled as I saw him look slightly disappointed yet strangely restless, clearing his throat while peeking at my reaction.
Right, if I recall, in the original story, he was a guy who loved flashy and eye-catching things. I should have led with this from the start.
"I see you're getting interested now. What do you think? Hmm? Your name engraved in Hell, not as a sinner, but as the one who punishes them. And with the title of a 'God' to boot. The Sword God, Nimaiya Oetsu."
"Ugh...!! Krooooagh...! It's... it's definitely a good offer-man...!! But I'm gonna have to refuse!!"
That was unexpected. I thought he'd take the bait immediately.
Then again, if everything in the world went that easily, everyone would be living happily ever after with a smile.
"May I ask why?"
"Because I haven't made a sword that meets my standards yet. A sword with a soul.... Yes, a sword with a heart. I haven't been able to make one. Therefore, I'll pretend I never heard that request!! The title of 'Sword God' is tempting, but my goal comes first!"
"I told you, it's not 'God of War,' it's 'God of the Sword.'"
"The pronunciation is similar enough, it's fine! Either way, the offer is off the table!"
I actually liked how he laughed and brushed off his lingering attachment, saying, "It's a shame, but can't be helped! Haha!"
He was easygoing yet bold, honest with his own heart, and held nothing back. He was exactly the kind of person I'd want as a friend.
"A sword with a soul, huh."
"Oh? Do you happen to know something about that?"
"I have some knowledge."
Zanpakuto.
Its form and abilities are born from the soul of the Soul Reaper themselves.
I don't remember where that quote came from, but I recall it because it used to appear every single time before the anime's opening sequence.
The part to think about here is that the form and abilities are born from the Soul Reaper.
It's not the 'blacksmith' who makes the sword.
It's the job of the 'Soul Reaper' who holds it.
"Putting a soul into a blade is not the blacksmith's job. It's the job of the one who wields it."
"What?"
"Is a sickle a murder weapon meant to cut a man's throat, or a tool meant to harvest crops? Is an axe a tool to chop wood, or a weapon to kill people?"
"That depends on who's using it and how.... Wait...!"
When a baby is born, can you call that infant a grown adult?
No. Only after they are raised with love, cared for, and guided down the right path until they can stand on their own as a person can you call them an adult.
What the blacksmith does is akin to a doctor ensuring the child is born smoothly.
Whether that child grows up to be a certain kind of adult is determined by their parents—or by themselves.
"I see.... I see...!! So that's how it is!! Hahat, Hahahat!!"
Nimaiya suddenly leapt up, grabbed his hammer and tongs, and stood before the fire.
"Hey, you!! What's your name!?"
"Well, I don't really have a name."
"Nameless! That's not bad either! Because as you just told me, I just have to start making it 'from now on'!! Hahat! Right, I'm a blacksmith. A swordsmith!! My job is to make!"
Spinning around, Nimaiya stared straight at me with eyes that shone much more brilliantly than before.
"That offer you mentioned a moment ago—is it still on the table!?"
"Yeah. I haven't withdrawn it yet."
"Hehehe, good! Very good!! I'll take that job! I, the Sword God (Doshin), Nimaiya Oetsu!!"
"Then I'm counting on you."
"Ohhh!!"
Nimaiya gave a hearty shout and began passionately pounding his hammer.
As if responding to that passion, the hammer and tongs in his hands began to glow.
Of course, whether that light came from the flames of the forge, or something else entirely...
Well, I suppose only the man himself would know.