Chapter 218: Demon King Oda Nobunaga
After separating from the blue-robed swordsman, Shirou took young Yukino and walked towards the other side of the small town.
In this small town, the south side was the gathering place for the poor who entered the city; the east side was where the wealthy lived; and the north side was a cluster of Tang Dynasty-style buildings. The large residence with white walls and red pavilions in the center was where the town lord lived, and the surrounding mansions were the various government offices that managed the small town.
There were the security teams composed of relatively meticulous female samurai, and government offices managed by civil servants, and so on.
The place Shirou and young Yukino were heading to was the bustling commercial district on the west side of the town, the trade center where goods were transported.
"Master, are we going to look for comrades now?" Yukino asked curiously.
"No, the place we're going to now is just to try our luck, and it also serves to satisfy a personal interest of mine," Shirou said with a light smile.
"An interest? Master, is it something beneficial to our training?" Yukino asked, her eyes sparkling.
"It's not for such a grand purpose. I'm just interested in weapons," Shirou explained to the girl as they walked.
"Weapons? Speaking of which, Master, the sword you use here seems to be an unfamiliar style as well."
"Well, I forged it myself, so it bears my own inscription," Shirou replied.
"May I see the sword you forged, Master?" young Yukino asked curiously.
"Wow! Master, that's amazing! This is already a treasured sword. Perhaps only the ancestral treasured sword from my hometown could surpass this one," Yukino exclaimed in admiration.
"Is that so? That is already the level of a generational treasure. If a swordsmith could forge such a weapon, they could leave their name in history. My current skill is still immature, but it is said that above generational treasures, there are 'Forging Gods' who can forge divine weapons," Shirou said with a light smile.
"Forging divine beings? Like the Sword God?" Yukino asked.
"Hmm, but the old man who told me this said that swordsmiths of this realm currently seem to be limited " Shirou nodded and said.
"I hope we can find powerful samurai there," Yukino said.
"Mm, but don't worry. The boat will find its way to the pier naturally," Shirou said, patting the girl's head.
Talking with the girl all the way, after a good while, the two arrived at the street. The road in the middle was spacious, and on both sides were shops one after another. Even in the corners without shops, merchants had set up carts and wooden tables to hawk their goods.
This was the most prosperous shopping street in the small town, with a wide variety of goods, from clothing to rouge and powder.
It was completely different from the small street they lived on. There were no small vendors there who only sold cheap miscellaneous goods of a single type and conducted business sneakily. Those were amateur merchants earning some extra money, and as for weapons, those small vendors were not authorized to sell them.
Yukino looked around at the shops, then suddenly stopped, tugging at Shirou and saying, "Master, I found it! The weapons shop."
"Let's go in and take a look," Shirou glanced at the weapons shop Yukino was pointing to. The plaque above read "Weapon Workshop," which was an institution certified by the government.
Walking inside, a store clerk in a hospitality uniform enthusiastically greeted them. Expensive weapons were hung on the walls and displayed on wooden racks, rows upon rows of weapons.
They had everything from small knives barely over ten centimeters long to nodachi over one meter and two or three centimeters long.
However, as Shirou looked at them, he frowned.
"I wonder, my lord, have you taken a fancy to any particular weapon? Is it for you or for this young gentleman?" the clerk asked.
"Look at this nodachi, sir. It has a tiger skin scabbard, which looks majestic. It feels powerful in your hand. If you buy it now, the shop offers a discount, only ninety percent of the usual price. What do you think?" the clerk asked with a smile, rubbing his hands.
Shirou waved his hand. 'The tiger skin is genuine and quite good, but the blade inside is only second-rate. Because it's encased in tiger skin, they're selling it at the price of a top-grade sword. This is a case of buying the box and returning the pearl. If one only looks at the exterior, they will surely be taken for a ride.'
"Or perhaps, you might look at this Moonlight Dagger over here. It is as sharp and can cut through anything," the clerk continued.
"No, let's go," Shirou shook his head. 'No, this is also an inferior product. It would be very painful if used for seppuku.'
In times of war, even swordsmiths were affected, unable to source proper materials or fully hone their skills. For a long time, the quality of katanas produced by swordsmiths was questionable.
They might break after just a single, strenuous clash on the battlefield.
Shirou was deeply disappointed with the weapons shop here. Although there was a specialized store, everything sold inside was just a shoddy imitation. Even the store owner resembled the uncles who set up stalls to sell toys in a park in the real world.
Those weapons were extremely mixed. Although they were all ordinary, unmarked blades forged by common swordsmiths, Shirou noticed that the blades displayed on the same rack were not even produced by the same workshop, let alone from the same region.
Upon closer inspection, he could even find traces of fighting on some of the blades. These crude weapons were likely refurbished goods from the battlefield, probably picked up somewhere. For him, they were truly impossible to continue looking at.
"Forget it, let's go back," Shirou said, walking toward the door.
"Master? Aren't you looking anymore?" Yukino tilted her head, confused.
"Ah, I've already seen them. There's nothing I want here," Shirou replied.
The common iron weapons in this shop could not satisfy Shirou. Of course, part of the reason was his own extremely high standards.
What he pursued was not some legendary blade that could cleave metal like mud, nor was it a family heirloom. It was a weapon that transcended mere arms, one that could rescue humanity from this eternal cycle of war.
Senji Muramasa, in his youth, had experienced many wars and witnessed all sorts of brutal events.
He wanted to find the answer, to find a way to save the suffering people. Perhaps this was just a delusion of his, an impossible fantasy, but he simply could not let it go.
As a samurai, he participated in battle after battle, seeing villages that had been diligently farming and paying taxes inexplicably plundered and burned. He felt sympathy for those suffering due to war but was powerless to change anything.
So he began to travel the world, constantly pondering the problem, engaging in an internal dialogue, hoping to see something, to gain some inspiration.
What exactly could he do for this world? Should he become a lord through war, conquer his own territory, and unify the world?
He also understood that what he sought was different from everyone else in the world, so who would be willing to follow him?
Must he then assist an enlightened ruler to achieve unification? Was this even within his capabilities?
When the war ended, would that truly bring peace and happiness?
When the people prosper, they suffer. When they perish, they suffer too.
If he were to use forging as an analogy, what he pursued was actually a sword that could cleave away all darkness, bring miracles to the world, change the world, defeat the cruel reality, and sever humanity's painful fate.
It seemed that such a sword only existed in legends in this world.
But if he continued to try forging, use different materials, and constantly hone his skills, perhaps one day he might complete this miracle.
Therefore, he needed to constantly absorb the strengths and experiences of swordsmiths from various schools, hoping that one day he could complete the divine weapon he alone wished to forge in his heart.
After leaving the blacksmith shop, Shirou and Yukino walked through a dark alley. Suddenly, a figure leaped out and blocked their way.
She wore a red and black military uniform, with a golden sun crest adorning the front of her military cap. She had long black hair and crimson eyes. When she looked at Shirou, she had a gold-rimmed hitotsuzutsu (arquebus) slung over her shoulder, a smile on her lips, and her entire being exuded an overwhelming, crazy charisma.
Despite this being a low-magic, high-martial samurai world, an overwhelming demonic flame could be seen emanating from behind her, giving off a sensation of heat and scorching that could burn everything.
Shirou stepped forward, shielding young Yukino behind him.
"A life of fifty years, compared to the span of heaven, is but a fleeting dream. Look upon this world, an illusion like water. Once one is given life, one's end is immediately at hand. This is the seed of Bodhi, and the feeling of regret fills the heart. Now that you have arrived in Kyoto, and behold the severed head of Atsumori! Look at the world, within the seas and skies, who can live forever?"
"Oda... Nobunaga?" Shirou's hand rested on his sword hilt, his gaze locked on the opponent as he asked. His current body, as a samurai, might not be a first-rate swordsman, but he had absolute confidence in his ability to fight a life-or-death duel.
The katana in his hand was a treasured sword personally forged by Senji Muramasa with great effort, and it feared no confrontation with any famous or treasured sword in the world.
Even if the opponent was the Sixth Heaven Demon King, who was a mass murderer burning with the fire of sin. Shirou, influenced by the remaining consciousness in his body, had only one thought at this moment: 'Cut off her head before she shoots me.'
Senji Muramasa was still a young samurai traveling through various regions during the Warring States period. At this time, he had not yet become the mysterious swordsmith known throughout the world as the first Muramasa.
But he loved forging. Whenever he traveled to a castle town, he would inevitably visit the local blacksmith shop and pay respects to the swordsmith masters there. With great talent in this area, the swords he forged now were already on par with the most sought-after, top-grade swords on the market.
The aura erupting from the black-haired girl opposite him was several times stronger than his own body, not on the same level at all. However, at this distance, he believed he could still achieve a mutual kill if he risked his life.
Seeing Shirou's action, the black-haired girl smiled with interest:
"Oh, you guessed my identity, and your first reaction is to draw your sword? What a peculiar man. You're a samurai who slays on the battlefield, turning yourself into a cold-blooded shura, yet you still pursue justice?"
"Hmph, I wouldn't call it justice. But if killing people like you could bring peace to the nation, I truly wish I could do it," Shirou said.
"Hahahaha! Interesting! A man like you would probably be very boring as a comrade. But as an opponent, you would be incredibly fascinating. I've taken a liking to you. I am Oda Nobunaga, the Sixth Heaven Demon King! Since you want to be a savior of justice, then let's play a game. With me, who is now the evil Demon King!"
The black-haired girl pointed to herself, then raised her arquebus, pointing it at Shirou's face, and smiled, saying.
"If I win, you will be my vassal. You will only be used by me from now on," Demon King Nobunaga said.
"I never thought of becoming any kind of savior. I just want to find an answer," Shirou said in a deep voice.
"Is that so, is that so! There are as many things a person cannot figure out as there are mountains. Since you haven't figured it out yet, let's end our conversation here today. I will come looking for you again. The next time we meet, you will be my enemy. Hahahaha!!" Demon King Nobunaga burst into laughter and departed.
It wasn't until now that Shirou finally let out a sigh of relief. Although he didn't fear a fight, if a real battle had broken out, his agreement with the farmers would have ended there.
"Master, what was that person about? She was super scary! Just like a demon from hell!" young Yukino, who had been protected behind him, asked.
"It seems I've been targeted by a troublesome individual," Shirou said helplessly. Even after avoiding the women's samurai group, he still couldn't escape trouble.
Meanwhile, a noisy sound erupted in a government office in the north district.
"Get out! You sickly ugly woman, hurry up and find a man to marry!" Inside the Security Chief's residence, a bulky, muscular woman was holding a girl by the collar of her kimono and throwing her out the door.
"You're ugly and you cough up blood. No man will want a woman like that, you know? But don't give up! If you're ugly, exercise more! If you're not satisfied, go and train to get muscles that won't cough up blood!" The fiery, muscular woman who had helped Souji carry the corpse earlier showed off her perfect biceps.
"Spitting blood every time you work! You're an embarrassment to women! Don't let us see you again! Pah!" A fierce, plump captain on the side gave the girl one last disgusted look and spat outside the door.
Bang! The door was slammed shut.
All that remained was the pale-pink-haired samurai girl, who had landed directly on her bottom and was sitting there, somewhat bewildered.
"No... These ancient people! No matter what I say, they won't understand! My sword skill is clearly the best! If it weren't for the sickliness skill... and I'm not ugly!" the girl retorted, getting up from the ground and rubbing her sore bottom.
Even in this different world, Miss Okita was as incompetent as ever. She couldn't even manage the security work, which was her strong suit besides assassination, and was driven out by the local female samurai.
Shirou, who happened to be passing by with Yukino, saw this scene and slowly turned his head away.
He had completely not expected to stumble upon such an awkward moment. To preserve the girl's dignity, Shirou decided it was best to pretend he hadn't seen anything, and he immediately quickened his pace toward their lodging.
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