"Standard format will do? Hold on, I've got one in my room—I'll show you."
Before Kuro Tsukasa could even reply, the carpenter turned and hurried into the house.
Tsukasa remained where he stood, listening to the sounds of rummaging from within.
Moments later, the man emerged, cradling a long, cloth-wrapped object. With practiced care, he untied the cloth strips layer by layer.
As the wrapping came undone, a red-brown wooden sword was revealed—its curved body reminiscent of a new moon.
Delicate cloud patterns had been carved into the guard. The color was deep, the wood radiating a soft sheen that only came from years of care. Time itself seemed etched into the grain.
"Please."
The craftsman respectfully held the sword out with both hands, clearly presenting a work he took great pride in.
"Thank you."
Tsukasa received it with equal formality.
His right hand wrapped around the hilt while his left lightly traced the blade's curve—feeling the smooth resistance and faint spring of the polished wood.
With a subtle shift of his wrist, Tsukasa executed a clean horizontal slash.
Shff—
A sharp, clear whistle split the air as the blade sliced through. The motion was smooth, precise, and beautifully balanced.
"Ohhh."
The carpenter couldn't help but let out a low exclamation. He wasn't a swordsman, but even he could tell: that strike was no amateur's show.
"Wow! That was awesome, big bro!"
The four kids on the sidelines broke into spontaneous applause. They didn't know the mechanics—but the cool factor? Undeniable.
"A fine blade."
Tsukasa spun it once more and returned it to his side with grace.
He'd wielded over a dozen blades in his past life—wooden, metal, even expensive ones—but none had the feel this one gave him.And its craftsmanship? It bordered on art.
"So? What do you think?"
"It's called Crimson Moon. She's been around a while, but I've kept her in top shape—perfectly usable."
The carpenter's grin hadn't left his face since Tsukasa first took the blade. His tone was confident—he clearly believed in his work.
"It's extraordinary."
Tsukasa offered the praise without hesitation.
"Then it's yours!"
The carpenter beamed and clapped his hands, voice loud and firm with conviction.
But Tsukasa shook his head.
"No. I'd prefer you make me a new one."
"...What?"
The man blinked, surprised. The smile on his face faltered as confusion crept in.
Crimson Moon was clearly a masterpiece. He could tell Tsukasa liked it—why turn it down?
"It's not that I don't like it—Crimson Moon is amazing. But it doesn't belong to me."
"I believe you can forge something just as great. Something of my own."
Tsukasa spoke gently, holding the blade out with care.
He'd once had something precious too—something that was his. And he knew what it meant to treasure such a thing.
To him, a wooden sword was a temporary tool.To this man, Crimson Moon was something far more.
In the Soul Society—a world where spiritual life is often hollow and endless—many souls eventually lose themselves.
But not him. This sword was proof of who he was. The pride of a craftsman. A connection to his past.It was more than a weapon—it was his anchor.
"...Alright. I'll give it everything I've got."
The carpenter's fingers trembled as he accepted the sword back, but his smile was sincere. Tsukasa's words had reached him.
"I don't have much coin on me. Here's what I've got—see if it's enough?"
"If not, I can pay a deposit and bring the rest next month after I get paid."
Tsukasa handed over his coin pouch, completely at ease.
"Hah! It's more than enough. You think this stuff's that expensive?"
The man peeked inside and laughed heartily. He plucked out a small piece of silver and shoved the pouch back.
"Where are you staying? I'll deliver it when it's done. Won't take too long."
"The Terada Inn. I'm Kuro Tsukasa. Thanks again."
"Name's Matsuzaki Yoshito. A pleasure."
They exchanged a firm handshake and shared a smile—new friends forged.
As Tsukasa left the yard, he walked with a bounce in his step, whistling a cheerful tune.
At his waist swung a white waxwood bokken—a parting gift from Matsuzaki to tide him over until the real one was finished.
As he reached a quiet corner between houses, morning sunlight cut sharply between shadows. Just as he rounded a bend—
Five figures stepped out from the gloom, forming a wall across the road ahead.
"Oh?"
Tsukasa's tune cut short. He halted mid-step, eyes calmly sweeping over the thugs now blocking his way.
West Third District had decent security—but it was still Rukongai, not civilized society.Muggings weren't uncommon. He had expected this sooner or later.
The leader, a scar-faced brute, casually tapped the hilt of a short blade at his waist.Two wiry men flanked him on either side—eyes glinting like jackals as they sized up Tsukasa's new clothes and the bundle under his arm.
"Nice outfit, kid. How about you share the wealth a little?"
The scar-faced man grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth.
White skin, new clothes, full pack—and only a wooden sword at his waist.In their eyes, Tsukasa was the perfect mark.
As the leader talked, his four men spread out, trying to box him in.
Their straw sandals scratched the dirt road with quiet menace.
Tsukasa didn't flinch. Calmly, he slid the wooden sword from his belt and lowered into stance.
"Hah! Look at this pretty boy. Think that toy's gonna save you?"
"I got the real thing, right here!"
The leader laughed and drew his short blade, waving it around with an arrogant flourish. His men laughed along behind him.
Five-on-one. Steel versus wood.
To them, this was already over.
The scar-faced thug could already imagine the black-haired boy kneeling and begging for mercy.
That delicious thrill of power—it made his blood sing.