The village finally appeared on the horizon just before noon.
"Thank God," I muttered, adjusting the backpack on my shoulders.
After one more bend off the trail, the first houses came into view. It was a small village, low-roofed homes, a few chimneys releasing thin trails of smoke. The sound of hammering echoed in the distance.
That sound is recognizable in any era.
I walked the rest of the way down trying to look as un-suspicious as possible. It was a lucky coincidence that there'd been a stream along the way, so I managed to wash up and change clothes before getting here. If I'd shown up covered in dried blood, I probably would've been greeted with a pitchfork.
Even so, a few stares still followed me.
An old woman was sweeping the front of her house and stopped when she saw me. She stared for several long seconds.
"Excuse me, obaa-san," I said, stopping at a respectful distance. "I was told there's a blacksmith here. A friend of an old man from the village to the south."
She narrowed her eyes and pointed with her chin. "Last house, near the slope. With the noise he makes, you'll find it easy."
"Thank you, obaa-san."
She went back to sweeping, but I could still feel her gaze on my back as I walked away.
As I got closer, the hammering grew heavier.
The forge was in a simple building, but it looked solid. The door was open, and waves of heat spilled out visibly.
I stopped at the entrance and saw an older man standing at the anvil. His shoulders were broad despite his age, and his arms were marked by years of labor. He held a glowing piece of metal with tongs.
He didn't look at me when he spoke. "If you're here to sell scrap, come back tomorrow."
"Actually," I replied, setting my backpack down, "I'm here to buy my future."
The hammer paused mid-air, and he slowly turned his head.
"Future?" he snorted through his nose. "That shit isn't sold here."
"A katana is."
He placed the hot metal back on the anvil and finally looked at me properly. His gaze traveled down my arms, to the cut already healing on my face, to the worn knife at my waist.
"Your future is a katana?" he asked. "What kind of miserable life are you trying to live, little man?"
"I don't think my life can be called miserable."
He walked toward me, each step heavy on the wooden floor.
"You just haven't realized it yet," he stopped an arm's length away. "Or is there something wrong with your head?"
"…" I honestly didn't know how to answer that.
"Who sent you here?"
I mentioned the old man from the previous village who had pointed me this way. The blacksmith stayed silent for a few seconds.
"So that old bastard's still alive…"
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he turned and went back to the anvil. "Come in."
I grabbed my backpack and stepped inside, the heat of the forge wrapping around me immediately.
His tools were neatly arranged. Hammers lined up by size, tongs hanging at identical angles. But scattered across a side table were a few unfinished pieces.
He picked up the hammer again, but didn't start striking.
"There's not much demand for swords around here," he said without looking at me. "If you want something custom, you'll have to wait a while."
"I don't need anything elaborate."
This katana was just a temporary fix until I could get a Nichirin. Worrying about details would be like decorating a disposable weapon.
He pointed to a regular blade, still unpolished. "Then I can help you."
I walked over and picked it up. The weight was obviously heavier than a knife, but it still felt light in my hand.
I gave it a few swings, and the cut through the air sounded clean.
"The weight's wrong…" the man muttered, glancing again at my arms. "Who would've thought there were some muscles hiding there, little man."
"Surprising, right?"
I might look like this, but my Physical is Tier 2, you know?!
He made a low sound through his nose and pointed at another blade. And we kept testing a few more until we found one that felt right.
Then he said the price… and I kept my expression neutral for a full two seconds. After that, I smiled. A very polite smile.
"Very fair," I said, slightly surprised at how strong the yen's purchasing power was in this era.
But I am completely broke!
He kept waiting.
"About that…" I cleared my throat. "Do you accept labor as payment?"
Absolute silence filled the forge.
"… You're telling me you don't have money?"
"Technically…" I raised a finger, "yes. That is exactly what I'm saying."
He kept staring, then let out a slow breath.
"And you still want to walk out with a katana?"
"I really need one."
"Young people these days… you're all crazy!" He lowered his head and resumed hammering, but his voice continued. "Two days."
"Oh?"
"Two days of work. You'll carry coal, work the bellows, and sand blades. Four hours a day. The rest of the time is your problem."
I blinked. "And the sword?"
"Stays here until you're done."
I extended my hand. "How about five days and you pay me the difference?"
He looked at me full of judgment and disgust, didn't move to shake my hand, and instead pointed with his chin toward a pile of coal in the corner. "Start now."
I nodded, genuinely grateful that he'd given in at all.
Apparently, everyone who wants to kill Kibutsuji Muzan has to start by carrying coal!
…
After two days of work I never imagined myself doing, I finally received the katana.
Carrying coal, sanding blades until my fingers went numb… if someone had told me this would be my life, I would've laughed.
Yoshizawa-san, the blacksmith, didn't make a big deal out of it. He just handed me the sword wrapped in a simple sheath.
"Try not to break it too fast," he said.
"I'll do my best."
Even with the sword in hand, the five-day deal still stood. Which meant three more days of work.
But this time, I'd be getting paid for it!
I left the village before sunset and walked toward a more remote area near the hills. An open space, with a few scattered trees and rocks big enough to use as targets.
It was a place I found to train in peace.
I unsheathed the katana, revealing the blade reflecting the evening light.
This was the moment to test what I'd been developing. My own "Breathing Style".
It was just a rough draft, nowhere near sophisticated enough yet, but with the Employee Profile, it didn't need to be perfect. As long as it was recognized as a Skill, that was enough.
After that, I could grind or spend points to refine it! That's the path of a cheater!
"Total Concentration…"
I took my stance and inhaled with the first movement. First came a horizontal slash, then a transition with a short inhale into an upward diagonal cut.
It didn't take long for my body to fall into the rhythm of the motion.
Since I barely know anything about formal kenjutsu, I just focused on managing to cut through the eight directions consecutively.
Basically, a Breathing Style centered around overwhelming my opponents with my physical stats.
When I finished the full sequence, I ended with a strong vertical slash and exhaled.
The screen appeared.
–––
[New Skill Acquired]
[Sword Breathing <0/100>
Type: Technique
*A Breathing Style created by a beginner that prioritizes direct cutting power, rapid forward movement, and continuous rhythm.]
–––
"… It worked."
And yeah, I know that's a terrible name, but it was the simplest and most straightforward thing I could come up with!
–––
[Employee Profile]
Name: Hayato Misogi
Points: 65
Current Mission:
Become a Hashira (Incomplete)
Kill one of the Twelve Kizuki - Repeatable (Incomplete)
Kill Kibutsuji Muzan (Incomplete)
「Attributes」
Physical: Tier 2 <0/50> [+]
「Skills」
Total Concentration Breathing <7/100> [+]
Sword Breathing <0/100> [+]
「Perks」
N/A
–––
Total Concentration Breathing improved while I kept using it, even during work.
It might seem slow, but progress is progress!
"Now… I just need to finish my job and find that craftsman."
I'd already found one in the village and he said he could make the gourds I asked for for my training.
Just a little more, and I can continue my journey!
…
Three more days passed, and I was already used to the work. The heat of the forge had stopped being uncomfortable and just became part of the environment.
On the last day, I finished sanding a long blade and handed it to Yoshizawa-san.
"It's crooked," he said.
"It's not."
Yoshizawa-san took the tool from my hand, sanded off an almost invisible degree, and showed it to me. "Now it's not."
"… Right." I still couldn't see any difference, but he was the expert here.
When he finished checking everything, he set the hammer down on the bench. "Your work's done."
He walked over to a small wooden box in the corner of the forge, opened it, and carefully counted out some bills.
"Your pay," he said, handing me the money.
My first money in this life. The light weight in my hand felt strangely satisfying.
"Thank you very much for everything, Yoshizawa-san."
He didn't respond right away, just stared at me for a few seconds.
"Do you really need to follow this so-called 'future'?" There was no mockery in his voice this time. "You're strong and you learn fast. You'd be far more useful here."
I shrugged. "Useful carrying coal?"
"Useful holding a hammer," Yoshizawa-san crossed his arms. "Most young men run from hard work."
I stayed quiet for a moment, actually considering it, but then shook my head. "This is my mission in this world."
"Your mission…" he spat the word like it tasted bitter. "That mission will end with your death."
"It's possible." I laughed, agreeing. "But a man has to follow what he believes in, no matter what's waiting at the end."
"Stubborn little bastard," Yoshizawa-san muttered, turning his back. "Don't let me hear about your death, Hayato."
"I'll try to avoid it! See you around, Yoshizawa-san!"
I left the forge with my backpack on, the katana secured at my waist, and the bills tucked away. The next step was picking up the gourds I ordered.
I found the craftsman in the middle of the village, a thin man with calloused hands and a permanently suspicious expression.
"So you finally came to pick up your order?" he grumbled as soon as he saw me.
"Yes, sir!"
After disappearing behind a pile of materials next to his house, he came back with the three I'd ordered.
One small, one medium, and one large.
He knocked on each one with his knuckles. "They're as durable as I could make them."
He handed them over, and I had to strap the two smaller ones to my waist alongside the katana before grabbing the large one.
"Thanks for the work!" I said, paying the agreed amount, which significantly reduced my freshly earned money reserves.
I adjusted my backpack and the large gourd on my back and started walking toward the trail leading out of the village. It wasn't comfortable carrying all this stuff, but it is what it is.
All for the sake of the grind!