Chapter Text
When she first accepted to be the saniwa, it was not because she wanted to be useful or helpful to save mankind. It wasn’t because she wanted to help others, or prevent history from changing its course. She did not have a grandiose or noble reason why she agreed to be pulled away from her comfortable life with her family and friends to fight a war that will force her to sacrifice herself without any benefits. She knew that no one was going to thank her except for those that brought her to where she was. She knew that after everything is finished, she would only be returned to her normal life without anything else but the memory of a grand adventure. So why did she agree to this farce?
As someone who was passionate about cultural heritages, it was to meet one sword… and one sword only.
She wanted to meet Ishikirimaru.
But alas, she couldn’t forge a specific sword. The battle she was thrown in was a battle based on luck and willpower, and it would seem that lady luck was almost never on her side when it came to matters of creation. She knew all of her swords by name even before they even introduced themselves. She even got to forge rare swords like Tsurumaru and Ichigo who both swore their loyalty to her with a single breath. She gave life to Hotarumaru, that adorable child who was both playful and fierce and tended to follow her around. Taroutachi and Jiroutachi kept her company whenever they felt she needed it. She managed to rescue Ichigo’s little brother, Hakata Toushiro, who was apparently lost deep under the citadel in less than a month of painstaking ventures underground.
She knew her swords cared for her...
Some would call her lucky with all the swords following her every call, but... it was a fact that he never came.
No matter how many times she forged, no matter how many times she prayed, no matter how many times she spent her spiritual power to create those ofudas that was supposed to raise her chances… He never came.
She didn’t understand.
He wasn’t the rarest sword… and she heard that he wasn’t all that difficult to forge. So why?
Why won’t he come to her? Was it because he was a sacred and pure sword… that he wasn’t going to show himself to someone with such impure motives?
If that was the case, then he might never appear to her at all…
It became a chore.
A necessity.
She stopped praying.
But she never stopped forging.
Kogitsunemaru came. Mikazuki Munechika followed after him.
Her army was becoming bigger by the day, and there were times when her swords would find her collapsed by the forgery. Sometimes, they would blame Kaji – your ever so loyal smith – why he never stopped her from overworking. Kaji would only shake his head… understanding that the only thing he could do to help her was to do his best in assisting her.
She would end up asleep for days on end…
…wake up and lead her swords to a sortie…
...make them stronger...
…take care of them when wounded…
…and go back to the forgery to once again create another sword.
By this time, she no longer cared who she got. All she wanted was to finish the mission she was given, and go back to her own time. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her swords. She loved them all very dearly as much as they did for her, but knowing that he would never come never made it the same again...
It was her mistake to agree to this with such impure motives in the first place... She was merely reaping what she sowed…
“Sanwa-sama…?”
“…I’m so… so… tired…”
She fell on her knees as the next sword started forming before her; beads of light coming together with spiritual particles to form one solid being. She closed her eyes as she stood up, turning around to leave without even waiting for the new addition to finish being created. She was tired… She just wanted to rest…
She heard the sound of the wind from behind her… cherryblossom petals lightly flowing around... signifying that the sword was finished. She didn’t even want to turn around…
“S-saniwa-sama…” Her smith called. There was something odd with his tone, but she ignored it.
“Kaji… I’ll leave the new sword in your care…”
“Oya…? Is Aruji-sama not feeling well?”
She stopped in her tracks… It couldn’t be…
She turned around.
“I am called Ishikirimaru. Although I am said to be a sacred sword that can cut through stone, I am merely devoted to spiritually cutting away tumors and diseases…”
Her lips parted... but no words would come out.
He’s here.
“… At any rate, I have been enshrined for a long time…”
He… actually came…
”… to the extent that I now specialize in Shinto--- Aruji-sama? Are you…”
“I’m not…” She murmured, her lips quivering and not letting her form her words properly. “I’m not…”
She dropped to her knees.
“Aruji-sama…?!”
She saw him go down from where he stood as he rushed to her side. Green fabric filled her vision as his clothed arms searched her for any form of injury or illness. He was warm. He was there. He was right in front of her…
“Ishi…kirimaru…”
“Yes, Aruji-sama. I’m right here.”
She bit her lip.
“You’re… right here…”
She clenched the front of his clothes… and allowed the tears that threatened to spill flood her cheeks. All the emotions that she hid inside bubbled up, and not even the hard façade that she covered herself with couldn’t contain them anymore. For the longest time ever since she came, she cried her loudest… cried so loud with flooded cheeks and eyes and soaked his clothes with it. Her body shook with ever sob... and heavens... She didn't know how to stop it... Not right now...
Some of her swords who heard her cry came rushing to the door of the forgery, and seeing the brown haired sword look at them in surprise and wondering made their once worried faces grow soft in relief, fondness, and understanding. Ichigo in particular gave a small smile to the new oodachi, shook his head and merely gave him a glance before looking at his master’s sobbing form. Somewhat knowing that it was something that only he could do, Ishikirimaru merely gave a small smile and nodded before wrapping his arms gently around his new master’s form.
She appeared so small… So fragile… and the way she grasped him was both of relief… and terror… Terrified that he might disappear… He at least understood that…
As the other swords, his new comrades, closed the door to leave them, he only wrapped his arms tighter around her form, patting her hair and cradling her with all the comfort he could give. He didn’t know why she reacted this way to him, nor did he know the extent of her feelings. But the way her eyes widened with such happiness and mixed emotions… and the way she just cried and sobbed without any care on how others might think bore something within him, and he knew that he just had to swear his loyalty to the one who showed such strong emotions towards his becoming.
Through her tears and loud sobs, he could only tighten his hold…
…bear his soul…
…and swear his undying loyalty for her.