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Mitsutada finds Ookurikara standing in front of the courtyard, lazily leaning against one of the beams supporting the rafters. The dazzling sunlight catches every particle of dust and pollen, makes the meaningless meaningful. Mitsutada can find beauty in little things like this because it’s in stark contrast to being a sword locked away behind glass for people to gawk at. Without warning, he claps a hand on Ookurikara’s shoulder. “Why the long face?”
“My face is naturally like this.”
“Haha, so it is! But you’re looking particularly glum.”
“…Well, our Saniwa’s been at the blacksmith’s place for a real long time.”
“Aww, are you worried something might’ve happened?”
“St-stupid! That ain’t it! It’s just…she’s not usually there for very long. Doesn’t take that long to make a sword, right?”
“Hmm~ I suppose that’s true.”
The two of them sit down on the wood to wait, though if asked, Ookurikara would insist that he was not waiting, it was only that there was nothing for him to do. That much was true, at least. It has been peaceful, but every day has been cloudy and the air tense.
“Wah!”
Mitsutada and Ookurikara are caught off guard and almost fall forward off the deck at the sound of someone yelling right by their ears. How did we not hear them approach…!? he thinks, momentarily in a panic. Negligence, even during peaceful times, is to be avoided at all costs. When Mitsutada turns, however, he is met by a pair of glittering golden eyes.
“Ahahaha! Did I surprise you? Ahhh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you guys fall over like that,” says the flippant stranger, a beautiful white-haired man in elaborate clothes.
“I… I have no interest in surprises.” Ookurikara sputters.
The air to this man, this feeling… He is decidedly not human, Mitsutada thinks.
“New sword?” he asks despite knowing the answer.
The other sword nods. “I’m Tsurumaru Kuninaga. Surprised?”
“Very surprised.” Mitsutada grins and holds his hand out. Tsurumaru just stares at it. “You’re supposed to take people’s hands and shake them. That’s what they do in the modern era.” To demonstrate, Mitsutada takes Tsurumaru’s hand and does it.
“Oh! How surprising! I shall remember this. My thanks.”
Mitsutada has heard of Tsurumaru Kuninaga. Well, there’d be few at the citadel unaware of him. Tsurumaru is famous for his beauty and coveted by Saniwas everywhere.
“No problem. Us Date swords have to stick together, right?”
Tsurumaru’s smile falters just a little bit at that, but he quickly recovers. “Of course.”
Ookurikara rolls his eyes. “Who the hell’d wanna stick with you two losers? I can fight alone.”
Their Saniwa walks in at just that moment and tilts her pretty head at them. “Now, now, Ookurikara. There’s no need to be so abrasive. We’re all a family here, aren’t we?”
“We’re not family! We’re swords and you’re human. You’re our master.” he snaps back.
“Don’t be rude to the Saniwa, Kuri-chan~ I do agree that you’re a bit lax, though,” Mitsutada says with a grin.
Tsurumaru beams. “Haha, this ‘family’ seems rather lively. Right! I think I’ll be able to fit in here, too.”
Mitsutada doesn’t get to ask him what he means by “too”.
The storm breaks less than a week later, bringing the enemy in droves. Despite their troops and horses, despite Mitsutada reaching his hand out for that brilliant white, in a week Tsurumaru Kuninaga is nothing but dust, a shattered sword. Tears running down her cheeks, the Saniwa returns to the blacksmith.
Every time Tsurumaru is brought back, he is the same, but also a little different. His memories are intact, but more and more Mitsutada sees a darkness lurking in Tsurumaru’s eyes. Mitsutada doesn’t understand why this is even though he, too, has felt the pain of being broken in battle at the Saniwa’s side. Surely Tsurumaru wants to be brought back?
“I didn’t want things to go this way… I’m sorry for being weak…”
Mitsutada has no soothing words to make her tears stop.
Their kind, gentle Saniwa gradually becomes more battle-hardened, more obsessed with results. She dictates strategy and formation when she would never have before. She spends more time at the blacksmith’s place.
Tiny, folded paper cranes begin to accumulate in the citadel. At first they are left in nooks and crannies, but eventually they flow into the hallways and are found filling drawers and tabletops.
Only later do they find out that Sadamune has been folding them every time a sword breaks, wishing and praying for good fortune to come their way—wishing and praying that he won’t have to fold any more.
“This might be a little painful at first… Please bear it.”
When Mitsutada opens his eyes, he realizes he’s in the citadel again. The Saniwa is repairing and maintaining Tsurumaru, softly hitting him with the uchiko stick. “I’m so sorry…” she whispers to him.
“It’s all right. It’s our duty as swords. You did nothing wrong and besides… None of this should surprise me anymore. I’ll be more careful next time so you don’t have to make this face again.”
Mitsutada’s chest feels tight, though he has no idea why…
For some reason, much later, Mitsutada finds himself thinking of those cranes when faced with the giant blue flames of the Kebiishi. He hardly feels the sting of arrows and sword slashes anymore. They are, as Tsurumaru would say, no longer a surprise but an unavoidable eventuality. “Ahh… Let us win this battle. Let us help the flow of time continue unimpeded…” Maybe then those wonderful, peaceful days will continue once again.
Mitsutada’s eyes catch on Tsurumaru’s golden chains reflecting the evening sun. He finds himself grinning, wanting to protect that beautiful crane and all that he represents somehow. “With my brothers at my side, with our cute Saniwa taking the reins, there is no way we can lose.”
He rushes forward into the future as if on wings.