Tsujigiri

Ryūzō sat with his legs folded under his body looking at the sword in the waning light. It was beautiful - more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. He narrowed his gaze as the last of the Sun's rays washed over the striking-edge of the blade, dousing the room in a flash of light, as if the sword's spirit were filling the room.

Beside him, Genpachi gasped. "Amazing..." he whispered under his breath.

Ryūzō nodded silently. Amazing was just the word. The old bladesmith, the man that had served Ryūzō's family for generations, had achieved perfection with this sword. It was no wonder that he had died so suddenly after the blade had been forged. There was nothing left in this life for him to do, now, no greater feat for him to achieve.

"What will you do now?" Genpachi asked softly.

Ryūzō reached out and took the sword in his hands, but said nothing. Even in the deepening darkness, the blade glowed like it was made of pale fire. He ran his thumb along the broad side of the blade. It felt alive under the tip of his finger as if it were touching him back.

"You have to test it," Genpachi said, breaking the silence.

Ryūzō turned to look at his friend. "Yeah," he said. "You're right. But it's dark already. We can go out tomorrow and test it in the fields."

"Why wait?" Genpachi asked. "Darkness is the perfect time to test a new sword. It's at night that all the ogres, demons, and foxes come out, disguised as humans. You can try the sword against some of them. It would be silly to use it on bamboo and melons! A sword like this should be put to use killing ogres, not cutting plants."

"Hmmm," Ryūzō said, eyeing the blade. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," Genpachi said confidently. "I've seen my uncle do it when he has a new sword."

"Alright," Ryūzō said. "Let's go."

Ryūzō sheathed the sword and the two boys went out into the night. The moon hung low in the sky, a silver sliver casting a faint glow on the empty streets. They walked toward the center of the town, to where Genpachi was sure there would be more kami than on the outskirts where they had come from. After cutting up and down a few allies, the finally came across what appeared to be a young woman in a colorful yukata.

"There," Genpachi hissed. "There's one!"

"That's a woman," Ryūzō said, squinting in the darkness.

"Why would there be a woman out at night, alone, with nobody to watch over her?" Genpachi asked. "That's not a woman, it's probably a fox out looking for someone to trick."

"Ah," Ryūzō said. "I see your point."

He strode toward the fox and called out: "Fox! Stop where you are."

The woman turned around, a surprised look on her face.

"I am Ogasawara Ryūzō!" he said, puffing out his chest. "I have a new sword that I need to test, and  since I see that you are up to no good, I have decided to test it on you!"

The woman looked at the boy, a confused look on her face, but before she could reply, Ryūzō drew the sword and, with a flash like a bolt of lightning, made a single, fluid cut. She stared at the boy in horror for a brief moment before her head toppled from her neck and landed with a thud at Ryūzō's feet. A fountain of blood sprayed into the air and then her body crumbled to the ground. Ryūzō stifled a satisfied grin and re-sheathed the sword.

"Wow!" Gepnachi whooped, running up behind his friend. "I've never seen such a cut before!"

"It was like the sword had a life of its own," Ryūzō said. "It went through the fox like nothing, like it was moving through the air."

"You have to try another one, something more difficult," Genpachi told him. "The body, this time. Let's find an ogre. Killing foxes is easy. Let's find an ogre next!"

The boys ran down the alley and turned at the first intersection they came to. As the rounded the corner, they crashed into a large, roughly dressed man.

"Out of my way!" the man spat, swatting at the boys.

"An orgre!" Genpachi squeeled.

"What did you call me?" the man growled.

"Ogre!" Ryūzō announced. "I am Ogasawara Ryūzō! I have a new sword that I need to test, and since I see that you are up to no good, I have decided to test it on you!"

The man screwed up his face, staring at the boy in confusion, but before he could do anything else, Ryūzō drew his sword and, with one fluid movement, brought it across the ogre's large belly. The ogre stumbled back for a couple steps, his mouth chewing silent words before his torso separated from his lower body and fell to the ground with a loud, wet thud. The ogre's massive hands grabbed at where the lower half of his body should have been, tangling themselves in his own stinking intestines, as his eyes darted about wildly. After a moment, he gave a violent shiver, and then seemed to die suddenly.

"Incredible!" Genpachi said, running over to look at the dead ogre.

Ryūzō held the blade out in front of him, examining it closely. "It went through the ogre like it was nothing," he said. "It was even easier than with the fox. It was like the blade was being drawn through him, like it wanted to kill the ogre itself!"

"So cool!" Genpachi said, staring at the sword. "A sword like this needs a name! What will you name it?"

Ryūzō looked at the glade, glimmering scarlet in the night. This wasn't just any sword, he realized. It must have its own soul. It must be alive. "Onikiri," he said at last.

"Onikiri," Genpachi repeated.

The two boys looked at each other, then nodded somberly, feeling that they had just entered into a silent pact with the sword.

"No more testing," Genpachi told Ryūzō after a moment. "It's time we put Onikiri into service."

"I agree," Ryūzō told his friend. "Let's rid this town of ogres and foxes. I don't care if it takes all night!"

Ryūzō sheathed Onikiri and the boys took off together, running as fast as they could.