Hattori Forge
Masamune watched the First Survivor walk the stone brick path up to Hattori Forge. When he arrived, the First Survivor waited a few paces away quietly. The waterfall, swollen with the spring melt, was crashing down into the tiny valley in great sheets of water. Its cold mist blanketed everything, and the water was even hitting the roof of the forge, before running down into the pools below.
"I haven't seen you walking much lately. Just flitting all over the place through the air. Teleporting here and there." Masamune observed several minutes later.
"Sometimes the old ways are best" the First Survivor replied.
"Ah. So that is what this is about".
"Yes".
Masamune sat a while longer, looking up at the shrine. "What's the point of a sword? You have death rays and things now".
"Actually I mostly just will people out of existence. The sword is out of respect. This is why I come to you".
"Ah. A bitter enemy then. Who could rival you?"
"Not an enemy. Worse".
Masamune grunted, sighed knowingly. "A friend".
The First Survivor looked at the Hattori Forge sign tucked into the eaves over the entrance. He had carved it for Hattori and given it to him as a gift when his friend had built the forge.
"I heard tale he has been working with the Isos" Masamune observed.
"He has. Making them weapons and armor".
"And why should this trifle you? Surely the Isos are nothing to a god king".
"I permit them".
"But he was your friend. My teacher." Masume stated.
"Is".
"You could just let him be".
"I tried".
Masume sighed. "Revenge takes longer. The ore is angrier. Will you wait or will you return?"
"I will wait. As it should be". The First Survivor bowed.
Masume nodded, and went into the forge.
Several weeks later, the First Survivor was meditating at the shrine when Masamune approached. They walked down to the forge together silently, Masamune presenting the simple spruce box. He slid the cover open, revealing the netherite sword, its edge so sharp and black it seemed as if light itself simply curled around it and extinguished. The First Survivor simply nodded in deep appreciation, closed the box, and placed it under his arm. He left the forge, walking that same path back to the tunnel. As soon as he was on the other side, out of the valley, he ported to Hattori.
Hattori had set up a new forge, after leaving the region now named after him in the middle of the night. He was pounding a sword glowing red hot in nether fire. Up in the mountains, the snow was deep, a place not likely to be found through ordinary means. Hattori finished his forming, quenching the sword in a nearby cauldron of water.
"It would have been a fine sword", Hattori stated.
The First Survivor nodded, setting the simple box down, removing the lid. He removed the Masume sword. Hattori wiped his hands on his apron, removing it, hanging it carefully on a well worn hook on the wall.
"May I?" Hattori asked.
"Of course" the First Survivor replied, handing him the sword. Hattori held it up to the light, ran his pinched fingers along the edge, felt its lightness. "It is beautiful. Masume has surpassed even myself". He handed the sword back to the First Survivor. The sword slid easily through Hattori's heart and out his back. "Thank you" he gasped and fell limp in the First Survivor's arms.
The First Survivor lay his friend down, sat with the body until it had gone cold and the fire on the forge had died out. He shuttered the forge, picked up his friend, and blinked out of existence. He carried the body through the tunnel, past the thick worn spruce doors, and when he got into the valley, he saw that Masume had already dug the grave. And there they laid Hattori to rest, in sight of the forge he had built from nothing but what he had found.
