Steel Wrapped in Silk
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 2: The Arrangement
Shabazu Matsui waited three days before making his visit.
Not out of uncertainty—he’d made his decision within minutes of his son’s return—but because timing mattered. Too eager, and the merchant might inflate his price. Too delayed, and another family might secure the girl first. A merchant’s educated daughter wouldn’t remain unmarried long, especially one with the poise and accomplishments his son had described.
Three days allowed him to make inquiries.
He sent his most trusted servant to the town with instructions to ask casual questions. Who was Mitsui Takatoshi? How prosperous was his business? Did he have sons to inherit the shop, or only the daughter? What were the local opinions of his character, his honesty, his standing among the merchant class?
The servant returned with promising information:
Mitsui Takatoshi was well-regarded, moderately wealthy but not ostentatious. He had built his reputation on quality work and fair dealing. His wife, Mitsui Rin, came from a respected merchant family herself and was known for her refinement. They had only one child—the daughter, Mio. No sons. The girl had been educated beyond what was typical, even for merchant daughters. Some speculated the family was preparing her for an advantageous marriage.
Perfect.
A merchant with wealth but no male heir would be desperate to secure his daughter’s future. And a daughter already educated in the refinements would require less transformation than most.
Matsui had spent the past month reviewing his household finances with growing anxiety. The rice stipend from their lord had remained fixed for three generations, but prices had risen steadily. The roof needed repairs. His wife needed new formal kimono for the upcoming ceremonies. His obligation to maintain appearances—the servants, the gate, the garden—consumed resources he didn’t have.
He’d been avoiding the truth, but it was inescapable: without an infusion of capital, the Shabazu family would begin a slow, humiliating decline.
His brother-in-law, Mōri Kaito, had made a similar arrangement five years ago. The adopted merchant daughter had married well, brought substantial wealth into the family, and no one outside the immediate circle knew her origins. The system worked—if one had the stomach for it.
Matsui had always considered himself above such arrangements.
But pride didn’t repair roofs or pay servants.
And then his son had walked in with a repaired wakizashi and an unconscious recommendation: a prosperous sword-maker with an educated, unmarried daughter.
Sometimes fortune presented opportunities. The wise man recognized them.
On the fourth day after Taichi’s return, Shabazu Matsui made the journey to Mitsui’s shop.
He went alone, dressed in simple traveling clothes that suggested status without ostentation. A samurai, clearly, but not one making an official visit. Just a customer seeking quality work.
The shop looked exactly as Taichi had described—modest, clean, professionally maintained. Through the open screens, he could see the workshop and hear the rhythmic sound of metal being worked.
He announced himself at the entrance.
The girl appeared almost immediately.
Matsui studied her with the practiced eye of someone evaluating a horse or a piece of property. She was younger than he’d expected—barely sixteen, he guessed—but carried herself with remarkable composure. Her bow was correct in every detail. Her clothing was simple but of good quality. No jewelry, no unnecessary adornment, but her hair was neatly arranged and her hands were clean despite the workshop environment.
“Welcome, honored sir. How may we serve you?”
Her voice confirmed what Taichi had reported: educated speech, perfect formal grammar, no trace of rough merchant dialect.
“I wish to speak with Master Mitsui,” he said. “I have a commission to discuss.”
“Of course. Please wait one moment.”
She disappeared into the back room, and Matsui heard her speaking to her father—respectful, concise, professional. A moment later, Mitsui Takatoshi emerged, wiping his hands on a cloth.
The sword-maker was perhaps fifty, with the strong build and careful eyes of a craftsman who’d spent decades perfecting his trade. He bowed deeply to Matsui, recognizing samurai rank.
“I am honored, sir. How may I serve you?”
“I need repair work on a tanto,” Matsui said, which was true—he’d brought a blade that genuinely needed attention. “My son recently had work done here and spoke highly of your craftsmanship.”
Recognition flickered in Mitsui’s eyes. “Shabazu-sama’s son? Yes, a wakizashi repair. I remember. We were pleased to serve him.”
“The work was excellent. That’s why I’ve come personally.” Matsui drew the tanto and handed it to the craftsman. “The habaki is loose, and the handle needs complete rewrapping.”
Mitsui examined the blade with professional focus, turning it in the light, testing the fitting. “Yes, I see the problem. This is quality work originally—the blade is old, well-maintained. It deserves proper restoration.”
“Can you do it?”
“Certainly. It will take several days—I’ll need to craft a new habaki, and the handle should be completely rebuilt. But yes, I can restore it to proper function.”
“And the cost?”
Mitsui named a fair price—not cheap, but not exploitative. A man confident in his skills but not greedy.
“Acceptable,” Matsui said. Then, as if it were an afterthought: “Your daughter—she assists with the business?”
“Yes, sir. Mio keeps my accounts and helps with customers. She has a good eye for blade work.”
“Unusual for a daughter to be so involved.”
A brief hesitation—Mitsui clearly wondering if this was criticism or curiosity. “My wife and I believe in education, sir. Mio has learned the trade alongside her numbers and writing.”
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