Chapter 224: Experiencing Japan

Has she ever gotten off before?

The girl in my arms was still unconscious when the master swordsmith ordered the others in the shop to put away what they had used against me, once they were able to get up off the floor where I had left them.

“As told to me, you are the boy with the skills surpassing many grandmasters. Possessing those skills and speed show you can defend oneself. None with so few years have learned to defeat their enemies with honor. You possess a mastery of arts rumored only to exist in ancient texts unseen in a millennium. My masters never trained students to use restraint when debilitating their attackers. It was clear to me how you caused them to become unconscious without injury and then safely guided them down as they collapsed,” he told me as he came over. “Since my great-granddaughter first learned to evade and then persuade them not to have physical contact with her, very few are permitted to hold her as you do now. None before caused her face to show the raw, animalistic expression on her face as she expressed as you approached her. As she rests in your arms, she shows the look of the blissful happy innocence of a child who does not yet know any of the horrors of the world around them.”

She began to stir as he spoke.

Interesting. Someone of the master’s age and skill seeking a safe defensive distance from his great-granddaughter. My odd ability or talent that placed Autistic people at ease was skipped by those who told him about me.

The girl tried to move so that she was sitting on my lap facing me. I kept my hands around behind her to so that she wouldn’t fall backward if she passed out again.

Her great grandfather watched her hands move lovingly over my upper arms, chest, face, and fingers through my hair. Seeing that she wasn’t going to meltdown or go completely psycho, he went to get the others moving their butts to put things away. The girl was trying to say something, and her mouth was moving, but her brain wasn’t quite able to make it work yet.

Using the place in my head, I looked to see if it was something in her brain that I could fix. There wasn’t. Like some of the non-verbal people I’ve met, she had chosen not to talk at a young age. Now that she wanted to speak to me, she couldn’t quite remember how it was supposed to work.

No wonder she is trying to talk. She is using telepathy, on par with intuition or instinct, to communicate, but my shield is blocking it, as it should.

I allowed my shield to connect me in the telepathic link she was trying to push into my mind. I watched her mouth stop moving and her eyes went wide as they locked on mine. Her face clearly showed shock at feeling us establish a two-way link between us. I gave her a smile before pulling her into a hug. She melted into my arms, and we still had not said a thing over the link between us.

She isn’t about to tell anyone that I was able to connect to her. They would think she had gone crazy even if she could speak to them telepathically. I guess this clears up any remaining questions about if I am me and not an imposter.

He came over to me to say to the girl, “Hinata, he has lived the same number of years as you, but possesses honor of those older than me. He has much to learn and much to teach. You need not cling to him to prevent his departing before he completes that which he came here to accomplish.”

Everyone, except for Hinata, left the workshop. Each is now on a paid vacation for two weeks for me to focus on my training. Once they had all left, he had Hinata secure the doors from the inside so none would disturb us. The master didn’t have any concerns about Hinata seeing or hearing what we discussed or did here.

“Darren, David, or a name you prefer better,” he started saying. “Few still live who know of the old legends passed down from master to student. Too many choose to discount such stories as being too close to events of real life for them to believe. The stories of the impossible and mythical now only survive in Manga and comic books. In your eyes, I see that you are special like others I have encountered during the many decades of my existence, and yet you are also very different. You possess knowledge impossible for one of your years to learn, much less master. No master swordsmith could have created a sword of the quality yours possesses from such inferior metals. If you wish to create Japanese swords using the techniques passed down from one master to his apprentice, I must see how you can forge metal without needing the fire within the forge.”

Ok. You already seem to know I survived multiple lightning strikes and have the abilities of those like me.

I looked around his shop until I found fragments of shattered swords and scrapped ones destined for melting down to begin the process again. I found two that each had three layers of steel on them that I knew had come from metals taken from Japanese-made Kera. What Alex had created had some metals of a higher quality than those used in the two swords made here, yet others were inferior.

Instead of a blast furnace, he used what looked like a kiln with places to put crucibles for heating to specific temperatures. Beside it, I saw multiple stone molds to make ingots. They had different Japanese symbols. From what it pulled from his head about his dialect of Japanese told me each form is for different grades of steel. I found ingot molds for all three types of steel used in each of these raw, rough, and incorrectly made, but nearly complete swords.

I’ve never tried to do this, but it seems as simple as turning off a light, and I am here to train to make these types of swords, even if my training will vastly diverge from their normal processes.

I focused only first on the harder metal along the edge as I had the place in my head heat the molecules to make it melt while shielding the other metals in the swords from heat. As the harder metals heated up quickly, I held the sword tips over the molds for this specific type of steel. It slid off the swords like melting butter and remained white-hot in the stone molds, even after every bit was off the outer layers of the swords

I didn’t expect it to force out from below the slightly softer metal forged around the core.

I repeated this process for each hardness of steel until I was down to the core. I found it interesting that there was so much of this hardness in the sword than should be if folded together alternating layers of two differing metals.

When I started on the cores, I saw that both were observing the sword as the white-hot metal melted off the sword to the edge of my hand. I dropped the tiny bit of the metal from the first sword into the mold to melt it too. For the second sword, I used an empty container for that steel. I let that sword melt into my hand and then poured it out into the mold as if it were water.

Both looked shocked to see me do that.

The master said, “None of the legends spoke of one who was able to hold molten metal as easily as they hold water.”

“As you already observed, I’m not exactly like those you have met before,” I told him. “Many I have met like me are unable to do what I can. They cannot comprehend how I see what I must do. Each metal of a different hardness has a color of energy I can see. I saw how to heat only that metal in the sword while leaving that which remained untouched.”

To test what I explained I could do, he had me take a soccer ball-sized hunk of untouched Kera to melt out only those metals which matched the ones I found in the swords I had melted.

I’m glad Alex told me a lot about Kera and how the metals differed in quality and hardness. Part of the reason they fold metal is to remove the impurities caused by the different levels of carbon in each metal.

I found some larger empty ingot molds. Instead of melting out the impure metals, I removed the impurities as I melted out the metals to match those of the completed swords made by this swordmaster and those who came before. When finished, all that remained were chunks of worthless slag. The swordmaster took a sample of each mold to test using methods only known to swordsmiths, which I found are closely guarded secrets.

Well guarded closely but not enough that the man-in-the-machine couldn’t learn them.

“I now see how you produced metals within your sword without having folded them. The purity of the refined metals comes from the way you heated it. What it lacks is the grain of the metal, which comes from the folding,” he explained.

He handed me a sword from his small office in the forge. The place in my head showed each thin layer of metal along with slightly different colors of energy. I could see how the metals alternated between the horizontal and vertical folding.

That makes sense. Having the metal aligned in two different directions is a lot like how they alternate the wood grain to make plywood stronger.

He handed me a ball of wet clay and said, “This clay and straw ash are what Alex is missing from her process. She created her Kera very well using the traditional methods. Many try to shortcut the process to increase their revenues at the sacrifice of their product, and family name.”

He covered one of Alex’s swords with the clay mixed with straw ash. He told me to heat the entire sword to a specific temperature.

How the heck do I know I heated it to the right temperature.

My phone chirped to tell me to put on my sunglasses and allow them to connect to the place in my head. Part of the sensors built into them detected temperature. It helped me get the steel and clay to the temperature required before asking for the next step.

Per his instructions, I hammered the thick metal flat, folded it over horizontally, and then hammer it out to be the same length as before. He guided me through mixing the right proportions of clay and straw ash before evenly applying it along the length of the sword. Now that I knew the correct temperatures required, it didn’t take long to reach the required temperature again. I flattened that one flat and folded it from side to side the way Alex taught me.

I repeated the horizontal and vertical folding, applying the clay and straw ash mixture between each folding and then reheating it, six more times. Then he had me shape it into a single-edged sword shape. He guided me through where specifically to heat the sword and work the metal with different sized hammers until it was dent free. Over that rough shape, I layered on a sheet of the hardest steel he used here. Once hammered out to the width required, I used a triangular section of the working surface to shape into roughly the size of the harder portion of the sword’s cutting edge. He explained that the specific application of the clay mixture determined the wave-like pattern seen on the side of Katanas and other Japanese swords.

Once finished with applying the clay correctly, he had me heat it until white-hot before telling me to quench it in oil to strengthen the final layer.

I didn’t quench the metal on the other steps like I expected I would need to do.

Once the sword had cooled, he inspected it critically then hit it hard on the forge. They were no nicks or damage to the sword surface. He sharpened it on various grinding wheels until I saw the sword was sharper than a scalpel. He then went around the workshop to use it to slice through things or attempt to. The last three objects he tried to cut were different types of rock. I don’t know if it was the angle or force that allowed the sword to slice through the rock to cut off small pieces. Each chunk of rock had cuts, pits, and areas where previously only partially cut by a sword. About half of them still had part of a sword embedded inside them.

There were now some chips in the sharpened edge and cracks coming from underneath where I forge welded on the final triangular piece of metal.

“A better result than I expected. This experiment has answered my question of if your abilities to shorten the process behaved in the same manner as those of young and impatient swordsmith apprentices,” he said, “I did not have the sword quenched between each folding to strengthen the sword as taught by my master. Your unique abilities greatly strengthened the layers by removing the impurities. Not quenching them kept them from forming the bonds required to increase the hardness of the metal. The final layer you applied originated from a piece an apprentice folded, quenched, covered in clay, and heated many times until he felt it needed no further folding. My master determined that folding sixteen times is enough. The apprenticed folded the metal for three weeks and folded it hundreds of times, yet it is no stronger than one folded only sixteen times. It is why the sword performed perfectly with only minor chips and fine cracks along the blade. Only a master swordsmith would be able to tell the blade had dulled at all.”

Hinata showed me how to shut down the forge for the night before leading me, holding my hand, toward the home she shared with her siblings, parents, and grandparents.

I would have expected a roomier home from the number of people living within.

The room where I was sleeping wasn’t much larger than the space required for the bed and small dresser. I expected something more in line with old Martial Arts movies and films about Japan. Her parents and grandparents did have separate rooms, but her siblings shared one large room with a folding divider between the boys and girls.

“I stink. I don’t want to meet the rest of your family smelling like I am a sweaty goat who rolled around in the dirt all day,” I told her. “Can you show me where I could wash up, please?”

Her smile went from ear to ear as I felt waves of happiness coming over the link between us. She made sure the door closed before she started stripping me. I had a bit of concern that this going to make me ever smellier, but then I felt some reassurance that it wasn’t sexual in any way. Hinata kept the smile on her face as I stripped her as well.

When removing her shirt and bra, I was surprised by the stark contrast between her pale white skin and tiny, dark pink, not brown, nipples centered on areolas only as big around as a nickel. I slid down to remove her panties I found a very neatly trimmed bush and pink clit poking out at the top of her dark pink pussy lips. I started to lean in to lick it when she told me, over the link, that we needed to clean up. We both donned silk robes to wear to the bathroom.

The bathroom looked every bit like a miniature Japanese bathhouse with four small stools in front of wash wands in holders on the wall. Around the walls were shelves that held various shampoos, conditioners, and soaps. Once we hung up our robes, she guided me to one of the stools. She washed me from head to toe, twice, before rinsing me and directing me to get into the tub. When she sat on a stool to cleanse herself, she didn’t expect me to return the favor. I got the distinct impression that guys in their part of Japan didn’t know how to properly wash a girl, or woman, everywhere, while not getting soap pushed into places where it should not go. I just rinsed her off when the door to the bathroom opened to let in a group of boys and girls.

Didn’t she lock the door?

They all pulled off their robes and went to one of the stools to start washing, or trying to.

I looked over every one of them quickly to find five girls from fourteen to sixteen, two thirteen-year-old boys, and then an even mix of boys and girls twelve and below.

In my head, Hinata sent me what equated to telling me that these were her cousins, siblings, and some of the kids who stayed here from time to time because of some issues at home. All of them had bathed together since they were young, so even with the older kids in puberty, or already finished, none of them did anything sexual in the bath. What happened outside of the tub, in private, wasn’t any of her business.

I don’t think I would want to know what they got up to either if I had this many siblings, friends, and relatives all sleeping in the same room with only a paper divider between them.

She knew some slipped over to sleep on the other side of the partition most nights. On occasion, it was clear a boy and girl were exploring each other’s bodies at least as far as they could until caught by one of their siblings or her parents. It seems that if we wanted to eat anytime soon, we had to get them bathed as well. Right now, they were having water fights with the shower heads and doing silly kid things to each other. Hinata was hungry.

I can handle this in my sleep.

I went right to the kid nearest me. I didn’t care that it was a twelve-year-old boy. He didn’t know I wasn’t one of the girls washing him, so he tried in vain to hide his boner.

Like I care. It needs washing too.

I soaped up his body and washed his hair before he even knew I was doing the washing. When I rinsed him off, his dick was hanging down. I watched as he looked down to find his dick limp.

Hinata and I worked quickly through the kids under thirteen. When she pointed to the girls thirteen and older, I went to them to wash while Hinata went to clean the remaining boys. None of the girls minded, not even the sixteen-year-olds, my scrubbing them. I didn’t pay attention to which checked out my dick, or those who gave it a little squeeze as they climaxed looking at it. No matter how much they tried to get me hard, my dick was only here to hang out. We joined them in the tub after the others after washing the others.