The fire of the forge burned low as I quenched the last blade of the day. Heat clung to my skin like a second body, sweat soaked through my work tunic, but my hands moved with quiet precision, sliding the steel into the oil, watching it hiss.
The others had stopped working hours ago.
They lingered now, watching me, grinning. One handed me a flask of water. Another clapped me on the back, careful to avoid the fresh burn on my shoulder from where molten slag had splashed.
"He's a monster," I heard someone say. "Doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Just works."
I didn't respond. I never did. Words were cheap.
Work was truth.
The head blacksmith, Old Renji, approached as I was packing the tools away. His wide face glistened with heat, his arms black with soot, his smile calm and proud.
"You got good hands, Renzoku." he said. "Smart hands. Quick to learn. You've only been here a few weeks, and already you're doing better work than men who've been swinging hammers for years."
I nodded. "Thank you."
"You sure you don't want to stay on? Be my apprentice proper? I could make you one of the best smiths in the Iron Clan."
I paused. Looked at him. His offer was kind, real.
But the answer was always the same.
"I appreciate it. But I won't be staying. I'm here to learn. Nothing more."
He sighed, nodding. "I figured. You've got something burning in you. Like a sword fresh from the flames. Can't hold it still."
I smiled, faint and sharp. "That's about right."
"Well," he grunted, patting my shoulder. "Then I'm just glad we got to work together. For however long it lasts."
"Same."
I stepped out from the heat and smoke and into the cool dusk.
Yumi was already waiting near the back wall of the shop. She practically bounced on her heels, a wide grin on her face, smudged with dirt from the street and carrying that spark in her eyes that meant trouble.
"Took you long enough, Forge Boy," she said, arms crossed. "You ready?"
I tilted my head. "For what?"
Her grin widened. "Don't play dumb. Today's the day."
I grinned back. "Ah. That."
She nodded rapidly, falling into step beside me as we turned down the cobbled road toward the edge of town.
"I followed him for three days," she whispered, glancing around to make sure no one could overhear. "Didn't sleep, barely ate. Just shadowed him. He's holed up in a cave on a mountain north of here. Alone. Paranoid as hell, though. Set traps. Tripwires. Warning bells. Even a few blade pits."
"Clever prey," I said.
"Very," she said, proud. "But not clever enough. I mapped it all. I know every inch of that trail. I'm ready."
"I know you are."
"You sure?" she asked. "You're not gonna jump in and steal the kill again?"
I laughed. "Not unless you get sloppy."
She shoved my arm playfully, then shook her head. "No chance. This one's mine. He's a parasite. Took little girls from villages. Played the fool, then chained them up. Cut pieces off them. Left their bodies for the rats."
Her voice had hardened. Her eyes had narrowed to slits.
I didn't ask how she knew. I could taste the hate in her words. That was enough.
We reached the shack a few minutes later, just as the sun dipped behind the hills.
Inside, everything was laid out just as we had planned.
On the rickety table by the door, a row of weapons gleamed. Short blades, curved knives, balanced throwing spikes. Nothing fancy.
But they were sharp. Clean. My work.
Beside them, the crude armor I'd made. Stitched leather layered with small plates of beaten iron, enough to deflect a slash, light enough to move in.
On the wall, our sneaking gear. Blackened cloth wrapped with gray banding to blend with night, soft leather shoes to muffle footsteps, hoods to hide the face.
Yumi moved like smoke, stripping off her regular clothes and changing swiftly into the hunting suit. I turned my back, not out of modesty, but respect.
When I looked again, she was tightening a belt around her waist, blades hanging like teeth from every strap.
She was ready.
"You've come far," I said. "Faster than I expected."
She winked. "I'm stubborn. You should know that by now."
I pulled on my own gear, strapping the small dagger to my thigh, adjusting the chest wrap that hid the small iron plates over my ribs.
We didn't speak after that. Words had already been said. The hunt was sacred. It didn't need chatter.
We slipped from the shack like shadows in twilight, slipping between buildings, through alleyways, and into the trees that wrapped the town like a cradle.
The forest swallowed us whole.
The moon rose slow, a thin white sickle above the hills.
Our steps were silent. Our breaths shallow. The trail led ever upward, winding through rocky paths and into thicker brush.
Hours passed. The air turned colder. The scent of smoke drifted faint on the wind.
I stopped. Sniffed. "Coal. Cooked meat. He's upwind."
Yumi grinned beneath her hood. "He's home."
We reached the base of the mountain. The cave mouth loomed above like a cracked tooth in the stone face.
I stepped into the shadows and vanished.
Yumi looked around, but she didn't call for me. She didn't need to.
My whisper reached her ear, though I was nowhere to be seen.
"Kill or be killed."
She smiled.
And climbed.