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Megalopolis - Forging a Soul

By Chris Gilman

The sky is clear and filled with the pinpoints of stars as Master Ryuutarou looks up from the courtyard of the Hidden Dragon Dojo on its perch high above the busy streets of Megalopolis. He takes a deep breath and his eyes close as his nostrils take in the fresh air on the cool night's wind, the magic that conceals the dojo from the outside world keeping the outside's pollutants from disturbing the peace here. "Tonight, it is time to restore what was lost." With casual steps he walks towards the building on one side of the courtyard where reddish light filters into the darkness from every opening.

The cool night air gives way to oppressive heat as the snow white nine-tailed kitsune passes the thick steel doors which lead into the forge. The ringing of hammer on metal stills as the hulking bixie inside returns a cooling metal blade to the brightly glowing furnace. "Yes Master Ryuutarou?" the large winged tiger asks without turning his gaze from the eye searing furnace. The firelight from the furnace making his red fur seem to leap like the flames within.

"Master Seishirou, I'm sure you know why I'm here. Chiyako needs a new blade."

The master of the forge nods in agreement but shows no emotion over the loss of such a work of art, "The first time one of my blades has ever broken in battle, and it had to fall to one of your son's students. I have been crafting for a long time my friend, but I never thought I would see such a day." He takes the metal from the fire and examines the glow before shoving it back into the coals and pumping a handle over his head to stoke the flames higher and higher, "Never fear, I will forge a new blade for her, old friend. No warrior can live with her soul broken as I saw hers was when I told her there was no fixing the destroyed weapon. I do not blame her for what happened; I blame myself for not making a truly immortal weapon as befits one of your students."

The kitsune rests a hand on the big feline's shoulder, "I have tried to console her, but her soul cries out to the blade that has served her so long. It was a great wound to her soul to have her weapon damaged, and then to be told it was not possible to fix it," he says as he tries to look at the fire but has to turn away and examine the racks of tools along the far wall. "I wish to heal her soul as you create a new work of art for her."

The buff male nods, the rings on his leather outfit jingling, "I understand my friend, send her to me. Maybe I can explain while I make her new blade. Hard work in the forging of a new blade might break her from this depression as that male she has been toying with cannot."

Ryuutarou nods in agreement, "I will send her presently. May the fires do your bidding God of the Forge."

"May nature ever heed your will, God of the Elements," Seishirou responds with a warm smile to his old friend.

***

As the moon reaches its zenith in the sky the grey furred female kitsune walks out of the cold night and into the comfortable warmth of the forge, her steps uncertain and all three of her tails limp in sorrow as she enters the workshop like a frightened child. She looks around as her eyes adjust to the dim firelight and finds the silence of the stone building almost eerie as there is no sign of the large Master Smith working at his forge, "Master Ryuutarou said you needed me Master Seishirou?" She rests her hand on the anvil and feels the cool metal of the hard surface, not a trace of heat from use remains.

There is a rustle of feathers and Chiyako snaps her masked head around to find the big male siting on a small woven pad on the other side of his anvil drinking tea from a delicate china cup. He raises an eyebrow and examines the female as he sets the china down on the woven mat in front of his crossed legs. "Chiyako, you begged me to fix your sword." He smirks with a playful grin, "While you were pressing your rather attractive and naked breasts against me at the time as I recall." The insides of her ears turn red as she blushes and the male chuckles, "Nothing to be embarrassed about my dear. I was certainly flattered afterwards. Please, sit," he indicates the pad across the mat from him.

Coming around the anvil she kneels on the pad and bows her head to him respectfully, her gaze on the mat between them, "I remember the events of that evening Master Seishirou."

He nods and waves a hand to a second delicate china cup on the mat filled with a steaming liquid, "Drink young one, there is always time for civilities to one's friends and allies."

She bows again, and taking the delicate cup, lifts her mask enough to sip of the fragrant tea. A soft sigh escapes her lips and her eyes close in peace as the warmth of the tea fills her body as the warmth of the forge can't and restores a feeling of balance that has been missing, a balance she has tried to find through many distractions, both martial and carnal. But nothing has worked as well as a simple cup of tea in the presence of Seishirou.

Seishirou's face grows somber as he comes to the task at hand, "But we must face the reality, the sword cannot be repaired even though you returned the missing piece. We must forge a new soul for you to carry into battle, and so return you to your full power young warrior."

He surges to his feet and looks down at the blue and red clad female, her three tails still hanging limp behind her, "You will assist young Chiyako, and you will learn." He points to the handle of the main bellows, "Bring the fire to life little one, and let us begin."

The kitsune leaps to her feet and does as directed with more energy than she had felt entering the forge. Stepping up to grip the bellows she leans into the thick timber and cloth construction. Using her warrior strength she starts to pump the bellows and forces oxygen rich air into the dim coals bringing them to life with a flare of heat and light. The large winged red tiger turns to a table and removes a metal ingot which he says a blessing over in a language so obscure and other-worldly it can only be heard and immediately forgotten, even by the ears of the kitsune. As the metal starts to glow with an internal light he turns to the furnace and thrusts it into the coals with his bare hand.

Chiyako gasps in shock, and is even more shocked when he removes his hand from the furnace and shows it completely untouched by the fire's intense heat. Not a single whiff of singed fur or mark of blemish on the arm he holds up to her. "Remove your mask and sash, they will impede your breathing as the heat builds. And we have much work to do. This will take several hours young warrior."

She pauses in her efforts long enough to unwrap the sash from her waist and with a moment's trepidation she pulls her mask off completely as instructed. She finds it is immediately easier to breathe the warm air as she resumes her duties, but without the sash to hold her outfit, her breasts are trying to slip out of it. She gives a mental shrug and then pauses to remove the rest of her outfit, leaving only her boots and gloves, the heat of the forge seeming to soak into her very fur and give her more energy without her outfit to restrict her.

The tiger watches her from the corner of his eye and smiles, "Chiyako, will you give your all to return a true artifact of my creation to your hands?"

"Yes... Master..." she gasps as her naked body pumps the bellows, her oversized breasts swaying hypnotically with the effort.

He takes the overhead handle and starts to pump it himself, "Then take the steel from the fire." She stops pumping and reaches for the tongs, "No!" She looks up at him startled, "Take off your glove, and take the steel from the fire with your bare hand." He reaches over his head and gripping a rope, starts to work the bellows with practiced ease as he watches the eye searing flames.

She peels off her glove and looks at her hand, the long fingers covered in short gray fur. "Master... I am not a God of the Forge. I am not immune to the flames as you..."

Seishirou doesn't take his eyes off the flames as his voice comes flat and without emotion, "Take the steel from the furnace, or you are not the one to wield this weapon, child."

She closes her eyes and holding her breath reaches into the fiery furnace to grip the metal ingot and pull it red hot from the flames. She is shocked to feel only soft warmth in her hand and opening her eyes she finds herself holding the bright piece of metal in her naked palm. Just like Seishirou, there is no singed fur, no scorched flesh, not even a speck of soot on her fur.

She looks up at the tiger, "How?"

The corners of his mouth turn up in a slight smile, "The sword is for you, and your own soul cannot harm you." He takes a hammer from the rack over the furnace and studies the color of the ingot for a few minutes before he motions her to replace the metal in the furnace. "We must heat it more, and then the true work begins. Return to the bellows, girl."

Chiyako slips her glove back on and gripping the bellows starts to pump the handle again as she finds she can look into the eye searing blaze now without effort. 'What is happening?' she asks herself as she looks from the flames to the bixie. She can see the firelight dancing over his sleek fur and the feathers of his wings. The bulging muscles under his fur ripple in the firelight and it makes his very fur seem to be made of fire. 'Is it something about Master Seishirou's magic, or the magics of his forge?'

The tiger shocks her by responding to her unspoken questions, "Try not to answer such questions child, I am still seeking the answers and I am even older then Master Ryuutarou." He looks at her from the corner of his eye as a smile curves his lips, "And no, I don't have to read your mind, you're not the first person who has asked the questions running through your mind. Most ask them out loud though."

He takes the tongs from their hook and reaches into the flames to remove the white hot metal. "Rest," he instructs as he turns to the anvil and placing the ingot on the cold metal surface strikes it repeatedly with the hammer, folding the metal first one way and then the other. As the metal cools to a red he returns it to the fire and orders her, "Pump."

Chiyako throws herself against the lever with sweat rolling down her naked body as they both stare into the fire and she watches the slow change in the metal as it brightens again to white hot. Seishirou takes the metal out again and she rests for a moment, wiping the sweat from her brow as it stings her eyes. The smith brings the hammer up and lets it fall with rhythmic clangs of metal striking metal, drawing the soul of the sword from the fiery metal. As he turns to return the metal to the fire she once more throws herself into the work. She feels excitement she has not felt since she found her old sword was broken in a fight against the Shadow Dojo's students. An excitement that gives strength to her limbs, a fire bursting to life within her, and a new understanding that this is what she has been seeking, a missing piece of her soul being re-forged in fire.

Seishirou continues to work the metal; forming the steel with every swing and folding the metal again and again until he has a bar the proper length required. With a smile he puts it back into the fire and goes to a rack of metal to select several more pieces which he adds to the furnace. After a short period the smaller pieces are red hot and he takes them from the fire and lays them on the anvil. Once more taking the white hot metal from the fire he starts to layer the other pieces on it, encasing the white hot fire within a red hot steel enclosure. He takes the entire bundle of steel and returns it to the fire and gripping the overhead pull rope helps Chiyako stoke the fire higher and higher.

As the metal sandwich is heated throughout Seishirou watches the flames with intense eyes that can almost see into the fire's soul. Chiyako knows there is more to the big smith then just years of practice at his art. He is the master of masters, and he is one with the flame that brings life to the steel.

Finally Seishirou takes the steel from the fire and taking a different hammer starts to pound it into shape. Sparks fly as the hammer forces the white hot metal into the shape its wielder demands. Chiyako can see the bright metal reflect in the eyes of the smith as he molds it to his will. Several times he returns the cooled metal to the fire and Chiyako throws herself into the labor, her excitement growing at the weapon takes shape, as her soul is reborn in the flames of the furnace and on the cold steel of the anvil.

As the first rays of sun shine through the open doors of the forge Seishirou paints several layers of a clay mixture on the blade, but he leaves the very edge bare. He signals Chiyako to come closer and she does so, abandoning her position at the bellows. "Chiyako, this is not an ordinary sword, this is your soul. And so we must give it a piece of you," he looks up at her and holds out his hand. "Let me see your hand."

She extends her right hand to the smith and he takes it in his firm grip, peeling the glove from her sweaty fingers and setting it aside he gently runs a finger along her palm. Raising his gaze to the kitsune he grimaces, "Prepare yourself."

Before she can ask what for the red furred tiger takes a small silver dagger from his belt and like the strike of a cobra slits a thin gash on her palm. "Ahh!" she gasps and her hand tenses with the pain.

Seishirou lets a few drops of her blood drip into the clay before he hurriedly wraps her hand tight in a piece of cloth, "This will bind the sword to you. None other than your own bloodline will feel it as the piece of art that it is." He looks into her eyes and she can see the truth in his words as the sharp pain quickly fades from her hand as he applies pressure. The tiger looks down at her hand still in his grip and relaxes his fingers as he starts to unwrap the bandage with care.

Free from the bandage Chiyako looks at her palm to find no wound, only a hair thin scar that she can hardly feel as she runs the fingers of her other hand across the palm. "How?" she asks but Seishirou only shakes his head in answer.

"Child, there are some things I can't explain because there are no words to do so. If you live long enough though, you might discover them for yourself in time," he says as he turns back to the slurry and mixes it with the few drops of her blood. As the mixture starts to glow an eerie reddish gray he brushes the substance along the very edge of the blade. Turning he places the almost finished blade into the fire and waves Chiyako back to the bellows, "Back to work girl, the blade won't temper itself."

She returns to her position and throws the entirety of her body and spirit into the task. As the sun rises over the horizon Seishirou watches the metal in the furnace as it heats bit-by-bit to the right temperature. With a swipe of his hand he snatches the blade from the furnace and dips it into a trough of water. Steam fills the forge as the water surrenders itself to the air to cool the fire at the heart of the blade. Chiyako closes her eyes as the hot steam makes the air thick enough to cut with a fork and she sneezes as the vapor tickles her nose.

There is a gust of air through the room and the steam starts to clear the forge. Chiyako opens her eyes to see that Seishirou is flapping his great wings to clear the steam as he continues to squat over the trough, the blade he still holds inside. His eyes intense on the water he starts to lift the sword from the trough with reverence, knowing this is the most delicate part when the blade might have been ruined beyond repair by its treatment. As the metal clears the water's surface a perfectly formed blade is visible in the bright sunshine of the new day.

Seishirou smiles at the kitsune, her eyes focused on the blade in his hands. "Chiyako," he calls her attention to him and they lock eyes. "Go and rest this day. By tonight I will have your new blade polished and the handle and scabbard ready for you." He holds up the finished blade and examines the quality, "This is definitely one of my finest blades." Without moving his eyes from the blade he smiles with a father's affection, "I think there is a young man outside looking for you. Kinoku has directed him in this direction. He'll be here any minute, go spend some time with him instead of this old tiger."

The kitsune hesitates a moment and rushes forward to hug the smith, her naked and sweaty breasts pressed hard against his body, "Thank you Master Seishirou, I am alive again. My soul is whole." Stepping back, her ears turning pink in embarrassment, she grabs her outfit and is stuffing parts of her anatomy back into it as she runs out the door.

Seishirou sees her leap into the arms of the young mortal she has been seeing since the night her original sword was broken. The canine catches her and spins her around as they kiss. "Ah, the eagerness of youth, it warms the heart doesn't it, Master Ryuutarou?" He shifts his gaze the other way and smiles as the white kitsune steps from the shadows of the forge, "I know you've been there the whole time. Didn't trust me with your student?"

The serene male vulpine shakes his head, "I always enjoy watching you work my old friend. The magic you work with metal, fire, and even the soul, is beyond anything I could ever do."

The tiger gives his friend a deep chuckle, "Now, now Master Ryuutarou, we all have our place in the circle of life." He holds up the blade in his hands as indistinct letters appear in fire along the tang of the blade, "Some of us forge the souls of warriors and waken them to this world."

Ryuutarou nods in agreement, "And some of us temper the bodies that contain those souls, so they might be worthy of becoming one with each other."

The two masters give a mutual smile as they bow to each other.

"Kinuko has asked if you would dine with us all tonight. I know working the forge builds an appetite, even in you."

The tiger nods in assent, "I appreciate the offer, it will be the perfect time to present Chiyako with her new sword."

All characters unless otherwise stated are the property of Christopher Gilman.Brian Nye is © Goliath ThunderstepStory © Copyright Christopher Gilman 2013 all rights reservedMegalopolis © Copyright Goliath Thunderstep and Emerald Cistern mail me and tell me what you think at goliath_cpg[at]yahoo.com