Alright, Let's Do This! LEEEEEROOOOOOOYYY! JHHEEEENNNKKHINNNNSSSS!!!!
We arrived at the mines and I laid waste to the token guardsmen at
the gates with my typical efficiency.
“Gracious,” said Ayeka, taken by surprise by my brutal use of
superior firepower. “Dear Brother, isn't that a little unfair?”
“I don't believe in playing fair when it comes to war. Besides,
these men are loyal to that swine of a man.”
Ayeka's features darkened for a moment. “Point taken, Dear
Brother. Let's continue.” Before I did continue, I placed The End
of the Quiet Day back into Scooby and got out a long, simple looking,
unadorned box from the truck.
“What's that?” asked Sasami while the others looked on curiously.
“A gift for Tenchi. Let's go.”
I don't know how Lord Ohsa beat us there. Maybe he used an air-car?
It was no matter, though. I let Ayeka handle the theatrics while I
skirted around the edges and made my way to Tenchi.
“Brother, here,” I said, handing him the sheathed blade I had
been carrying. “A gift from your Grandfather – only a sword
wielded is truly a sword.” Tenchi took the proffered weapon and
smiled knowing exactly whose sentiment that had been.
“Thank you for thinking ahead,” he said as he tucked the weapon
into his belt and readied himself to fight.
“Not a problem.” I then drew my own sword. It was not the
bokuto that Yosho had given me. What I drew was live steel.
I named it First Cut – the first sword I ever made to gain Yakage's
approval.
He had allowed me a great deal of free reign to create my first
sword. In its own way that was a test to see if I would create
something ridiculous or something useful.
I began with researching alloys, paying particular attention to those
with a high tungsten content. I eventually settled on T1 High Speed
Steel – commonly used for drill bits used to mill out things like
gears for transmissions. It had excellent wear resistance and would
even stand up to high temperatures quite admirably. It was strong
enough that even Ryoko would have to expend an effort (albeit a small
on) to break it. Especially after I got done with it.
Forging this steel was a pain. Literally. I had to wear special
equipment just to handle the ambient heat of the metal as I worked it
over again and again.
In then end, I had created a long sword based closely on Gandalf's
Glamdring in Lord of the Rings. Like Glamdring, it was a beautiful
piece of workmanship – simple, practical, yet utterly breathtaking.
That had definitely been one of Yakage's favorite points.
Apparently, I had a certain flair.
However, unlike Glamdring, First Cut had none of the frills. There
was no inscription. There were no jewels. I had engineered the
weapon with nothing but functionality in mind, and only then did I
add the decorative flourishes – much like the engineers and
architects of the Art Deco movement where the machine or structure
itself was the art and not its adornments.
Best of all was the balance. I had used tungsten carbide for the
pommel to help counterbalance the weapon, and it worked out quite
well, giving me a weapon that I can swing easily despite its weight.
While Tenchi's blade glowed a crimson light, my blade caught the
brilliant desert sun and shone like a phosphorous flare. The
guardsmen all faltered at the sight of the blades.
I grinned at their fear. “Well!?” I challenged. “WHO WANTS TO
LIVE FOREVER!? RAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGHH!!!”
And that was the straw that broke the camel's back.
This group more than likely represented the last of Ohsa's loyal
guardsmen. Over the last twenty-four hours I had maimed and killed
all but this handful of men before us. They had already been
thoroughly demoralized, and were being ordered to go up against two
swordsmen armed with very intimidating blades and who moved like they
knew how to use them.
They all ran screaming for their lives.
Lord Ohsa looked around nervously. None of his guardsmen remained
and he was now surrounded by vengeful looking miners. But more
importantly...
“That glow!” he cried out nervously pointing to Tenchi's blade.
“That sword is made of Hielzen-S... It only glows red when held by
a member of the Royal Family! Then you must be...” Ohsa suddenly
threw his staff down, crying out, “I surrender!”
And here I was hoping he'd fight. Then I would have had the chance
to kill that disgusting excuse of a man. Instead, I sheathed my
sword – so much for getting it blooded – and tapped a brief
sequence on my C-Pod.
“Lady Seto, Grimm. It's done, Grandmother.”
The wrap-up was almost anticlimactic. Seto's Mikagami arrived
and the security forces dispersed to recover Lord Ohsa's guardsmen
and his own personal bodyguard from the palace. Ohsa himself was
taken directly into custody by Seto.
Just as I was wondering where Minaho was (she usually wasn't very far
when Seto was around) I heard a voice behind me.
“Are you Garrick Grimm?”
I turned and there stood a dark haired beauty. Her short bangs
framed her pale, fine-as-porcelain face and the seemingly bottomless
indigo eyes stared at me like the abyss. Whoah, spooky.
“I am he,” I confirmed. “You must be Minaho.”
She stared at me, unnervingly quiet for a moment. “You told
Seto-sama you thought I was cute.” The statement was nearly
accusatory in tone.
Hoo boy. “I believe I did,” I admitted. Her expression
darkened, so I sighed and said, “Look, are you honestly going to
get angry at me because I paid you a complement to the face of your
boss-slash-Great-Grandmother? I know she can be a bit much to deal
with sometimes, but you just gotta know when to bend with the wind.”
Minaho's dark looked shifted into an outright glare. “I do not
need advice from a man that hasn't even lived a quarter of the life I
have.”
That seriously hacked me off. If she thought that just living longer
imparted some Jedi-like greater wisdom then I was going to show her
just how mistaken she was.
“Oh, aren't we putting on airs now! Tell me little princess, do
you even pay attention to what Seto says about me? Because knowing
her she's already given you several earfuls.”
Minaho turned her nose up at me... it was not adorable like when Yuki
does it.
“All I need to know is that you're yet another suitor that Seto is
trying to set me up with.”
“Uh-huh!” I declared. “And that's all you need to know?”
“Of course!” Minaho snapped.
“Very well then. As lovely as you are when you're angry, you
bother me. And I have enough bothers as it is. Go away, little
girl.”
I could see a vein throbbing on her forehead. Now that was a
fascinating thing to see, let me tell you.
“You...” she hissed out, seething. “You dare to
belittle me!?” In a flash her battle armor appeared as well as an
energy sword in her hands. “Draw your inferior weapon, boy!”
I smiled. I was certain it was not one of my nicer ones, given the
way Tenchi and the others blanched. Seto, of course, was smiling
too, unbeknownst to Minaho.
“You really don't know me, do you?” I said as I knelt down to
casually scoop a handful of the dusty earth that filled the mine
site. I looked at it carefully, studying the way is shifted, the
fineness and shape of its grains, and the way the light caught them.
“What does it matter?” growled Minaho.
“If you know the
enemy and you know yourself, you need not fear the results of a
hundred battles. If you know yourself, but not the enemy, for every
victory gained, you will also suffer defeat. If you know neither the
enemy, nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.” God I love
Sun Tzu. Thank you VNV Nation for making me see how awesome this
ancient general truly was.
And I had already
won. It was time for me to seek my battle.
“You dare to presume you know tactics!?” snarled Minaho. “You
are nothing in comparison to me! You are just a child!” I had to
admit she had fire in her... Jyuraian women were wonderful in that
way. But fire is not always enough. I was glad that Yuki was
watching. This will be a beautiful object lesson for her.
“Rule number one: don't piss me off.”
“RAAAGH!” screamed Minaho as she launched herself at me. In a
flash my hand flung out, casting the dry silt into her face. Minaho
yelped in pain as it got in her eyes and began chocking on the dust.
I gave her no chance to recover, quickly drawing First Cut, batting
away the handle of her energy blade in one strike, and then opening a
shallow cut under the ribs on her left side, causing her to yelp in
pain once more.
My weapon had finally tasted blood.
When she was able to open her eyes once more, it was to the sight of
me holding the tip of First Cut to her neck.
“Rule number two: I fight to win, and if that means I must cheat,
then I will do it with a smile on my face.
“Rule number three: I don't generally believe in taking
prisoners... but I definitely believe in sending a message. Lady
Seto?” I called out, not taking my eyes off Minaho.
“Yes, my dearest Grandson?” Seto replied sounding quite pleased.
“I would like Minaho to keep the scar I just gave her. It can be a
neat and faint line – no need for it to be ugly – I know how
fastidious a woman is about her skin. Just a simple reminder... she
should never underestimate anyone.”
“WHAT!?” screeched Minaho in horror.
“My Grandson makes a very fine point, Minaho. You were quite
reckless in engaging him. You not only disrespected him based only
on his heritage (your Grandmother will be ashamed of you, by the
way), but you also failed to pay attention to everything I said about
him. If you had, you would have known exactly how dangerous my
darling Grandson could be.”
“But... You can't do this to me!” cried out Minaho.
“It is only a scar,” Seto replied evenly. “Would you like for
me to give you a matching one on the other side?”
Mianho's eyes went wide at that, and she quickly fell silent. Her
head then fell low as she meekly acquiesced.
“Good. Now, go up to Mikagame and have that treated as we
discussed.”
“I shall do as you command, Lady Seto.” I withdrew First Cut and
cleaned the blood off with a cloth before sheathing the weapon.
Without another word, but eying me warily, Minaho got up, carefully
staunching the minor wound, and began to make her way to Mikagame.
Seto sighed as she approached. “I apologize, Garrick. That is not
at all how I hoped your first meeting would go. I'd hoped that
Minaho would have paid more attention to me and learned something
about you that she might find attractive.”
“She'll come around,” I said, sighing. “It is a shame. She
really is quite lovely.”
Seto gave me a puzzled look. “You regret giving her a scar?” she
said curiously.
I smiled back wryly. “I regret that she is a spoiled child. Scars
are different – they give a person, especially women, a certain
character. Some time I'll have to show you some of the safer
animations in my collection. Galaxy Express Three-Nine was still
considered pretty good stuff when I got zapped, and it was as old as
me at the time. A real classic. You'd love Queen Emeraldas. She's
your kind of bad ass. She has a huge facial scar that doesn't do
much to hide her beauty. Makes her intimidating as all hell,
though.”
Seto smiled. “That sounds like a good way to spend a rainy day.
Would you send me the files?”
“Sure. I'll even ask Washu-chan convert them into something
compatible.” I sighed heavily. “Shameful first impression. Did
you really have to push her that much, Grandmother?”
Seto actually blushed a bit. “Well... I might have overdone it. Just a little
bit.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Ah well. There's always Tennyo. At
least she's got a sense of humor... and nowhere nearly one as
demented as her mother's.”
“You do know that was because the poor woman was going senile.”
“Oh damn, sorry... On second thought, not quite. I bet Kiyone was
absolute hell on wheels when she was a kid, wasn't she?”
Seto rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”
I grinned. “Oh I can imagine. I wasn't much different when I was
a kid... I was just a little more...”
“Energetic?” hazarded Seto.
“Willing to do grievous harm,” I said succinctly.
Seto blinked. “I love you, Garrick, but I am not babysitting for
you.”
I could only laugh at that. It's not every day you get one over the
Devil Princess of Jyurai.
Suddenly, we were approached by a wizened looking old native of this
world.
“Excuse me, young man... But the Crown Prince claims that you are
his brother.”
“Though we are not related by blood,” I confirmed, “we do
regard each other as such. He is the Right Hand and I am the Left.”
“You don't mean that you're not in favor, do you?” asked the
elder.
“Not at all,” I replied with a genial smile. “It means that I
am the one that will gladly take the dirty work for the sake of my
new-found family.”
“I see then... that blade you carry. May I see it?”
I nodded and unsheathed First Cut once more, offering it, handle
first, to the elder. He appraised the weapon with a keen and knowing
eye, making thoughtful, positive sounds deep in his throat.
“This is good workmanship. Who forged this?”
“I did. It is my first sword, and so I have named it First Cut.”
The old man gave me a surprised look. “This weapon is at least
journeyman-level! And a seasoned one at that! For it to be your
first blade...” He then paused and gave me a hard look. “Who
was your teacher, son?”
“My teacher was Yakage of Jyurai,” I replied solemnly. “He
passed away the night after I crafted that sword.”
A distant and sorrowful look crossed the elders face. “As though
he had seen that his student was strong enough to stand on his
own...” His eyes suddenly fastened onto mine with a great
intensity. “Yes. You are definitely worthy of this, son. My
sword!” he called out.
A large man stepped forward – he was the one whose home we had
first visited, the one who we helped when his child was born. He
wore a smile on his face as he carried a carefully wrapped weapon,
and he passed it over to the elder.
“This sword,” said the old man, “is the sibling blade to the
one your brother wields. Long ago a swordsman from another world met
my predecessor, a renowned swordsmith. The two had forged a bond of
friendship and from that friendship a formidable sword discipline was
born... the very same one that you and your brother practice.
“Also, there was what you said to your brother before the fight was
to commence. You said, 'Only a sword wielded is truly a sword.'
Those were the words of the swordsman from long ago.
“With all this known, there could be no other person to wield this
weapon... Young man, this sword rightfully belongs to you. Please,
treasure it always.”
Touched at my very core, I bowed my head as I held my hands out and
accepted the gift. The ceremony complete, I carefully tucked it into
my belt next to First Cut.
“There is one other thing I must ask of you, son,” said the old
man. “We have heard of your exploits here on our world. Now that
my Grandson is one day old, he must be named. Tell us yours so he
may bear it for himself.”
I smiled. “Bring him here. I know what I must do now.” The
father nodded and waived his wife over with their son. “He is your
son,” I said with a heavy, but positive tone. “You made him
together. You will raise him together. So it is only proper that
for me to lay this burden upon him, you help him carry it together.”
In my home time-line, this sort of blessing was done within our
church by the Elders of the Priesthood, and with the child's head
anointed with consecrated olive oil for the laying of hands. This place was not home... but my intent was similar. I only hoped
that it would be smiled upon.
Knowing Tsunami, it would be.
With the mother and father carefully cradling their son between them,
I stood at his head.
“What is the name of your family?” I asked.
“Kurotsuchi,” said the father proudly.
I nodded, gently laid my hands on the infant's head, wishing him
nothing but love and blessings.
I closed my eyes and began to pray. “Humbly, I invoke your name,
Tsunami-sama, and ask that you smile upon us this day and lend your
power to me so I may grant this child a blessing...”
And then I felt her presence and I knew I had her ear.
“Garrick Kurotsuchi... I grant you my own name so you may have my
strength for all your days. Take pride in your name, child. It's
meaning is 'He that leads with a spear' – a name for a warrior
king. Though it is foreign, it is an ancient name that evokes a
sense of nobility and strength from a time when both were in short
supply. Little Garrick, my blessing to you is to be the rock that
others can hang on to for support when the skies go dark and the
flood waters rise and the tempest rages. Where there is sorrow, you
can bring joy. Where there is anger, you can bring peace. Where
there is chaos, you can bring order. Where there is ignorance, you
can bring enlightenment. Where there is fear, you can bring comfort.
“And do not be afraid yourself, child. For while you do all these
things, your people will in turn give you their strength and their
support. Let them carry you and you will never feel the weight of
your burdens. Do this and there will be joy and prosperity, even in
the most difficult times.
“Amen.”
I have always wanted to have a moment in my life where my enemies are gathered before me... and then run screaming in terror. Does this make me a bad person?
We arrived at the mines and I laid waste to the token guardsmen at
the gates with my typical efficiency.
“Gracious,” said Ayeka, taken by surprise by my brutal use of
superior firepower. “Dear Brother, isn't that a little unfair?”
“I don't believe in playing fair when it comes to war. Besides,
these men are loyal to that swine of a man.”
Ayeka's features darkened for a moment. “Point taken, Dear
Brother. Let's continue.” Before I did continue, I placed The End
of the Quiet Day back into Scooby and got out a long, simple looking,
unadorned box from the truck.
“What's that?” asked Sasami while the others looked on curiously.
“A gift for Tenchi. Let's go.”
I don't know how Lord Ohsa beat us there. Maybe he used an air-car?
It was no matter, though. I let Ayeka handle the theatrics while I
skirted around the edges and made my way to Tenchi.
“Brother, here,” I said, handing him the sheathed blade I had
been carrying. “A gift from your Grandfather – only a sword
wielded is truly a sword.” Tenchi took the proffered weapon and
smiled knowing exactly whose sentiment that had been.
“Thank you for thinking ahead,” he said as he tucked the weapon
into his belt and readied himself to fight.
“Not a problem.” I then drew my own sword. It was not the
bokuto that Yosho had given me. What I drew was live steel.
I named it First Cut – the first sword I ever made to gain Yakage's
approval.
He had allowed me a great deal of free reign to create my first
sword. In its own way that was a test to see if I would create
something ridiculous or something useful.
I began with researching alloys, paying particular attention to those
with a high tungsten content. I eventually settled on T1 High Speed
Steel – commonly used for drill bits used to mill out things like
gears for transmissions. It had excellent wear resistance and would
even stand up to high temperatures quite admirably. It was strong
enough that even Ryoko would have to expend an effort (albeit a small
on) to break it. Especially after I got done with it.
Forging this steel was a pain. Literally. I had to wear special
equipment just to handle the ambient heat of the metal as I worked it
over again and again.
In then end, I had created a long sword based closely on Gandalf's
Glamdring in Lord of the Rings. Like Glamdring, it was a beautiful
piece of workmanship – simple, practical, yet utterly breathtaking.
That had definitely been one of Yakage's favorite points.
Apparently, I had a certain flair.
However, unlike Glamdring, First Cut had none of the frills. There
was no inscription. There were no jewels. I had engineered the
weapon with nothing but functionality in mind, and only then did I
add the decorative flourishes – much like the engineers and
architects of the Art Deco movement where the machine or structure
itself was the art and not its adornments.
Best of all was the balance. I had used tungsten carbide for the
pommel to help counterbalance the weapon, and it worked out quite
well, giving me a weapon that I can swing easily despite its weight.
While Tenchi's blade glowed a crimson light, my blade caught the
brilliant desert sun and shone like a phosphorous flare. The
guardsmen all faltered at the sight of the blades.
I grinned at their fear. “Well!?” I challenged. “WHO WANTS TO
LIVE FOREVER!? RAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGHH!!!”
And that was the straw that broke the camel's back.
This group more than likely represented the last of Ohsa's loyal
guardsmen. Over the last twenty-four hours I had maimed and killed
all but this handful of men before us. They had already been
thoroughly demoralized, and were being ordered to go up against two
swordsmen armed with very intimidating blades and who moved like they
knew how to use them.
They all ran screaming for their lives.
Lord Ohsa looked around nervously. None of his guardsmen remained
and he was now surrounded by vengeful looking miners. But more
importantly...
“That glow!” he cried out nervously pointing to Tenchi's blade.
“That sword is made of Hielzen-S... It only glows red when held by
a member of the Royal Family! Then you must be...” Ohsa suddenly
threw his staff down, crying out, “I surrender!”
And here I was hoping he'd fight. Then I would have had the chance
to kill that disgusting excuse of a man. Instead, I sheathed my
sword – so much for getting it blooded – and tapped a brief
sequence on my C-Pod.
“Lady Seto, Grimm. It's done, Grandmother.”
The wrap-up was almost anticlimactic. Seto's Mikagami arrived
and the security forces dispersed to recover Lord Ohsa's guardsmen
and his own personal bodyguard from the palace. Ohsa himself was
taken directly into custody by Seto.
Just as I was wondering where Minaho was (she usually wasn't very far
when Seto was around) I heard a voice behind me.
“Are you Garrick Grimm?”
I turned and there stood a dark haired beauty. Her short bangs
framed her pale, fine-as-porcelain face and the seemingly bottomless
indigo eyes stared at me like the abyss. Whoah, spooky.
“I am he,” I confirmed. “You must be Minaho.”
She stared at me, unnervingly quiet for a moment. “You told
Seto-sama you thought I was cute.” The statement was nearly
accusatory in tone.
Hoo boy. “I believe I did,” I admitted. Her expression
darkened, so I sighed and said, “Look, are you honestly going to
get angry at me because I paid you a complement to the face of your
boss-slash-Great-Grandmother? I know she can be a bit much to deal
with sometimes, but you just gotta know when to bend with the wind.”
Minaho's dark looked shifted into an outright glare. “I do not
need advice from a man that hasn't even lived a quarter of the life I
have.”
That seriously hacked me off. If she thought that just living longer
imparted some Jedi-like greater wisdom then I was going to show her
just how mistaken she was.
“Oh, aren't we putting on airs now! Tell me little princess, do
you even pay attention to what Seto says about me? Because knowing
her she's already given you several earfuls.”
Minaho turned her nose up at me... it was not adorable like when Yuki
does it.
“All I need to know is that you're yet another suitor that Seto is
trying to set me up with.”
“Uh-huh!” I declared. “And that's all you need to know?”
“Of course!” Minaho snapped.
“Very well then. As lovely as you are when you're angry, you
bother me. And I have enough bothers as it is. Go away, little
girl.”
I could see a vein throbbing on her forehead. Now that was a
fascinating thing to see, let me tell you.
“You...” she hissed out, seething. “You dare to
belittle me!?” In a flash her battle armor appeared as well as an
energy sword in her hands. “Draw your inferior weapon, boy!”
I smiled. I was certain it was not one of my nicer ones, given the
way Tenchi and the others blanched. Seto, of course, was smiling
too, unbeknownst to Minaho.
“You really don't know me, do you?” I said as I knelt down to
casually scoop a handful of the dusty earth that filled the mine
site. I looked at it carefully, studying the way is shifted, the
fineness and shape of its grains, and the way the light caught them.
“What does it matter?” growled Minaho.
“If you know the
enemy and you know yourself, you need not fear the results of a
hundred battles. If you know yourself, but not the enemy, for every
victory gained, you will also suffer defeat. If you know neither the
enemy, nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.” God I love
Sun Tzu. Thank you VNV Nation for making me see how awesome this
ancient general truly was.
And I had already
won. It was time for me to seek my battle.
“You dare to presume you know tactics!?” snarled Minaho. “You
are nothing in comparison to me! You are just a child!” I had to
admit she had fire in her... Jyuraian women were wonderful in that
way. But fire is not always enough. I was glad that Yuki was
watching. This will be a beautiful object lesson for her.
“Rule number one: don't piss me off.”
“RAAAGH!” screamed Minaho as she launched herself at me. In a
flash my hand flung out, casting the dry silt into her face. Minaho
yelped in pain as it got in her eyes and began chocking on the dust.
I gave her no chance to recover, quickly drawing First Cut, batting
away the handle of her energy blade in one strike, and then opening a
shallow cut under the ribs on her left side, causing her to yelp in
pain once more.
My weapon had finally tasted blood.
When she was able to open her eyes once more, it was to the sight of
me holding the tip of First Cut to her neck.
“Rule number two: I fight to win, and if that means I must cheat,
then I will do it with a smile on my face.
“Rule number three: I don't generally believe in taking
prisoners... but I definitely believe in sending a message. Lady
Seto?” I called out, not taking my eyes off Minaho.
“Yes, my dearest Grandson?” Seto replied sounding quite pleased.
“I would like Minaho to keep the scar I just gave her. It can be a
neat and faint line – no need for it to be ugly – I know how
fastidious a woman is about her skin. Just a simple reminder... she
should never underestimate anyone.”
“WHAT!?” screeched Minaho in horror.
“My Grandson makes a very fine point, Minaho. You were quite
reckless in engaging him. You not only disrespected him based only
on his heritage (your Grandmother will be ashamed of you, by the
way), but you also failed to pay attention to everything I said about
him. If you had, you would have known exactly how dangerous my
darling Grandson could be.”
“But... You can't do this to me!” cried out Minaho.
“It is only a scar,” Seto replied evenly. “Would you like for
me to give you a matching one on the other side?”
Mianho's eyes went wide at that, and she quickly fell silent. Her
head then fell low as she meekly acquiesced.
“Good. Now, go up to Mikagame and have that treated as we
discussed.”
“I shall do as you command, Lady Seto.” I withdrew First Cut and
cleaned the blood off with a cloth before sheathing the weapon.
Without another word, but eying me warily, Minaho got up, carefully
staunching the minor wound, and began to make her way to Mikagame.
Seto sighed as she approached. “I apologize, Garrick. That is not
at all how I hoped your first meeting would go. I'd hoped that
Minaho would have paid more attention to me and learned something
about you that she might find attractive.”
“She'll come around,” I said, sighing. “It is a shame. She
really is quite lovely.”
Seto gave me a puzzled look. “You regret giving her a scar?” she
said curiously.
I smiled back wryly. “I regret that she is a spoiled child. Scars
are different – they give a person, especially women, a certain
character. Some time I'll have to show you some of the safer
animations in my collection. Galaxy Express Three-Nine was still
considered pretty good stuff when I got zapped, and it was as old as
me at the time. A real classic. You'd love Queen Emeraldas. She's
your kind of bad ass. She has a huge facial scar that doesn't do
much to hide her beauty. Makes her intimidating as all hell,
though.”
Seto smiled. “That sounds like a good way to spend a rainy day.
Would you send me the files?”
“Sure. I'll even ask Washu-chan convert them into something
compatible.” I sighed heavily. “Shameful first impression. Did
you really have to push her that much, Grandmother?”
Seto actually blushed a bit. “Well... I might have overdone it. Just a little
bit.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Ah well. There's always Tennyo. At
least she's got a sense of humor... and nowhere nearly one as
demented as her mother's.”
“You do know that was because the poor woman was going senile.”
“Oh damn, sorry... On second thought, not quite. I bet Kiyone was
absolute hell on wheels when she was a kid, wasn't she?”
Seto rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”
I grinned. “Oh I can imagine. I wasn't much different when I was
a kid... I was just a little more...”
“Energetic?” hazarded Seto.
“Willing to do grievous harm,” I said succinctly.
Seto blinked. “I love you, Garrick, but I am not babysitting for
you.”
I could only laugh at that. It's not every day you get one over the
Devil Princess of Jyurai.
Suddenly, we were approached by a wizened looking old native of this
world.
“Excuse me, young man... But the Crown Prince claims that you are
his brother.”
“Though we are not related by blood,” I confirmed, “we do
regard each other as such. He is the Right Hand and I am the Left.”
“You don't mean that you're not in favor, do you?” asked the
elder.
“Not at all,” I replied with a genial smile. “It means that I
am the one that will gladly take the dirty work for the sake of my
new-found family.”
“I see then... that blade you carry. May I see it?”
I nodded and unsheathed First Cut once more, offering it, handle
first, to the elder. He appraised the weapon with a keen and knowing
eye, making thoughtful, positive sounds deep in his throat.
“This is good workmanship. Who forged this?”
“I did. It is my first sword, and so I have named it First Cut.”
The old man gave me a surprised look. “This weapon is at least
journeyman-level! And a seasoned one at that! For it to be your
first blade...” He then paused and gave me a hard look. “Who
was your teacher, son?”
“My teacher was Yakage of Jyurai,” I replied solemnly. “He
passed away the night after I crafted that sword.”
A distant and sorrowful look crossed the elders face. “As though
he had seen that his student was strong enough to stand on his
own...” His eyes suddenly fastened onto mine with a great
intensity. “Yes. You are definitely worthy of this, son. My
sword!” he called out.
A large man stepped forward – he was the one whose home we had
first visited, the one who we helped when his child was born. He
wore a smile on his face as he carried a carefully wrapped weapon,
and he passed it over to the elder.
“This sword,” said the old man, “is the sibling blade to the
one your brother wields. Long ago a swordsman from another world met
my predecessor, a renowned swordsmith. The two had forged a bond of
friendship and from that friendship a formidable sword discipline was
born... the very same one that you and your brother practice.
“Also, there was what you said to your brother before the fight was
to commence. You said, 'Only a sword wielded is truly a sword.'
Those were the words of the swordsman from long ago.
“With all this known, there could be no other person to wield this
weapon... Young man, this sword rightfully belongs to you. Please,
treasure it always.”
Touched at my very core, I bowed my head as I held my hands out and
accepted the gift. The ceremony complete, I carefully tucked it into
my belt next to First Cut.
“There is one other thing I must ask of you, son,” said the old
man. “We have heard of your exploits here on our world. Now that
my Grandson is one day old, he must be named. Tell us yours so he
may bear it for himself.”
I smiled. “Bring him here. I know what I must do now.” The
father nodded and waived his wife over with their son. “He is your
son,” I said with a heavy, but positive tone. “You made him
together. You will raise him together. So it is only proper that
for me to lay this burden upon him, you help him carry it together.”
In my home time-line, this sort of blessing was done within our
church by the Elders of the Priesthood, and with the child's head
anointed with consecrated olive oil for the laying of hands. This place was not home... but my intent was similar. I only hoped
that it would be smiled upon.
Knowing Tsunami, it would be.
With the mother and father carefully cradling their son between them,
I stood at his head.
“What is the name of your family?” I asked.
“Kurotsuchi,” said the father proudly.
I nodded, gently laid my hands on the infant's head, wishing him
nothing but love and blessings.
I closed my eyes and began to pray. “Humbly, I invoke your name,
Tsunami-sama, and ask that you smile upon us this day and lend your
power to me so I may grant this child a blessing...”
And then I felt her presence and I knew I had her ear.
“Garrick Kurotsuchi... I grant you my own name so you may have my
strength for all your days. Take pride in your name, child. It's
meaning is 'He that leads with a spear' – a name for a warrior
king. Though it is foreign, it is an ancient name that evokes a
sense of nobility and strength from a time when both were in short
supply. Little Garrick, my blessing to you is to be the rock that
others can hang on to for support when the skies go dark and the
flood waters rise and the tempest rages. Where there is sorrow, you
can bring joy. Where there is anger, you can bring peace. Where
there is chaos, you can bring order. Where there is ignorance, you
can bring enlightenment. Where there is fear, you can bring comfort.
“And do not be afraid yourself, child. For while you do all these
things, your people will in turn give you their strength and their
support. Let them carry you and you will never feel the weight of
your burdens. Do this and there will be joy and prosperity, even in
the most difficult times.
“Amen.”
I have always wanted to have a moment in my life where my enemies are gathered before me... and then run screaming in terror. Does this make me a bad person?