Sometimes, no matter where in the multiverse you go, there will always be constants.
Certain unchangeable tropes, things that simply are because how else could it be?
Take, for example, the blacksmith.
Completely breaking the standard Japanese look, these guys - if they aren't the protagonists - are generally big, burly, older men.
Their skin is, for some odd reason, tanned or bronzed, and they all share the same attitude of–
"Oi, brat!"
I jump, slightly, at my place before the anvil, my hammer slamming into the iron block instead of the yellow-orange slab held by tongs on top of it.
I let out a low growl, before calling back, "What!?"
Said stereotypical blacksmith trope old man walks to my side and leans over my shoulder to inspect my current project.
He snorts.
"Figured. Thing ain't heated up enough. But er' back in the forge."
I look at the bright metal slab, then back at him, my eyebrow twitching, "...How can you tell?"
He snorts again, as though it's obvious, "The sound. Too much groaning, not enough moaning."
The fuck does that even mean!?
Instead of saying that though, I let out a low hiss of discontent, before setting down my hammer and stepping back from the anvil.
"Fine. Gotcha." I acquiesce plainly.
"Fine….what?" He clicks his tongue back.
I sigh slowly, "Fine…" I can't help but cringe before I speak, "Sensei."
The man happily nodded regardless, "Get to it then lad." And practically skips away to do something else.
Don't know what he does before he randomly appears when I'm doing something wrong, but whatever.
I toss the slab of metal straight back into the fires of the forge, then sit my toned ass down right in front of it to keep watch.
After all, the first time I did this, and the metal melted completely, dear old sensei cooled it, pulled it out, reforged it into a rod, and threatened to shove it up said toned ass if I fell asleep in front of the forge again.
Let it be said, being a patron of blacksmiths? Doesn't make you enjoy the art.
When I came into this, I expected a lot more hitting things, and to be fair there is a good deal of that, but mostly it's been waiting.
Prepare the metal. Heat the metal. Pound it. Heat it some more. Pound it. Maybe add some different stuff, bend, reshape, or punch a hole in it. Cool it.
This is all the basic stuff though, sword forging, and reforging should be much more involved.
I hope.
Would praying to myself be allowed in this situation? Could I even bless myself for this?
Hnngh. Food for thought for later.
All in all, though, I'd say I'm making good time.
It's only been a few days since I started, and I've gone from flattening the entire anvil in a single swing to being able to control my strength precisely enough to evenly flatten out metal slabs.
Progress!
It clicks, not entirely like my swordsmanship, but close enough I would say.
Guess being the patron of blacksmiths has its perks, hmm?
I suppose my teacher isn't bad either. Suza claimed he was the best the Himejima had, and I even blessed him to make extra sure of that.
Sure, he looks like the stereotypical old man blacksmith, and his name, Katashi, fits so well that I damn near busted a gut laughing after I finally realized what it meant.
…But yeah, I can't deny he is strangely effective. In his way.
Even though I'm intentionally making this harder, by actively not using say, my eyes, or divine powers, to hurry everything along.
I could copy his movements. I could shortcut using legit divine intervention, but beyond the time that might save? Not worth it.
I want experience. Real experience. Not the easy way out.
To that end, I was willing and did originally want to use clones for this, but the stereotype smith snorted and bonked the clones into smoke with his hammer.
He refused because watching one of me was enough.
Which is fair, but still that was kind of annoying.
It's amazing how hard the guy sticks to his trope. He knows who, or at least what, I am, but continues calling me a brat and refusing to give respect to his literal god.
Respect for the brass balls old man.
But Noriaki will remember this.
Speaking of things I'll remember.
I turn the metal over in the forge, so the other side will heat properly as well.
Then, beyond that…
I close my eyes for a brief second and give an amused snort as they open back up.
Suza's still watching me, huh?
From a certain perspective, I suppose I am putting on a show, but if she keeps this up I'm going to start assuming things…
After all, my shirtlessness is purely for thematic reasons. To get into the groove of working the forge, no other reason.
Despite the fact that I'm immune to heat. Despite the fact that even then, most forges aren't underground and are, in fact, outside.
Along with several other reasons, sensei very plainly pointed out, which I don't feel like running over again.
Point is? I lied. I'm only going shirtless for flame birb.
Partly to pay her back for setting this up, partly to pay her back for blue-balling me a few days ago.
Besides, If my beating metal with a hammer somehow makes her wet, then who am I to judge?
In fact, please do. I invite it.
Because no amount of praying will get her laid, and I will curse her for her past transgressions.
Being petty is a trait all deities share, and I revel in it.
Though, in all seriousness, me and Suzaku? I'm…not sure.
Truthfully, I never thought of her like my cat girls, never really thought of adding her to my harem.
That thought makes me cringe once more, despite it being technically true.
Still feels like said girls are being treated as collectibles, though. Ugh.
I shake my head, discarding that train of thought.
Better thought? Do I like Suzaku?
Eh. Yeah? As a friend, definitely. Though, not much more than that.
I do think she's hot as sin though, and I would totally pound her so hard the vermillion bird in her soul would feel it.
It's kind of like…when I first met Kuroka, in a way.
Also, she's legitimately just better Akeno. Who wouldn't smash if they got the chance?
They look damn near identical, save their eye color, and Akeno with her half-fallen heritage is supposed to have a naturally seductive and sinful body.
I roll my eyes at that though, reaching into the forge with my pair of tongs to poke and prod at the metal.
In the end though, the most important thing? Even though I consider Suzaku as such, I won't be touching her. Not for a little while.
I refuse to be the 'rebound guy', or similar. It'd also feel rather scummy, or like I was trying to take advantage of her at her low point if I made moves on her so soon after the whole thing with Tobio.
So I can wait.
Assuming she even wants something like that in the first place.
Though, somehow, I doubt it.
I'm certain this is more or less a phase for her, and when she gets better, she'll be more or less back to normal.
Until then, I've got…heating metal to stare at.
Yaaay~...
~ A New Sun ~
One would assume someone like herself would have better things to do than watch a young man beat metal with a hammer.
The truth is, however? She doesn't.
For one, Suzaku has never truly done something non-clan related in a very long time. Years, in fact.
That was dealing with Team Slash/Dog back when it was first formed, and even then, it was still colored by her position in the clan and motives based around her clan.
She never truly realized how bad the situation was until she looked in her wardrobe.
Plenty of shrine maiden outfits, kimonos, and traditional and formal wear, but nothing that can be considered casual.
It was slightly embarrassing, but she ended up having to wear an old school uniform that she's frankly appalled still fits her.
Even if it's very snug. The bright red vest strains worryingly against her chest, and the dark red, nigh on black, skirt is a tad short…
Still! It's not like anyone will find her anyway.
"Whatcha doin' up here, nyah~?"
Suzaku damn near explodes the entire tree she's sitting in up in flames as that voice whispers into her right ear, her finger jerking in its direction before slowly turning to look at it.
There, sitting upside down on a branch above her is that cat, smirking as she eyes her.
Suzaku shoots a glare back but doesn't deign to answer the…strangely feeling yokai.
Wait. Wasn't she a reincarnated devil? Why does she…
The cat suddenly bats her nose, prompting Suzaku to flinch back slightly and halt all trains of thought.
"Hiii~? Earth to Suza-chan? Are you there, nyah~?" She waves her hand in front of her face.
Suzaku sighs, and slowly takes the cat's hand, pushing it away from her, "I heard you the first time…" she finally speaks up, cordially.
Kuroka simply tilts her head, "You sure?" She asks, before flipping and falling off the branch above, landing perfectly next to Suzaku on her branch, "Because you seemed a little distracted ya nyah~?"
Suzaku couldn't help but blink at that.
"...You mean you know?" Suzaku asked in turn.
"Ya nyah~?" The cat responded the same.
Suzaku breathed a sigh out through her nose, looking away from her and closing her eyes for good measure.
"You know."
"Ya nyah~?"
Her eyebrow twitched.
"You know."
"Ya nyah~?"
Suzaku clicked her tongue, her tone flipping in an instant, "What are you doing here!?"
Even without physically seeing her, Suzaku could feel that cat's infuriating smirk, "I dunno. I asked you first, don't ya nyahmember~?"
Suzaku looked back at Kuroka, teeth grinding, "That one didn't even make sense!" She hissed out, only to be met by the cat's amused cackles in return.
Every single time they interact, it gets like this. This cat, this bloody youkai, infuriates her.
Disregarding she's a terrorist, a yokai, all of that, she's just simply and plainly annoying to deal with.
She's pushy. She doesn't show respect. She doesn't care for things like personal space. She doesn't seem to care about anything in general!
What makes it worse is, she knows she's annoying, and brandishes it like a weapon.
"So, say, Suza-chan~?" Kuroka crawls closer to her side, "Whatcha doing watching Nori-kun like some sort of lovesick stalker, hmm~?"
Suzaku twitched at that.
Lovesick stalker…!?
"That isn't-" Suzaku quickly moves to deny it, face burning with embarrassment and indignation, but the cat puts a finger to her lips, silencing her.
"Nyah~! No need, It's okay. I get it!" Kuroka nods to herself, "You're going through some…stuff. And darling's right there, so why not, right? From what I figured out, he's like…only one of three guys you know, right?"
It's sad how accurate that is. But still-!
"You know!" The cat continues, eyeing her mischievously, "When darling got home the other day, he told me what you did!" She suddenly pouts, puffing her cheeks out, wiggling in her spot on the branch, "And he ended up taking it alll out on me!" She points at her, "You need to take responsibility, nyah~!"
Suzaku stared back at the cat, absolutely bewildered.
Darling…? Wait, that's not important, what was this about-
"So!" Kuroka stands up, and declares, "We're going to do stuff! I dunno what…but stuff!"
"Hold on now…!" Suzaku finally finds her voice, "Why would I want to do anything with you!?"
Kuroka shoots her an amused smile, "Welll…I dunno, nyah~? Do you have any other plans? With any other friends~? On this vacation of yours?"
Suzaku opens her mouth but pauses.
Pretty much all of her friends are the girls from Slash/Dog, and it goes without saying that they are all mostly unavailable right now.
As for plans…? Well. No. It'd be so much easier if a festival or something was going on, then she could just do that.
What does one usually do to relax besides lay around and drink tea anyway?
Before she knew it, the cat's knowing smirking face was very close to her, prompting Suzaku to look away once again.
"Since when were we friends…" Suzaku mutters out weakly in response at last.
Kuroka was happy to answer, "Since we tortured an Oni together, of course! Only friends torture together."
Suzaku winced at that, "But I didn't-"
"You, still, helped~!" Kuroka jovially interrupted her, "Maybe not during the meat of the operation, but you were like…my assistant! Yeah! Nyahahaha~!"
Suzaku couldn't help the full facial cringe at that attempt of a mad scientist laugh.
"Besides! I think I know where to start, at least!" Kuroka suddenly continued.
Suzaku deadpanned, "And what might that be?"
Kuroka merely reaches out and pokes the side of her chest.
The vest containing said chest promptly explodes.
The buttons fly off, and her breasts bounce freely, though are thankfully still contained in the white button-up underneath.
Still, Suzaku is quick to wrap her arm around them to contain them, then glare at the cat girl in response.
"...You don't get out much, do you, nyah~?" She chuckles.
"I get out plenty…" Suzaku fires back, though without any of the heat she usually possesses.
"Sure you do, nyah~!" Kuroka responds cheekily, "Which is why you're wearing clothes that barely fit you in anymore while watching a guy in a tree, hmm?"
Suzaku's eyebrow twitches, but she doesn't dare say anything back.
"So, we'll start with…clothes shopping~!" Kuroka waves her hand, producing sparkles above her as she speaks with a power that…doesn't feel demonic, magical, or youkai-related.
What is going on with that cat!?
As usual with the cat though, Suzaku isn't given time to ponder anything, as she's grabbed by the shoulders by the said cat, and lifted onto her feet.
"I prefer ordering online, but! I suppose we can make an event out of the whole thing! Maybe…get some food after? How's that sound, nyah~?" Kuroka looks at her expectantly.
"I…sure, I suppose…?" Suzaku responds, almost as if in a confused daze.
The cat smiles, wide and cat-like.
Ah. Why does she suddenly feel in danger?
~ A New Sun ~
Hihi'irokane.
Or, 'Brilliant Scarlet Metal' in English.
When I started abusing metals to learn how to blacksmith properly, Uzume had brought some of the stuff, but I wasn't allowed to touch any of it for obvious reasons.
Now though? It's been a couple weeks, I'd say maybe a week and a half to be more specific, of doing the same shit, over and over and over again.
Until, finally, my dear sensei let me practice with the stuff.
Which is why I'm holding a bar of the pitch-black metal, an ingot of the stuff.
Yeah, the name is a little misleading.
Though thankfully, there is a reason for it.
This bar of glossy coal is technically inert.
Right now, it's simply tougher and stronger than any mortal metal, requiring levels of heat that no normal forge can produce to soften it up enough to start working on it.
But, the key thing to note, it's just a lump of metal. Unlike my sword, it doesn't have a natural Holy Spirit Aura.
Neither does it naturally produce its opposite, a Demonic Spirit Aura.
Those are acquired during the forging process, due to the metal's other unique traits.
It's a conductor of souls, emotions, experiences, spiritual powers, the whole works.
It starts inert, but as one works with it, the emotions they have while shaping it, the experiences of their lives slam against it, channel through it, with every stroke of the hammer.
The metal remembers those feelings, and it changes and grows from them, almost as though it's alive.
I set the block of inert Hihi'irokane on the table, and grasped both the long broken piece of my sword and its hilt, from the same table holding and staring at them both.
Nobody is around right now. Not even good old stereotype sensei. Not even Suzaku, and lately, Kuroka, who've been watching me from afar.
It's just me and the fairly standard outdoor smithy in the shade.
And my broken sword.
"When I finished off the rampaging Juggernaut Drive, you gained a Dragon Slayer Aura." I spoke aloud, crazily enough, to my sword, "With every fight, a little color returns, your holy aura growing stronger and stronger…"
Uzume, if I recall correctly, said or implied the sword was made for my father by my mother.
Did she make this blade personally, then?
When he died, the blade returned to black…because she didn't take it well…
She did, didn't she?
And all the good emotions and experiences she put into it, left the blade when he passed.
"Yet, you don't even have a name…" I mutter down at the broken dark red blade.
Maybe she didn't name it, because she wanted him to name it, but he never got the chance…
Or, maybe he did, and just never told anyone?
Despite myself, I set the sword back down on the table and picked up the ingot once more.
There's an urge inside me, an urge to try and fix it now, knowing how it was, how it could technically be alive.
It's more than just any sword in my eyes, even before learning this, but now it's more so.
…I'll need to think of a name for later.
A good name, for a good, strong blade…
Ah, well. I'll have time to think about it while I try to heat up and work the metal.
I'm so close, I can feel it! Once I pass this step, I can fix up my sword, and get right back to the good stuff.
Like training of course. What else could I be talking about?
~ A New Sun ~
"Boy…you sure about this?" The old blacksmith sits in a chair, under the shade by the forge, as I stand outside in the sunlight.
As time pressed on, minutes into hours, hours into barely a few more days, that urge continued to grow.
The urge to fix the sword, make it whole again.
It grew, until the point where I couldn't stop thinking about it anymore, and I blitzed through the rest of my training as fast as my teacher could keep up.
In one hand, I hold the pieces of my sword, while in the other hand, I hold a thin straight bar of raw, inert Hihi'irokane.
The new material is meant to replace what was lost when Susanoo cut through it, while additionally adding my personal touch to the blade.
"Not entirely, no." I voice, uneasily, "But I can't wait on this any longer."
The old man huffed, "Well…I ain't gonna stop you. But if you mess something up…" he let hang, and I chuckled in response.
"I know old man. I won't."
He snorts back at that, before starting back up, "...Wait a minute, what'd you call me–"
I promptly ignored him and focused.
Just because I foregoed using my power during training, doesn't mean I would be doing the same during the forging.
If I want to make sure this succeeds and goes right, I'm going to need to use them, there's no point doing everything by hand.
Especially since the whole training thing was meant to better facilitate using said powers in the first place.
The star in my chest thrums, and my Holy Spirit Power explodes out around me, congregating intensely on the pieces of my sword first.
As if animated, the two halves slowly lift from my hand at my will and begin floating before me as they slowly start glowing, not from its aura or power, but from heat.
Meanwhile, I take the inert metal between both of my hands, pressing it between my palms almost as though I'm praying with it.
I haven't even checked if Suzaku and Kuroka are watching right now, that's how spontaneous this decision was, and to be truthful, I don't care at the moment.
Going even further, I'm glad they aren't, especially for this step, because I'd rather not find out what pouring the emotion of horny into the metal would do to it.
In any event, the Holy Spirit Power flows through it just the same, but unlike my sword which I merely heat up, I pump my everything through the metal.
Not my powers though, no. Inside my head, I run through some of the greatest, happiest memories in this life of mine.
When Uzume taught me to dance.
When I first met Kuroka and all the times spent with her.
When I first met Shirone and all the time spent with her.
Meeting my Grandfather on my father's side, and my Grandmother on my mother's.
Trying to avoid the sexual stuff wasn't hard - heh - though I did include that one memory from after my fight with Vali.
That one was most certainly more lovey-dovey after all.
I didn't stop running through memories, until I opened my eyes, and beheld a golden glowing star between my hands.
That's probably enough there.
By this point, my sword was glowing a red hot crimson color, as if it was made of the flames it was usually coated in.
With a wave of my hand, the two pieces repositioned themselves, the broken top half over the bottom and hilt, with a small space between the two halves.
It's in this space, that like a puzzle piece, I slot in my addition; my glowing golden star.
Like a pair of magnets, the two halves converged on the newly inserted center, and as soon as they touched?
There was light.
A bright, golden light, as though a second sun popped into existence right in my face.
Despite this and the holler from the old man behind me, I pressed on, my eyes easily making out the now entirely white-gold glowing blade looking like a singular strand of the purest sunlight, making up the core of this impromptu light show.
I reach out, grasping the sword's hilt with one hand, while dragging a pair of fingers along the edge of the blade.
Like water, the blade ripples, before settling.
I breathe deeply, before sliding my fingers across the edge once again.
This time, sparks of power fly as the blade ripples and shifts, ever so slightly.
So I do it again. And again. And again.
I channel my powers, my aura, and my breath, as I shape the blade into its proper shape using the stroke of my fingertips and sheer divine will.
Until, at some point, it simply feels right, and I stop.
With a mental command, and release of breath, all heat, and with it all the light, is released.
In its place, I hold up an odachi with a blade of brilliant scarlet red, glimmering as the sunlight beats down upon it.
I give the blade an experimental swing.
Due to the added material, the blade is slightly thicker and slightly heavier, but due to divine bullshit I assume, the balance is just right…
"Well…" I perk up, as the old smith's voice finally breaks into my ears, "I'll be damned…you actually managed it."
I turn to face him, right as he walks up to me, he looks at the sword and gives it a whistle.
I waved him off, "Well, yeah, of course I did. I cheated. And you helped a ton, preparing me for this."
He snorted at that, "I didn't see any hammer there during all that…not like I could see much of anything."
I shrug, "It was more like…a feeling of the real thing? But more?" I try and describe, before rubbing the back of my head, "Or something like that. Let's just call it divine bullshit."
"Divine bullshit indeed." He nods in agreement, "Doing this after only a couple of weeks, can only be that, or a miracle."
I deadpanned at the old guy for that before he shook his head and continued, "You know, I ain't ever asked before, but that blade if yours got a name?"
I tilt my head at that.
I had been thinking about it, but…
Hmm. A singular strand of sunlight…
"Odoru Taiyōkō-sen." The name rolls off the tongue as soon as that image enters my mind.
Dancing Ray of the Sun.
My sword sparkles gold, its aura bubbling slightly at the impromptu naming.
The old smith nods slowly at my words, satisfied, "A bit chunni, but it's a good name."
My eyebrow twitches as I consider testing the reforged and freshly named sword right now.
~ A New Sun ~
All in all, I'm glad fixing my sword wasn't some sort of adventure or quest like Yomi was.
One of the many good things about living in this world over, say, the Riordanverse.
I claim to revel in the petty, but the gods over there live and breathe the stuff.
Anyhow, time passes at, what feels like, an incredibly rapid rate.
I don't know, maybe being in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber Lite messed with my biological clock for a bit, but days and weeks turned into months.
Two more months, in particular. Or I suppose two actual months, now?
By the time I was done with fixing my sword, it was the start of June.
Kind of insane to think about, but Ibaraki, Yomi, all that? Took place in a single month's timeframe.
So the break was appreciated.
Granted, it's not like the time was entirely devoid of things to do, or things happening.
I went around doing my chores, reimplementing Kagu's blessings and power at shrines.
Enemies did show up, mostly Oni looking to prove themselves, strays, and so forth.
All minor small fry though.
Suzaku eventually had to get back to work, but she's been getting dragged around a lot by Kuroka lately, especially back to our place.
Odd friendship, but okay?
Then August rolls around.
Nothing has been going on in Kuoh, so I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that trouble shows up at my doorstep.
I woke up one earlier August morning, to find a fluffy pink fox sitting on my chest.
Almost as soon as I blinked away the crust in my eyes, the little thing opened up its mouth and asked in a voice I hadn't heard in a long time.
"So, Noriaki-san? Do you have room around this place for a big eight-legged warhorse?" The fox asks rather neutrally, tilting its head slightly as it eyes me.
I blink slowly.
"...Well good morning to you too, Lady Inari." I state plainly, before leaning my head back, and promptly trying to go right back to sleep.
"Hmm? Noriaki…! Hold it!" The fox immediately starts batting me across the face, like a cat.
Unfortunately. I live with a cat, sometimes two.
So I fall back asleep with a blissful smile across my face.
I'm going to enjoy what little time I have left now before the Norse come early and ruin it all!