The world smelled of smoke again.Not the good kind — not the sharp, sacred scent of metal and flame that filled Taiki's forge —but the bitter, choking kind that clung to the ruins of villages.
He walked down a dirt road littered with broken kunai and torn banners.The air was heavy with the silence that followed violence.
"So it begins again," he thought.Different names, same greed. Same steel.
From behind a half-burned wall, two young shinobi whispered.Their headbands bore different symbols — one of Konoha, one of Iwagakure —But exhaustion had blurred the lines of loyalty.
"Hey… old man," one of them said, his voice trembling but curious."You with either side?"
Taiki glanced at them. His coat was singed, his hammer strapped across his back.He looked like a wanderer — or a relic.
"I'm with whoever still remembers what peace sounds like," he said quietly.
The two blinked, unsure whether to laugh or bow.The older one — barely in his twenties — tried to stand straighter. "That's not how the world works, old man."
Taiki tilted his head. "Then maybe it's the world that's broken. Not me."
The younger ninja scoffed. "You talk like a monk."
He gave a faint grin. "I talk like a blacksmith who's buried too many swords."
The words hit harder than he expected. The older shinobi lowered his gaze. "Buried…?"
Taiki looked past them, toward the battlefield on the horizon."Steel remembers what men forget. Every time you swing a blade, it carries the weight of everyone who's ever fallen to it. That's why I stopped making weapons that only take."
The younger one frowned. "Then what do you make now?"
Taiki's eyes narrowed slightly, glancing at the faint shimmer on his wrist — the system rune pulsing once, like a heartbeat."I make choices," he said simply. "And sometimes, they're sharper than steel."
A gust of wind blew through, carrying the smell of iron and ash.The younger ninja coughed. "You're weird, old man. You talk like you're from another time."
Taiki gave a soft chuckle. "Maybe I am."
[System Notice: "Observation Points +5. Dialogue Insight: 'Temporal Displacement – Concealed.'"]
He ignored the message, but his mind stirred. The System was listening more now — learning from every word he spoke, every person he met.
As he passed the two shinobi, the older one called out,"Hey… if you're really a blacksmith, there's a camp near the river. We're low on weapons. You'd be safe there."
Taiki paused mid-step, not turning around."I don't want to be safe," he said softly."I want to be useful."
The older ninja hesitated, then nodded silently, as if understanding something he couldn't explain.
Hours later —
The campfire flickered weakly beside the riverbank.Taiki sat alone, his hammer resting beside him, his latest blade half-finished on a stone.He looked at the steel's surface — and for a moment, saw faces in the reflection.Daigo. His lost apprentices. The village from his old life.
Then — a voice, faint and hollow, whispered from the fire.
"You carry them still…"
Taiki's hand froze. The System didn't make that sound.The voice was older. Sadder. Familiar in a way that made his chest tighten.
"Who's there?" he said, his tone calm but edged with tension.
The flames rippled, and a shape appeared — the faint image of a mask, half-broken, half-formed from smoke and light.
"You forge blades that remember," it said. "But do you remember what they were meant to protect?"
Taiki's jaw clenched. "You're no spirit. You're a test."
"Call me what you wish," the voice replied. "But every flame needs a shadow to define it."
The image flickered, and the fire dimmed.
[System Alert: "Unknown Entity Detected – Source: Flame Fragment Residue."]
Taiki stared into the cooling embers."So even the fire keeps secrets now," he muttered.
He looked up at the stars — faint through the smoke-choked sky.
"Then I'll just have to forge the truth myself."
[Quest Updated: The Ash Forge – Progress 3%.][New Objective: Investigate Flame Fragment Residues near the Riverfront.]
As the wind howled and the embers faded, Taiki picked up his hammer again.The sound of steel striking stone echoed through the night —a rhythm that refused to die, even in a world buried in war.
End of Chapter 19 (Part I)