Twenty years. Twenty years of hell, of brutal survival, of countless losses, and of a loneliness that corroded the soul. Thiago, in his first life, had become a ghost, a silent survivor in a world torn apart byPlague that devastated the landHe had learned to fight, to kill, to hide, but it was a desperate struggle, with no purpose beyond the next day. It was in this bleak future, when he was already in his early twenties, that fate led him to a small, fortified village hidden in the mountains, a refuge of tradition amidst the chaos. There, among the ruins of a forgotten civilization, he heard whispers of a master blacksmith, a man who forged blades with ancient secrets, a sanctuary of knowledge in a world of ignorance. It was also in this future that Thiago achieved an unprecedented feat: he was the only human being to reach Level 9, a plateau of power and understanding that set him apart from all other survivors, a secret he carried with him from the past.
The journey to Hiroshi's forge was arduous, a journey through desolate landscapes where nature, corrupted by the Plague, had become as dangerous as the infected themselves. Mutant plants with grasping tentacles, deformed and aggressive animals, and the oppressive silence that preceded the growl of a distant horde. Thiago, thin and marked by the scars of survival, arrived at the village almost instinctively, guided by a faint hope of finding something more than just a weapon. He sought knowledge, a way to fight with purpose, to understand the world around him.
Hiroshi's forge wasn't like the shops Thiago had visited in his first life. It was a simple structure made of dark wood and stone, camouflaged among the trees and rocks, nearly invisible to the unwary eye. There were no wind chimes at the entrance, just a heavy wooden door that creaked softly when opened, revealing an interior that seemed to belong to another era. The air was thick with the smell of burning metal, charcoal, and an earthy, mineral aroma Thiago couldn't quite place. The heat from the forge furnace at the back of the room, a pulsing orange glow, was an invitation amidst the cold and desolation of the outside world. The walls were dark wood, polished by time and smoke, and displayed a few but significant forging tools, hung with precision. In one corner, a small altar with incense burned gently, releasing a woody aroma that mingled with the other smells of the forge.
Behind a sturdy workbench covered in tools and scraps of metal stood Hiroshi. He looked even older than the first time Thiago had seen him, his fine white hair tied in a small bun at the nape of his neck. His hands, wrinkled and calloused, were those of a craftsman who had spent his life shaping metal. His eyes, dark and deep, shone with a calm intelligence and ancient wisdom, as if they had seen centuries of history. He was polishing a small dagger with a silk cloth, his movements precise and rhythmic. He looked up when Thiago entered, a barely perceptible nod.
"Welcome," Hiroshi's voice was soft but carried a quiet authority, with a pronounced Japanese accent. "What brings you here, young traveler?"
Thiago, in his rudimentary Japanese, learned from ancient books found in ruined libraries, replied, "I... I seek knowledge, sir. And a blade that can cut through the spreading darkness." He gestured to the sword he carried, a common combat knife, worn and dull.
Hiroshi looked at the knife, then at Thiago, his eyes piercing the young man's soul. He could see the exhaustion, the pain, but also a flame of determination. He nodded slowly. "Knowledge is a weapon sharper than any blade, young man. And the darkness... it runs deep. Come. Sit." He gestured to a small wooden bench near the oven, where the heat was most intense.
Thiago sat, feeling the heat from the furnace warm his weary bones. Hiroshi continued to work for a while, the sound of the hammer and the glow of the glowing metal creating an almost hypnotic atmosphere. Finally, he set the metal aside and turned to Thiago.
"You speak my language, albeit with difficulty," Hiroshi observed, his voice soft. "Why do you struggle with it in a world where communication is a luxury?"
"Out of respect, sir," Thiago replied, his voice a little firmer. "Respect for your art, for your wisdom. And because, in my dreams, I saw that understanding the culture, the essence, is as important as the strength of the blade."
A slow, enigmatic smile formed on the old blacksmith's lips. "Dreams, you say? The world is full of signs for those who know how to see, young man. And the truth... it reveals itself to those who seek with an open heart. To understand the culture and respect their weapon, you must know how to speak the language and know how to respect the culture. Language is not just a set of sounds; it is the soul of a people, the essence of their wisdom. The blade is not just metal; it is an extension of their spirit. How can you master the blade if you do not master the soul that created it?"
And so began Thiago's journey with Hiroshi. It wasn't formal training, but a total immersion. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. Thiago spent his mornings helping Hiroshi in the forge, learning the secrets of metal, the dance of fire and hammer, the patience required to shape steel. He learned to sense the temperature of the metal by its color, to hear the right sound of the hammer, to polish a blade until it reflected the soul of the forger.
Hiroshi wasn't just a master blacksmith; he was a philosopher, a guardian of ancient wisdom. He taught Thiago about Bushido, the way of the warrior, not as a code of combat, but as a philosophy of life. Discipline, honor, loyalty, courage, and compassion. "The sharpest blade is useless in the hands of an impure heart," Hiroshi would say, as Thiago incessantly polished a blade, his muscles aching but his mind focused.
And Japanese. Hiroshi insisted that Thiago speak only Japanese at the forge. At first, it was a struggle. Thiago stumbled over words, his grammar was flawed, his pronunciation hesitant. But Hiroshi was patient, correcting him gently but firmly. He taught Thiago not just the words, but the nuances, the subtleties of the language, the way words connected to the culture, the history, the soul of Japan. "The word for 'respect' in Japanese is not just a word, young man. It's a feeling, a posture, a way of being. You must feel it when you speak, when you act, when you wield your blade."
Thiago learned about the tea ceremony, calligraphy, the art of ikebana, and flower arrangement. He learned about the beauty in imperfection, the transience of life, and the acceptance of fate. Hiroshi told stories of legendary samurai, not only about their prowess in battle, but also about their discipline, their honor, and their connection with nature. He taught Thiago to meditate, to calm his mind, to find center amidst the chaos. "A calm mind is the sharpest blade," Hiroshi repeated, as Thiago sat in silence, trying to silence the whirlwind of thoughts about the apocalypse outside.
Over the years, Thiago's Japanese became fluent. He didn't just speak the language, he felt it, he lived it. He could converse with Hiroshi about philosophy, the art of forging, the nature of existence, with a depth few Westerners could achieve. His pronunciation was impeccable, his vocabulary vast, and his understanding of cultural nuances profound. He had become a true apprentice, not just to a blacksmith, but to a master of life.
Hiroshi's forge, though a refuge, was not immune to the realities of the outside world. Occasionally, travelers passed through the village, bringing news of hordes, of ruined cities, of new threats. Hiroshi listened silently, his eyes deep, and then returned to his work, honing his blades, as if knowing each hammer blow was a prayer for survival. Thiago, for his part, applied what he learned at the forge to his own survival. Discipline, patience, precision—all of it made him a more effective fighter, a more cunning survivor. He used the knives Hiroshi forged, feeling the difference in the special metal, the way they cut with frightening ease, even through the toughest flesh.
The relationship between Thiago and Hiroshi evolved from master and student to something deeper, a connection that transcended age and culture. Hiroshi saw in Thiago not just a talented apprentice, but a resilient spirit, someone who, despite having seen hell, still sought light, honor, and purpose. Thiago, in turn, saw in Hiroshi a father, a mentor, a beacon of wisdom in a world of darkness. They shared simple meals, hot tea, and comfortable silences, mutual understanding filling the space between them.
Hiroshi spoke of the legendary "THE KATANA, THE EMPEROR'S KATANA," not as a sales pitch, but as an ideal, a blade of unparalleled power, forged from materials that transcended the ordinary. "It is made from the metal of celestial rocks that fell to Earth centuries ago, young man," Hiroshi explained, as Thiago observed the blade in its stand, its deep, dark gleam. "And with crystals of a peculiar origin, purified and infused into the metal. They give the blade a hardness and cutting ability that no ordinary steel can match. It can cut through materials of unusual hardness and density, as if they were butter. And its unique composition... grants it a resilience and resistance to corruption that are unmatched. This blade does not break, does not rust, does not lose its edge. It is an extension of the will of its wielder." Thiago listened, absorbing every word, knowing that one day, he would wield that blade.
The years passed, and Thiago became a master of his own art, a silent warrior, a connoisseur of culture and the blade. He could perform the most complex maintenance on weapons, sharpen them with the precision of a surgeon, and wield them with the fluidity of a dancer. He had learned to respect life and death, to fight with honor, and to survive with wisdom.
The moment of Thiago's departure from Hiroshi was bittersweet. He knew he had to return, that his mission in the past awaited him. Hiroshi, his eyes deep, simply nodded. "The path you have chosen is arduous, young man. But you are ready. Remember what you have learned here. Remember that true strength lies not in the blade alone, but in the heart that wields it. Go. And fulfill your destiny." He handed Thiago a small, polished stone, a simple talisman. "To remind you that even in the darkness, the light of tradition and wisdom can guide you."
Thiago bowed deeply, a bow of respect and gratitude, and left the forge, the bamboo wind chime tinkling softly behind him. He felt the weight of responsibility, but also an unwavering determination. The night would be long, and dawn would bring hell. But this time, they would be ready. THE KATANA—THE EMPEROR'S KATANA—was more than a weapon; it was a symbol of hope, a promise that this time, they would fight. And Thiago, with Hiroshi's wisdom in his heart and fluent Japanese in his mind, was ready to face whatever came.