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Ayane picked up her father's old clothes and shook the dust from each piece with care.
She turned to Ze, her tone soft and patient.
"Ze, come here. I'll teach you how to put on your clothes, alright?"
Ze nodded obediently. "Okay."
Ayane even helped him with his underwear, showing not the slightest sign of disgust or embarrassment.
She didn't care about the propriety between men and women — not now. Ze's childlike confusion stirred nothing but compassion in her.
One by one, she dressed him, explaining each step gently as she went. Her patience was endless, her voice warm.
When Ze was finally dressed, Ayane stepped back to look him over.
Despite his blank expression, there was an unmistakable grace about him — even a hint of quiet handsomeness.
He now wore a pair of light-blue jeans, a deep sapphire-checkered shirt, and brown leather shoes with rounded toes.
Ayane couldn't help but feel a tug of emotion. Though Ze didn't resemble her father physically, something about him — the calm in his posture, the way he stood — reminded her deeply of the man she'd lost.
She took his hand and led him out into the courtyard.
As they passed through the main room, Ayane instinctively slipped her sword into the sash at her waist.
Once outside, Ze's gaze immediately fixed on the blade at her hip.
The sword had no name — it was one Ayane herself had forged.
She'd never been one for collecting famous blades. Unlike most people, who obsessed over legendary swords and their rankings, Ayane believed that every blade carried its own soul and worth — no matter its reputation.
Still, she knew the world's hierarchy well enough:
Fifty Skillful Grade swords, twenty-one Great Grade, and the twelve supreme Supreme Grade Blades — the highest of all.
But it was the method used to determine these rankings that Ayane truly despised.
It was an ancient custom — one she had read about in her ancestors' records.
In those distant times, swordsmen, driven by vanity, began comparing their blades against one another.
"At first," Ayane said, her eyes distant, "it was peaceful. They'd bring their finest swords before a neutral judge and debate their merits. But over time… something darker took root."
She paused, her tone heavy.
"Someone came up with a crueler, simpler test — two blades striking each other edge to edge. Whichever blade broke was the loser, and the survivor was declared superior.
"They called it 'fair.'" She spat the word with disdain. "But to me — to any true swordsmith — it was nothing but barbarism."
She looked at the sword at her hip. "All that mattered to them was hardness. They ignored balance, craftsmanship, spirit. Countless masterpieces were shattered, lost forever — all for pride."
Her voice softened, tinged with sorrow.
"And yet, people loved it. They accepted that brutal rule. Even today, anyone who wants their blade recognized among the Eighty-Three Great Swords must 'test steel against steel' — destroying one to prove another's worth."
She sighed. "What a tragedy…"
Ze listened quietly the whole time, eyes fixed on her.
He didn't fully understand the story — but he didn't care. He just liked hearing Ayane's voice.
If she spoke, he listened. That was enough.
Ayane, caught up in her thoughts, didn't even notice his gaze.
"As a swordsmith," she continued, "I never sell a blade just because someone offers a high price. I sell it only if the buyer truly understands it. Even if they offered me a hundred million Berries — if they didn't love the sword, I wouldn't sell."
Ze grinned and nodded. "That's the spirit, Ayane."
She laughed softly and patted his head. "You're a good listener, Ze."
She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this light — maybe not since her mother had still been alive.
Then, her expression turned more serious. She drew the sword slightly from her belt, showing him the blade.
"Ze, do you like it?" she asked.
Ze looked at the blade, his answer simple and sincere.
"Yes."
Ayane smiled, touching his head again.
"Good. Every dawn, I train with my sword. The day's already too far gone, but starting tomorrow — I'll teach you how to wield one too. How does that sound?"