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Matsurize continued pumping the bellows, keeping the charcoal in the furnace burning the iron ore that Ayane had just forged into slightly smaller blocks. Ayane, on the other hand, was relentlessly swinging the hammer at her work.
Each piece of iron had already gone through three rounds of heating. By now, they had taken shape as rough forms of kitchen knives—blocks of black iron ready to be refined.
Ayane held two tools in her hands: one iron tongs and a smaller hammer, as the large hammer was no longer needed for the finishing touches. Matsurize could now take a short break and catch his breath.
It was around ten in the morning. By Ayane's previous estimate, Matsurize should have been exhausted half an hour ago. But Ayane was so absorbed in her work that she hadn't even noticed his endurance. And Matsurize, true to his determined nature, didn't stop; he exceeded all limits quietly, never interrupting Ayane's rhythm.
Matsurize wasn't fazed by the grueling work. His bright eyes stayed fixed on Ayane's every movement. He leaned slightly on the side of the forge platform for support, which added an air of casual elegance.
Ayane moved with precision. One hand held the iron tongs to adjust the blocks of iron, the other wielded the small hammer, striking each piece with skill. Unlike the earlier rough pounding, this phase required finesse, which Ayane executed rapidly.
In just over ten minutes, she finished. She took one block and plunged it into a water vat. Steam hissed up, and the sound of boiling water echoed in the smithy. Fifteen knife forms were completed in their rough shape. Next steps—attaching the wooden handles and sharpening—would wait. She didn't need to finish everything herself; villagers hadn't requested the knives yet.
Ayane looked at Matsurize, who was barely standing, and then at the fifteen rough knives. Noon was approaching, and Matsurize, given his frame, would soon need food.
Ayane helped him out into the yard, found a small stool for him to rest, and then went back into the forge. In a few minutes, she returned with a whetstone, placed it on the ground, and brought over the fifteen rough knives. She grabbed a pile of split wooden handles and some strong glue from the main house.
Tools ready, Ayane squatted in front of Matsurize, demonstrating how to assemble a complete knife. The other fourteen were for him to work on. Matsurize's face flushed when he noticed how squatting made Ayane's chest slightly exposed. He quickly lowered his gaze, focusing on her hands.
Ayane's movements were fast, but Matsurize was an exceptional learner. Every motion she showed, he mirrored perfectly.
Soon, Ayane had finished a knife: a yellow wooden handle, a dark iron blade, and a bright, reflective edge. Matsurize could even see the reflection of Ayane's black hair on the blade.
She held it up in front of him.
"Matsurize, ready to try?"
Matsurize nodded.
Ayane smiled in approval, placed the finished knife on a wide wooden rack in the yard, and said,
"Matsurize, leave it here when you're done, got it?"
He nodded again. Ayane then went back into the kitchen to prepare lunch. She didn't plan to teach him cooking—she enjoyed it too much to share. Matsurize picked up one of the rough knives, recalling each step of Ayane's movements.
It was as if her motions had possessed him. Every step—from sharpening the blade to attaching the wooden handle—he copied perfectly. He was a quick study; within ten minutes, all of her assigned knives were done.
Matsurize sat on the stool, resting, refraining from entering the kitchen because Ayane had asked not to be disturbed while cooking. He had worked hard all morning, especially pumping the bellows, which drained him physically. On top of that, his mind had been racing as he absorbed Ayane's lessons. His body and mind were both exhausted.
He rested quietly in the yard, regaining his strength while waiting for lunch.