"Of course."
Senju Haruto casually drew the asauchi from his waist and handed it over.
What he didn't expect was the other man's reaction—extremely respectful, accepting the blade with both hands.
The blacksmith gripped the hilt carefully, his eyes drawn to the silver-white blade. His fingers twitched as if eager to touch the metal, but he didn't dare.
"I need a saya—a scabbard," Haruto said directly.
That single sentence left the blacksmith stunned.
"A… saya?"
He sucked in a sharp breath, wondering if he'd misheard.
By now, his apprentices had gathered around.
Never before had they seen their master handle a blade with such reverence.
It was no exaggeration—he barely spared a glance even for the swords worn by famous samurai, yet here he was, holding this one like a priceless treasure.
The apprentices, too, found their eyes glued to the weapon. Each one rubbed their eyes as if doubting their vision, sucking in cold breaths of air.
Only then did Haruto realize the situation.
True, his zanpakutō was still in its asauchi form… but it had been forged by the Phoenix Hall's master craftsman, Nimaiya Ōetsu.
The only shinigami ever to be called the "God of the Sword."
A tachi forged by his hands naturally surpassed the limits of human craftsmanship.
Thinking this, Haruto finally understood the blacksmith's reaction.
"Really? You'll make one?"
The blacksmith's voice trembled with excitement. "Ah—where are my manners? My name is Ichikaku, chief blacksmith of the Land of Iron. The sword Lord Mifune carries… I forged it myself."
"Mifune?" Haruto murmured.
That was a name he knew well.
General Mifune was the leader of the Land of Iron's samurai, holding a position in his country equivalent to a Kage in the great shinobi nations.
During the Fourth Great Ninja War, he had even defeated Hanzō of the Salamander—a clear testament to his skill.
Haruto hadn't expected the random forge he stepped into to belong to the top smith in the entire nation.
No… On second thought, it made sense.
Tomorrow was the Twin Kage Summit. While Haruto himself wasn't yet famous in the shinobi world, Hiruzen Sarutobi was a hero among ninja.
Mifune would hardly neglect such an important guest.
The place Ichikaku had taken them to rest was the best inn in the Land of Iron—so having the finest blacksmith nearby was hardly surprising.
"Yes," Haruto said, glancing at the various blades displayed in the shop. "I just need a saya. Carrying it at my waist like this isn't exactly convenient. If you have one ready-made, that'd be even better."
"Ready-made?"
Ichikaku blinked at him, then followed Haruto's gaze to the scabbards hanging on the wall—rejected stock, failed works. His mouth worked soundlessly.
Was this guy serious?
A saya to a blade was like clothing to a person—it didn't just protect; it reflected status, taste, and craftsmanship.
And those scraps on the wall were utterly unworthy of housing this tachi.
In fact, using them would only tarnish its perfection.
Then realization struck Ichikaku.
From Haruto's clothing, it was clear he wasn't from the Land of Iron but merely passing through.
If he truly knew nothing about swords, he'd never have come into possession of such a masterpiece.
This was a test—a way to see if Ichikaku was worthy to craft for this blade.
"With all respect, an ordinary saya would never suit such a beautiful weapon."
He was carefully forming his words to give the perfect answer when another voice interrupted.
Haruto turned—and saw familiar faces.
Ninja from the Hidden Cloud Village—Hii, and… one of their jinchūriki, the Two-Tails' host, Yugito Nii.
Though both looked younger than he remembered—especially Yugito. She hadn't yet developed that commanding, queen-like presence; instead, she had a softer, almost cute demeanor.
The speaker was Hii—short, bright blond hair and a slightly youthful face.
If Haruto recalled correctly, Hii should be only in his mid-teens at this point.
He'd expected the Raikage's entourage to include Cloud ninja he didn't recognize. But then again, in the world of shinobi, it wasn't strange for teenagers to stand on their own.
Kakashi had become a jōnin at eleven. Uchiha Itachi had wiped out his entire clan at thirteen. Gaara had already become Kazekage by Hii's age.
What did feel odd was that Hii's partner here wasn't Darui, but Yugito.
The Fourth Raikage had called Hii and Darui his right and left hands—so was Darui with the Raikage right now?
"You're right," Ichikaku said, agreeing wholeheartedly with Hii's remark. "Please, trust me. I can forge a saya worthy of this weapon!"
With that, Ichikaku bowed deeply to Haruto, holding the pose as if awaiting permission.
His apprentices followed suit, voices ringing as they pleaded for the honor of the job.
Haruto watched them, unable to fully grasp Ichikaku's emotions but sensing he was trustworthy.
"How much will it cost?" Haruto asked. After all, it was only fair to pay for the work.
At that, Ichikaku's head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief.
To him, being allowed to craft for this weapon was an unprecedented honor—how could he possibly accept payment?
"No, no, no…"
He shook his head furiously, voice resolute. "Forging a saya for this tachi is honor enough."
Hii, however, looked at Haruto with an almost baffled expression.
To him, Haruto clearly lacked an understanding of proper sword etiquette. And his behavior was strange—walking the streets at his age with such a weapon… wasn't he afraid someone might covet it?
"Young man," Hii said, stepping forward without hesitation. "Would you be willing to sell that blade to us?"
Haruto: "???"
"Just name your price." Hii pulled out a money pouch, his tone making it clear he was determined to have that asauchi.