Chapter 91: TKT Chapter 91 — I Just Helped Him a Little
No sooner had Kazuma spoken than Chiyoko came around from beneath the cherry trees, peeking over curiously. "What's going on? Who's here? Oh—hello, officers."
"The police returned the sword and the kasa," Kazuma replied, hoisting the plastic container full of wooden swords with one hand. Eighteen wooden swords weren't that heavy, after all.
Chiyoko hurried over, picked up the kasa, and bowed to the officers. "Thank you for your hard work."
"You're very welcome. Well then, we'll be off now, Kiryu-san, Kiryu-san." The officer saluted Kazuma and then quickly piled into the patrol car with his subordinates and drove off.
Chiyoko eyed the sword in Kazuma's hand suspiciously. "What's with this sword? Judging by the fittings, it's not cheap—and it's not one of ours, right?"
"It is now," Kazuma replied.
It took Chiyoko a second to process that. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Alright, I get it. I think we used to have a sword stand somewhere in the house, but I have no idea where it ended up... Also, if you're planning to display the sword, you'll need a hanging scroll behind it. We don't have one of those."
A proper display for a fine sword always included a hanging scroll behind it—calligraphy or a painting, ideally by a renowned artist.
The more distinguished the blade, the more particular the display.
That sort of aesthetic obsession was just part of life here in Japan.
It was exactly this penchant for refined details that had fostered Japan's massive shokunin artisan class. To be honest, the craftsmanship of these artisans wasn't necessarily superior to what factory machines could produce—but what mattered was the pursuit of excellence.
For the upper classes in Japan, embracing these aesthetics was a way of expressing status—and in turn, their patronage elevated the standing of the artisans themselves.
Take ikebana, for example. In China, if someone heard the title "master of ikebana," they might think, Isn't that just a fancy florist?
But in Japan, it was an entirely different matter. An ikebana master's classes would be attended by society ladies and young heiresses alike, and their personal contact book would be filled with the direct numbers of powerful politicians and business leaders—not just secretaries.
Having access to that contact list alone could save someone decades of effort.
The same held true for master karuta players, shogi champions, tea ceremony masters, and artisans of traditional crafts like paper fans or umbrellas—anything connected to cultural refinement. All had become integral parts of the social fabric of Japan's elite.
In his previous life, Kazuma had rather envied this system. Though it was a remnant of feudal times, it had helped preserve countless traditional crafts and cultural practices.
By contrast, in China, things like paper cutting or shadow puppetry were on the brink of extinction.
Kazuma forced himself to stop dwelling on his past life and focus on the present. In this world, such aesthetic refinement actually mattered—so he'd better start learning to appreciate music, tea, and jōruri...
I wonder if listening to modern Beijing opera would have the same effect?
In his past life, after watching In the Name of the People, Kazuma had gotten curious and listened to The Wisdom Duel from Shajia Bang. To his surprise, it was incredibly catchy—and he'd ended up binging the entire set of eight model operas from that era.
Songs like "Today We Feast on Victory Wine," "One Last Bowl of Mother's Wine, I March With Courage Untold," and "We Dare to Change the Heavens and Earth" had all fired him up.
If listening to modern Beijing opera could give me a buff, that would be perfect.
Kazuma was lost in thought when Chiyoko gave him a nudge. "Bro, the officers are gone."
"Huh? Oh. Got it."
"You've been spacing out a lot lately," Chiyoko said, concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm communing with the universe," Kazuma replied glibly.
"Liar." Chiyoko pouted and went back inside with the kasa.
Kazuma followed after her.
When they entered the dojo, the two girls inside were stunned—their eyes immediately drawn to the sword in Kazuma's hand.
"Is that... a real sword?" Mikako asked cautiously.
Kazuma set the box of wooden swords down and freed one hand. With a practiced motion, he drew the blade.
The clear, resonant ring of the blade leaving its scabbard made Mikako instinctively shrink back.
That kind of fine metallic tone triggered an instinctive response in people—much like the reaction to nails on a chalkboard.
Nanjo-san stepped forward, peering closely at the sword. "That pattern... is this an antique? From the Bizen Osafune school? But would a Bizen Osafune blade really have an Ichimonji pattern?"
Kazuma blinked in surprise. "You know about this stuff?"
"My father insists I study everything related to aristocratic life," Nanjo-san replied calmly.
Wait—swords count as part of aristocratic life? Well, yes—aristocrats were once the samurai class, and swords were a key symbol of status.
Nanjo-san continued. "Is it a modern reproduction? Genuine Bizen Osafune blades with an Ichimonji pattern are exceedingly rare—usually crafted for noble families."
At that moment, Kazuma could hear the sword humming faintly in his hand.
Nanjo-san, you'd better stop talking or this thing's going to take over and make me swing at you...
To head off any further trouble, Kazuma quickly slid the blade back into its scabbard.
The humming ceased.
Just then, Chiyoko came running out of the storage room, arms full of parts. "Found it! We still had the sword stand after all—though it's weird, since we sold the swords..."
She dropped the disassembled stand on the floor, raising a cloud of dust.
Coughing and waving her hands to clear the air, she said, "This won't do—I'll need to wash it first before I can put it together. Bro, you and the others go ahead and have lunch."
Kazuma had been called away by the police in the middle of lunch.
Gathering the parts again, Chiyoko trotted off.
"She's so energetic, Chii-chan," Mikako said, watching her leave with a smile.
"Chii-chan?"
"Of course! Girls should have cute nicknames, don't you think? Or... maybe you want one too? How about Kazuma-chan?" Mikako grinned mischievously at him.
"Hmm, not a bad idea," Kazuma replied. "If you want to call me that, go ahead."
Nanjo-san chimed in, "Kazuma-chan, let's continue eating."
"Ahhhh!" Mikako cried, pointing at Nanjo-san. "I was the one who came up with that nickname first! It was mine!"
Nanjo-san ignored her and calmly walked over to the engawa, where the bento boxes were still laid out.
Kazuma caught Mikako's eye and mouthed, I'll back you up—you said it first.
Mikako pouted and got up to follow her.
As they reached the engawa, Nanjo-san glanced back and asked, "By the way, why the sudden sword? Chiyoko said your family isn't doing well financially. That kind of antique blade must cost a fortune."
"Ah... well, it's a war trophy," Kazuma said with a wry smile. "I was doing a good deed, and the person I helped decided to give me this sword."
"I see. You must have done quite a lot for them."
Nanjo-san had returned to calling him Kazuma-kun, clearly not comfortable addressing an older boy as -chan.
"Yes," Kazuma replied cheerfully. "I was a huge help—freed him from a major source of trouble."
A very permanent kind of help.
Though... that last hit wasn't mine.
(End of Chapter)