“The first three swings were my first time.” Guy answered honestly.
The corner of Uchiha Tōya’s mouth twitched.
He learned it in three swings?
He looked into Guy’s eyes.
Those eyes were bright, but calm.
No pride, no showing off.
As if he’d just done something completely ordinary.
Uchiha Tōya suddenly remembered something Obito’s mother had once said.
“True geniuses aren’t born knowing everything.
They just learn faster than anyone else.” He looked at those ten billets.
Each one was better than the last.
The final one was better than what many apprentices who’d been at it for a year could produce.
He looked at Guy again.
This kid was only seven!
“Uncle?” Obito edged closer and asked cautiously: “So…
can he stay?” Uchiha Tōya ignored him.
He looked at Guy.
“You said no pay, just one meal a day?” Guy nodded.
“Yes.” “Any other conditions?” Guy thought for a moment.
“Three things.” Uchiha Tōya raised an eyebrow: “Go on.” “First, I’ll come after school every day.
Dinner will be here.” Uchiha Tōya nodded: “Fine.” “Second, after work, I want to use the leftover time to practice my sword here.” Uchiha Tōya blinked: “Practice sword?” Guy nodded.
“Practice sword.
Using the defective rejects or the scrap metal is fine.” Uchiha Tōya looked at the pile of scrap in the corner.
Those were things he normally threw away as garbage.
This kid wanted that?
“Fine.
I was going to toss them anyway.
Take whatever you want.” “Third.” Guy looked at him.
“Give me a one-month trial.
After a month, if you think I’m good enough, I’ll keep working.
If not, I’ll leave.” Uchiha Tōya was silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled.
A smile he hadn’t worn in a long time.
“Done.
That’s the deal.” He extended his hand.
Guy extended his.
Slap.
A big hand and a small one clasped together.
Obito watched from the side, suddenly remembering something.
He opened his mouth, about to speak.
But he glanced at Guy and closed it again.
Forget it.
It was only a month.
At worst, he’d only be losing one month’s worth.
That evening.
Guy sat in the corner of the shed, a large bowl in front of him.
The bowl was piled high with rice, topped with two grilled fish, a heap of pickled vegetables, and a large scoop of miso soup.
He picked up his chopsticks.
And dug in.
Uchiha Tōya sat nearby, wiping his sweat as he watched Guy eat.
First bowl: thirty seconds.
Second bowl: forty seconds.
Third bowl: one minute.
Fourth bowl.
Fifth bowl.
Sixth bowl.
Uchiha Tōya’s wiping motion stopped.
He looked at the stack of empty bowls, then at Guy’s stomach.
How was that stomach still flat?
“Uncle.” Obito sidled up and whispered.
“I…
forgot to tell you something.” Uchiha Tōya turned to look at him.
“What?” Obito swallowed.
“Guy…
eats a lot.” Uchiha Tōya blinked.
“I know that.
It’s normal, right?
He worked half a day.
Six bowls is—” Before he could finish— Seventh bowl.
Eighth bowl.
Ninth bowl.
Guy picked up the tenth bowl.
Uchiha Tōya’s mouth fell open.
He looked at the mountain of empty bowls, then at Guy’s still-chewing face.
He suddenly felt a pang of concern for himself.
This kid…
Could eat three people’s worth of food in one meal?
Guy finished the tenth bowl and set down his chopsticks.
He looked up and saw Uchiha Tōya’s frozen expression.
He grinned, giving a thumbs-up.
“Thanks for the meal!” Uchiha Tōya’s mouth twitched.
He wanted to say something.
But looking at Guy’s sincere eyes, he swallowed it back down.
Forget it.
He’d promised one meal.
It was just a few extra bowls.
He looked down at the stack of empty bowls.
Ten bowls.
This kid…
Could really pack it away.
The next day after school.
Guy showed up at the shed on time.
Third day.
Fourth day.
Fifth day.
He came every day.
Work first, then sword practice.
He’d dig broken ninja tool fragments out of the scrap pile and practice the Broken Precept Blade forms over and over.
Sometimes he’d practice until midnight.
When Uchiha Tōya packed up and went home, he could still hear the whoosh of a blade cutting through the air from the backyard.
And so.
Another month passed.
One evening.
Obito dropped by after school.
He pushed open the door.
The yard looked the same as always.
The shed blazed with fire, the CLANG CLANG CLANG of hammering echoing through the air.
He poked his head inside.
Guy stood at the anvil, shirt off, swinging the hammer.
A month ago, his frame had been somewhat thin.
Now, clear muscle lines were visible.
The nutrition was finally catching up.
Sweat ran down his back, dripping onto the ground with a sizzle.
The iron billet under his hands was slowly taking shape.
Not a kunai blank.
The rough form of a short sword.
The blade edge was evenly thick and thin, the body straight, the handle’s curve smooth and rounded.
Obito’s jaw dropped.
He made this?
CLANG!
The final strike landed.
Guy clamped the short sword and plunged it into the bucket.
HISSSSS— Steam rose.
He picked up the blade and examined it under the light.
He nodded in satisfaction.
Then he turned and saw Obito.
“Oh, you’re here?” Obito blinked.
“That sword…
you made that?” Guy tossed it to him.
“Just finished.
Tell me what you think.” Obito fumbled to catch it.
He looked down.
The blade was smooth, the edge sharp, and even the non-slip grooves on the handle were neatly carved.
He tested the edge with his finger.
“Hiss—” A cut appeared on his finger.
Guy grinned.
“Careful.
It’s not sharpened yet, but it’s still plenty sharp.” Obito stared at the cut, then at Guy.
One month.
Just one month.
This guy went from knowing nothing about forging to making this?
“Where’s my uncle?” Obito asked.
Guy pointed toward the backyard.
“He’s out back sorting scrap.” Obito walked around.
The backyard wasn’t large, but it was piled high with all kinds of scrap.
Broken ninja tools, ruined billets, warped iron pieces.
Uchiha Tōya crouched there, holding a defective kunai he’d just ruined.
He turned it over and over in his hands.
“Uncle?” Uchiha Tōya looked up.
“Obito.” He stood up, dusting off his hands.
“Here to see your classmate?” Obito nodded and pointed toward the front yard.
“So…
how’s he doing?” Uchiha Tōya was silent for two seconds.
Then he looked toward the front yard.
Through the gaps in the shed, Guy’s figure was visible.
He was picking up another iron billet, starting the next piece.
His movements were as smooth as someone who’d been doing this for years.
“This kid…” Uchiha Tōya began.
Obito perked up his ears.
“He really eats a lot.” Obito nodded.
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to say—” “But—” Uchiha Tōya cut him off.
“The work he does is also really good.” Obito blinked.
Uchiha Tōya handed him the defective kunai.
Obito took it and looked.
It was ruined because a small piece had chipped off the blade edge.
But everywhere else, it was impossibly neat.
“Do you know what he’s making now?” Uchiha Tōya asked.
Obito shook his head.
“Ninja tool blanks,” Uchiha Tōya said.
“Kunai, shuriken, short swords.
All finished blanks—ready for other smiths to use directly.” He paused.
“Those jobs used to be done by hired genin.
One person a month, pay of twenty thousand ryo, room and board included.
Making three hundred blanks a month was considered good work.” Obito blinked.
“And Guy?” Uchiha Tōya looked at him.
“This kid.
In one month, he made eight hundred.” Obito’s jaw dropped.
Eight hundred?
Nearly three times what a genin could do!
“And—” Uchiha Tōya pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.
The paper was covered in dense handwriting.
“Take a look.” Obito took it.
The paper had dates on the left, numbers on the right.
Day 1: 27 (crooked) Day 2: 35 (fewer crooked) Day 3: 42 (passing) Day 4: 48 …
Day 27: 88 Day 28: 90 Day 29: 93 Day 30: 97 At the bottom, a line written in red ink: [Total: 824.
Pass Rate: 97.3%.] Obito’s hand trembled slightly.
A 97% pass rate?
That meant out of the 824 blanks Guy had made, only a little over twenty were rejects?
He looked up at Uchiha Tōya.
Uchiha Tōya was watching the front yard.
That green figure was still busy in the shed.
“What time does he stay till every day?” Obito asked.
Uchiha Tōya was silent for a moment.
“Yesterday, when I left at eleven, he was still here.” “The day before?” “Midnight.” “The day before that?” “One in the morning.” Obito didn’t ask any more.
He suddenly remembered the thoughts he’d had a month ago, standing right here.
“It’s only a month.” “At worst, I’ll only lose one month’s worth.” Now that month was up.
He looked at Uchiha Tōya.
“So…
will you keep him?” Uchiha Tōya didn’t answer.
He turned and walked toward the front yard.
Obito followed.
They reached the edge of the shed.
Guy had just finished one blank and was about to pick up the next.
Uchiha Tōya spoke: “Might Guy.” Guy stopped and turned to look at him.
“Yeah?” Uchiha Tōya looked at him, silent for a few seconds.
Then he said: “Tomorrow, keep coming.” Guy blinked.
“I thought it was a one-month trial—” “The trial’s over.” Uchiha Tōya cut him off.
“You passed.” Guy blinked.
Then he grinned.
Thumbs-up.
“Thanks!” Uchiha Tōya waved his hand.
“Enough talk.
Get back to work.
This batch is urgent.” Guy nodded.
He turned back to the anvil.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
The hammering resumed.
Uchiha Tōya stood and watched for a while.
Then he pulled a cloth bundle from his pocket.
He tossed it to Guy.
“Catch.” Guy caught it with one hand and opened it.
It was a short sword.
Not a blank.
A real sword.
The blade gleamed coldly, the handle wrapped in black hemp rope.
“This is…” Guy looked up.
Uchiha Tōya was already walking toward the exit.
He spoke as he walked.
“A defective reject.
Usable, but not worth selling.
Good for your practice.” He reached the door and paused.
“Saves you from sneaking in here early every morning and disturbing my rest.” Then he pushed the door open and left.
Guy looked down at the blade in his hands.
There was indeed a small flaw mark on the blade—an imperfection left from forging.
But compared to those scraps, this blade was far superior.
He gripped the handle.
He gave it a swing.
It felt right.
Obito sidled over and looked at the blade.
“This isn’t really a defective, is it?” Guy grinned.
“I know.” “Then you…” Guy gave a thumbs-up, teeth gleaming.
“I won’t let Uncle’s kindness go to waste!” Then he turned back to the anvil.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Obito stood to the side, watching that hammer-swinging back.
Then he looked toward the backyard.
Suddenly, he felt a little envious.
This guy…
Wherever he went, people wanted to help him.
He remembered a month ago, when Guy had said he wanted to work here.
He remembered how Guy had shown up every single day after school this past month.
He remembered the fire still burning in the shed late into the night.
Maybe…
It wasn’t that people wanted to help him.
It was that he deserved it.
End of Chapter 20