the owl's wish

bladesmithing, part one: separate

Bokuto isn't sure how he expected this to begin, but a house tour was certainly not it. His brain wiggles vacantly as Sakusa leads him from room to room, noting down the layout of the building in thin, wobbly lines. Bokuto can already tell his mind is absorbing about a tenth of the already sparse information, but whenever Sakusa looks to him for confirmation, the owl spirit nods knowingly. Bokuto's sure he'll be able to figure out the gist of it later.

After a joyless walkthrough of the living room, dining room, and kitchen, Sakusa leads Bokuto through the back garden to a separate building. It's short and squat, with a markedly less impressive exterior than Sakusa's house. The whole state of the structure exudes a weary cleanliness that has clearly taken its toll on the color. While it has been kept as tidily as the main home, the paint is dull and starting to flake in places, and the wooden walkways are worn down from both weather and rigorous scrubbing. Bokuto thinks that, overall, it looks like the type of building that would sigh. He chooses not to voice this assertion aloud, but only because Sakusa is in the middle of curtly explaining something else.

Inside is a small room, too sparse to be cramped but too tight to be comfortable. A long, low hearth takes up most of the space, coals spilling out from its gaping maw. A rack of tools is lined neatly along the adjoining wall, and a stone tray sits tucked in one corner of the area. Black curtains frame the front doors and a thin shimenawa rope loops around the rest of the room. Thin slits for windows rest along the far side, and if Bokuto stands up on his tiptoes he can feel the chill breeze ruffling the very tips of his head feathers.

"This is the forge," Sakusa tells Boktuo matter-of-factly, the planes of his face unyielding and still. In this moment, Bokuto finds himself missing Kuroo's crescent-moon grin and fluid movements. "I doubt a more in-depth introduction is necessary. If all goes according to plan, we'll be spending a lot of time here. Soon you'll know the layout of this place better than your own room."

Again, Bokuto is pushed off balance by the complete lack of inflection in Sakusa's cool tone. His words leave no trace of humor, snark, or even resentment. Is Sakusa Kiyoomi even real?

"Our days will begin early. Plan on waking up with the sun. It won't be pleasant, especially not in the beginning, but I can promise that your body will get used to it."

Sakusa then gives a short, curt gesture to the hearth, one of his hands carefully holding his drooping sleeve out of reach of the dark ash.

"Your first responsibility will be to keep this hearth burning," Sakusa informs him. "Without this fire, we can't work with the tamahagane or really anything else. And needless to say, if you can't even manage that, this whole endeavor is a lost cause."

Bokuto nods furiously, fists clenching and unclenching. He can handle fires, surely.

They leave the forge, and Sakusa washes his hands in the stone basin set in the middle of the courtyard, flexing his fingers into impossible positions as he scrubs. Bokuto's joints hurt just watching Sakusa bend his wrists, his skin burning orange in the light of the setting sun.

They then make their way back inside the main house where Sakusa slides open the first door in the hallway, tucked smartly beside the washroom and only a few strides away from the living room. The weasel spirit holds out his lantern to illuminate the area.

Inside is a larger space than Bokuto is used to. It feels almost empty, with only a low yaedatami bed in the center and a long closet against the wall. Bokuto stands next to Sakusa, their shoulders comfortably filling the doorway. In contrast, the room is too wide. Too barren.

"This is your bedroom. A change of clothes should be waiting for you in the closet. Be sure to close the storm shutters before you go to sleep. The wind has been cold lately. And remember, start waking up by sunrise. I do not want to have to come fetch you every morning."