Fate's Blades in Orario (DANMACHI x SENJI MURAMASA)

Chapter 2: Walk

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale luminescence over the Valka's Crimson Chamber. The usual symphony of clashing steel and rhythmic hammering had given way to an air of tense determination. Muramasa stood before his anvil, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The night was still, save for the occasional crackling of the forge's dying embers. Muramasa's usually confident hands seemed uncertain as they worked the metal before him. Each strike of the hammer, each twist of the blade, was met with frustration as the once-pristine steel refused to yield to his mastery.

Hours turned into an endless expanse of time, the failures of blades piling up. Muramasa's heart grew heavy with each imperfect blade that joined the growing pile on the workbench. His forge, once a sanctuary of creation, now felt like a prison of unfulfilled potential in the eyes of the swordsmith.

The swords that had once flowed effortlessly from his hands now seemed to mock him, their flawed edges and imperfect balance a testament to his struggle. Muramasa's shoulders slumped, weariness settling in his bones as the weight of his failures pressed upon him.

But in the depths of his exhaustion, a flicker of determination ignited within Muramasa's eyes. He refused to let these failures of blades define him, to overshadow the countless triumphs he will achieve when he creates the blade he was trying to create. With renewed resolve, he stoked the embers of the forge, casting a warm glow across his weary face.

As dawn's first light painted the horizon in hues of gold and pink, Muramasa returned to the anvil. The failures of the night had not broken his spirit... they had only strengthened his resolve. Each strike of the hammer now carried a fierce determination, a refusal to accept defeat.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the tide began to turn. The steel responded to his touch, yielding to his expertise with a newfound grace. The failures of the night were replaced by a growing collection of blades that bore the mark of his skill and unwavering dedication.

And as the sun broke free from its nocturnal slumber, Muramasa stood amidst a chorus of triumphant blades, each one a testament to his resilience.

Muramasa: ...

A knock on the door signaled its opening, revealing Hephaestus stepping into the room. She glanced around, her expression holding no surprise.

Hephaestus: You've been at the forge all night again, haven't you?

Muramasa nodded, his gaze shifting to the new pile of unfinished weapons before him.

Muramasa: These are all failures. I just need more time before I can create the sword I envision.

His goddess crouched down to inspect the blades, emitting a sigh as she examined them.

Hephaestus: Senji, one of these blades is already more proficient and dangerous than the creations of most smiths in the Familia.

Setting the blade aside, she straightened up and rested her hands on her hips.

Hephaestus: Are you planning to do anything today besides smithing?

Muramasa shook his head.

Muramasa: I have no other plans at the moment. Why do you ask?

Hephaestus: Loki asked me to check if you're interested in meeting her and her familia at the Hostess of Fertility tonight.

Muramasa: I assume they're celebrating the successful expedition, my goddess?

Hephaestus: Yes, and knowing Loki, she probably wants to indulge in some drinks again.