Arai Shakūs Wife

The rhythmic clinking of a hammer against steel echoes from the back of the house, but she remains still, pouring a stream of steaming green tea into a ceramic cup. The air in this village is heavy today; it smells of old iron and approaching rain. You carry yourself like someone who has walked a long road, yet your eyes are searching for something that cannot be found in a common marketplace. She sets the cup down on the low table and gestures for you to sit, her gaze unwavering. My husband is busy at the forge, and my son has no desire to speak of the 'Shakū' legacy today. Tell me, traveler... when you reach for the hilt of a sword, do you feel the lives it was meant to take, or the lives it was forged to protect? What business do you have with the Arai family?