AGG: Rise Sword Side Stories

Masamune 1

…

Tea, a precious commodity in the past, has become all the more precious in modernity. The loss of Earth itself, the focus upon defensive holdout, has created an environment sorrowfully lacking in the delicacy. 

I would be remiss to chastise the leaders of the world for their commands. Their motives were to save lives and maintain a foothold upon Earth. Holding mountains of high elevation for the sake of securing leaves would have been a foolish endeavor. They are all respectable individuals for choosing lives over coin.

Still, I wish to serve my Wielder proper tea, through the proper means. 

As incredible as synthetic teas are, they lack the essence which would transform mere movements into art. 

The leaves themselves, born of careful cultivation, harvest, and preparation over centuries, are integral to the ceremony. 

Of course, I could not present my country’s traditions to my Wielder at less than their optimal design. Such an event would be a travesty. I would not be able to bear the weight of such a burden.

So, therefore, I must speak to the one individual in my small circle of acquaintances capable of possibly procuring tea for my Wielder’s sake. 

Though I understand he wishes for me to rest and recuperate, I would find no greater joy than to serve him his favored drink during the afternoon. 

…

“Tea… is that something you can eat?” Angela Ioseva lightly bites her finger in consternation. The mere mention of foodstuff intrigued her. “Does it taste good?”

"A delicacy, reserved for our royalty. Now nearly extinct."  My words reach the scarred beauty well. The notion of a rare delicacy captured her attention. She is now at my disposal. “Doubtlessly tasty. Impossible to procure. Smuggler required.”

Man has changed little over the centuries. Should there be fortunes involved, an individual will strive to attain a means to gain the proffered riches. In secret gardens, supplied by systems unseen for perfect conditions, there may be tea trees cultivated in space. Or, perhaps, in the constant stream of supplies, small packets arrive, filled with luxuries, available only to the wealthy.

Either will do, though I would prefer the former.

I would very much like to tend to a garden that produces tea for my Wielder, and myself.

“Hn… I will talk to my friends. Give me funds.” Swiftly, but demurely, I passed along my salary to Ioseva. The spear user took the funds in stride. I’d have fretted to and fro about her intentions with my finances, but my Wielder trusted her, and so she had my trust in turn. “Give me two weeks. Busy attacking Chimera in Asia, but I’ll do my best.”

I gave her a bow in thanks and we departed from one another’s presence.

No words needed to be said after that.

The demand was given, the payment offered, and the promise received. 

Now, only time will tell whether the tea comes, and until then I must practice the ceremony until I can complete it without fail. 

Such was my proper duty.

…

Gingerly, tenderly, I held the treasures in my hands.

“LRU military base had crates of tea sets. No tea, still looking, but a comrade was happy to give me that.” 

It was porcelain, inlaid with lapis, and lined with gold upon the lips. The kettle was graced with simple emblems. The handle was of lacquered wood and smooth metal. Each small cup was set daintily upon a plain saucer of burnished bronze, pure porcelain, and lavish lapis. Though it was certainly of high quality and make, it was also of sturdy construction. 

Not for mere decoration, but for continuous use.

Crafted by artisans in China, its history was almost palpable to the touch. It was made during the country’s last days, before the coming of monsters. In my hands was a man’s last creation, before the sky ruptured and the world ended. Before me was a set crafted by one man’s hands for the sake of someone they’d never meet, because of his belief that it would be bought for the enjoyment of tea. 

Lacking the words to properly express my appreciation, I simply bowed to Ioseva Angela and gave her my thanks.

“Thank you very much, Ioseva Angela.” 

“Thanks not needed. I acquired it for free. No tea, yet.” Ioseva’s words merely made me all the more thankful. Truly, my Wielder had an incredible individual standing by his side. The scarred woman met my gaze stoically when I straightened. “I want some too. I like the tea from the cafes, but everyone tells me the real thing is better.”

Though I’d initially only intended to serve my Wielder, I found myself happy at her pronouncement.

“Delighted to know, your company is welcome.” I bowed once more. This time, Ioseva seemed somewhat embarrassed by my words. Ah, when truly thanked, the scarred warrior is flushed by embarrassment. “Delightful prospect.”

“…I’ll get you your tea.”

It appeared as though, despite the fact I sought her out only for her skills, I was forming a friendship that my Wielder would be happy to hear about. 

Hmmm, a friend that was not one of my fellow blades.

The prospect was intriguing. 

…

The tree stood in the center of the complex. It was a mere plant, of which there are multitudes even in the Arcologies, but my Wielder looked upon it with eyes filled with wonder.

“My Elders told me that these plants once stretched across whole hills before the Beasts came, but now this must be one of few left in the world.” I was unaccustomed to the manner with which he spoke. There was a reverence to his voice that sounded strange to mine ears. “I can’t believe that there’s one right before me now.” His hand reached for the plant, but he ceased. “Is it safe to touch? Plants are fragile.”

“It grew in a wasteland, Song. It will be fine if you touch it.” Ioseva’s words seemed callous, but she stared at the plant with the same wonder. Her eyes didn’t seem to leave the small tree. I wondered if she saw it in the same light as my Wielder did. Did she see plants as mythical creatures as my Wielder did? “When can it start making tea? Is it mature enough for its leaves to be harvested?”

Knowing that question would be asked, I gestured for one of the attendants to see things set.

“Preparations done, please allow me to serve you.” I’d conversed thoroughly with the attendants of our home. It was no surprise, given that we remained in Creighton’s home in the Tokyo Arcology, but I was nonetheless thankful that the ones I’d grown accustomed to remained. I smiled at each of them in turn as they set what I required for the small ceremony. “Tea will be set soon.”

In moments, everything was arrayed before me, and both my Wielder and Ioseva were seated. The tree was firmly planted into expertly cultivated soil, lacking in both disease and poisonous radition, as the lights gave it warmth. In the future, it will surely grant an abundance of leaves for the whole of the Preservers; for now, it shall provide a beautiful canopy, as its first harvest is tended to by my own hands.

Culture is humanity’s soul. It can be expressed through a myriad of methods. Sculpture, paintings, food, song, and dance, are all intricate methods to grant history life in the present. Though I was born a weapon of war, I became venerated through myth and legend into something greater. Through history, I became more than just steel. Through culture, I became an individual who understood the peace that war must be used to protect. 

Occisor and Clarent are both blades whose power will outstrip my own. They are great and mighty and terrible. They are blades meant for tyrants and kings. I love them both, for they are good at heart and true to themselves, but I am different from both of the two. I find reason in peace instead of war. My history is that of a protector, overlooking a vast amount of lives, all living in the present, built by their pasts. 

Through every step I adhere to, I connect to the hundreds of thousands who performed the same ceremony over millennia. Every step I take is one already taken. Each scent we breathe is a scent shared with those of past. What we all see is the same movement done over millennia. The traditions I follow are the history of a people long lost, yet they remain by our sides. It is of my Wielder’s people, of the traditions followed by the Tuzi, as they followed the traditions of the lands surrounding them, and I ensure that I go through each step perfectly.

The first sip we share together might be the same as my Wielder’s mother and father did.

It was a mere hope in my heart, so I could not say it aloud, but such was my hope.

And, even if that wasn’t the case, it brought him closer to the family who raised him.

There was silence after we each finished our first cups.

“It almost tastes exactly like the synthetic version. CORE did its job well.” The words seemed harsh, but I took it in stride. My Wielder’s fond smile told me everything that wasn’t said. He felt the course of history through himself through my actions. That was enough. That was all I needed. “But… there’s more to this. Something I can’t describe. Thank you, Masamune, for going through all this trouble.”

“Unnecessary, the labor was a pleasure.” To me, my Wielder was an orphan before he was the Last of the Tuzi and before he was the Aspect of Conflict. He is Li Song, the man who I cannot cut, who has never used me against an opponent I couldn’t cut, and a young man with a gentle soul. “T’was my enjoyment.”

I met my Wielder’s gaze, saw the joy in his eyes, and those words rang true in mine heart. 

Indeed, I had enjoyed every moment of my vacation.

Suddenly, Ioseva startled me with her cup.

“Flirt later. Drink amazing tea before it becomes cold leaf juice.” My cheeks reddened at the insinuation. T’was the very height of presumptuousness to assume such a thing! She did not falter at my glare, only edging at me more with her cup. “Tea. Now.”

I very nearly rounded at her, but my Wielder’s light laughter routed all of my thoughts. 

“Yes, we shouldn’t waste this at all!” My Wielder cheered with gusto that was unfamiliar to my eyes, but I found charming. He smiled at me with a grin that was infectious, but only caused my cheeks to redden. I felt the urge to hide my face rear its head within the depths of my heart. “To Masamune! For the finest tea served in space!”

“Hooray.” Ioseva cheered with all her typical enthusiasm. Naturally, her voice was flat beyond measure. “Hooray.”

I did not know whether to hide my face or grow angry, but instead of either I found myself laughing. 

It wasn’t according to any custom, but I enjoyed the moments after the tradition just as fine as the act itself. 

Yes, indeed, this is what I wished to protect.