A swordsmith's forge is often a quiet, tranquil place, and often devoid of outsiders. It is not only just a place for working, but a place for thinking, and pondering. The endless hammering is as calming as the sound of waves crashing on the beach, or the crackling of a fireplace on a cold night. Despite how peaceful it can feel, the fires that burn and the sparks that fly from the metal are capable of burning the flesh to a crisp in seconds. But in the end, swords are forged for the purpose of destruction, and sometimes a little sacrifice is necessary for the good of all.

The hammer strikes the steel as if it were an instrument. Sparks shower the hot blade, reflecting the orange and red blaze of the burning coal. The hot blade slowly begins to take shape and with every swing, the blade draws ever closer to being perfect. But perfection is hard to achieve and every flaw must be beaten out with sweat, blood, and tears. And finally the perfect blade emerges, shining bright as a thousand stars. A masterpiece is created and yet its purpose is to kill and destroy.

Hotaru stands there hammering for hours on in, forging the steel into a blade that can save lives and take lives. His mind is only focused on making the perfect blade, but every day is just the same. Just him and the hammer and the flames and his thoughts keeping him company.

Hotaru continues to hammer with no break in movement, as his muscles grow ever more sore with each swing, and each swing makes the blade sharper than before. As midnight approaches, he finally stops and slumps over, drenched in sweat.

Alright, good enough.

He sits there in the forge trying to catch his breath while thinking how the sword is not quite perfect yet