“The world is blind for it has no eyes of its own,” Ul remarked dryly.

  Ysan was dabbing at her face with a cushion of cotton, lower lip pulled lower, one corner of her face closer to the mirror than the rest. “You’re blessed with amazing features, I don’t understand what you have against it. You’d look even better than I.”

  “It is rudimentary, deceitful, and frankly, a waste of time,” Ul answered. “How many hours do you have to wake up before the fire star just to frost your face? One hour? Two?”

  “I do it for myself.”

  Ul frowned, with nothing to say, but Hazahnahkah had much to think with no mouth to voice so. He knew his wielders, he knew their desires, and he knew their whys.

  She was putting makeup on herself for herself. More specifically, for her confidence, self-perception, and the relationship she had with comparisons constructed regarding others. She had low confidence since Imra denied her, and her self-perception had been crushed since long before she picked up Hazahnahkah.

  The comparisons she had were the aftermath of these things. Violent threads of logic which shaped her understanding of herself and the world.

  Now, Ysan’s beauty was known throughout Serpent’s Ramble, but even further than that sprawled the renown of her long line of products crafted for the coloring, covering, and sculpting of the male and female face. Some, like Ul, refuted these newly established practices for one reason or another, and fell behind the swarming masses, desperate to pay a pretty petal for Ysan’s creations.

  The cities had changed breathlessly in the short five years Ysan first painted her face, leaking goo from her nose and rivers from her eyes. What she called makeup reshaped the world, and what had been engineered to level the playing field called beauty instead upheaved it. Since being beautiful was now a choice, it was now an error of character that made one ugly.

  Although this was subtle, it was how everyone now thought. Some villagers were not even allowed in larger cities for how they appeared, and guilds became even more selective than before with who they chose to hire.

  Hazahnahkah did not agree with this. To the blade, what was pretty was practical. Henceforth, all creatures were beautiful. Each one evolved according to the advantages prescribed by its environment. The human face was no different.

  Ul probably held beliefs somewhere along these lines, but she was not Hazahnahkah’s wielder, so he could not say for certain. What Hazahnahkah could say, at least to himself, was that she was constantly reprimanded and rejected for refusing to put makeup on. These reprimands and rejections were not obvious, they were discreet, dangerous, tiny little things. This was not all that spread, however.

  Rumors of a beautiful but naked man wandering the forest had begun to spread. First amongst the fishermen, then the villages, then The Fawn Cities. They said he collected leaves and placed them on his body as if he were some savage, yet he spoke as eloquently as a poet in mourning. At the first month of this gossip, Ysan paid no attention, and in the second month she had already prepared her things with Ul for a hike along the mountainside to see if the rumor rang true.

  They crossed Imra and the company he kept instead, yet few words were exchanged. This did not seem to please Ysan, and she did not voice her quarrel until several nights later when the five moons surrounding Clest turned half black above the bonfire. The woodlands were calm, as if waiting for something.

  “I’ve come to realize Imra isn’t that educated,” Ysan said.

  Ul tossed some straw into the fire. “I never took you for an elitist.”

  “Not at all, but it’s good to keep company you can learn from.”

  “Are you sure indifference has not stewed anger?”

  Ysan glared. “Plenty of men like my lips. Why would I care about Imra’s opinion of them?”

  “Also, have your breasts grown?”

  “No. Why?” Ysan had asked back with earnestness that shocked even Hazahnahkah, for he knew she was lying.

  Ysan’s chest had grown, and it was thanks to Hazahnahkah. You see, Hazahnahkah possessed many abilities—not just as a blade. One of the powers he could remember was an absolute control over matter. He did not directly invade his wielders’ body without permission, of course. He merely manipulated her environment in such a way that the shape of her body evolved more precisely to the desires she had for herself. This took years, however, and the result had been barely noticeable to Hazahnahkah. He couldn’t believe that Ul had picked up on these physical changes. He couldn’t believe that most of the men noticed too…

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Ysan hadn’t gained much experience outside of making money and expanding her material wealth. Despite her ever-so-slight appearance change, she had only grown more attached to him these past five years. She probably thought she owned him too:

  Health (source of vitality and abilities): 805

  Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 300

  Agility (speed of actions): 250

  Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 20

  Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 20

  Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 50

  [Ysan’s Relationships]

  Hazahnahkah: Treasured 75/100

  These were the qualities that truly mattered. Function, and not form.

  … Humans cared about such impractical characteristics. Maybe this was why they thanked the sky so often. It was an empty thing.

  Ul had been staring at Ysan’s cleavage in silence. “You sure it’s not that sword?”

  Hazahnahkah laughed at her. Not because she was ridiculous, but because he was ridiculously impressed.

  “Are you insane? Do you think that ill of me?”

  “You picked that sword up about five years ago, and that’s when all this started.”

  “All what? Chest growth? Are you mad? I’ve had this sword for years!”

  “Your proposal to Imra, your makeup distribution, your… boobs!”

  “How would a blade make my boobs bigger? Please explain?”

  “Maybe it’s just a lucky item. Maybe it’s dangerous.”

  Ysan threw her arms towards the treetops. “You’re being ridiculous. Sure, you could say that it brings fortune, and honestly, I think it does. But to credit this blade with my proposal to Imra or the expansion of my business is illogical and crude. I proposed of my own free will.”

  What Hazahnahkah’s wielder said was true. In a way he did bring luck, through incredible chemical and electromagnetic reactions and even more… but he could not control free will. Even if he could, he would never.

  “I’m just saying you take the sword everywhere.”

  Staring into the twisting flames, Ysan’s lips pursed with bitter orange. “It gives me courage.”

  “It gives me indigestion.” Ul scowled and pointed. “At least name it.”

  Ysan was quiet. She smiled at the blade. Her smile shone back.

  The next day, they finally crossed the mythical naked man, but this man must have been horrendously ugly, for even the normally cool Ul flinched at the sight of him. To Hazahnahkah, he seemed to look very different from the people of Serpent’s Ramble, but not alien. He did not understand what was ugly about him.

  The man’s eyes were blue like a cindereater’s. His hair was dark blonde and colorless, as if the seasons had avoided him. The strangest thing about him was not the way that he appeared, but rather that he was bare to his buns. He was also carving out a face from a short sheer cliff. The man was very tall. Stupidly tall. Giraffe height.

  Ul stared at his rear, which was very large and very square. “Surely we must have the wrong fellow.”

  “Let’s ask.” Then, Ysan called out. “Excuse us, have you seen another naked man with you?”

  The man did not even bother turning around. “Another group of curious travelers, looking for the naked man? You probably mean my brother. He’s smaller so he’s better for venturing, and he’s colorful, as if kissed by all seven seasons. I’m sorry but I can’t help you there. I’m a very busy man.”

  Ysan and Ul exchanged glances. They had only heard of one naked man, but perhaps nobody spoke of the ugly one. Hazahnahkah would never understand such discrimination. He didn’t want to.

  “What’s your name?” Ysan asked.

  “You mean my brother’s?” The man asked. “His name is Bankanzaku.”

  “No… Your name.”

  “Nobody’s asked for my name before.”

  “Well, we’re asking now.”

  The man deliberated on answering, or perhaps he was just distracted by the ear he had been chiseling with his sword. “Vikushak. Not a pretty name either, is it?”

  “I think it’s a wonderful name,” Ul said.

  “I do as well,” Ysan added. “From which village do you hail?”

  “Hmm… You wouldn’t know of it.”

  “We’ve traveled far. I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  Vikushak grinned. “I would.”

  The two began to ask Vikushak of his sculpture, and so he stepped aside, too shy to show the front of his body—even his face. He kept his backside facing them even when moving, talking very excitedly about the stone face that he had made. It was a detailed roundabout and beautiful relief of a very very old man with many birds about him. The two women gushed compliments over the sculpture. While Hazahnahkah was by far the superior sculptor, he had to admit he was impressed. There was something about the piece that brought back memories—memories of his first wielder—of the person who had made him.

  But there was just no way.

  If there really was a different world beyond Serpent’s Tail as Imra had said, Hazahnahkah would surely remember it. The Fawn Cities would have discovered it by now. They were all obsessed with trade and war and domination. It did not make sense to the sword that some random naked fellow had just waltzed into the country by luck alone.

  No, something else was going on here.

  Hazahnahkah did not trust Vikushak.