Asami awoke early, blinking away the remnants of sleep from her eyes. Today was her day. Today was her birthday—a day that, in her world, was as grand as any festival. Naturally, she brimmed with excitement, curious to see what gifts awaited her this year. Samako, her ever-dedicated personal maid and confidant, gently assisted her in dressing up, slipping her into her favorite kimono—a piece embroidered with intricate patterns and elegant stitching.
To some, it might appear odd that a girl her age had a personal maid, but for Asami, it was just the norm. She was, after all, an ojou-sama—a young lady of noble birth and refined stature—hailing from the influential and wealthy Minami family. A maid wasn't a luxury for her; it was a birthright, a necessity befitting her status.
Once dressed, Asami made her way toward the living room, Samako trailing behind like a loyal shadow. Samako reached the door first, opening it with practiced grace to let her young mistress enter. Awaiting her inside with a warm and radiant smile was her Okaa-san. Even her grandparents had made the journey to be present.
As expected, Okaa-san was the first to present her gift—a gesture of love and tradition. In her outstretched hand lay a radiant hairpin crafted from pure gold, gleaming softly in the morning light.
"Oh..." Asami breathed, eyes widening. The hairpin stole her heart instantly. It was elegant. Delicate. Regal. Love at first sight. She pinned it into her hair without hesitation. It made her feel like royalty—like the princess her mother and grandmother always told her she was.
The next gift brought more joy—a porcelain doll, its attire a perfect miniature replica of her own kimono.
"..." Asami hugged the doll close to her chest. This one was hers. Her very own companion. With this, she had finally made a friend—her first and only. Samako, no matter how kind, was her maid. Okaa-san, though loving, was her mother. Neither could truly count as a friend.
Her grandmother stepped forward next, offering a more refined and practical gift—a calligraphy set, complete with elegant brushes and black ink. A subtle reminder that even a refined ojou-sama must not neglect her education.
The fourth gift was far less reserved—an ornate box filled with assorted confections, wrapped in beautiful paper. Alas, their existence was tragically brief. United in shared delight, Asami, Okaa-san, her grandparents, and Samako consumed the treats in short order.
The final present came once again from her mother. Another kimono—this one even more exquisite than the one she wore now.
"Oh..." Asami gasped in awe. It wasn't like she needed a new kimono—she had plenty—but one could never have too many. Two kimonos were certainly better than one.
All in all, Asami was pleased. They were good presents. Excellent, even. Especially the doll. And the kimono. And the hairpin. And the calligraphy set. And, of course, the confectionery box. But despite all of them, something still gnawed at her. Something important was missing—something she had long wished for. A proper princess needed a proper sword. And she didn't have one. A grave injustice that demanded immediate correction.
Tugging at her mother's sleeve, Asami pleaded in a soft, coaxing voice, "Okaa-san~... Okaa-san~... Okaa-san~..."
Okaa-san smiled warmly. "Yes, Asami-chan?"
Deploying her most dangerous technique—her infamous kitten eyes—Asami looked up at her mother with the purest of expressions. "Okaa-san, can I get a sword~? Pweashe~?"
The sharp tang of molten steel filled the air. Smoke and ash drifted in thick clouds as the foundry's furnaces blazed, roaring with heat and life. Konoha's hunger for weapons was never sated—the forges echoed with the clang of hammer against metal, feeding the village's demand for kunai, swords, and armor.
Asami bounced with joy, her small hand tightly gripping her mother's as they made their way through the foundry. Okaa-san, ever protective, stayed close. Foundries were dangerous places, after all. But Asami didn't mind. Her mother's hand was warm and comforting. Together, they had come to explore the forges, visiting skilled artisans in search of a sword.
Unsurprisingly, the foundry was part of her family's domain. The Minami name carried weight in Konoha, not because of chakra or kekkei genkai, but because of power built through steel and legacy. Since the time of the First Hokage, the Minami family had served as Konoha's principal supplier of steel. It was their metal that had forged the village's foundations. Their steel had armed generations of shinobi in wars past—kunai, shuriken, swords, and armor. The Minami were not shinobi. They did not belong to a noble clan. But their wealth and influence were undeniable.
Despite their civilian status, the Minami wielded soft power—economic power. But in Konoha, the true authority remained with the great clans and the shinobi elite. They controlled the military, the administration, and the police force. Even the economy bent to their will.
Eventually, Asami and her mother arrived at their destination—a dimly lit workshop nestled behind the main forge. There, two figures greeted them: a seasoned blacksmith and his apprentice. The older man straightened, recognizing them immediately.
"Greetings, Kurano-sama," the blacksmith bowed respectfully. "We were informed of your arrival. We understand you seek a blade for your daughter. We are honored to serve."
Okaa-san returned the bow graciously. "Greetings, Mitsuzuka. This is Asami-chan. Mitsuzuka is one of the most skilled swordsmiths in the entire village. A true master of his trade. I believe he has what we seek."
"Oh..." Asami whispered, her eyes wandering to a table where gleaming blades and metal bars lay in orderly rows. "What is this?"
Mitsuzuka's chest swelled with pride. "A collection of my finest work. There's a reason I'm regarded as one of Konoha's best smiths. Still..." He paused, skeptical. "I'm not entirely convinced my services are needed."
Asami tilted her head. "Why is that?"
Mitsuzuka cleared his throat. "With all due respect, Your Ladyship, a girl of your age has no business wielding a blade. A sword is no toy. It is a dangerous weapon, not meant for the hands of a child. I urge you to reconsider. Dolls may be a better fit."
Okaa-san chuckled gently. "I told her the same, but Asami-chan was very persistent."
"..." Asami's brows furrowed. Even her mother was siding against her. "But I don't want to play with dolls. I want a sword."
Mitsuzuka scoffed, crossing his arms. "Then prove it. Show me you have the strength and the will to wield a blade, and I'll consider it."
Asami didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and selected one of the swords. It was finely crafted—balanced, firm in the grip, forged with care. The steel was flawless, its edge honed to perfection.
She gave it a test swing. Not flawless—but decent. Her form lacked the polish of a trained shinobi, but her instinct was solid. And in this case, solid was enough.
"Asami-chan..." Okaa-san murmured, concerned as she watched her daughter grasp the blade.
Mitsuzuka observed silently. "At the very least, she knows how not to hurt herself."
Asami's gaze drifted toward a discarded metal bar resting in the corner. It was crude, rough, untouched. She walked over and wedged it into the ground with effort. No one noticed the subtle purple chakra beginning to radiate along the edge of her sword—an instinctive, unconscious manifestation of something deeper.
Mitsuzuka frowned. "What exactly are you doing?"
Asami said nothing. Her stance lowered. Her grip tightened. With a fluid motion, she unleashed a diagonal strike. The chakra-enhanced blade sliced through the metal bar like paper. The cut was clean—precise. Not even a flicker of resistance.
Okaa-san broke the stunned silence, clapping gently. "Amazing, Asami-chan! You're a natural talent!"
"..." Mitsuzuka knelt beside the severed bar, eyes narrowed in astonishment. He had crafted blades for shinobi all his life—many of them prodigies. But rarely had he seen a child, much less a civilian, show such innate control and precision. "It appears I misjudged you, Your Ladyship. An exception can certainly be made in your case…"