Another letter, arriving like clockwork. Mammet clockwork more than onmitsu, perhaps. But clockwork all the same.
Zozonji tipped his hat to the Hyur who was aiding in passing out all the mail to the various citizens at work with the Doman reconstruction efforts. Even without looking, the bearded Lalafell knew who the letter was from. His chosen heir to the family line - even though he was the youngest of his two sons - Chachanji.
The boy had made a point to come visit regularly when Zozonji - along with wife and daughter - were picking up the pieces and re-establishing themselves after the razing and subsequent flight from Doma. Even the Gegenji family's home up in the Yanxian mountains hadn't been safe from the marauding Garleans. But with the invaders pushed out and walled off through some manner of technological wizardry that the Gegenji family head had only heard bits and pieces about - not that he would've understood it that much, that would've (as much as he hated to admit it) been more of a Gogonji thing - work had begun to return things to normalcy.
Which meant the Domans coming back home and rebuilding what had been lost in that fiery chaos. That, of course, included the Gegenji ancestral home along with everything else. Chachanji had chosen to remain in Eorzea - for now, Zozonji had assumed - but he had seemed adamant to still maintain communication. Travel to and from Doma from Ul'dah, even with the use of aetherytes, was as not easy as to Mor Dhona. And so, the heir to the family had made do with a constant stream of letters to make for his not being there in person. Letting them know he was okay, seeing if they were okay, and just keeping the family up-to-date with the various goings on at the "Usagenji Ironworks"... as the boy called it.
... Honestly, thinking about it reminded the Gegenji head of a time many years ago, when Chachanji was still naught but an infant.
With his oldest son in his defiant teenage years, Zozonji was suffering from a momentary concern about the future of the family line. Gogonji seemed far more interested in reading books and trying to practice that... that foreign math magic he was so infatuated with rather than focus on the family trade. And so, in an attempt to appease those concerns (or perhaps validate them, depending), the family head had decided to try an old custom from Kugane that his wife Jijinya had heard through the grapevine.
He had set the young Chachanji across from him and, between them, Zozonji had set three objects: a small hammer from his personal collection of tools, one of Gogon’s math magic books the family head had confiscated, and one of the lad’s toys chosen at random (which ended up being a plush horsebird Jijinya had gotten the lad the previous year).
Each one, according to this “test” symbolized a different thing and whatever the child went to first would be an indication of what his priorities would be in his older years. If he went for the hammer, that meant his focus would be on his work and the family trade. If he went for the book, that meant he would be like his older brother - focused on studies and knowledge. And if he went for the toy, it meant he would prioritize play and fun over either of the other two. Zozonji, of course, had a vested interest in the lad picking one over the others even if this was all hogwash. Which might explain why the hammer was just that little bit closer to the child and the book noticeably further away.
Just in case.
And so, when little Chachanji started moving towards the presented items, Zozonji couldn’t help but quietly hold his breath and mentally urge the boy to stop at what was closest to him. The hammer.
But Chachanji didn’t, he passed it by.
Next was the doll. The lad seemed to really be into horsebirds - he even had pajamas that made him look like one of them. And play was natural for a child, so it obviously wouldn’t mean anything if he went to that one, right?
But Chachanji didn’t, he passed it by.
All that was left now was the book, and Zozonji felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Was it going to happen again? Was Chachanji going to grow up to be just like his older brother he followed around and idolized so much? Another who preferred those blasted books over the family tradition!?
But Chachanji didn’t, he passed it by.
The baby Gegenji pushed past all three options, and went to the fourth. The option Zozonji himself had been aware was on the table.
Little Chachanji crawled past them all and instead went straight to Zozonji himself. Wherein he clambered up to - and flopped into - his father’s lap. Resting comfortably there as those violet eyes that so looked like his mother’s stared up at him. And those tiny hands grabbed and grasped at Zozonji’s rather impressive beard.
This was his choice.
... Zozonji shook his head to dismiss the memory like a clinging mist from his thoughts, and turned his attentions back to the matter at hand. Aiding in the reconstruction by churning out tools and supplies at the rate of one or two guilds combined. All the while, the Gegenji family head was glad his thick beard covered the faint smile that tugged at his lips.
He hadn’t known what that decision had meant back then... but now? After seeing his care and concern for his family, his friends, and anyone and everyone whose path touched his own? There was no other result that would have fit the boy better.
==========
A story idea that came to me because of this little anecdote that I saw on Discord:
I kind of wish I knew where it came from so I could give proper credit. There was debate on whether it was a true thing that happened or a story, but I feel like that point is kind of moot. It was a very touching little piece and I want to give credit where credit is due! So please let me know if you know the source, so I can render proper credit!
... a bit of this was also inspired by the first meeting of Candy Store and Renge in the super-chill slice-of-life anime series “Non Non Biyori.”
Either way, I felt inspired and wanted to exemplify that powerful Chachan energy I was feeling from that story. Hopefully you all enjoyed it.
“A sword never kills anybody; it is a tool in the killer’s hand.” - Seneca the Younger
WARNING: Wall of Text below!
The Gegenjis, as a family, tend to be very picky about who they craft weapons for. This is exemplified by Chachanji, whose pacifistic nature makes him ill-inclined to make weapons period, but is also notable in a different shade in his father Zozonji Gegenji. While Zozonji can and has made a huge amount of weaponry (my head-canon is he was one of the main producers of the Yashan/Asuran equipment for Rowena), these are ultimately rather low-quality for Zozonji’s caliber and can be generally mass-produced without issue. While this could be partially seen as bragging on the skill of this NPC’s at smithing, it is mainly to serve as another hint to the Gegenji family’s approach to weapon-crafting: Zozonji could make far, far deadlier weapons but won’t unless he personally wants to make the weapon for that person.
A large part of this is due to a concept that I’ve come to simply refer to as “Intent.” And this isn’t the intent of the user - though that does play a part in it - but the Intent of the weapon itself.
In the Going Going Kugane arc, Chachanji tests a long-forgotten katana made by his father by setting the blade into the flow of the water around his ruined former home and casting leaves and blades of grass in ahead of it. The idea for this was drawn from a tale - usually attributed to the famous Japanese smiths Muramasa and Masamune - where one smith’s blade would cut and kill anything that came in its path, while the other let much pass by unhindered. The words of the monk that observed this situation nicely encapsulates the idea of Intent:
"The first of the swords was by all accounts a fine sword, however it is a blood thirsty, evil blade, as it does not discriminate as to who or what it will cut. It may just as well be cutting down butterflies as severing heads. The second was by far the finer of the two, as it does not needlessly cut that which is innocent and undeserving." (taken from the Masamune wiki linked above)
The first blade (made by Muramasa in this version of the tale) has a negative Intent, while Masamune’s has a positive one from the point of view of the Gegenjis. While a person of strong enough will can overcome the Intent of a weapon, if that will is not absolute in its resolve it can be nudged towards the Intent of the weapon. And a will weak enough will instead by controlled by the weapon instead of the user being in charge.
Oddly enough, the Elder Primal Odin also fits this sort of weapon view. The Zantetsuken is a weapon steeped with so much Intent that it has absolute sway over its wielder, and presence enough to manifest a form for itself. To Eorzeans, it is a Primal - to the Gegenjis, they would likely see it as a heavy Intented blade which has a spirit that has become a kami through its age and accumulated power.
There are two major factors - according to the Gegenjis - that determine Intent:
The will and aether of the creator, and
How the weapon is (or is not) used
The first determines the initial Intent of the weapon, with the strength of that Intent congruent with the strength and skill of the smith that forged the blade. If the weapon is designed to kill, then it will be like Muramasa’s blade - one that seeks out combat and the drawing of blood. If it’s designed to protect, then it will be like Masamune’s - only harming as much as it needs to. Part of Chachanji’s unwillingness to make weapons is - while he is skilled at making weapons as well as armor - his (self-believed) lack of combat prowess makes it such that he is uncertain he can impart enough of that Intent to his creations. Not to mention that his intense desire to not cause any harm at all would likely result in an Intent that could render a weapon completely harmless in not overcome.
Regardless of the initial Intent of a weapon’s creator, however, it is also how the weapon is used that can also greatly affect the Intent of the weapon. A weapon made to protect used for murder and bloodshed could turn it into a bloodthirsty one over time as its Intent is perverted. A bloodied blade whose Intent is tempered by the will of a strong, peaceful warrior could see its thirst for combat slowly fade. And - in the case of the katana Chachanji tested - even a blade that has been left unused and forgotten could develop its own sense of abandonment and lack of fulfillment that could either increase the intensity of the Intent or warp it from its original purpose.
That is not to say that simply using the weapon in combat is the only way to affect Intent after its forging. Rituals can be done upon the weapon to appease or incite its spirit - and these are actually part of the process the Gegenjis undertake themselves when they make their most powerful, unique weapons. However, this could be done by any other smith familiar with Doman/Hingan smithing techniques or by Doman/Hingan priests (and perhaps even Gridanian Conjurers) who are familiar with the communing with spirits.
So, it is the duty of every Gegenji smith - should they make their finest weapons for someone - to determine the nature and the will of the person that would be using it.
Would they be strong enough to master the weapon and not have it master them? For even a blade with good Intent could still cause ill if it is not controlled. The wielder would need will enough to handle the weapon and be able to overcome the Intent should it be necessary.
In addition, once under control of the weapon, would the user utilize the weapon in a way that the smith would approve of? In the case of Chachanji, he would be utterly devastated if he learned that a blade he created for someone was used to slaughter innocent people - to go against the Intent he would have sought to instill in his weapons. And his good nature and willing to accept and give anyone a chance makes him not yet at a point where he feels comfortable making weapons for anyone but those he has the closest connections with. His father, however, has a much more discerning eye.
How much of this is truth, and how much of this is simply folklore and belief on behalf of the Gegenji family? It is hard to say; a smith puts a bit of themselves in everything they create, and a weapon used long enough or skillfully enough can become like an extension of the wielder. And, of course, the land of Eorzea is a place where belief itself can manifest in ways unexpected...
