The door creaked open, releasing a strong smell of pickled vegetables. A dark eye regarded them from waist-level. “If you’re here for the umeboshi, you’re two weeks early,” said a girl who couldn’t have been more than seven.

Kakashi looked sideways at Katsuko. “Umeboshi,” he said.

“Is Nobuhira-san in?” Katsuko asked, unfazed.

The girl leaned back and bellowed, “DAD, NINJA HERE TO SEE YOU.”

Footsteps sounded inside the— house? shop? — and then the door tugged wider, revealing a youngish man in a soot-stained kimono. His dark hair was twisted back into a traditional topknot, but sweaty tendrils had escaped to straggle over his forehead. He stared blankly at them. “Can I help you?”

“Nobuhira-san, hello.” Katsuko bowed respectfully. “Rui-san over at Imahara Blades said you moved here from Wind Country. I’m looking for practice swords appropriate for Hyoho-Niten.”

Nobuhira’s eyes lit up. “You are? That’s wonderful. I’d heard the style was still practiced here, but no one could tell me by who. Come in, come in. Amaya-chan, move that box.” He hauled the door the rest of the way open, while the girl shoved a stack of boxes and canning jars aside. “I’m sorry about the mess, we’re in the middle of pickling.”

Katsuko stepped forward, taking off her shoes. Kakashi followed dubiously.

The shop was a chaotic puzzle of swordsmithing equipment, moving boxes, and half a dozen barrels of something that smelled heavily fermented. In the corner, a curtain had been strung across a little reading nook, which held four books, a three-legged stuffed toy dog, and a small plate of half-eaten tamagoyaki.

The girl — Amaya-chan, presumably — gave Kakashi and Katsuko a look of dark suspicion, and retreated back to the corner, where she drew the curtain pointedly.

Nobuhira rubbed the back of his neck and gave them an embarrassed smile. “Let me show you what I have.”

Unsurprisingly, it involved more boxes. Kakashi sat down on one while Katsuko helped the swordsmith shift and sort, until they uncovered a collection of cloth-wrapped blades. Nobuhira cleared the top of a scarred wooden table and began laying bundles out, organizing the swords into two camps — longer katanas and shorter kodachis.

“Are you the teacher?” Nobuhira asked Katsuko, to her obvious delight.

“Yes,” she said, and pointed proudly at Kakashi with her good arm. “He’s my first student.”

Kakashi waved tiredly.

“Already put him through the wringer, I see,” Nobuhira said, with great approval. “Okay, student, let’s get you up so we can see you. Uh — normally I have a platform, but I think it’s still packed — here, you can use this box.”

He kicked a fruit crate into the center of the room.

Reluctantly, Kakashi hauled himself up and stepped onto the crate. “Is this really necessary?”