The first week was pure chaos.
Muramasa's forge, normally a place of methodical precision, became a cramped workshop where four craftsmen competed for individual space and sanity. Kazuki spent the first two days explaining the production concept to them, then he stepped back to let them work.
There was no pointconstantly hovering near them. These were skilled craftsmen who needed room to fail, learn, and improve.
Instead, Kazuki focused on what only he could do, planning, documentation, and preparing for the inevitable moment when his father would demand results.
He spent mornings in brutal physical training, his body slowly adapting to the workout. Afternoons were spent in the library, reviewing the domain's finances and drafting production schedules. Evenings discussing with Rin, tracking every ryo spent on the project.
"Forty-two ryo so far," Rin reported on the fifth day. "Materials mostly. If this pace continues, we'll hit one hundred ryo total."
"Still cheaper than the Portuguese prices."
"If itactually works. If it doesn't, we've wasted a tenth of our remaining liquid capital on mere metal scraps."
Kazuki didn't argue. She was right to be concerned.
Then, the explosion echoed across Karatsu.
Kazuki ran from the library to the forge's testing ground, fearing for the worst.
He found Muramasa standing among scattered metal fragments, her face thunderous and angry but unharmed.
"What happened?"
"That was already the third barrel." She kicked a twisted piece of metal viciously. "It exploded during test firing. Again."
Kazuki examined the fragments carefully. One piece showed a clear linear fracture, not random, but along a specific line running the length of the barrel.
"Show me how you're actually making these."
Muramasa led him into the forge proper. She pointed to several partially completed barrels in various stages of construction.
"I heat an iron plate until it's workable. Then I hammer it around this mandrel—" she indicated a thick metal rod, "—forming it into a tube shape. Once the edges meet, I forge-weld the seam closed."
She demonstrated with a cooler piece, showing how the flat metal was curved around the mandrel and joined.
"It's traditional tube-making technique. We use it for pipes, barrel hoops, smaller tubes. So it should work for gun barrels as well."
"Should," Kazuki repeated, looking at the fragments again. "But it's not working."
"The seam keeps failing. No matter how carefully I weld it, the explosion finds the weak point every single time." Frustration was evident in every word. "I've made three barrels this way. All three exploded at the seam. Same failure, same location."
Kazuki picked up one of the fragments, examining the failed weld line closely. The metal itself was good quality, Muramasa's forging was excellent. But the joint where two edges had met and been welded together was clearly weaker than the surrounding material. Under extreme pressure, it had simply torn apart.
Takeshi's engineering knowledge supplied the answer immediately. Forge-welding creates a joint, but it's never as strong as continuous metal. The grain structure is interrupted at the weld. Under the explosive pressure of burning gunpowder, thousands of pounds per square inch, that joint becomes the point of failure. The weakest link in the chain.
"What if you didn't make a tube at all?" Kazuki said slowly.
"What do you mean? A barrel needs to be hollow."
"What if you forged a solid rod first, no tube, just a solid cylinder of iron. Then bored out the center afterward?"
Muramasa stared at him like he'd suggested building a bridge out of rice paper.
"Forge a solid rod and then... drill through it? That's completely backwards. Why would anyone do it that way?"
"Because a solid rod has no seam. No weak point. The metal is continuous throughout, one single piece from end to end." Kazuki gestured at the fragments. "These keep failing because you're joining two pieces of metal together. What if there was only one piece to begin with?"
She was quiet for a long moment, her experienced smith's mind working through the concept.
"A solid rod... I could forge that easily, actually. Hammer out a thick cylinder, ensure it's straight and consistent diameter. That's simpler than forming tubes around a mandrel." She paused, frowning. "But boring through a meter of solid iron? That would take hours. Maybe days. And keeping the bore straight..."
"But would it work? Would a barrel made that way be stronger?"
"In theory? Yes. Absolutely. If you could bore it straight and consistent, the barrel would be significantly stronger, no seam to fail under pressure and stress. But the boring process would be incredibly difficult. The drill bit would wander through the metal, creating an uneven bore."
"We figure out the boring process somehow. We could build tools to make it work. But first, can you forge a solid rod?"
Muramasa looked at the failed barrels, then at the fragments scattered across the ground, then back at Kazuki.
"I can forge a solid rod by tomorrow. Best quality steel we have. Perfectly straight, consistent diameter throughout. That part is actually easier than what I've been doing."
"Do it. We'll solve the boring problem together."
"You're serious about this? Completely changing the method?"
"I'm serious about not having more barrels explode in our face. If that means doing it completely differently than tradition, then we do it differently."
She nodded slowly, a hint of respect in her eyes. "Alright. Solid rod forging it is. Let's see if your strange idea works better than the traditional method."
Muramasa spent the next day forging the solid rod while Kazuki researched boring techniques in the library.
The forging process was, as she'd said, actually simpler than tube-forming. Heat the iron to working temperature, that perfect orange-red glow. Hammer it into a thick cylinder, rotating constantly and working it from all angles until the diameter was consistent throughout. Check straightness obsessively with measuring tools.
By evening, she had a solid iron rod, roughly 25mm in diameter, one meter long, straight as an arrow.
Kazuki visited the forge to examine it. The rod was beautiful work, consistent diameter, perfectly straight, excellent quality steel with no visible flaws.
"This part worked perfectly," Muramasa admitted. "Good quality steel, no weak points, no seams to worry about. Now comes your part, how do we bore through a meter of solid iron without the drill bit wandering all over the place?"
"We need specialized tools for that. A long spiral drill that can carve through metal, and a system to keep it centered."
"We have drills. I commissioned a spiral auger from the best toolmaker in town, it's designed for metal boring. But controlling it through that much material without the bit wandering off course..."
"That's the critical challenge. The bit wants to follow the path of least resistance through the metal. We need something to keep it aligned with the rod's central axis."
They spent the rest of the evening planning, sketching designs on scraps of parchment.
"The rod needs to be held firmly so it doesn't shift," Muramasa said. "But it also needs to rotate slowly while the bit advances, otherwise the bit binds and breaks."
"What about a frame? A horizontal boring bench that holds the rod at waist height?"
"And how do you keep the drill bit centered?"
"Guides. Metal rings that the bit passes through as it enters the rod. If the guides are aligned with the rod's center axis, they'll keep the bit from wandering."
Muramasa studied the sketches, her practical experience catching design problems. "The guides need to be adjustable. Different rod diameters require different center points. And they need to be strong, if the bit binds, the whole system has to hold firm."
"Can you forge adjustable centering guides?"
"I can forge anything. The question is whether this will actually work."
"Only one way to find out."
The day after brought Hiroshi the carpenter into the project.
Kazuki showed him the boring bench designs, a solid wooden frame at waist height, with mounting points for metal clamps and guides.
"Can you build this?"
Hiroshi studied the drawings carefully. "The frame itself is straightforward carpentry. Heavy timber construction, well-braced. Two days of work if I focus on this exclusively."
"Do it. This is a critical piece to the entire project."
While Hiroshi worked on the wooden frame, Muramasa forged the critical metal components. The centering guides—adjustable metal rings that could be tightened or loosened to accommodate different rod diameters. Heavy-duty clamps to hold the rod firmly while allowing it to rotate. A crank mechanism to turn the rod smoothly and controllably.
By day nine, the basic boring bench stood complete in a cleared area of the forge.
It was an impressive piece of engineering for a medieval workshop. The wooden frame was solid and level. The metal components fit precisely into their mounting points. The centering guides aligned perfectly with each other, creating a straight path for the drill bit.
"Let's test it," Muramasa said.
They mounted her solid forged rod into the bench's clamps. The rod was secured firmly but could rotate smoothly when the crank was turned. The drill bit, a wicked-looking spiral auger nearly a meter long, fit through the centering guides that would keep it aligned.
Kenji watched nervously. "If this doesn't work..."
"Then we try something else," Kazuki said. "But I think it will work."
Muramasa heated the rod until it reached working temperature, hot enough to soften slightly, but not yet melting. Then she positioned the drill bit at the rod's center, aligned with the guides.
"Start slow," Kazuki advised. "Let the bit find its path first, but let the guides keep it centered."
Muramasa began turning the crank mechanism. The solid rod rotated slowly while the drill bit advanced, fed carefully through the centering guides. As the sharp spiral bit carved into the heated metal, the guides prevented it from drifting sideways, keeping it aligned with the rod's central axis.
The process was slow. Methodical. But controlled.
Sweat dripped from Muramasa's face as she worked on. Turning the crank required constant, steady pressure. The bit had to advance at just the right speed, too fast and it would bind easily, too slow and the metal would cool unevenly.
One hour later, they had bored through thirty centimeters.
"It's working," Kenji breathed, checking the bore diameter with a thin measuring rod. "The hole is straight and the diameter is consistent."
Two more hours of brutal and heavy grinding work. The bit advanced steadily, carving a precise hole through the solid iron. Metal shavings accumulated at the base of the boring bench.
By early afternoon, they had bored through sixty centimeters, already more than halfway.
Muramasa took a break, her arms trembling from the constant effort. Kenji took over the cranking, maintaining the same steady rhythm.
Another two hours. The bit emerged from the far end of the rod, completing the bore.
They had finally done it.
Muramasa examined the completed barrel with something approaching awe. She ran measuring rods through the bore, checking the interior diameter at multiple points along its length.
"Consistent throughout. Straight and true. No seam. No weak points." She looked at Kazuki, genuine respect in her weathered face. "Your strange method actually works better than the traditional one."
"Not strange. Just different. Engineering instead of pure smithing."
"Call it what you want, young master. This is how we make barrels from now on. No more exploding seams."
With the boring method proven, the team's confidence grew. They understood the challenges now and could work on improvements without Kazuki's constant presence.
Muramasa forged two more solid rods that week, refining her technique with each iteration. She documented everything, the exact iron composition, forging temperature, hammering patterns that produced the straightest, most consistent rods.
The boring process was refined through trial and error. They discovered that the rod's rotation speed mattered enormously. Too fast and the bit chattered, creating an uneven surface. Too slow and the metal cooled unevenly, making boring way more difficult.
Kenji, working under Muramasa's supervision, proved to have a natural talent for the boring process. His steady hands and patient temperament were perfect for the slow, methodical work.
"I think I can train others to do this," Kenji told Kazuki some days later "The boring bench makes it much easier than I expected. With the guides keeping everything centered, it's more about patience and consistency than actual skill."
That was exactly what Kazuki wanted to hear. If boring could be taught to apprentices, then Muramasa could focus on what only master smiths could do, forge perfect solid rods.
At the end of the second week, they had already bored their second barrel. The quality was even better than the first, the learning curve was steep but short.
Meanwhile, Goro made some progress on the lock mechanisms. He'd tested four different spring tensions, documenting which performed best under various conditions. The third design proved most reliable, resulting in fast ignition, minimal wear, consistent performance across dozens of test firings.
Hiroshi worked on the stock designs, experimenting with different wood types and reinforcement patterns. His fourth attempt incorporated metal plating that distributed recoil stress effectively, preventing the cracking that had plagued earlier versions.
Kazuki spent the week documenting everything. He recorded the exact steps for solid rod forging, boring procedures, timing, temperatures, and measurements. If they were going to scale production, they needed documented processes, not just a craftsman's intuition.
Rin reviewed his documentation with her administrator's eye, organizing it into something that could actually be used for training purposes.
"You're creating instruction manuals," she observed. "For weapons manufacturing."
"For industrial production. If we can't teach these processes to others, we can't scale beyond a handful of craftsmen."
A day later, they were ready to attempt the first complete weapon assembly.
Muramasa's second barrel, bored using the refined technique, with a perfectly straight, consistent bore. Goro's third lock mechanism, the spring tension finally perfected after extensive testing. Hiroshi's fourth stock, reinforced properly to handle recoil without cracking.
Kenji assembled them with methodical precision, his hands now intimately familiar with how each component connected. He'd practiced assembly and disassembly on the Portuguese samples already dozens of times.
The weapon looked crude compared to the fine Portuguese craftsmanship. The wood wasn't as finely finished. The metal showed minor tool marks. But it still looked functional.
They gathered at the testing ground two days later. Kazuki loaded it himself, his hands perfectly steady despite the nervous energy thrumming through him.
Powder poured down the barrel. Wadding to seal it. Lead shot loaded. More wadding. Prime the pan with finer powder. Light the match cord.
This was the moment of truth. Either they'd successfully created a weapon, or they'd built an expensive metal tube that would explode in his hands.
He aimed at a target thirty paces away and pulled the trigger.
The serpentine dropped smoothly.
The pan flashed.
Nothing.
Misfire.
Disappointment rippled through the watching craftsmen, but Muramasa was already examining the weapon.
"Touch hole," she said immediately. "The angle is slightly off. The flash from the pan isn't reaching the main charge properly."
Kenji pulled out a small reaming tool. "Give me ten minutes."
Ten minutes of careful work, adjusting the angle of the small hole connecting the pan to the barrel's interior.
They tried again.
This time, the weapon fired.
The boom echoed across the training ground like thunder. Smoke billowed from the barrel in a gray cloud. The recoil kicked against Kazuki's shoulder, stronger than he'd expected.
The shot flew wide right, missing the target by nearly two feet.
But it had fired without exploding. The barrel, made from a solid rod, no seam to fail, had held perfectly under pressure. The mechanism had worked. The stock hadn't cracked.
The craftsmen erupted in quiet celebration. Goro was grinning. Hiroshi looked relieved. Even Muramasa allowed herself a small smile.
It was ugly, inaccurate, and far from perfect.
But it was theirs. Made with local materials and local skill.
"Why did it miss so badly?" Kazuki asked, examining the weapon after it had cooled down.
Goro checked the barrel alignment carefully. "The bore isn't perfectly straight. See here?" He demonstrated with a thin rod. "There's a very tiny, slight curve. Just enough to throw off the shot significantly."
"Can we fix it?"
"We can make a new barrel with better straightness control. The boring process needs some refinement."
Muramasa was already nodding. "I think I know the problem. The rod wasn't perfectly straight when we mounted it in the boring bench. If the rod has even a tiny bend, the bore follows that bend. Next time, we check straightness obsessively before boring even begins."
"How do we check straightness that precisely?"
"I'll make a straightness gauge. A long, perfectly straight reference bar. We compare the rod against it before mounting."
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The team continued iterating without requiring Kazuki's constant oversight. They understood the goal now, functional weapons with combat-effective accuracy. They also understood the process well enough to identify and fix problems independently.
Muramasa forged three more solid rods that week, checking each one's straightness with her newly-made gauge before allowing it to proceed to boring. The sixth rod was remarkably straight, better than anything she'd managed to produce before.
The boring process had been refined as well. Kenji had discovered that heating the rod to a slightly lower temperature produced smoother bores with less metal distortion. And he'd developed a technique for checking bore straightness during the boring process itself, using a weighted string dropped through the partial bore.
Goro adjusted the lock mechanism's spring tension again based on extensive testing. The fourth design was faster and more reliable than any previous version.
Hiroshi refined the stock design one more time, adding stronger metal reinforcement at stress points and adjusting the shoulder angle for better recoil management.
By the twenty-fifth day, they had assembled a second complete weapon using all the improved components.
Kazuki test-fired it on the next day, with Honda and several castle guards watching.
First shot: dead center at fifty paces.
Second shot: slightly high, but still on target.
Third shot: low, but within acceptable range.
Fourth shot: center again.
Fifth shot: center.
Not perfect consistency, there was still some small variation from shot to shot. But the weapon was combat-effective. A trained shooter could reliably hit man-sized targets at fifty paces, with acceptable accuracy out to one hundred paces.
Honda, who'd been watching the demonstration with professional interest, assessed it carefully.
"At fifty paces, you'll hit what you aim at most of the time. At one hundred, accuracy drops but it's still usable for volley fire. This is better than I expected for a first production attempt."
He picked up the weapon, feeling its weight and balance. "It's way heavier than a bow, and much slower to reload. But the penetrating power..." He examined the target, where shots had punched clean through wooden boards. "A man in armor would have no protection against this. None."
"This is what we take to my father," Kazuki announced. "This proves the concept works."
The team looked at their creation with quiet pride. Two functional weapons. Proven production methods—from solid rod forging to guided boring. Documented procedures that could be taught to others.
They were ready for scaling.
While Kazuki and Rin prepared presentation materials, elsewhere in Karatsu, other players made their moves.
Muramasa spent a day training Kenji more extensively in the boring process.
"You're learning this faster than I expected," she admitted, watching him work.
"The boring bench makes it possible. With the guides, I don't have to guess where the bit is going, I just try to maintain a steady pressure and rotation speed." He paused in his work. "Could we train others to do this?"
"That's exactly what the young master is already planning. Once we prove this works, he wants to expand to multiple boring benches operating simultaneously."
"Multiple barrels being bored at the same time?"
"While smiths forge more solid rods in parallel. The young master calls it 'division of labor.' Each person doing what they do best."
Kenji considered this as he resumed cranking. "That's... actually brilliant. You focus on forging the rods, work that requires a master smith's skill. We handle the boring, work that requires patience and training but not decades of experience."
"Exactly. Though I'm still getting used to the idea of weapons being made this way. It's so different from traditional smithing."
"Different doesn't mean wrong."
Muramasa smiled slightly. "The young master would like you saying that."
Nobuyuki met with his retainer in a private study, reviewing reports.
"The young master has produced two functional weapons," the retainer reported. "Total cost around approximately one hundred ninety ryo. Quality is improving with each iteration."
"And his health?"
"Remarkable transformation. He exercises daily, improved his diet, and he start to put on muscle. The physicians are astonished at his speedy recovery."
Nobuyuki's jaw tightened. The poison should have killed him easily. It should have ended this problem permanently. Instead, his brother was thriving, building weapons, gaining their father's attention, becoming everything Nobuyuki was supposed to be.
Unacceptable.
"Send word to our contacts," Nobuyuki ordered coldly. "I want information on Portuguese weapon suppliers. Prices. Availability. Delivery timelines. Everything."
"You're planning to acquire your own firearms, milord?"
"I'm planning to ensure my dear brother doesn't monopolize military innovation in this domain. If he can obtain foreign weapons, so can I. And unlike his crude local copies, I'll have authentic Portuguese craftsmanship."
The retainer bowed. "Yes, milord. I'll send word immediately."
After the retainer left, Nobuyuki stood at the window, staring toward the forge where Kazuki's project was taking shape.
Two months ago, the problem should have been solved. Now it was worse than ever.
New plans would be needed. More permanent solutions.
Rin negotiated quietly with merchants, purchasing raw materials in carefully distributed quantities to avoid drawing unwanted, excessive attention.
High-quality iron stock for forging. Saltpeter for gunpowder production, that last one was becoming difficult to acquire in quantity without raising too much questions.
"Planning something substantial?" one merchant asked, noting the unusual volumes and specifications.
"Domain projects. Standard procurement for the castle."
But the merchant wasn't fooled. He'd been trading in Karatsu for twenty years. He knew when something unusual was happening.
"The young lord's building something in that forge, isn't he? Foreign-style weapons, people are saying."
Rin kept her expression carefully neutral. "People say many strange things. Most of it idle gossip and rumors."
She paid in cash and moved on to the next merchant.
Let them whisper and speculate. By the time anyone understood the full scope of what Kazuki was planning, it would be too late to interfere.
She hoped.
Kazuki spent his evenings organizing presentation materials with obsessive attention to detail.
This wasn't just about showing his father two working weapons. It was about presenting a complete industrial vision, proven methods, scalable processes, clear return on investment.
Cost analysis showing exact expenditures and projections. Production workflows with detailed diagrams. Team structures assigning specific tasks to specific types of workers. Scaling scenarios showing how output increased with workforce expansion.
Everything documented in formats his father's administrators could easily understand and evaluate.
Rin reviewed it all with her administrator's eye, catching unrealistic assumptions and adding expenses Kazuki had overlooked.
"You're not just pitching weapons," she observed on day forty-two. "You're pitching an entire manufacturing philosophy. Division of labor. Specialization. Industrial organization."
"If we can prove it works for weapons, it works for everything. Iron production. Tool making. Agriculture. Everything."
"That's either visionary or insane."
"Probably both."
She smiled slightly. "At least you're honest about it."
Kazuki was in town a few days later, meeting with a carpenter about potential workshop expansion, when Nobuyuki visited the forge.
By the time Kazuki returned, his brother was gone, but the atmosphere in the forge had changed. The craftsmen looked unsettled.
"What did he want?" Kazuki asked Muramasa directly.
"To see the weapons. He examined them closely, asking detailed questions about production time, material costs, complexity of each process." Her expression was troubled. "He was gathering intelligence, milord. Very systematically."
"What did you tell him?"
"Only what he could see with his own eyes. The weapons exist, they function. But I didn't explain the solid rod forging method or the boring bench system."
"Good. Did he ask about those specifically?"
"He asked how we made the barrels. I told him it was specialized smithing technique. He didn't push further."
Kazuki nodded slowly. His brother was clever, gathering information methodically, assessing the threat this project represented.
"He knows I'm succeeding," Kazuki said quietly. "That's dangerous for him."
Honda appeared in the forge doorway, his expression serious. "Young master, we should increase security around the forge. Your brother isn't just watching anymore. He's actively evaluating... something."
"I know. But there's not much we can do without some proof of hostile intent. For now, we proceed carefully and watch our backs."
"And if he moves against us?"
"Then we deal with it. But not before the presentation. We're too close now."
The last week before the presentation was spent in final testing, documentation, and mental preparation.
Both completed weapons were fired repeatedly to test reliability. Goro maintained meticulous logs, how many shots were fired before cleaning was required, signs of any component wear, any failure points or degradation.
"Each weapon can fire twenty to thirty shots before requiring significant cleaning," he reported. "The bore fouls up with powder residue, affecting accuracy. But with proper maintenance, cleaning after every use, replacing worn components, we're looking at hundreds of shots total. Maybe thousands over the weapon's lifetime."
"Better than I'd hoped," Kazuki admitted. "The Portuguese samples show similar maintenance requirements."
Rin completed the final financial analysis.
"One hundred ninety-four ryo total cost for two weapons over eight weeks. That's actually slightly under your original projections."
"How? I expected more failures, more wasted materials."
"The learning curve was steep but short. Once you solved the solid rod forging problem and built the boring bench, accumulated material waste dropped dramatically. That's very encouraging for scaled production, it suggests the method is genuinely repeatable, not just lucky success."
Kazuki spent the final three days preparing presentation materials with Rin's assistance.
Visual aids showing production workflows, from solid rod forging through boring to final assembly. Charts displaying costs, timelines, resource requirements. Clear demonstrations of capability. Scaling projections showing how output increased with workforce expansion.
Everything organized to answer the questions he knew his father would ask, and many his father wouldn't know to ask.
On the last day, the night before the presentation, Kazuki barely slept.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, rehearsing arguments in his mind. Reviewing numbers. Preparing for every conceivable objection.
What if Father says the investment is too large?
What if the advisors argue against changing our traditional methods?
What if Nobuyuki convinces them this is just reckless experimentation?
Around midnight, he gave up on sleep. He went to the library, lit afew candles, and reviewed the documents one final time by the flickering light.
Honda found him there after midnight, surrounded by papers.
"You should rest, young master. Tomorrow is very important."
"I can't. Too much riding on this."
"You've done everything possible. The weapons work. The numbers are solid. Your father will either see the vision or he won't. More preparation won't change that."
"And if he doesn't see it?"
"Then we've wasted two months and some gold proving a concept. But at least we tried." Honda sat down across from him. "That's more than most people can say. Most people never even attempt anything this ambitious."
Kazuki finally closed the documents. "You're right. I should get some sleep."
"Good. Because tomorrow, you're going to change everything."
"Or fail spectacularly."
"Why not both?"
Despite the tension, Kazuki smiled at that.
He returned to his room. Lay down. Closed his eyes.
And somehow, finally, sleep came.
Morning arrived too quickly.
Kazuki woke before dawn, his mind immediately sharp and focused despite limited sleep. He dressed carefully in formal attire befitting a lord's son, not ostentatious, but dignified and appropriate for an important presentation.
He gathered his materials methodically. The documents Rin had helped organize. The weapons, carefully wrapped in oiled cloth. Component samples showing the manufacturing process, a solid forged rod, a partially bored barrel, a completed barrel for comparison.
His hands were steady. His mind was clear.
Two months of work. One hundred ninety-four ryo invested. Two functional weapons. A complete industrial proposal.
Everything rides on the next few hours.
He made his way to his father's study. Outside the door, he paused. Took a deep breath.
Knocked.
"Enter."
Inside, Hirotada sat behind his massive desk. Several key advisors were present, the domain steward, the treasurer, two senior retainers. And Muramasa, standing respectfully to one side, having been summoned to verify the technical claims.
Nobuyuki was notably absent.
Kazuki bowed respectfully and set two carefully wrapped bundles on the desk with deliberate care.
"Father, honored advisors. Thank you for your time. I'd like to present the results of the weapons project you authorized two months ago."
He unwrapped the first arquebus with practiced efficiency.
The room fell completely silent as the advisors examined the weapon. Foreign design, but clearly local craftsmanship. The treasurer picked it up, feeling its weight, examining the barrel's surface, the lock mechanism, the stock's construction.
"This is locally made?" he asked carefully.
"Entirely. Local iron, local craftsmanship, local skill. Muramasa-san forged the barrel from a solid rod and bored it using specialized tools we developed. Goro-san constructed the lock mechanism. Hiroshi-san carved and reinforced the stock."
The steward examined the second weapon. "And these function? Actually fire?"
"I'd like to demonstrate, with your permission."
Hirotada considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. "The training ground. Now. I want to see this myself."
The gathered officials stood behind protective barriers as Kazuki loaded the weapon with practiced efficiency. He'd done this dozens of times during testing, but never with this much weight on the outcome.
Powder measured carefully down the barrel. Wadding tamped to seal it. Lead shot loaded. More wadding to keep the shot in place. Prime the pan with finer powder.
Light the match cord. Adjust it in the serpentine.
He aimed at a target fifty paces away, a wooden board with straw backing.
Pulled the trigger.
The serpentine dropped smoothly.
The pan flashed.
The main charge exploded with its characteristic boom that echoed across the training ground.
Smoke billowed from the barrel in a gray cloud.
The shot punched through the center of the target, leaving a clean hole in the wooden board and embedding itself in the straw backing.
Murmurs rippled through the watching officials. Several looked genuinely shocked.
Kazuki reloaded with smooth efficiency. Fired again. Another hit, slightly high but still striking the target solidly.
Third shot: center.
Fourth shot: slightly low but still on target.
Fifth shot: center again.
Each demonstration proving this wasn't luck or chance, it was repeatable, functional technology that worked consistently.
After the fifth shot, Kazuki lowered the weapon and turned to face his father and the assembled advisors.
"Two months ago, I had three Portuguese weapons and a theory about production methods. Today, I have seven weapons total, three Portuguese, two locally made proven functional, and two more currently in final assembly, and a proven successfull production system."
He gestured to where Muramasa stood respectfully beside the barriers.
"Four people, working with limited resources in a crowded forge, produced two functional weapons in eight weeks. The total cost was one hundred ninety-four ryo, approximately one hundred ryo per weapon, compared to five hundred ryo per weapon from Portuguese merchants."
The treasurer's eyebrows rose significantly at that comparison.
"But this is just the basic proof of concept," Kazuki continued, pulling out the carefully prepared documents. "What I'm here to propose is scaled production using these proven methods."
He distributed copies of the production plan to each advisor.
"With twenty workers, dedicated workshop space, and proper resources, we can produce forty weapons in three months. Eighty weapons in six months. Over one hundred fifty weapons in one year."
"Twenty workers?" the steward interrupted. "That's a substantial investment for what remains, essentially, an experimental manufacturing method."
"The experimental phase is complete. These weapons prove the method works reliably." Kazuki gestured to the two arquebuses. "What remains is demonstrating that we can scale it successfully. And the mathematics strongly support that we can."
He walked the advisors through the documents methodically, production workflow diagrams showing how solid rod forging, boring, and finishing would be divided among specialized workers. Team structures assigning specific people to specific tasks based on skill requirements. Cost projections breaking down materials, labor, and overhead expenses.
"Initial investment would be seven hundred fifty ryo for much needed workshop expansion, additional boring benches, specialized tools, raw materials inventory, and three months of wages for twenty workers."
Several advisors visibly winced at that number.
"Projected output is around forty weapons in three months. At Portuguese market prices of two hundred ryo per weapon, that represents eight thousand ryo in market value. Even if we keep every weapon for domain defense rather than selling them, we'd have military capability rivaling domains with five times our population and ten times our resources."
Hirotada studied the documents with intense focus, his experienced warrior's mind clearly calculating tactical advantages and strategic implications.
"This production method," he said slowly, looking up. "This division of labor between forging solid rods, boring them hollow, and finishing the barrels. Separating skilled smith work from trained apprentice work. Where did this concept originate?"
Careful. The answer here mattered enormously.
"The weapon design comes from studying Portuguese samples extensively. The production methodology comes from applying principles I've read about in texts describing ancient Chinese crossbow manufacturing operations." The lie mixed smoothly with just enough truth. "The Chinese have been producing weapons in large quantities for centuries using similar division-of-labor concepts. I adapted those principles to our specific situation and resources."
"And you believe these principles can work with our craftsmen? That they can be taught and scaled?"
"We've already proven they work on a small scale. Muramasa forges solid rods, work requiring master-level metallurgy skills developed over decades. But boring those rods to create barrels? That's repetitive mechanical work that skilled apprentices can learn in a matter of weeks under proper supervision. The boring bench we developed guides the process, making it teachable."
He looked directly at his father.
"We separate tasks requiring mastery from tasks requiring training and patience. Master smiths focus their expertise where it's irreplaceable. Trained workers handle the repetitive processes under supervision. Organized properly, this produces more output than traditional methods where one master makes everything from start to finish."
Muramasa spoke up, her voice respectful but confident. "The young lord speaks some truth, milord. I was deeply skeptical at first, it goes against everything traditional smithing teaches. But this method works, and it works very well. It means I can focus my expertise where it's truly needed, forging perfect solid rods that won't fail, while trained workers I supervise handle the boring process."
"You're comfortable with this division of labor?" Hirotada asked her directly.
"I am now. At first it felt wrong, like we were cheapening the craft. But I've come to understand, we're not cheapening anything. We're organizing more intelligently. A weapon made this way is actually stronger than traditional methods because the solid rod has no weak seam to fail."
The treasurer spoke up. "Even accepting the production method works, seven hundred fifty ryo is nearly all our remaining liquid capital after recent expenditures. If production doesn't scale as projected, or if quality degrades with expanded workforce, we'll have made an extraordinarily expensive mistake."
"That's a valid concern," Kazuki acknowledged. "Which is why I'm proposing clear success metrics. Forty weapons in three months. If we produce fewer than thirty, or if quality is unacceptable, the program ends. If we hit forty weapons with acceptable quality, we expand further."
"And what constitutes 'acceptable quality'?" one of the retainers asked.
"Combat-effective accuracy at fifty paces. Reliable ignition. No catastrophic failures like barrel explosions. The weapons don't need to match Portuguese craftsmanship perfectly, they need to work reliably in battle conditions."
Hirotada stood, examining the arquebuses one more time. He picked one up, felt its weight and balance, sighted down the barrel, examined the lock mechanism's construction.
Finally, he set it down and looked at his son with an unreadable expression.
"You're asking for nearly all our remaining treasury. Twenty workers diverted from other productive activities. Three months of focused effort. All based on a production method that's never been tested at scale."
"Yes."
"And if you fail?"
"Then I'll have failed attempting something ambitious that could have transformed our military capabilities and economic future. But I won't fail, Father. The method has proven itself. The craftsmen understand it. We just need more resources to scale what we've already demonstrated works."
A long silence filled the training ground. The advisors exchanged glances. The treasurer looked worried. The steward looked skeptical. The retainers looked intrigued but uncertain.
And Hirotada... Hirotada looked thoughtful.
"You've changed, Kazuki," he finally said. "You're standing here proposing industrial transformation and negotiating resource allocation like a seasoned administrator."
He turned to address the full assembly of advisors.
"I'm going to make a decision that half of you will think is wise and half will think is reckless. Kazuki, you have three months. Twenty workers. Seven hundred fifty ryo. But—" he raised his hand, "—the target is forty weapons, not thirty. If you produce fewer than forty weapons in three months, or if quality is below combat-effective standards, the program ends and you spend the following year working directly under the domain steward learning practical administration."
Kazuki's heart raced. Forty weapons. That was aggressive, very aggressive. More than he'd originally planned to propose.
But it was also an opportunity.
"And if I succeed? If we produce forty weapons with acceptable quality?"
"Then you get your expanded workforce. One hundred workers. The resources to build a proper manufactory. And authority to apply these production principles to other industries as you see fit."
The advisors looked shocked. The treasurer looked like he might faint any given moment. Even Muramasa's eyes widened.
Hirotada extended his hand.
"Do we have an agreement?"
Kazuki stepped forward and clasped his father's hand firmly.
"We have an agreement. Forty weapons in three months. Combat-effective quality. I won't disappoint you."
"See that you don't. Dismissed, except you, Kazuki. We have implementation details to discuss."
The advisors filed out slowly, some looking excited, others worried. Muramasa lingered briefly, catching Kazuki's eye and nodding respectfully before departing.
When the last one left, leaving just Kazuki and his father, Hirotada sighed heavily.
"You understand what you've committed to?"
"Yes. Forty weapons in ninety days. More than double what we've produced so far, in less time, with an untested expanded workforce."
"That's approximately one weapon every two days. With twenty people, that means your workflow needs to be extraordinarily efficient."
"I know. It will require perfect organization, no major setbacks, and some luck. But it's achievable if we execute properly."
Hirotada pulled out a document.
"This authorizes the treasury to release seven hundred fifty ryo for the weapons program. Use it wisely. There won't be more if you run over budget."
Kazuki took the document, hardly believing this was actually happening.
"Thank you, Father."
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when you've delivered forty weapons and proven this industrial approach actually works at scale."
"And Kazuki? Be very careful of your brother. Nobuyuki wasn't at this presentation deliberately. He's planning something. I don't know what yet, but I can see it in how he's been behaving. Watch your back."
"I will."
"Good. Now go. You have a manufactory to build and ninety days to do the impossible."
That evening, Kazuki gathered his core team in the forge.
Muramasa, Goro, Hiroshi, Kenji, Rin, and Honda.
"We have three months to produce forty weapons," he announced without preamble. "That means expanding from four people to twenty, setting up multiple boring benches, establishing supply chains for materials, and maintaining quality throughout."
"That's insane," Muramasa said flatly.
"It's ambitious. But it's also possible if we organize properly." He laid out the expansion plans he'd been developing. "Muramasa, you'll lead a six-person barrel production team. You and two other skilled smiths forge the solid rods. Three trained apprentices operate three boring benches simultaneously."
"Three boring benches?"
"Hiroshi needs to build two more identical to the first. Can you do that in one week?"
The carpenter calculated quickly. "If I have two assistants and focus on nothing else... yes. Barely, but yes."
"Do it. Goro, you'll head a four-person lock mechanism team. You make the complex spring assemblies that require fine metalwork, your assistants make the simpler pins, levers, and housings. Hiroshi, you will get four people for the stock carving and fitting. Kenji handles final assembly and quality control with two assistants."
"That's nineteen people," Rin noted. "You said twenty."
"You coordinate the materials procurement and logistics. To make sure we never run out of iron stock, charcoal, saltpeter, or anything else. One person dedicated entirely to keeping production supplied."
"And me?" Honda asked.
"You will provide security for the forge and workers. And begin training the first groups of ashigaru in firearms use. We're not just making weapons, we're building a firearms corps that knows how to use them."
He looked at all of them.
"This is going to be brutal. Three months of intense work. Long hours. Constant pressure. No room for major mistakes. But if we succeed..."
"If we succeed, we change everything," Muramasa finished. "Not just weapons. How the entire domain produces goods."
"Exactly. So—are we doing this?"
They exchanged glances. It was ambitious to the point of recklessness. The timeline was aggressive. The resource constraints were severe.
But they'd already done the impossible once.
Why not do it again?
"When do we start?" Muramasa asked.
"Tomorrow morning. We begin recruiting and training immediately. No time to waste."
Later that night, alone in his room, Kazuki updated his journal in English.
DAY 56: THE PITCH SUCCEEDED BEYOND EXPECTATIONS
Father approved: 750 ryo, 20 workers, 3 months
TARGET: 40 weapons (more aggressive than I proposed)
SUCCESS REWARD: 100-person workforce, full industrial authority
FAILURE PENALTY: One year as steward's assistant learning administration
The math is brutal:
- 40 weapons in 90 days = 1 weapon every 2.25 days
- With 20 people organized properly = achievable but requires perfection
- Current best: ~14 days per weapon with 4 people
- Need to cut to ~2-3 days per weapon with organized teams
Process improvements needed:
- 3 boring benches operating parallel (instead of 1)
- 3 smiths forging solid rods parallel (instead of 1)
- Streamlined assembly line for final integration
- Zero major failures (can't afford exploding barrels or failed components)
Risks:
- New workers need training (time loss in weeks 1-2)
- Quality may degrade with rapid scaling
- Supply chain bottlenecks (iron, charcoal, saltpeter)
- Nobuyuki will try to sabotage it if given any opportunity
- Ryuzoji pressure increasing (they know we're arming ourself)
But if we succeed:
- Proven industrial model at scale
- 40 weapons = viable defensive arsenal
- Path to 100+ workers = hundreds of weapons yearly
- Authority to apply these principles to ALL manufacturing
- Iron, tools, agriculture, construction, everything will transform
This isn't just about weapons anymore.
This is Karatsu's industrial revolution beginning.
Three months to prove it works.
Three months to change everything.
No pressure at all.
He closed the journal and looked out the window at Karatsu sleeping under the faint starlight.
Somewhere out there, Nobuyuki was plotting something. The Ryuzoji were watching like eagles. Rival domains were arming themselves.
But here, in this small domain, something unprecedented was beginning.
An industrial transformation that would either revolutionize Japanese manufacturing...
Or collapse spectacularly and doom everyone involved.
Kazuki smiled in the darkness.
Let's find out which.
Three months.
Forty weapons.
The future of Karatsu riding on solid iron rods, boring benches, and division of labor.
Time to make history.
Or fail trying.