Chapter 10: Strings Into Steel

The underground tunnel beneath Hamamatsu Station hums with a strange, melodic vibration—like a low note held in the throat of the earth. Dence follows The Ghost, Amakuni Yasutsuna in silence, the air growing denser with each step. The walls are carved stone, etched with ancient Japanese characters that pulse faintly with red and white light—like memories encoded in rhythm. Amakuni’s robe flutters without wind, as if time itself moves around him. They enter a hidden chamber—part shrine, part forge. Bathed in the red-orange glow of molten steel. An anvil sits at the center, surrounded by hanging wind chimes that ring not by air, but by presence. The temperature shifts—warm with reverence, cold with expectation.

Amakuni (in old Japanese)
“刀を鍛えるには、魂が先に砕かれねばならぬ。”The smoke translates in the air, its shape dancing like kanji turning into English...
Smoke Translation:
"To forge a sword, the soul must first be broken."

Amakuni gestures to Dence’s black guitar, and he hesitates. The guitar has become more than an instrument—it’s a diary of sound, pain, and memory.

“You must choose,” Amakuni says, eyes like molten coals. “Will you turn your strings into steel?”

Dence kneels. Places the guitar down. The white aragonite stones in the bridge pins begin to shimmer—as if responding to the call.

Amakuni begins the silent prayer.

Dence hearing whispers, chanting the first line from the Bible verse Matthew 5:16. "Let your light shine before men..." repeating like a broken record but with declaration.

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[Flashback: Toyohashi South Station Square ― Tully's Coffee Shop]

Soft jazz music plays faintly in the background. Rain taps gently on the glass windows of coffee shop. The warm light contracts the grey drizzle outside. Inside, seated by the corner window, Dence sits across from Ptr. Isagani Cruz, each with a cup of steaming coffee in front of them.

Ptr. Isagani (smiling gently):
"Matthew 5:16... Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."
Dence (nodding slowly):
"Yeah... I remember. You also shared that verse when we were organizing the busking for the feeding program."
Ptr. Isagani:
"You see, Dence, in a world clouded by noise―literal and spiritual―shining doesn't mean being the loudest. Sometimes, it's being real in a world full of filters. Between imagination and reality... the line is thin. But both are gifts from Above."
Dence (thoughtful):
"You mean... imagination is not just an escape?"
Ptr. Isagani (sipping his coffee):
"It can be... but it can also be a calling. Imagination births songs. And those songs―when offered sincerely―can break walls. Heal. Restore. That's what you do. Whether in the alleys or stages, that's your mission."

There's a pause. Rain pours a little harder outside. Dence stares at his reflection on the coffee's surface.
Ptr. Isagani (gently):
"And when the noise is too much, Dence... sometimes, the most powerful move is to simply let it go."
Dence looks up. That same phrase again. The words Sam once told him. Now echoed here.
Dence (softly):
"Let it go..."

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[Flashback Fades: Back with Amakuni]

Red and white winds swirl through the chamber like spirits of melody and silence colliding. Dence’s guitar strings unravel in mid-air, transforming into glowing wires. They stretch, spin, and twist into the shape of a blade—long, thin, elegant—but with a subtle curve that mirrors a wave of sound.

As the katana forms, dramatic thoughts of the past flash in his eyes ― his worst moments—rejection, poverty, fatherhood’s weight, battles with the kids, and the music industry’s dismissive glare. A glimmer in his eyes ― then, suddenly, tears slip down his cheeks. Quiet. Unstoppable. Whispering...
"Let it go..."

Suddenly, a muddied sound of Night Angel plays faintly inside his head, reminding him why he endures. The blade cools in mid-air, then falls, landing point-first in front of him—vibrating softly, like it hums.

Amakuni (gentle voice):
“This is no weapon of war. It will not draw blood. It will cut through illusion, silence, and lies. It is a song made solid. A truth-blade.”

Dence grips it.

The sword responds—not with weight, but resonance. He hears a distant note echo across the chamber… like the very first chord of a new beginning. Just before Amakuni fades, he turns to Dence once more.
“Remember this: Music may fade. But what is true, will always echo.”

The chamber dims. The chimes fall still. He hands Dence a glossokomon ― an ancient case adorned with musical seals. Dence opens it, revealing a set of shining, otherworldly guitar strings. He feels the pulse of destiny in his fingertips. Without hesitation, he restrings his guitar, each string humming with power ― steel transformed by sound.

The moment the final string is locked in place, a sudden blaze of light erupts from the strings―swirling white smoke. Dence realized that The Ghost vanished, the strong wind and eerie sounds began to roar. Before he move his foot to step forward, a white light envelopes him, transporting him into a vivid memory...

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[Flashback: Rainy Evening ― Lightning Breaks ― Daddy's Birthday]

The flicker of match. A small flame sparks in the darkness.
A homemade spaghetti and a simple cake on a table. A child's hand carefully lighting the final candle. Three kids stand behind it, faces glowing in the candlelight. They sing:

Kids (singing):
"Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, Daddy..."

Dence seated at the center of their small apartment, smiles―surprised, emotional. His youngest child slipped a crumpled paper into his hand.

A stick figure with one sided hairstyle, an acoustic guitar slung across his back, katana in hand, slashing through a storm cloud.
Above it, in orange crayon:
“Daddy is a Hero.”