The Prince and the Serpent

The Blacksmith

Clang.... Clang.... Clang...

The rhythmic pounding of metal on metal synchronized painfully with the throbbing in Boruto's head.

Clang... Clang... Clang...

The relentless solid sound echoed in the darkness and dragged him from his rest.

Clang... Clang... Clang...

His agitation grew with the pain in his skull. Damn it! He thought angrily. He just wanted to rest! Where was this noise coming from and why wouldn't it stop?

Clang... Clang... Clang...

The infuriating racket struck out the same rhythm, unaffected by Boruto's growing irritation. He just wanted to make it stop. Weak light flashed as he forced his heavy eyelids open. The sight that met his clearing vision made him pause as confusion quickly replaced his irritation.

He was laying in a small room with rough stone walls. The floor was made of worn and warped wood. He was laying on a blanket on a clean pile of straw next to a bolted door. A red brick coal forge took up most of the left side of the room. A sliding barn door hung on the far wall and was cracked open slightly, revealing black rocks outside. A large black anvil stood beside the forge. The space in front of the anvil was occupied by a young man who was turned away from Boruto.

The stranger's back was bare except for the grey ties of his blacksmith's apron tied around his neck and hips. The muscles of his back shone with sweat as he swung his hammer, repeatedly striking a glowing piece of iron. His arms were glossy with sweat and heavily streaked with soot. Golden sparks showered from the anvil with each heavy blow. Simple but worn black leather pants protected the man's legs from the falling sparks. Thick matching boots with heavily tarnished brass buckles protected his feet.

What caught Boruto's eye were the tattoo-like black stripes adorning the left side of his back. Those looked eerily familiar. The young man paused to rest his arm and lifted his other to wipe his brow. It was covered in matching lines. Boruto gasped audibly as the realization hit him. The stranger must have heard him because he glanced over his shoulder at Boruto with a hard, steel blue eye. He held Boruto's gaze with an aura of disinterest, then returned to his work.

"You're awake." The man muttered, mostly to himself.

"You're cursed!" Boruto blurted out inelegantly. The stranger's hammer swung and missed its mark. He casually readjusted his grip and resumed his work.

"I don't know what you're talking about, your highness." He responded with poorly concealed irritation. Boruto huffed, his own agitation remembered.

"I'm talking about your obvious curse marks." Boruto snarled. He didn't know if it was the constant hammer noise, his headache, this stranger's curtness, or his open refusal to talk about his obvious curse that was getting to him the most. The smith swung his hammer with far more force than necessary then paused.

"How is your leg feeling?" The man asked with the same tone of general disinterest. This guy was pissing Boruto off. He hated to be ignored.

"It's fine." He lied through his teeth. The truth was his leg was throbbing more painfully than his head and he was fighting an all-over feeling of weakness. For now, he was determined to ignore all of that. He had found someone who was suffering from the same curse he was and he was infuriated that they were refusing to so much as acknowledge it. "Why won't you talk about your curse?!" Boruto demanded in a voice that definitely was not whiny.

The strange smith ignored him completely that time. He took the metal, which was now a dull red color, over to the forge and stuck it deep into the bright flames. Boruto huffed angrily and crossed his arms over his chest. This asshole really knew how to piss him off. He looked to his left, instinctively looking to Mitsuki for comfort but only empty space met his eyes. For the first time, he realized he was alone with the infuriating smith.