The slow, rhythmic thrust of a piston covered in tanuki (raccoon dog) skin blasted air from box bellows onto the searing-hot charcoal. A casual glance at his forge was, however, all that Yoshindo Yoshihara needed to know the fire's exact temperature.
His sharp eyes behind his glasses may have been intent on that vital blaze, but they also appeared completely relaxed as this rather small man with a goatee beard brought his decades of experience to bear — working, it seemed, completely absorbed in the moment. Then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he yanked the red-hot length of metal off the bed of fire with a pair of long-handled pliers and across onto an anvil.
No sooner had Yoshihara done this than the two young men beside him began to bring down their hammers alternately on the metal, filling the downtown Tokyo workshop with the clanging and ringing of their blows. Sparks flew in all directions as this master swordsmith gripped the pliers unflinchingly, staring fixedly at the red-hot metal.