The bladesmith stared at Zu Mari in utter shock. "You broke my soulblade."

Zu nodded gravely. "Yeah, sorry. Accident. Do you have another?"

"I do, but... they're not supposed to break like that." He gestured wildly, as though mere words were insufficient to convey the magnitude of his confusion.

“What can I say, my soul didn’t like what you were trying to do.” Zu shrugged. "I'll do better this time. I didn’t realize the extent to which my self-protective instincts had to be suppressed."

The bladesmith hesitated. "You're absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes. Do it. If you need extra money, I'll pay you for replacing your soul blade. Whatever you desire. Just get my godsword bound to my soul already." To say Zu Mari was losing patience would be to say nothing at all.

"As you desire." The bladesmith searched his cabinets for several minutes until he found a second blade, this wrapped in red cloth and bearing a red crystal in its hilt, then moved slowly to place it against Zu's throat.

Then he hesitated. "I am going to carve a line from here," he touched the blade gently, then drew his finger down to the center of Zu's sternum, "to here. It is not a physical cut, beyond the superficial, but it will be painful on a level beyond mere bodily discomfort. I will ask you to suppress your desires to lash back and shatter my blade, as it is very expensive and I do not have a third. Once the soul is opened, I will do the same to the sword, and bind the open edges together."

"Yes, yes, I understand. Begin."

The blade pressed in, fusing itself with the shattered pieces already inside the thin slice - it had perfectly replicated the first incision, the angle and positioning exact to the hairsbreadth. The chill of wrongness only grew stronger as the bladesmith slowly drew it downward, cutting not Zu's flesh but his spirit, opening a wound which would take days to heal.

His phoenix roared to life, prepared to run in and cauterize the injury, but Zu suppressed its heat and gently explained that this was essential.

He remembered the feeling when he'd impaled himself on Fire Twilight Death, imparting to himself the knowledge the sword could not convey quickly enough, and knew that time had been faster and easier than this, but also less sure. That was the sort of thing that, if you got wrong, would kill you - and if you got right, may kill you anyway. This was the sort of soul operation that was done when you knew you had time and wanted the subject to survive.

If it weren't so all-consuming to prevent himself from lashing out against the utter wrongness of the operation, he would have loved to observe it more closely. But as it was, enduring it without interfering was all he could manage. Holding back his phoenix at the same time was agonizing. He knew that if he slipped in one direction, he'd ruin their chances of success for this loop, and if he slipped in the other, he'd leave lasting scars on his soul that would take even longer to heal.

So he held steady as the blade was finally withdrawn, leaving his soul torn open, his essence screaming for healing. It was a very strange sort of pain, just as the swordmaster had warned. It didn't feel like anything physical, couldn't even be equated to it. It felt closest to a headache, or the sensation when you've not slept for four days straight because your stupid cousins take turns poking you with sticks every time you stop running.

"Almost done."

Zu took a breath, realizing that he hadn't been breathing for several moments, adding lightheaded dizziness to his soul-ache. The godsword screamed, a mental impact that staggered Zu, almost knocking him to his knees. He grabbed onto the nearest worktable for support, weak from the shout.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Zu whispered to the angered blade. "This is only to help us both. You'll see. Be still. All will be made right soon."

The godsword screamed again, and this time Zu could tell the blademaster felt it as well. His hand, which had been drawing the soulblade slowly down the godsword's length, shook faintly. Not enough to ruin his incision, but enough that he stopped and steadied his blade with the other hand before continuing.

"There, done." The blademaster's voice trembled the slightest bit. "Please touch the blade, and that will allow the seal to complete."

Zu placed his palm against the flat of the blade, feeling the raw open wound, the god's spirit split almost in half, the fury and confusion and panic within it. His soul instinctively reached out and, without thought, without volition, without any hesitation, the two were united.

Zu's soul-deep ache vanished as sharply as it had come; the godsword's scream stilled into uncertain silence.

His soul was complete again, unmarred, but within it rested the spirit of the sword. He wasn't sure how the process had worked, but it had. Souls did not work the same way as physical objects, it seemed, because trying to imagine his soul and the soul of the sword fitting together and ending up as they had did not line up.

Still, it had done what it had done, and now Zu could experiment freely.

"Thank you," he said, with genuine warmth. "I will remember your kindness."

"You're almost certainly going to die, you know that, right?"

"So you seem to think." Zu felt at the godsword, but it was still traumatized from the fusing and in no mood to speak to him yet. "I thank you nonetheless."

"Then... you are welcome. I wish you a long and happy life."

His expression clearly said he didn't believe it would happen, but would be polite to his rich customer anyway.

Zu smiled. "Thank you. Now, I was wondering if I could trouble you for a loan."