‘It’s a fan.’ She reached out to touch the long, rectangular object nestled in the long, rectangular box. Her black eyes were full of puzzlement, as they darted upwards to look at the man who had presented it to her.

‘Yes,’ he said simply. He did not smile. He never did, not in all the months she knew him; to do so just wasn’t him. He held the narrow box now in two hands, the box’s lid dangling by its edge from the hooked index finger on his right hand. ‘It’s for you.’

She raised a dark eyebrow. ‘You said you were going to get me a weapon when I levelled up, not a woman’s accessory.’

‘Take it and see.’ He shrugged and pushed the box closer. He shifted a little, his chainmail clinking as he did. She always wondered at how he could bear wearing that heavy armour all the time, but the weight of all the solid steel links hanging from the warrior’s shoulders never did seem to bother or hinder him. Very little did, she knew. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

She returned an identical shrug and picked up the fan. She almost dropped it in her surprise, for she had not expected it to be so heavy. The closed fan was about as long as her forearm, and a cool silk tassel dangled from a thick silk cord threaded through the rivet at the fan’s head. Sandwiched between the thick guards of dark polished wood were precise folds of lacquered paper, and thin steel ribs that extended beyond the paper.

She looked at it in fascination, turning it in her right hand. It was indeed nowhere near a woman’s accessory. Decorative fans tended not to possess cruel, razor-sharp points at the end of their ribs. The steel of the fan’s ribs and sticks flashed blue when she raised it to the light; it was good quality steel, and explained the fan’s weight.

‘Open it.’ At his command, she opened up the fan reverently with both hands. The lacquered paper cracked a little as the fan’s leaf unfolded, revealing a circle painted in the centre of it, symmetrical halves of red and blue separated by a sigmoid curve on a pale yellow background. The sharp ends of the ribs fanned open in a wicked half-circle of deadliness above the paper, glinting pale blue along their edges in the light.

‘Oh.’ She was speechless. Her hand was getting used to the dense weight of the fan, and she found that it was not encumbering at all, as she had first believed it. In fact, it was perfect, the length of steel ribs comfortably counter-balanced by the weight of the steel sticks that met in the fan’s head. She could easily snap it open and close in one hand, and did so a few times, marvelling at the smoothness at which the sticks moved over each other.

‘I knew you would like it.’ His voice was pleased, smug even.

She felt like rolling her eyes at his tone, but refrained from it. A gift of an excellent weapon like this did not deserve ungratefulness or discourtesy. ‘Thank you.’

‘Now let’s see you at work with it.’

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A one shot, pure descriptive piece. Does this count as a blog then?

I was half inspired by the deadly fan weapon as featured in Tamora Pierce’s Protector of the Small series. The other half came from a good Maple buddy of mine. He gave me a Korean fan too, but he wasn’t a warrior and he always, always smiled.

This is dedicated to you, Crazyberry. Thanks for being there for your Jie. Been missing you.