Making Karuta Boards and Wood Magic
The water I’d filled in the bathtub would be used for tonight’s bath, and after that, I went out to gather medicinal herbs.
Since it was my day off, I thought I’d collect a lot, but partway through Dad asked what I was planning to do about making the boards for the karuta and playing cards. I stopped after gathering the same amount as last time.
The delivery would be after lunch, so for now I tucked the herbs into my magic bag. I’d repack them into my usual bag when it was time to head to the guild.
“When yer startin’ out, best to use a soft, easy-to-work wood, y’see.”
When I got back, there were a few branch-sized beams in the living room, along with some card-sized boards already cut. Dad handed me one of the branches, and I took it. He set another in front of himself.
“When a tree’s still growin’, we use prunin’ magic on it. But once it’s been cut for lumber, ya gotta use a hatchet or saw.
Now, Vio, you can use wind magic, can’t ya? Could try cuttin’ with that—wanna give it a whirl?”
Dad wasn’t great at wind magic himself, so he usually stuck to tools, but for me, the hatchet and saw were too big. Wind magic might work better. He suggested Wind Cutter, so I decided to try it.
The boards didn’t need much thickness, so I drew a line where I wanted to cut and aimed for it. I gathered my magic, picturing a spinning disc of wind slicing through the air…
“Wind Cutter.”
Slice! Clatter, clatter… Whoa, that’s scary!
Because I couldn’t channel magic well with just one hand, I’d put a weight on the board and left just a bit hanging over the edge of the table—but it still sliced so cleanly the thin piece just rolled away.
“Aah, well now, looks like it’s got plenty o’ cuttin’ power.”
Since it was my first time trying the spell—and I’d already had that water magic mishap—Dad was watching. That was his verdict.
He wasn’t wrong. It was a perfect, clean cut. I had the unsettling feeling it could take a monster’s—or a thief’s—head clean off.
But for crafting? Way too dangerous.
“Reckon I’ll handle the cuttin’. How ‘bout you take care o’ the polishin’?
See here—after cuttin’, the surface gets a mite fuzzy. So ya stroke the wood, flowin’ magic into it—‘Smooth the surface, Polish.’ Like this. Wanna give it a try?”
Dad picked up one of the boards and showed me. Sure enough, the wood fibers stuck up before sanding, but as he slowly flowed magic into the board while chanting, the part he stroked turned smooth as glass.
So that’s how he made the surface of my little chair so perfect. Amazing.
He handed me an unpolished board. I placed it in my left hand, held it between both hands, and let my magic seep in.
In a living tree, magic flows slowly from roots to leaves, then back again. This board still held a faint trace of that, but since no new magic would be made, mine went in easily.
I gathered it into my right hand and chanted:
“Smooth the surface, Polish.”
Between my right hand and the board, it felt like tiny sparks of static or a miniature whirlwind. It tickled, but I ignored it and kept moving slowly.
Dad told me to keep my hand just above the board—close, but not touching—so I was careful not to drift too far or too near.
With my hand size, it took a while to do a board about one and a half palms wide. Once it was smooth, I flipped it and did the back. Done.
“Dad, I finished!”
“Mm, I figgered ya might mess up a few times, but you nailed it on the first go. Vio, yer magic control’s somethin’ else.”
So that’s why he’d prepared so many little boards—just in case. I couldn’t help smiling at his thoughtfulness.
From there, Dad kept slicing branches into board-thick pieces, and I polished them. The “soft and easy to handle” part was apparently only true for cutting—polishing didn’t feel any different.
We’d planned for forty-five cards × two for the karuta and fifty-four for the playing cards—one hundred forty-four in total—but… yeah, that was too many.
Still, after the fifth board or so, I got much faster, and we managed.
Once my speed picked up, Dad got fired up too, chopping away with the hatchet like he was slicing daikon—slice, slice—and I stood on his right, polishing each fresh piece right away. It felt like we were pounding mochi together.
When we finally ran out of branches, we’d made well over one hundred fifty boards.
Dad had cut extra in case I messed up, but since I’d quit using Wind Cutter right away for being too dangerous, and the one piece I’d cut was still usable, there was no waste.
And since polishing had gone perfectly from the start, we had more than enough toy boards.
All that was left was to make the picture and reading cards, but that could wait for another day.
For now, lunch came first—then the delivery, and reporting my water magic to the Vice-Guildmaster.
Ahh, I’m starving.
… Could this be the start of magic depletion? I asked Dad, but he said we’d just worked past lunchtime. Disappointing.
What do you think about this chapter?
