Sword

Scipio dangled the blade limply in his hand.
“I don’t understand. It’s just a sword”
Whip fast, his uncle’s hand swept forward, slapping Scipio’s sword hand. He dropped the sword, which seemed to anger his uncle even more.
“Pick her up, and apologize to her.” the swordsmaster ordered. “A sword should always be treated with respect as the lady she is. She is not an “it”.
Meekly, chastised, Scipio knelt. With not quite exaggerated care, he bore the sword in both hands from the sawdust-swept floor and into his hands.
“Kiss the blade.” his uncle ordered.
Scipio placed his lips, briefly, on the thickest part of the flat of the blade, near the hilt. This seemed to placate his teacher.
“And now we will begin again” the swordmaster said.

The blond haired man holds me in his hand. He still doesn’t get it.
“I don’t understand. It’s just a sword”
The swordmaster, who created me, hits him. The blond haired man drops me, and I shudder as I hit the wooden floor.
“Pick her up, and apologize to her.” the swordsmaster says. “A sword should always be treated with respect as the lady she is. She is not an “it”. He’s talking about me.
The blond haired man kneels.He takes me into his hands. I feel a tingle inside of me. This feels right, now.
“Kiss the blade” the swordsmaster says.
The kiss is electric, and binding. Does the Blond haired man know? Does he understand what he has done?
I feel it in every inch of my steel. He’s going to be mine. I wonder when I will tell him my name.
“And now we will begin again”
Oh yes, oh yes we will.