FUKUOKA--Master craftsman Seiichi Takayanagi knew he was dying and in a change of heart toward the end decided to "readopt" a former student he had once rejected in the hope she would learn enough to pass down the centuries-old style of scissor making.

The student, now 50, told him of her unwavering determination to preserve the techniques, even though he had once pushed her to abandon her dream of following in his footsteps.

After Takayanagi died of cancer at age 70 in November, the woman returned to his workshop to hone her skills in the 700-year-old method of forging scissors.

For many years, Takayanagi worked all alone in Fukuoka to create "Hakata basami" shears, which are produced the same way that swords are made. Steel is applied to the metal foundation, then beaten repeatedly to sharpen the edges and finally case-hardened.

At one time, 20 or so studios created the local specialty. But Takayanagi, who hailed from a family of swordsmiths, had been the sole Hakata basami maker for the past 30 years.

She came to his workshop a decade ago seeking to learn the craft from him. Takayanagi initially refused, but she would not give up and returned almost every day. She even quit her job at a department store.

The two seemed to be cut from the same cloth. Inspired by her persistence, which reminded him of his younger self, Takayanagi felt she may have the grit to do the job. He allowed her to freely use tools and materials at his studio and did not hesitate to show her his techniques.

Takayanagi made beautiful Hakata basami scissors that can retain their sharpness for three generations. Despite the relatively steep price of 8,000 yen ($77.49) per pair, he always had a steady stream of orders.

It usually takes 10 years or longer, working from morning to evening, to master all the crafting techniques. But the woman still had to work part time while refining her skills, so she did not improve as much as the pair had hoped.

Takayanagi fretted about her career prospects.

Five years passed and he ultimately decided to push her away in the hope she would move on to something else where she could prosper.

He held up the scissors she made.

“This is what you have invested five years in,” he said. “You should give it up.”

The woman sobbed. She said that would mean her “five-year effort will amount to nothing.”

Takayanagi was adamant, telling her that “only five years will have been used in vain if you get away from it right now.”

She packed up and left for a training site in a prefecture outside Fukuoka that operates a blacksmith support system.

Shortly after that, Takayanagi’s health deteriorated. Doctors confirmed his bladder carcinoma had spread to his lymph nodes.

While he was hospitalized in spring 2017, the government designated the technique for creating Hakata basami as an intangible folk cultural property--meaning that records about it should be kept and preserved.

It made him think that “something has to be done” to preserve the craft, so Takayanagi tried to conserve his skills. But then side effects from his treatment rendered his right arm useless.

Takayanagi recovered slightly before the tumor attacked his lungs.

“I have lately started thinking it may be difficult to develop someone as a successor,” Takayanagi said in a resigned tone around that time.

He reached out to craftsmen outside the prefecture to find someone to take over his business. But one image kept coming back to him: the determined look of his former student.

Even though she was not technically proficient, Takayanagi said she was “the only individual who can be called my student.”

A FRIENDSHIP REFORGED

In August 2020, he learned he had cancer in his liver and was hospitalized again.

Takayanagi briefly returned home on Sept. 17. He picked up his smartphone with his left hand and searched for the woman’s contact information.

He hesitated to call because he had “persuaded her to change her career path” and did not know what to say. Takayanagi said he wondered what she did now and “whether she still works as a blacksmith.”

His wife encouraged him, so Takayanagi finally pushed the call button.

He was greeted with a cheerful voice.

“Long time, no see!”

Takayanagi asked, “Are you doing OK? Where are you now?”

His former student said she had still was working on her forging techniques at a training facility.

“I concentrate only on finishing products quickly these days,” she said, while expressing her obsession with carefully forged Hakata basami. “I have no progress in Hakata basami.”

Takayanagi asked her if she still wanted to create Hakata basami.

She told him she did and that eventually she “would like to hand it on.”

“A craftsperson from the next generation following me may be able to return to Hakata, and that would be nice,” she said. “I have long watched you work, and my origin lies in where you are.”

PASSING ON A LEGACY

Before the call ended, the two promised they would meet. It brought liveliness back to his face.

“It fills me with joy to learn that she still intends to make Hakata basami,” Takayanagi said, referring to the “surprise” finding with a smile. “She has not given up.”

The woman arrived at Takayanagi’s home on Oct. 7. Takayanagi, who was in bed, saw his former student’s upper arms and described her as “having grown sturdy.”

“A mere look at you made me realize that you have made the best of those five years,” he said. “All you need to create Hakata basami is a strong will. Orders will soon stop coming in if you pitch dull items. You must set a high bar.”

A few days later, his condition abruptly deteriorated.

Takayanagi told her to “do as you like” by phone. He then lapsed into unconsciousness and took his last breath on Nov. 8.

The woman appeared at his unlit studio two weeks later.

She felt as if Takayanagi had stood beside her then and said, “Do your best to show how far you can go.”