Katana (10 page)

His face was an expressionless mask. “There is no other way.” He bowed his head. “Kill her.”

13

T
he first attacker lunged for me, screaming, with his blade held high over his head. As he got close, the cold silk from the attack outside the parking lot returned. It unraveled from within, stretching to my fingers and toes. It pushed open my lungs, allowed me to breathe, and froze my fear into a solid lump that fell and shattered against the hard pit of my stomach. As it had in the mall parking lot, a calm focus flooded through me and pushed the confusion from my mind.

This one is inexperienced with a blade,
the voice whispered.
It won’t take much to bring him down.

I felt the unfamiliar smile return to my lips—this was going to be fun. I dodged the outstretched blade inches before my skin was to be torn apart by sharpened metal. Spinning behind the first attacker, I ducked low to the ground, kicked my leg, and swept his feet out from under him. He landed on his back and groaned.

The next attacker circled me, his eyes darting nervously back and forth between me and his fallen comrade. His body was rigid as he waited for an opportunity to move in.

This one is looking for a hole in our defense. We mustn’t give him one.

“Sounds good to me,” I whispered.

The attacker hesitated.

I straightened my stance. “Yeah that’s right, I’m talking to myself! What of it?”

He peeked over his shoulder at Kim, who motioned him back to me with a nod. We circled each other, back and forth, staring, each waiting for the other to make the first strike. Eventually, his muscles shuddered with strain and he dropped into a crouch.

He’s going to make his move.

I swung the blade out in front of me in a defensive stance, ready and waiting. He paused as uncertainty flashed behind his eyes. Was he changing his mind?

She’s coming from behind.

I sensed the girl behind me before I saw her. It was an odd feeling, to know a person’s movements without seeing them, just like when I felt Whitley listening in on my phone conversation. I didn’t have time to be freaked out by the new sensation—

I needed to move. I spun and dodged her blade, which missed my shoulder in its downward arc. She was faster than the first attacker and twisted to face me before I was able to dart away. With another yell, she swung her katana high, exactly as I anticipated. I raised my blade to protect my face and decided that if she insisted on aiming for my head, I didn’t want her holding a blade.

Our swords met, sliding with a hiss before I flung her back with a hard shove. She stumbled, but caught herself. She yelled and pushed forward again, aiming for my throat. She lashed out, but this time I sidestepped the blow. As she fell into the space I’d deserted, I planted a knee in her stomach.

She cried out, doubling over as she hugged her sides. I grabbed her by the arm, positioned my body along her side, and used her own weight to flip her over on her back. She cried out again and dropped her katana when she hit the floor.

I plucked her blade from the ground so that I now held one in each hand. Swinging them before me, I turned my attention to the remaining attacker. The man turned and glanced nervously at Kim, who was too busy smiling at me to notice.

“I thought you couldn’t fight?” Kim said.

“When I’m done with this guy here,” I said, licking my lips, “why don’t you come over here and find out?” I crossed the two blades in front my body.

I was ready.

The standing man—left with no other options—dropped his shoulders and charged. As he hugged his sword against his body, I brought my arms inward to meet his blow and pushed out the moment I heard the hiss of metal sliding down metal.

His initial grace lost, he scrambled backward, almost tripping in the process. I let him get about twenty feet from me before I lunged. His eyes—I noted with pleasure—bulged from his head as I advanced. Bringing my blades back tight against my body, I dove between his legs, snaring his right knee with my foot as I rolled through.

He tumbled down, but rolled over and hopped to his feet in one fluid motion.

No problem. My mind, already a step ahead, instructed me what to do and where to move. I could barely keep up with my own actions—kick, dodge, roll. I wasn’t in control, so I just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

But the ride was a long one. I wasn’t certain how long I’d been fighting. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but it felt like hours. How long could this guy keep attacking me? How long could I fend him off? Another kick. Another sword strike. Both missed their target. I was vaguely aware of a slow burning creeping through my muscles. I was tiring. It wouldn’t be much longer.

My attacker was tiring too. He moved slower, sloppier. His kick went wide and I used that moment to launch my own kick between his shoulder blades as he swung past. He sailed past me and landed, gasping for breath, on the mats. I lowered my arms, twisted my blades downward, and trapped his sword in a steel grip. With another twist, I swung my arms to the right and tore his katana from his grasp, flinging it across the room.

“We’re finished here,” Kim said from across the room.

Oh, but
I
wasn’t finished. Not even close.

I stood over my fallen enemy, both swords quivered in a high arc above my head. Finishing a yell that I hadn’t even realized I’d begun, I brought the two blades crashing down.

“Senshi, NO!” Kim’s yell brought me back, but not soon enough.

I closed my eyes just as the girl attacker cried out. In that instant, the world froze so that nothing existed but me, the dark, and the girl’s scream echoing through my ears. What had I done? A pounding pressure built in the back of my skull until a massive migraine consumed my whole head.

“It’s okay. I’m okay!” It was a male voice.

I opened my eyes cautiously, blinking against the light that amplified the pounding in my head. The remaining attacker was still on the floor, untouched. His head lay between the two blades I had planted mere inches from his ears.

He sat up slowly, pulling down the scarf that covered his face and exposing a lopsided grin. “That was amazing!” He laughed, stood, and patted my shoulder. He was short for a teenager, only a couple inches taller than me. He pushed back his white hood, exposing wavy auburn hair. “Incredibly scary, but still amazing!”

Moments ago, this guy was trying to kill me—now he was smiling and patting me on the back? I didn’t understand, but didn’t feel well enough to talk. I hated not being in control of my body, and the last move was just a little too close for comfort. No, amazing was not the word I would use. Terrifying, horrifying, gut-wrenching—those were much better choices.

Suddenly I was hit by a headache so intense that my vision blurred. Each pulsing throb became more terrible than the last, until I was sprawled on the floor, unsure of how I got there.

Kim appeared before me. His fingers almost brushed my cheek. Again he caught himself, stopping short before we touched. He turned and spoke to the others, but I couldn’t make it out. I was too far away.

My vision swam in a kaleidoscope of multicolored triangles that tumbled and merged, forming new triangles that fell into the same tumbling pattern. Inch by inch, darkness crept along the edges of my beautiful hallucination, like ink seeping into a rag. Tighter and tighter, until—for the second time—I fell into darkness.

14

Japan, 1493

S
taring at the pool of blood outside Lord Toyotomi’s door, Senshi struggled to swallow the bile that pushed up her throat. She drew a sharp breath while sliding her katana free from her obi. There was so much blood—too much for anyone to—no, she couldn’t think that.

As decorum required, she announced herself before entering Toyotomi’s room.

“Help us!” a female called back. The despair in her voice tugged on Senshi’s heart and pulled her into the room as fast as her feet could carry her.

Just as she feared, she was too late. Two house maids huddled together on Toyotomi’s sleeping mat. The first, a girl in her early teens, rocked back and forth. Her vacant eyes looked at Senshi, but stared through unseeing. She had raked her nails down her cheeks, leaving tear-diluted bloody trails down her face and throat. The second, an elderly woman, cradled an unmoving Toyotomi in her lap, whispering words of comfort while stroking his long, white hair.

Right away Senshi spotted the arrow protruding from Toyotomi’s chest. “No,” she whispered. It couldn’t be. She approached cautiously, not believing her eyes. Toyotomi had saved her from the pleasure district when she was a young girl. He took her into his estate, and, despite the outcries of most of the other samurai, started her training. Senshi kneeled beside him, hesitant to touch him and confirm the worst.

As if sensing her presence, Toyotomi smiled. “Senshi. I knew … you would come.” His face, normally the color of the herbal tea he was so fond of, was now ash gray. With great effort, he placed a trembling hand on her knee.

That single touch shattered her. She threw herself onto his lap, clutching the fabric of his robes as if her grip alone could keep his spirit rooted on earth. “My lord, I have failed you.”

He chuckled without sound. “No,” he whispered, his chest straining to give sound to his words. “Never fail … not you … my greatest honor.”

“What?” She lifted her head, exposing the long trails of tears that ran down both cheeks.

“Senshi … I saw … great things. You … did not disappoint.”

“But I—”

Toyotomi lifted a single finger. “Do not … argue
… dying man.”

Senshi bowed her head. “Forgive me.”

Toyotomi closed his eyes and smiled, but his peace was short-lived as a coughing fit tore through him. When at last he was through, he waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing … forgive. Now go … help others.” He tried to take another deep breath, but instead coughed up flecks of blood.

Senshi shook her head as she clasped her hands around his. “You need help.”

He closed his eyes, sucking in a thick, wet breath. “No … Yoshido and others need you … Go to them.” He looked up at her with eyes she had never seen before: young and bright. The next moment he was gone.

Senshi shuddered as the wind of death blew through the room. Her insides convulsed with pain, but she could not allow herself to crumble. A warrior could not break in battle. She clenched her jaw so hard that her teeth ground together. Pain shot along her mouth. She welcomed the distraction. With a deep breath, she turned away from the hysterical house maids and followed the sounds of battle deeper into the mansion.

15

I
felt like I was jammed inside a washing machine going through the heavily soiled cycle. Back and forth my world shifted and spun, shaking me so violently that when I finally opened my eyes, I knew I was going to have to make a run for the nearest toilet. I tried to pull myself off the dojo floor before it was too late.

“Whoa, maybe that’s not such a good idea. You should probably take it easy for a bit.”

I looked up at the girl kneeling beside me, recognizing the brown hair that haloed her head in an I-just-stuck-my-finger-in-a-light-socket kinda way. “You’re Michelle Walters, from my biology class.” I should have been surprised to see someone from my school, but getting attacked (again) and passing out (again) dulled my reactions. I felt pretty sure that Justin Timberlake could walk through the door at this point, propose marriage, and I wouldn’t bat an eye.

Her eyes widened. “You know my name? I’ve seen you around school and all, but we’ve never hung out. You hang out with the skaters, right? I didn’t think—”

“A little help?” I interrupted as I pushed up on my elbows. Though she’d lost the scarf, Michelle still wore the white pajamas marking her as one of the three attackers. My mind was so full of questions that it felt dangerously close to exploding, but then again, so did my stomach, and that took priority.

“Oh, sure.” Michelle placed a small, delicate hand on the back of my arm. “I’m sorry, sometimes I ramble when I’m nervous. Do you ever do that?” She snorted and shook her head. “Of course not. What a stupid question, right? I bet—”

“Michelle!” I flinched as my own raised voice beat the back of my eye sockets.

She snapped her jaw shut and made a motion as if sliding a zipper closed over her lips.

“Look,” I clamped a hand against my forehead. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, but my head is killing me and I have to puke.”

“Oh jeez, I forgot about that part.” She reached down and pulled me to my feet. She led me to the bathroom, careful not to let me fall on my gelatin legs.

When the bowl was within reach, I tumbled to my knees and wrapped my arms around the cold tank. Everything I had eaten since this morning came back with a vengeance. My beloved toaster pastries and I were now mortal enemies.

If Michelle felt any anger toward me for the whole knee-in-the-gut thing, she didn’t let it show. For the next five minutes, she pulled my ponytail behind my shoulders and politely flushed the toilet in between my heaving. Even as I reached the point where my stomach was empty but the heaving wouldn’t stop, she placed her hand on my forehead to keep me from falling in, as I barely had the strength to sit up.