Senshi (A Katana Novel)

by Cole Gibsen

  A ball of fury burned in the pit of Akiko’s stomach. She hated that cloth more than she hated anything in her life. She wanted to rip it apart with her fingers, tear into it with her teeth, and set fire to whatever pieces remained.

  As if sensing Akiko’s thoughts, Etsu patted her shoulder—the first tender touch Akiko could remember receiving from the gray-haired woman. “This is a great honor, Akiko.” When Akiko didn’t answer, Etsu added, “It will be over before you know it.”

  Akiko said nothing, only bit her trembling lip.

  The old woman sighed and shook her head. “Such a stubborn girl.” She lifted the dagger from its bed of silk and inspected the edge with her thumb. “Perfectly sharp,” she muttered.

  Akiko’s heart skipped as Etsu brought the dagger closer to her head. Again, Akiko’s gaze was drawn to the white cloth. “Make it fast,” she whispered.

  Etsu nodded and wove her gnarled fingers into Akiko’s hair. “Do not move.”

  Akiko couldn’t if she wanted to. The old woman had her fingers so firmly entwined into her scalp that she would have her hair ripped clean from her head if she ran—a possibility she considered.

  But Etsu’s blade was faster than Akiko’s plans for escape. The younger girl felt a tug on her scalp followed by a release, as her newly shorn hair fell to her shoulders.

  “It is done,” Etsu told her.

  Akiko cracked open her eyes, startled to find she’d closed them.

  “See?” Etsu put down the dagger and held what remained of Akiko’s topknot in the air. The hair spasmed in her arthritic grasp like a dying creature taking its last breaths.

  Akiko’s stomach clenched, and she fought the urge to snatch her hair back from the older woman. But it wasn’t her hair to begin with—not really. Akiko had no right to anything, as her mentor was so found of reminding her—not her hair, not her body. Akiko’s eyes were drawn back to the white cloth. She didn’t even have claim to her own blood.

  Tears, hot and stinging, sprang to her eyes.

  Etsu sighed impatiently. “If you are going to cry about it, I will let you keep it.”

  If she wasn’t between sobs, Akiko would have laughed at that. Why would she want to keep her cut hair? It would only serve to remind her of this day and everything that was taken from her. She shook her head and waved the old woman’s offering away. That’s when a glint of silver caught her eye.

  Etsu’s dagger, forgotten on the floor.

  Akiko sucked in a breath. Surely, the old woman wouldn’t leave it.

  “Suit yourself.” Etsu shrugged and pocketed Akiko’s discarded hair. She made no move to reclaim her blade as she struggled to her feet, joints popping, and hobbled to the door where she paused. “Akiko?”

  “Yes?” The girl’s gaze darted away from the dagger. Her pulse quickened.

  Etsu sighed. “Sometimes there are things in life we must do. Things that are not always pleasant.” She paused. “A courtesan’s life is a good one. You will have wealth. Honor. Respect.”

  Akiko struggled to keep her eyes locked on Etsu’s face. So badly she wanted to stare at the dagger, as if it would disappear if she did not keep watch. “But what about freedom?”

  “Freedom?” The woman waved a gnarled hand. “You think you could survive on your own? That you could make a better life for yourself?” She laughed. “Here you will be taken care of. Protected. Out there on your own?” She shook her head. “You would not last a day.” Etsu slid the door open and disappeared.

  Akiko didn’t move for several heartbeats. When she was sure that the older woman wasn’t returning, she scrambled to the dagger and slid it into the folds of her robe.

  We shall see who survives.

  5

  The first time I died, it had been a relief. Though I remembered very little about it, I did remember passing beyond the barrier of a broken and bleeding body, away from the smell of blood and burnt skin, and into the comfort of darkness. It was inside that darkness that a hand waited to envelop my own.

  This was nothing like that.

  This darkness was cold. It spun around me, or maybe I was the one spinning? Either way, I was about to throw up.

  “Rileigh!” Even Kim’s voice sounded different. Last time it had been a calm beacon that urged me from my body. This time he sounded scared, frantic even. “Rileigh, don’t you go anywhere. Stay with me.”

  Like I could leave if I tried. The black room had no doors, no windows, only strange distorted lights that blinked at me from the edge of my vision. Lights that, upon staring at them, grew larger and fuzzier until the world opened up around them and I realized I was staring at the streetlight in the alley next to the gallery.

  “Oh, thank God.” Kim’s body, which had been so tall and rigid in front of me, seemed to deflate under the weight of what could have been. “Rileigh, I thought you were—” His voice caught in his throat. “You weren’t moving … I … ” He placed a fist against his forehead and bowed his head as if he really was thanking God.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay.” But even as I said it, my vision swam in a kaleidoscope of color. I placed a hand against my head as if that could stop the world from moving under my body. It was then that I felt the baseball-sized lump on my forehead. “I think I have a concussion.”

  Michelle, who I’d just now noticed crouched by my side, said, “You’re lucky you’re not dead! We found you under Kim’s car.” She looked around the alley before meeting my gaze. “It looks like there was a tornado out here. What happened?”

  I tried to sit up but immediately stopped when my vision teetered. “Let’s just say that even after 500 years, ninja still suck.”

  “What?” Kim’s head snapped up at the same time Braden and Drew raised their arms in fight stance and scanned the alley. “What do you mean by ninja?”

  “I mean”—I took Michelle’s offered hand and let her pull me up into a sitting position—“the three bloodied and bruised guys in the black pajamas just over,” But when I looked past my shoulder to where the three ninja had been before Kim’s car ran over me, no one remained. “Huh.”

  Kim jumped to his feet, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he studied the shadows in the corners of the buildings. “I knew it! I knew I recognized ninja black magic.”

  Slowly, and with Michelle’s help, I stood. My head throbbed, and I swayed lightly on my feet. “What magic?”

  Drew glanced at me. “We were trapped inside the art gallery. The doors wouldn’t budge, and the windows wouldn’t open.”

  “Kim even threw a chair against one window, trying to break the glass,” Braden added. “It just bounced off like it was made of rubber.”

  “That’s when we knew we’d fallen into a trap,” Michelle said.

  “No.” Kim walked up to me, his eyes locked on mine. “The trap wasn’t inside the building … ” He placed his hands on either side of my face and drew me closer to him. “Was it?”

  The words caught in my throat. I didn’t want to tell him that I was in danger again. I knew by speaking the words I’d break the delusion I’d allowed myself to fall into—that being a samurai again didn’t have to change my life. I should have known better. I was a protector. It was who I was born to be—I felt sure of it. And with that came responsibility. Even if it meant forgoing a trip to the movies to tango with ninja in a dirty alley. It sucked, sure. But I could handle it because I had Kim and my friends. And they made my life better no matter what I was doing. “I don’t know if it was a trap. But they definitely expressed a strong desire to kill me.”

  Kim made a strangled noise and released me.

  “I don’t understand.” Drew approached us. “Why was the trap for Rileigh only? Why were they sent to kill her and not the rest of us?”

  Kim shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Did they say anything else?”r />
  “You mean after they started throwing sharp things at me?” I examined the tattered edges of my shirt. “No.”

  Braden poked his head out from behind the Dumpster. Something about the trash bin didn’t look right, and it took me a moment to realize that it was on its side. He kicked his way through the garbage bags and cardboard boxes that spilled from it. “You know what else is weird?” He paused to pull a candy bar wrapper off his shoe. “Why send so many ninja after just one person? Kinda overkill. I mean, look at this place.” He gestured to the torn-apart alley. “How many were there? Twenty?”

  I lowered my gaze and studied my grease-stained jeans. “Yeah … um … would you believe three?” Even without looking I could feel the wide-eyed stares of my friends boring into my head.

  “Wait. What?” Michelle let go of me. “Rileigh, look at this place! The Dumpster was overturned. Kim’s car was pushed backward—with you under it! You’re telling us that three ninja did all that?” She hugged herself and shivered.

  “I didn’t say that.” I ran my fingers through my hair, gently pulling apart the tangles.

  Kim frowned and folded his arms across his chest while the rest of them waited for me to continue.

  I dropped my hands from my hair and sighed. “It was me, okay?”

  Braden and Drew exchanged incredulous looks while Michelle made a choking sound.

  “How is that possible?” Drew asked.

  “My ki.” I shrugged. “I kinda lost control.”

  “I’ll say.” Braden’s eyes swept the alley.

  Kim took a step forward. “You did this? The Dumpster? My car?”

  I nodded.

  He muttered something under his breath that was distinctly not English.

  Michelle spun a slow circle, her eyes scanning everything from the trash on the ground to the tops of the buildings. “Well, this is going from bad to worse.”

  I leaned against the building, which steadied the Tilt-A-Whirl I seemed to be riding. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Kim gave me a look that clearly told me he didn’t agree. “Really? What’s under your nose?”

  I touched my upper lip and felt something flake against my hand. I raised my finger up to the streetlight. Flecks of dried blood dotted my fingertips. Huh. “Probably hit my face when your car ran over me. It doesn’t matter.” I dusted my hands on my jeans. “That’s not the big issue. Why are you freaking out about my ki when we should be freaking out about the bigger issue?” When no one said anything, I groaned. “Hello? Ninja?”

  “Good point.” Braden stood from where he’d crouched to study the front of Kim’s car. “Ninja do suck.”

  I gestured at Braden as if to say, See? But Kim didn’t look convinced. “We can’t ignore this, Rileigh. Ninja, we can handle. But this?” He gestured to the alley. “You could have killed yourself.”

  I rolled my eyes even though I knew he was right. Never before had my power refused to listen to me. If I hadn’t knocked myself out with Kim’s car, would I have continued to bleed my spirit out? A chill crept along the length of my spine.

  Kim stepped forward and put an arm around me. “While I am glad you were able to defend yourself, this—I’m just worried.”

  I softened. “I know.” I was worried too.

  He sighed and kissed the top of my head. “I don’t know who we’re going to find to help us with this. It’s not like there is an abundance of ki masters running around these days. I can check with the Network. Maybe Dr. Wendell—”

  “No!” I cut him off. Dr. Wendell was the obnoxious and annoying doctor/government agent who wouldn’t stop dating my mother despite my constant threats. I didn’t need him more involved in my life than he already was. Besides, I wasn’t dumb enough to work with someone until I knew the motivations under their shiny exterior. Call me paranoid, but when you die at seventeen, you aren’t so trusting in the next life. “It’s just that, while I agree the whole ki situation is serious, I don’t think it takes priority over the ninja who want us dead. Do you?”

  “Another good point,” Braden said. “What if we dealt with the ninja first, and in the meantime, Rileigh could just … not manipulate ki.”

  Kim frowned at him. “That’s supposed to be a plan? We try not to die and in the meantime Rileigh doesn’t manipulate ki?”

  Drew raised his hand. “Actually, I’m in favor of any plan that involves trying not to die.”

  I had to agree. It was the trying not to manipulate ki part that had me worried. Manipulating ki was part of who I was, and I didn’t always have a choice when it decided to rise inside of me. “Kim, if you have a better plan, now would be the time to share.”

  His silence was my answer.

  6

  As if chemistry class wasn’t bad enough.

  I flexed my tingling fingers and let out a quivering breath. It had been a month since the ninja attack, and so far Kim had no leads on who they were or where to find them. And while the thought of a bunch of ninja on the loose who wanted me dead didn’t give me the warm fuzzies, I had bigger problems to deal with.

  Much bigger.

  The tingling under my skin turned into pinpricks, like a thousand tiny needles digging beneath my flesh. I wasn’t sure what caused it, only that it started happening to me after the ninja attack. I shifted in my seat, hoping to distract myself from the pain.

  My best friend Quentin pushed his metal stool away from the lab table. He eyed me nervously while addressing the doe-eyed brunette sitting between us. “Seriously, Carly, you need to give it a rest.”

  “What?” His twin sister snapped her gum. “If people were talking smack about me behind my back, I’d want to know.” She patted my hand, a touch I could barely feel through the buzzing beneath my skin. “Rileigh, you should know that people are … worried about you. You’re super jumpy all the time, you have horrendous bags under your eyes, and, sweetie, when’s the last time you exfoliated?” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you having a breakdown or something?”

  I snatched my hand away from hers and clenched and unclenched my fingers. All the relaxation techniques I’d remembered from my past as a samurai had failed. But still, I tried. Sucking in a deep breath of lab air (a sickly sweet combination of formaldehyde and ammonia), I counted to ten and exhaled slowly. Some of the tightness inside me unwound but the pressure remained—like unzipping a pair of too-tight jeans but not being able to take them off. “I am not having a breakdown.”

  She shrugged and snapped her gum again, a sound that made my teeth grind. “Are you sure? Because you’re totally on edge. And the last time I saw you this stressed, you flipped out on some poor homeless guy.”

  If by “flipped out on some poor homeless guy,” she meant “saved everyone’s life from a nunchaku-wielding assassin,” then I guess I did. “That guy was dangerous, Carly.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. He was just some doped-out homeless guy. Stop being so dramatic.”

  The electric hum pulsed beneath my fingertips and a heaviness filled my lungs. I tried to expel it with a slow steady breath, but the weight didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, you’re calling me dramatic?” Did she somehow forget the fact he threw a shuriken at her? She either had the long-term memory of a gnat, or she was in denial. My money was on gnat brain.

  Quentin shot me a pleading look and snatched the box of matches sitting in front of me. “I think I’ll light the Bunsen burner, if you don’t mind.”

  Carly shrugged. “The truth can be painful.”

  So can an axe-kick. I gripped the countertop. Must. Resist. Kicking. Carly’s. Stupid. Face.

  “Listen.” She leaned across the table to meet my eyes. “Honey, it’s not that I don’t understand. You and my brother were attacked.”

  I laughed through clenched teeth. If only I could make it through my classes without losing control, then I’d get to see Kim at
training tonight and I’d feel better. Kim always made me feel better. “Oh, I’m so sure you understand.”

  “Ri-Ri,” Quentin warned.

  Carly flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Of course I do. It makes sense that both of you are going to be traumatized or whatever. Just … maybe tone down the drama while you’re at school? You don’t want anyone thinking you guys are bigger freaks than they already do.”

  My body shook as every muscle tightened in anticipation of the explosion to come. Beads of sweat prickled along my forehead as I fought to gain control. If I lost control here, how many people would I hurt? I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Wow.” Quentin shook his head. “It’s hard to believe I’m the one who wants to be a psychologist. Your ability to empathize is astounding, you know that?”

  “Right?” She nodded. “See, Rileigh? Quentin gets that I’m just trying to help.”

  He snorted. “Even so, I think your services are best provided elsewhere. Don’t you have minions to text or something?”

  I shot Q a thankful look before I pulled my water bottle from my backpack. I unscrewed the lid and took a long drink, hoping it would cool the anger burning inside of me.

  “Ms. Martin.”

  I paused mid-sip to glance at the chemistry teacher, Mr. Fritz, leaning across a lab table at the front of the room. “I thought I made it clear on the syllabus that there is no food or drink in this class. There are dangerous chemicals in this lab and I’d hate to see anyone get hurt.”

  I set the bottle on the table. “If you’re worried about someone getting hurt, you might want to reconsider the seating chart—” Q shoved an elbow into my side before I could finish.

  Mr. Fritz crossed his arms and frowned. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

  I glanced back and forth between Mr. Fritz and Q. The identicalness of their scowls was uncanny. Finally, I sighed. “Not important. I’m sorry about the water bottle, Mr. Fritz.”

  He nodded, the movement sliding his glasses to the edge of his nose. “One strike, Ms. Martin. Don’t let it happen again.”