Senshi (A Katana Novel)

by Cole Gibsen

  I lifted my sunglasses so he could see how red and puffy my eyes were from my crying marathons. It was embarrassing, really. I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who moped for months on end and stopped eating and sleeping all because a boy broke up with her. But wanting to get over someone and actually getting over someone were two different things.

  “All right.” Q nodded. “I’m sorry. Stupid question, I know.”

  “I thought I was stronger than this,” I told him. “I hate feeling like my heart is this shriveled apple core inside my chest. I should be moving on. I shouldn’t be thinking about him as much as I do. And missing him—God, do I miss him.” I looked at Q. “You love psychology, right? Please, tell me how I’m supposed to do this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I pointed to the school. “Just … this. How do I go back to my old life? Am I supposed to pretend I was never a samurai? I don’t know how to do that. How am I supposed to give a damn about homecoming dances and composition papers when half of my heart is missing and the other half is falling apart? Hell, my whole life is falling apart.”

  Quentin reached over and squeezed my arm. “You have to start with now—the moment you’re in. The first thing you do is open the car door. The second is to walk into school. You have to tackle each step as it comes. Remember, your friends are here to help. C’mon.” Q opened his car door. “I’ll walk you to class.”

  I nodded, hoisted my backpack on my shoulder, and opened the car door. Even with Q by my side, I couldn’t help but feel alone. When your heart breaks, you can’t help but look at the people around you who breathed without difficulty, the people who knew how to smile, and wonder how you forgot to do all of that—and if you’d be able to do it again.

  I got out of the car and spotted Michelle and Braden walking through the parking lot two rows down. My heart warmed at the sight of them. Q was right. If I was going to survive this breakup, I needed to be with my friends. “Guys!” I waved my hand in the air.

  Michelle frowned. Braden whispered something in her ear and she nodded. Together, they ducked their heads and hurried to the school doors.

  An invisible cord pulled tight around my stomach. What the hell was that about? I knew they saw me—they looked right at me. So what was the reason for the blow off?

  As I watched them disappear into the building, the ki buzzing beneath my skin amplified. It was bad enough I woke each morning with energy already humming in my veins—not a good thing for any pillows or Bunsen burners in my vicinity. The constant worry I would slip and lose control put me on edge. And to make it worse, now I had the feeling there was something going on with my friends.

  On a scale of one through ten, my stress meter officially hit eleven. So when a hand clamped down on my shoulder, it was all I could do to hold on to the whirlwind swirling inside of me. But that didn’t stop me from throwing my coffee in my attacker’s face.

  I rocked back on my heels and raised my arms in front of me. I was ready for a fight.

  The only problem was my attacker wasn’t an attacker after all.

  In front of me, Carson stumbled back blindly, his hands covering his face.

  “Son of hibachi.” I dropped my fight stance and rushed to his side. Guilt stabbed through my gut. Of all the people, why Carson? Why again? “Are you okay?” I touched his shoulder as he frantically wiped coffee from his face. Red blotches decorated his skin where the hot liquid scalded him.

  Quentin darted around his car with a look of horror on his face. “What happened?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “I threw coffee at him.”

  Quentin gave me a look suggesting he was considering having me committed.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose! He surprised me.”

  Carson groaned in response.

  “We have to get him to the nurse.” Q frowned at me and wrapped Carson’s free arm around his neck. “Carson, I’m going to lead you inside the building. Do you think you can make it?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think the coffee did anything to my eyes. I can see okay.” He blinked several times. “I’m not hurt. Just startled.”

  “Hot coffee to the face startling?” Q said in a clipped voice. “Imagine that.”

  Something told me angry, moody Q was about to make an appearance—so not what I needed at the moment. So I ignored him and focused my attention on Carson. “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I’m fine.” Carson looked down at his button-up flannel and the massive coffee stain soaked into the fabric. “But I think my shirt is ruined.”

  “I’ll buy you another one,” I offered.

  To my surprise, he grinned. “It’s fine, really. I just know better than to sneak up on you again.”

  “C’mon.” Quentin gave Carson’s arm a gentle tug. “I’ll take you to the nurse just to be safe. I need to go there anyway and get some ibuprofen—I’m feeling one of my migraines coming on. Then we can stop at my locker. I keep a few extra shirts in there.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Carson pulled at his shirt. “This stuff stinks.”

  My cheeks burned. “I’m so sorry.”

  He waved my words away. “Forget about it. I thought if I snuck up on you I might make you laugh. You looked so sad this week I wanted to make you smile.” He shrugged.

  Wow. Just a second ago I’d thought I couldn’t feel any worse. There’s nothing like dumping a caramel macchiato on a boy who’s just trying to make you feel better. That plan backfired.

  “Please don’t feel bad, Rileigh,” Carson said. “It was an accident. And it was my fault for sneaking up on you. Besides”—he gestured to Q—“if I borrow one of Quentin’s shirts, then I won’t smell like a coffeehouse all day.”

  I offered him a weak smile.

  Quentin shrugged. “You’re forgetting the most important point. You get to wear one of my shirts. This is a privilege. I have incredible taste.”

  “I’ll say.” Carson’s eyes lingered on my face long enough that heat burned up my neck into my cheeks. I didn’t think he was talking about clothes anymore.

  I walked behind Quentin as he led Carson to the school entrance. Once they’d passed through the doors, I stopped. The tingling in my fingertips remained. Today was the first day the buzz under my skin showed no signs of relenting. Definitely not good. I’d hoped I’d gradually be able to regain control of my raging ki. But the reality was what little control I had was slipping away each day.

  I turned and walked away from the building to the bus stop down the block. I heard the metal door squeak open behind me as I made my retreat.

  “Where are you going?” Q called behind me.

  “Mental health day,” I answered without stopping. I had to figure out how to get my ki in check before something really bad happened. Everything had a breaking point and I was dangerously close to mine.

  26

  The wheels of my skateboard coasted along the city sidewalk creating a gentle vibration that thrummed through my body. I tipped my head back and let the wind glide through my hair, which hung loose under my pink helmet. This was exactly what I needed.

  I coasted along, tipping my weight back and forth so my board serpentined past cracks in the concrete, people leaving work, and street musicians until I lost momentum and had to kick off the ground with my foot.

  I’d spent the entire day skating along the sidewalks of downtown St. Louis. And it was well worth the detention I was sure to receive for skipping class. I’d forgotten how much pleasure I could get from my board and how much skating had been a part of my life before my awakening—before Kim.

  My heart clenched inside of my chest and I wobbled dangerously on my board. I slid to a grinding halt, kicked my board into my hand, and took a moment to gather myself.

  I leaned against a building until, after a couple of minutes of sucking in breaths that ripped thr
ough my lungs, I felt confident enough to stand. I used the metal bars covering a broken shop window to hoist myself up. That’s when I realized that during my skate-induced bliss, I’d accidentally rolled into a bad neighborhood. To further prove this, a breeze kicked up the smell of rotting garbage and—uh, gross—urine from the nearby alley. As long as I left before it got any darker, I should be fine. I dusted my hands on my jeans and dropped my board to the ground. But before I sped away, a reflection on the broken glass of a guy walking up the stairs of the building across the street caught my attention.

  I turned away from the window with a gasp. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me.

  But no. The guy was really there. In fact, as if sensing my presence, he paused with his hand stretched for the door handle, and glanced at me over his shoulder. Even though his chin-length blond hair covered half his face, there was no mistaking who it was—Whitley. He winked at me and disappeared inside the building.

  The world slipped out from under my feet and I fell back against the bars. No. It was impossible. I had to be seeing things. Whitley was dead. I’d left him pinned to the wall in my burning house. There was no way he could have escaped. I curled my fingers around the flaking bars for support. The first stirring of a cold breeze rustled beneath my skin and turned my blood to ice.

  If Whitley wasn’t real, why was I having a danger premonition? It didn’t make sense.

  A shadow spilled across my feet as someone stepped out of the alley next to me. “My, don’t you look pale. Almost like you’ve seen a ghost.” The figure shrouded in black stopped a couple of feet away from me and crossed his arms. I’d recognized his voice as one of the ninja who’d attacked me in the alley more than a month ago. I was willing to bet it was the same ninja who’d also hijacked my elevator and bombed the dojo.

  Awesome.

  Despite my heart doing backflips off my spine, I pressed a fist into my palm, cracking my knuckles. Rule number one with ninja: Never let them see fear. “Wow. All this attention? I gotta tell you, though, despite current pop culture references, girls do not like being stalked. A simple spa gift card would suffice.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t flatter yourself. Even though the boss is pretty pissed you’re not dead yet, we actually have another mission for tonight. Finding you here is an added bonus.”

  Wrong place, wrong time was fast becoming the theme of my life. And what did he mean by another mission? This was a run-down, nearly deserted neighborhood. What could they possibly want … But then it hit me. Whitley. This was the third time I’d thought I’d seen him only moments before a ninja attack. He was the link. They must be following his orders. And, after I’d ruined his plans to steal my ki and left him to die, it only made sense he’d want me dead.

  Son of hibachi.

  I rocked back on my feet and sank my weight into my heels to prepare for the fight that was sure to come. “Why don’t go you go tell Whitley to come out here and fight me himself?”

  The ninja laughed. “He’s got more important things to worry about.”

  Just then, another shadow spilled out of the alley, bleeding onto the concrete until it rose up and became solid. This ninja was shorter and curvier. It had to be the girl. She took a step forward and I noticed she moved with a slight limp—most likely the result of her thigh getting pierced in our first battle.

  I lifted my hands and assumed a fighting stance. I wondered if the third ninja was waiting for a surprise attack or if he’d join them. “Where’s your buddy?”

  The girl snorted. “He can’t fight. His arm is practically useless thanks to you.”

  There was my silver lining. “Two against one? I like my odds.”

  The girl darted forward. “Let’s see if you like this.” She reached into her pocket, withdrew two pointed shuriken, and hurled them at me.

  I didn’t have enough time to get out of the way, so I kicked my board into my hand and held it in front of my face. The stars sank into the wood with a soft thwack. I turned the board over and examined the damage. The shuriken had created a crack wide enough that my board was no longer usable.

  I dropped it on the ground. “Oh, come on! Can’t you destroy something I don’t care about? Like my history paper?” I unclipped my helmet and threw it to the side. It was so on.

  The clanging sound of a chain unraveling caught my attention and I twisted in time to see the guy ninja had unraveled a manrikigusari. It looked to be about twenty feet of chain capped off with two lead spikes. The point of this weapon was to bludgeon someone to death. And I was that someone.

  A typical manrikigusari was only a couple of feet long. I had no idea how the guy planned on handling such a long weapon. Or, at least I hadn’t until he tossed one end of the chain to the girl.

  Awesome. It was apparent I was about to become an unwilling participant in the world’s deadliest game of Double Dutch. The girl hurled her end of the chain at my head at the same time the guy threw his at my chest. I ducked down, managing to miss both spiked ends as they sailed above me, but the ninja recovered each other’s end of the weapon and yanked forward, sweeping the chain behind my feet.

  My head smacked against the concrete with enough force that fireworks exploded in the dark pockets behind my clenched eyes. I rolled over with an “Oof,” just as a metal spike kissed the sidewalk next to my neck, leaving a divot.

  As the girl reined in her discarded chain, the other ninja threw his end at my chest. Still on the ground, I reached above my head until my fingers found my board. I quickly grabbed it and smacked the metal spike, sending it spiraling backward. The guy had just enough time to dive to the ground to avoid getting hit.

  I jumped to my feet with my board held in front of me. Who knew skateboards made such good weapons?

  The girl swung her end of the chain and ran at me. To avoid the whirlwind of lead, I ducked to the left and then again to the right to avoid her blows. Before she could strike again, I thrust my board into her chain. The momentum of the swinging chain ripped the board from my hands, hurtling it onto the street where it broke into two pieces. It gave me enough time to dart beside her and deliver a hook kick to her back.

  She cried out as she stumbled onto her knees.

  But I didn’t have time to celebrate. The guy had recovered his end of the chain. As he launched it at me, the first pinpricks of ki needled beneath my skin. I ducked just as the girl threw her end at my knees. I jumped over the hurtled spike and barely recovered my breath before the ninja exchanged ends and struck again.

  The buzzing intensified. My throat constricted and I swallowed. I had to fight it—the last thing I needed was to lose control right now—especially when I’d almost killed myself last time.

  I dodged another strike. My lungs burned and my legs began to tremble. I couldn’t fight them forever. How long had I been fighting them, anyway? Ten minutes? Twenty? It felt like forever. Something had to give.

  I evaded another spike and ran down the length of the chain. Before he’d had the chance to recover his end of the chain, I landed a blow to his gut. He doubled over with a grunt.

  “Enough.” The girl dropped her end of the chain, reached into her belt, and withdrew two kunai, a diamond-shaped tool with a sharpened point that could be used as a blade. She flipped the kunai in her hands so the blade end pointed down, and crossed her arms over her chest. With a scream of rage, she attacked.

  She swiped high and I ducked. Her second swipe was aimed at my gut and I had enough time to pop back on my toes with my stomach sucked in before the world got to see what I’d eaten for lunch. If I didn’t know better, I would say her attacks had become even more intense. How was that even possible? Wasn’t fatigue rippling through her muscles like it ripped through mine?

  She stabbed again, only this time I didn’t pull back in time. Fire burned across the newly made gash in my arm. A warm line of blood ran its way down m
y arm and dripped from my fingertips. I cursed under my breath and shook my arm, sprinkling the sidewalk with crimson rain.

  The buzzing beneath my skin intensified and moved into my arm where it welled under the cut. I bit my lip and shuffled backward until my back hit the concrete wall of the building behind me.

  The ninja smiled, as if she had me where she wanted me. She had no idea what she’d done.

  The other ninja righted himself and moved beside her. “Any last words?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes. Why did people always ask you that before they killed you? It wasn’t like you were going to say something that would make them change their minds.

  “Yes,” I answered. The first tendril of power pushed through my wound and wisped the hair around my head. If I was going down, at least I would take them down with me. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

  She hesitated and glanced at the guy. Her eyes were scrunched in a way that I knew she was frowning under her mask. The other ninja looked at her and shrugged.

  I licked my dry lips. “To escape the onslaught of exploding ki headed his way.” Before they could move, I closed my eyes, focused on the energy raging inside of me, and let go.

  27

  The ki ripped from my body so viciously, it felt as if it were pulling bits of flesh along with it. It didn’t make sense. After I’d transcended and regained my past-life memories, I had been in complete control of my power. So why now was everything falling apart?

  I fell to my knees, my hands pressed to my chest as I gasped in pain. God. The pain. My vision burned white hot from the agony of it. Was I dying? Why else would it hurt so bad?

  Another burst of energy pushed through me hard enough to slam my back against the wall. I cried out and crumpled into a heap in the shadow cast by the building.

  The same burst hit the two ninja and sent them flying into the middle of the street. I slowly pulled myself into a sitting position and tried to blink away the spots in my vision. My muscles ached and refused to respond as fast as I wanted them to. I knew the ninja wouldn’t stay down long and I had to get to my feet before their next attack. But after having the wind knocked out of me, my stiff body screamed to stay down.