by Alex Steele
I slipped off my shoes by the door and walked slowly into the center of the room. Master Hiko wasn’t here, so I couldn’t imagine why she’d dragged me here today.
She stopped a few feet away and finally met my eyes. “In a few minutes, Hiroji will be here. I asked him to come.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “Why would you do that? And, better yet, why would he agree to come?”
She turned and faced me, jaw set stubbornly. “We need his help. We are going into a place where magic doesn’t work, everyone wants us dead, and literal gods are chained up. We need more people on our side. More people that can fight without magic. You said Hiroji was as good, if not better than you, with a katana.”
“Sure, but he’s also untrustworthy,” I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
Swift pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. He’s made decisions you don’t like or understand. Master Hiko said he thought Hiroji would still come if you really needed his help. And he was right. I explained the situation to him, and he—”
“Then why was he with the Mage’s Guild? And Bianchi? He’s one of them, Lexi.”
“Actually he’s not, and I know that because I talked to him about it like an actual adult.” Her voice grew louder with every word until she was shouting. “And if you want to find out why he was there, you can ask him yourself. You two need to learn how to communicate and stop being such men.”
“ So this is the secret you were keeping? Master Hiko put you up to this?” I wasn’t sure who I wanted to strangle more. Her, Master Hiko, or Hiroji himself. It was tempting to just go ahead and strangle all three of them.
Swift rolled her eyes. “And that’s why I had to decide if I agreed with Master Hiko’s suggestion before I did it.”
“How could you—”
“Hush.” She held up a hand, anger flashing in her eyes. “I’m doing what is necessary for us to have a chance of succeeding. Your pride, or whatever this is, has no place in that. When Hiroji gets here, you will talk to him.”
I turned my back to her and shoved my hands through my hair. I could drive away right now and avoid this entire, stupid situation, but I did want answers.
“This is a bad idea.”
“No, it just requires you to communicate, which you have done on occasion. It won’t kill you.”
“Hiroji might try,” I muttered, continuing to pace in circles.
“I did the hard part, now all you have to do is be nice.”
“Tell him that,” I snarled.
The door opened and Hiroji strolled in, his face a mask of indifference. “Tell me what?”
Swift elbowed me in the ribs. Hard.
“How glad we are you’ve agreed to help,” I bit out through gritted teeth.
“I know you aren’t remotely grateful,” Hiroji said as he toed off his shoes. He unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeves and carefully rolled them up. Intricate, vibrant tattoos wound up his arms. He’d added to them since the last time I saw him. I’d been there when he got his first — a yellow dragon on his left arm that had some special meaning to him he hadn’t ever wanted to share.
“Great. You’re both here,” Swift said, putting her hands on her hips. “You two can talk about whatever you need to, then we can discuss the plan to break into Purgatory.”
“No.” Hiroji walked a few steps inside, then stood still, his cold eyes boring into mine. “If he wants my help, then he has to fight me first. No weapons, no magic. We’ll face each other like we did as children. You remember, don’t you Blackwell? The game Master Hiko taught us to learn how to take a punch.”
Hiroji watched me impassively as he waited for my answer.
Swift threw her arms up in exasperation, muttering about men and their egos. She was probably right, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to back down. If he needed a chance to try to punch me in the face, I’d give it to him.
“Fine. You’re on.”
This should be fun to watch. The mayhem magic retreated, pulling inward. For a moment, there was sweet relief as the constant strain of controlling it relaxed.
I guess that meant it wouldn’t be interfering. That was both comforting and something that left me feeling strangely exposed. I’d never been without it. And I didn’t much like that it could choose to disappear like that. It made me feel less in control than ever.
I planted my feet on the mat. This game was something Master Hiko had used to teach us a few important lessons. First, how to take a punch. Second, the importance of not getting hit repeatedly. Third, how to endure. There reaches a moment in every fight where you feel like you cannot go on. That’s the moment you have to push through, every time, if you want to survive.
Hiroji took his place toe to toe with me, carefully placing his feet in the position they could not budge from.
“What exactly is this...game?” Swift asked.
“Busted Knuckle Death Match,” I replied, never taking my eyes off my opponent.
“So, you’re fighting to the death?” she asked dryly, clearly fed up with both of us.
“Not quite.”
“You know what, I don’t even want to know. I’ll be over here ready to carry out whoever is still in one piece after you two get done talking,” she muttered, plopping down near the wall with an exasperated sigh.
The Busted Knuckle Death Match was simple. If you lost your footing, gave up, or got knocked out — you lost. Master Hiko liked to say that whoever had the hardest head won. That wasn’t the point of this fight though. Today was about old grievances, and I intended to take out every single one of mine on his face. While I got answers.
Hiroji lifted his hands and curled them into fists. It was time. “Ichi.”
“Ni.”
“San.” He threw the first punch. A blindingly fast jab that connected with my chin as I tried to avoid the full force of the blow.
I shifted my jaw side to side. It stung a bit, but I was fine. “You don’t punch as hard as I remember.”
“Just trying to get you warmed up, old man,” Hiroji said with a smirk. “It would be extremely unsatisfying to knock you out with the first punch.”
That was a bad sign. He never showed facial expressions unless whatever he was about to do was going to get me in trouble.
I snapped out my right hand, turning it into a hook punch at the last moment possible. Hiroji pulled his head back, but my knuckles grazed the tip of his nose.
“Having fun working for the Mage’s Guild these days?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” He punched up into my gut.
This close, there’s no way to avoid every hit, especially body blows. I exhaled sharply and tightened my abs just in time to prevent him from driving all the air from my lungs.
“I’m as good as fired, not rubbing shoulders with murderers and thieves.” I slammed my fist into his arm where I knew he had an old, achy injury. He took it, but his mouth tightened in pain.
“Always with your assumptions,” Hiroji snarled, true anger flashing across his features as he drove two fast punches into my kidneys. I curled toward the attack and shoved my elbow down to block it, but nothing could muffle the power behind the blows.
“Then say what you really mean for once instead of your vague bullshit. Stop using honor as an excuse.” I threw a jab followed by a straight cross. If he wanted to bend the rules and punch twice, then I would too. He avoided the jab, but the cross landed square on his eye. The impact of bone on bone sent a shock of pain through my fist.
Hiroji shook it off. His eye began swelling and a single line of blood trickled down from the end of his eyebrow. “You think the only way to do good is to prance around with your badge, hoping that you’ll get to arrest the right person this time. I’ve trusted your precious laws before, and they failed me just like you failed me. You are the one who is honorless. You slave away for an organization you know is corrupt instead of cutting evil out at the root.”
I laughed humorlessly. “So working directly for the
yakuza is somehow better?”
His front hand whipped out and my head rocked back before I even realized I’d been hit. “I use the yakuza to make changes you can only dream of, in the only way that’s possible. I kill people that are too evil to be left alive. The only rules are the ones I make. The yakuza are a weapon that I wield with precision.”
“That sounds about right. Killing is what you do best. It’s in your DNA.”
“You’re a self-righteous prick,” he snarled, all the pent up anger of the last fifty years pouring out.
However, he wasn’t the only one that was angry. “And you’re a blind fool.”
I punched him in the ribs as hard as I could. As the blow landed, his hook punch caught me on the chin. We threw punch after punch, neither of us willing to stop or hold back. Words weren’t working. They never had.
Stars flashed behind my eyes as a particularly hard strike hit my temple. I struck back, over and over. Hiroji was nothing more than a blurry figure in front of me, but I didn’t need to see to hit him. We’d done this so many times, that even years later, it was muscle memory.
Hiroji’s nose cracked under my fist. His punch hit my jaw and blood flew from my mouth. I threw an uppercut into his gut, forcing out a wheezing grunt. He slammed his fist into my kidney and the pain stole my breath.
Our punches grew weaker and slower as we both neared our breaking point. We were both panting and swaying on our feet, but there was no way in hell I’d give up, and I knew Hiroji wouldn’t either.
Arm. Stomach. Chin. I blinked, not understanding the red haze over my vision for a moment until I realized it was blood in my eyes.
Hiroji pulled his right hand back slightly more than normal. I knew that tell. His one bad habit. The next punch would be a hook punch, and it would hurt. My only shot was to hit him before he hit me.
We both threw a hook punch, and our fists hit their targets in the same instant. My head was forced to the side, and my body followed. There was no way to stop myself from falling.
Distantly, I saw Hiroji falling too. We hit the ground hard and the impact rattled every aching part of my body.
We lay there, neither of us able to move. My eye was swollen shut. His nose bent at an odd angle and dripping blood.
I lifted my head as high as I could and spotted Swift perched on a chair reading a book. Some partner she was.
“You two done? Or are you going to get a second wind?” she asked, turning the page and pointedly not looking up.
I glanced at Hiroji and found him doing the same. I waved my hand at him — well, tried is more accurate. It flopped. He flopped his hand back. Seemed settled to me.
“Done,” I managed to grunt out.
Swift shut her book with a snap and strode over, stopping near my feet. She looked every inch the angry librarian, if librarians wore red trench coats, had fiery magic leaking from their eyes, and could smash the heads of the unruly with a single punch.
“Can the two of you walk, or do I need to carry you like the babies you are?” She glared at Hiroji and I both until we grunted an affirmation. “Good. Meet me at the car in five minutes, or I’m leaving you behind.”
She walked out, slamming the door behind her.
I felt thirteen all over again, laying on the dojo floor with Hiroji, aching after a good beating. It was almost...nice. Or maybe I had brain damage. I tried to sit up and failed. Definitely the latter.
“Why did you join the yakuza? You could have gotten out. I would have helped.” I asked, all the anger and resentment spent in the fight.
Hiroji rolled his head slowly to the side. He stared at me from his one good eye. “Do you remember the final business deal we had with each other that fell through? That apartment complex.”
I nodded.
“There was something I didn’t tell you.” He rolled his head back and stared up at the ceiling of the dojo.
Quietly, he began explaining what had happened. All the pieces fell into place. Part of me was pissed I’d failed to ask the right questions back then, and part of me was pissed he hadn’t just told me. But mostly, I was just done being angry. It was pointless. Hiroji and I may never agree, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have each other’s backs when needed.
Thirty-Four
We sat in sullen silence in the backseat of the car while Swift drove. This was the second time she’d managed to come up with a good reason to steal the keys. So much for our magically binding wager.
We’d gotten some off looks on the Rune Rail. Both of us looked like we’d been beaten half to death, and honestly that wasn’t far off. I was tempted to ask Billy to stop by, but I’d likely just make do with whatever healing runes I still had stashed in my bathroom.
I adjusted the ice pack on my eye and glanced at Hiroji. “I think the broken nose suits you. You should keep it a little crooked.”
He looked back at me impassively. “Even with a crooked nose, the girls still won’t pick you over me.”
I narrowed my good eye at him and immediately regretted it. My face hurt too much for expressions. “Women love me.”
Swift snorted. Loudly. She was a traitor.
Hiroji lifted a corner of his mouth in a smug smile. “I see Lexi is an ideal partner for you.”
“You two are not allowed to be friends.”
Hiroji laughed and relaxed in the seat. “As if you have any say in who I befriend.”
Swift gave us the look in the rearview mirror. “Don’t get in another fight before we even make it back to the Manor.”
“What is it you need my help with there, by the way?”
“The two of you need to get healed for one,” Swift said. “But the rest of our group will be there in about an hour. Talos gave me their maps of Purgatory, but they’re rough and likely outdated. I think we’re going to have to split up once we get inside.”
I lowered the half-melted ice pack. “I also have to ask, have you chatted with any gods lately?”
Hiroji raised a brow. “No. Have you?”
I waved a hand at Swift and leaned back. “Your turn to explain. My jaw hurts.”
She took a deep breath and launched into the now familiar explanation of all the things that should be impossible, but apparently weren’t. I shut my eyes and tried to ignore the way the bumps of the road made everything hurt.
Hiroji looked much like I’d felt the first time I’d walked into the Manor after getting it back from Lord Chancellor Swift. The memories here were all tinged with bitterness and tragedy — even more so now that the place was overly quiet. Bootstrap had filled it more than I had realized.
He paused in the entryway, taking everything in. “Is the west wing still...in disrepair?”
“Even worse now, actually.” My hand went to the empty spot at my waist where my katana used to hang. “I lost control in there when Fate destroyed my katana.”
Hiroji looked back in alarm, apparently noticing that it was missing for the first time. “I’m surprised anything is left.”
“We wouldn’t have been able to stop him if Bootstrap hadn’t been there,” Swift admitted quietly.
“That’s the runehacker that has been arrested?” he asked.
I sucked in a breath and let it out in a rush, then nodded. “Yeah. He’s young. Nineteen.”
Hiroji’s face hardened. “Still a child. They shouldn’t be throwing children into that hellhole.”
“The Mage’s Guild isn’t concerned with doing the right thing.” I inclined my head toward the stairs. “There’s something else I’d like to show you while we’re waiting for the others to arrive. Come with me.”
I led them both upstairs to my father’s office. Swift and I walked inside, but Hiroji paused at the threshold.
As he took in the room, the harsh lines around his mouth softened. “It’s exactly the same.”
I pulled the curtains open and the early afternoon sunshine brightened the room. “No one had stepped foot in it for ages before I got the Manor back from the Cha
ncellor. I abandoned the place after my parent’s deaths. It had always felt wrong to change anything. Before now, at least.”
Hiroji finally entered the room. He passed from spot to spot, touching things gently. Reverently.
Swift leaned against the wall and watched him with open curiosity. This was a side of him she’d never seen. He was sentimental, but only in private, and only if he trusted you. He liked Swift a lot more than I’d expected.
“It felt like walking into a tomb downstairs, but this is welcoming, like I remember.”
“I guess I spend the most time in here,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “I haven’t messed with much, but it gets more sunlight. It was dusty as hell for a little while.” Things were starting to get a little too nostalgic. I cleared my throat and turned away. “Anyhow, this is what I needed to show you.”
I walked over to the bookshelf and removed Adventures of Hercules, an old childhood favorite, and pressed my hand to the wood. The family ring warmed on my finger and the secret door unlocked. I pushed it open and the automatic lights turned on to reveal the treasure inside.
Hiroji walked forward slowly, eyes glued to the chest. “They left something for you?”
“At this point, I’m not sure. I can’t get it open. There’s also this.” I waved him into the room, then partially closed the door. “I’ve been able to determine my mother wrote these in a hurry, but not much else. The construction of the runes doesn’t make sense.”
Hiroji ran his fingers over the sloppy writing on the back of the door. “They definitely aren’t your average rune.”
“There’s more on the chest that don’t make sense,” Swift added, standing near the crack of the door. “The warnings that it will self-destruct if forced open are pretty clear, but that’s about it.”
A slight smile formed on Hiroji’s face. “That sounds like something your mother would have created.”
He walked over to the chest itself and inspected it, then looked back at Swift. “Did you use the Benedictine Method to test the defenses?”
She nodded. “That and the Trayvus Method. Whoever created this was aware of both.”