by Lisa Yee
“That’s because Miss Martian is scanning brains and getting impressions,” Batgirl said as she tested her new grappling tools. Katana admired how she was swinging from trees and looked like she was flying. Batgirl was always trying to create new B.A.T. devices. After that last run-in with Croc, she had started developing a new tear gas that worked specifically on reptile people.
“She doesn’t talk to me,” Big Barda said. She was swinging her Mega Rod in the air to limber up when a wayward baseball headed toward her from the athletic field. Barda hit the ball and watched as it sailed through the sky toward downtown Metropolis. “I think I scare her,” she continued, “but I don’t know why.”
“Well, Katana,” Batgirl said. “What is it that you know? I mean, we’re all doing our Legacy projects. Have you learned anything that might explain the swords? The conch shell? The haiku?”
Barda sat down on the ground. “I’m in the mood for a good story,” she said, making herself comfortable. Batgirl joined her. “Tell us one!”
“Okay, well, here’s what I know so far,” Katana began.
am the granddaughter of the first female Samurai super hero, Onna-bugeisha Yamashiro. My grandmother on my mother’s side descended from a long line of Samurai. To honor that side of my family, my mother kept her maiden name and passed it on to me. My grandmother was an only child, as was my mother, as am I.
“Only men were allowed to be official Samurai warriors—they were military nobility and often referred to as Bushi, which means ‘those who serve in close attendance to the nobility.’ For centuries they were considered heroes. It was uncommon, but some Samurai passed along the skills, philosophies, and code of the Bushido to their daughters. My Onna’s family did this, and the women trained alongside the men with the swords. They eventually became known for being as good as, or better than, many of the male Samurai.
“Some even went into battle disguised as men. Wars were won because of these brave women, though no one ever knew. So strict was the code that only males could battle in the traditional armor.
“By the time my grandmother was born, the Samurai no longer existed. In the 1870s, Emperor Meiji abolished the Samurai, instead favoring a Western-style army. So after hundreds of years, and legacies passed down through generations, the Samurai ceased to exist. At least, that was what people thought.”
“Watch out!” Beast Boy yelled as he flew over them flapping his seagull wings. He was chasing Supergirl, who was speeding past in an effort to catch up to Wonder Woman, who had just tied up a couple of criminals in her Lasso of Truth in Centennial Park.
“Please keep going,” Barda implored. “How can your grandmother be a Samurai super hero if they were disbanded?”
Katana shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Everyone in my family knew about Onna, but no one spoke of it. My mom has always said that I’m not ready to know the whole story yet.
“Growing up, I just knew that Onna would often disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. When she returned, there would be something in the news about a village being saved or a disaster being averted. But it was always a mystery how it was done. Yet there were rumors that a Samurai was somehow responsible.
“Late at night, I’d hear my parents whispering about Onna and how they wished she’d retire. That it was not right for her to keep putting herself in danger. I saw a news program once—it was following up on the legend of the modern Samurai, and when it said that there was one who was considered a super hero Samurai, my mother turned off the television.
“ ‘Don’t watch this nonsense,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘Get back to your studies, Katana.’
“My parents are teachers, so my doing well in school is important to them. Even though I loved books, it was the stories that Onna told me at night that made my heart swell and my imagination soar. She told me tales of good versus evil, and of amazing feats with the sword. I learned about the honor of the Samurai and that service to others was important.
“Onna taught me how to use a sword.” Katana got up and began to pace as she spoke. “Even though my parents would have preferred that I have my nose buried in books. But since I got good grades, what could they say? Still, on the news they kept talking about this legendary Samurai super hero, and then there were confirmations that it wasn’t just any Samurai, but a female one. Onna and I would try to guess who she was, what her story was about, and where she lived.”
Katana stopped and looked off in the distance. Lady Shiva was showing Adam Strange how to do a flying side kick, but he kept slipping and ending up facedown on the ground.
“Please go on,” Barda nudged.
“Yeah, we want to know more,” Batgirl said.
Katana nodded and continued. “One day, I was walking home from school with a couple of friends. I must have been in third or fourth grade. As we made our way along a narrow, winding road, we passed a house on fire. Inside, a woman was screaming that she was trapped with her children. We froze, not knowing what to do, when suddenly a Samurai in full battle garb appeared out of nowhere. Though her face was covered, we could tell it was a female warrior. She leapt up to the second-floor ledge and brought the mother and her children to safety, then put out the flames using the barrels of rainwater that had been collecting in the garden.
“Before anyone could thank the super hero Samurai, she was gone.
“I raced home, excited to tell Onna what I had just seen. But the house was quiet. ‘Onna! Onna!’ I yelled out. ‘Where are you?’
“ ‘I’m here,’ she said. I went quickly to her room. Her hair was wet, and she was drying it with a towel. It was an odd time to take a bath. ‘What news do you have?’
“As I began to tell her what I had seen, I could smell something in her room. I looked in the corner, where there were some leaves and cinders. In that moment I knew who the legendary super hero Samurai was.”
know, I know!” Big Barda yelled excitedly, raising her hand. “It was her, your grandmother! Am I right? I know I’m right!”
“Onna knew that I knew. She hugged me tight and told me it was our secret.
“ ‘Momma says it’s not good to keep secrets,’ I told her.
“She sighed and said, ‘Oh, your momma. Yes, it is good to tell the truth, but some things should not be talked about until the time is right. You know my secret, but if you were to tell, it would be harder for me to do my job—to serve the people.’
“ ‘I want to be like you!’ I announced. ‘Let me be like you! Please teach me.’
“ ‘I don’t know how your parents would feel,’ my grandmother said. But I could tell she was thinking about it.
“ ‘Please, Onna,’ I begged. ‘Please.’
“She finally smiled and said, ‘We will go slow. I will teach you some basics.’
“On that day, Onna let me hold a sword for the first time—her sword. This very one,” Katana said, unsheathing it for Barda and Batgirl to see. “Whenever we practiced, she would let me use it even though I could barely hold it up in the beginning. My grandmother told me, ‘I will train you, but it is yet to be seen who you will grow up to be. That will be up to you.’
“Though at first the sword was way too big for me, I cherished it. Every day, Onna and I would walk along the cliffs overlooking the ocean, where she would train me in martial arts, in swordplay, and in the way of the Bushido. We never told my parents, knowing they would prefer I lead the life of an academic. But I didn’t want to learn about the world from books, I wanted to live it, and more than anything I wanted to be like Onna and be worthy enough to one day be called a Samurai super hero.”
“I’ll bet your grandmother is so proud that you are at Super Hero High,” Batgirl said.
Katana bowed her head. “Onna is no longer with us. She never knew that I made it here.”
“What happened?” Barda said. Her eyes grew big.
Katana shrugged. “I don’t know. No one will tell me. I just know that one day after helpi
ng her get into her Samurai armor, she kissed me as she always did before going out. Before she left, she turned around and handed me her sword. ‘Keep this safe and it will keep you safe,’ she told me. That night she didn’t come home.” A note of sorrow swelled in Katana’s voice. “That was the last time I saw her.”
Big Barda’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not crying,” she grumbled to Batgirl. “You are!”
Batgirl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand then gave Katana a hug. Barda hung back for a second and watched, then finally said, “Oh well. Okay, why not?” and joined the group hug.
“Thank you,” Katana said, savoring the embrace of her friends. “This means a lot to me.”
“Got it!” someone yelled. It was Harley. “Love this!” She turned her camera on herself. “Here at Super Hero High, camaraderie runs rampant. Just a few short months ago, Big Barda was the enemy, and now here she is, being accepted and embraced by the indomitable Katana and our recent Hero of the Month, Batgirl.”
Katana broke from the hug. “Put the camera down, Harley,” she said. “This is private.”
Harley pouted. “Ah, man. You guys are no fun!” she said. “Everyone loves to see personal private moments on video! It’s like peeking, but even more fun!”
“Look!” Batgirl said, distracting her. “Isn’t that Hawkgirl flying alongside that plane with engine trouble?”
As Harley raced off in the hopes of getting an exclusive, Katana turned to Batgirl and Barda. “Thank you for listening to me. Sharing my story with you brings me closer to my Onna.” Katana paused, then added wistfully, “Oh, what I would give to see her just once more.”
atana, please step forward,” Crazy Quilt announced. He was dressed in his usual array of brightly colored clothes. On anyone else the outfit would have looked like a collision of paint swatches. However, Crazy Quilt made it look like a fashion statement extraordinaire.
Katana rose from the back of the room, stepping over Cheetah’s outstretched legs. While some students, like Supergirl, were a little klutzy, and others, like Big Barda, tended to stomp, Katana had the posture and grace of a ballerina. In Wildcat’s phys ed class, she was able to run the five-mile course with a dozen books balanced on her head and a bowl of goldfish on top of the books, without losing one drop of water or a single fish.
“Up, up!” Crazy Quilt said as a marble pedestal rose from the floor. “Now, Katana, strike a pose!”
Katana stood tall with her arms at her sides. “No! No!” her teacher called out. “Be dramatic! Make a statement! Wow us! Like this…”
Quilty, as he was sometimes called behind his back, lunged forward with his hands on his hips and his head thrown back. He looked just as chic as he had in his youth when he had graced the cover of the Super Hero Supermodels magazine he kept displayed on his desk—with a tiny spotlight shining on it.
Katana suddenly thought about the swords. It was strange, but ever since they had been put safely away, it was like they had become a hazy idea to her, coming in and out of her thoughts like the ebb and flow of the tide—real, but not real.
“And pose!” Crazy Quilt shouted. “Katana. Earth to Katana—strike a pose!”
Katana hated drawing attention to herself. She knew Crazy Quilt wouldn’t give up, however—he loved a grand fashion pose. So she mimicked what he had done, even though it felt awkward and must’ve looked even more so. How could Star Sapphire, who sometimes modeled for fashion magazines, stand it? Katana wondered.
Crazy Quilt beamed as he circled her. “Now, future fashion mavens, I want you all to look at Katana’s costume. Stylish? Yes! But functional as well. Katana, dear, show the class how your custom-made material stretches in all the right places.”
Katana stood en pointe and with a flourish leapt down from the pedestal. She tucked into herself, rolled across the room, then sprang up and backflipped, landing on the pedestal once more.
“See!” her teacher pointed out. He motioned to her black skirt with red ribbon trim. “No wrinkles! And her leggings have give and support at the same time. Plus, look at those sleek lines! And the armor, and those lace-up boots! They are to die for,” he said, swooning. “Plus, they’re functional, functional, functional! Show them, Katana!”
In a single motion, Katana swept her arm down and retrieved a dagger from her boot. Without stopping, her hand reached around her waist to a metal chain, which she tossed across the room. It cut the air, making a barely audible whipping sound as it wrapped around a mannequin. The chain was followed by a dagger that knocked the faux blaster out of its plastic hand.
Crazy Quilt applauded and cried “Brava! Brava!” as Katana stood in a fighting stance, her sword now drawn. “Brava!”
As Katana made her way back to her seat, Star Sapphire smiled and played with the purple ring on her finger. Star Sapphire looked sincere, and Katana felt a wave of kindness wash over her as she passed.
“That whole Samurai thing is so overdone,” Sapphire whispered to Cheetah. The feline nodded and sharpened her nails with a file.
On their way across campus to June Moone’s art class, Katana and Poison Ivy passed a large patch of fast-growing, spiky kirbo weeds that threatened to cover up the statue of a famed super hero named Tsunami, who could swim at superhuman speed. The two looked at each other, and without saying anything, Katana cut down the kirbo with her sword, and Ivy created a lovely garden where the weeds had once resided. A small canopy of cherry- and orange-blossom trees circled the space, and an assortment of daisies, roses, and orchids accentuated the oasis. The scent of blossoms and blooms was intoxicating.
“Got it!” Harley announced as she executed a perfect double handspring and then a backflip while somehow still filming. “This will be on Harley’s Quinntessentials before you can say ‘What’s up at Super Hero High?’ ” Harley hesitated a beat. “Hey, does it have a name?”
Katana bowed to Poison Ivy, giving her the honor.
“Harmony Garden?” Ivy suggested.
“Perfect.” Harley beamed as she turned the camera back on herself. “Harmony Garden! You saw it here first, fans!”
In June Moone’s art class, Katana stared at the block of wood in front of her. It was a little larger than a shoe box. A regular shoe box, not one for her leather lace-up boots with hidden panels for weapons. Like Onna’s, Katana’s boots were custom-made by a famous shoemaking family in Kyoto that had been catering to Samurai for generations.
As Katana continued her stare-down with the block of wood, her teacher whirled around, her green silk dress twirling around her.
“Art is about expression!” Ms. Moone declared. “It should enchant and move one’s emotions. That is your assignment for today. Turn the different materials in front of you into something that reflects your feelings!”
As the Supers set to work, Katana scanned the room. Hawkgirl was turning a lump of clay into a soaring sculpture of a bird in flight. Supergirl was using glue, string, and sequins to make a rainbow heart. Batgirl was making a digital LED display with the words superPOWers, brainPOWer, and willPOWer.
The wood remained on Katana’s desk untouched. What did she feel inside, she wondered. So much of what she did and thought was controlled. It was not like her to become unhinged, as Harley sometimes did, or overly excited about things, like Bumblebee, or intense, like Big Barda, though she was so much better now than when she had first come to Super Hero High.
No, Katana was measured, and though she was fun to be around, there were questions inside her that were confusing and feelings that weren’t addressed. And mysteries, like what had happened to her Onna…and why the swords had suddenly appeared.
“How are you doing, Katana?” Ms. Moone asked, looking over her shoulder.
“It’s hard for me to get started,” Katana admitted. She noticed that no one else in the room seemed to have that problem. The Flash was already done with his art project, a finger-painted blueprint of the entirety of Super Hero High and surrounding streets of Metropolis.
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“Not every piece of art has to be a masterpiece,” her teacher reminded her star student. “Sometimes it’s just a starting place.”
Katana was used to her paintings and sculptures being praised and held up to the class as examples of what to strive for. Her oils of a cherry tree in bloom had been in the lobby of the school, and she had won awards for her art.
In the past, when Katana approached an art project, she knew exactly what she wanted to do and see. This time was different. She picked up the block and turned it over and over again. Then she stood and held it up in front of her, tossing it into the air. Before it could land, Katana had whipped out her sword and attacked it, leaping high, whirling around, slicing and dicing.
Wood chips flew around her like snowflakes blown by a wild winter wind.
“Whoa!” Beast Boy said. He was just finishing a fluorescent painting on velvet, of a creature with the snout of a pig, the ears of a bat, the slicked-back fur of a platypus, and the smile of…Beast Boy.
When the sawdust settled, June Moone stared and her green eyes widened. “This,” she announced triumphantly, “this is what I’m talking about when I say that art elicits emotion and vice versa! Take a bow, Katana.”
As Katana did as she was told, she could hear Raven mutter, “Teacher’s pet. I can’t even tell what that thing is.”
Katana wasn’t really sure what it was, either. Only that it was how she felt. When class ended, she started to leave her art piece behind. Suddenly, Miss Martian became visible and asked shyly, “May I keep it?”
“Go ahead. It’s yours,” Katana said. “I don’t even know why I made it.”
Miss Martian smiled and held the intricate Japanese box puzzle to her chest, hugging it. The outside boasted a hexagonal pattern that moved if one stared at it. When she rattled the box she could hear something inside. “What is it?” Miss Martian asked. “What’s inside?”
Katana shook her head, surprised. She had not put anything in it. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.