The Book of the Sword

by Carrie Asai

  “I’m not sure,” Hiro said slowly. I waited for him to speak again, my palms wet against the kitchen table, afraid that he might tell me it was too risky for me to stay with him anymore. If he asked me to leave, where would I go?

  “From now on you shouldn’t be outside on your own. It’s too dangerous.” Hiro’s voice brought me back to reality. “It was naive of me to think that you could walk around and not be discovered. I blame myself. It won’t happen again.”

  I certainly hadn’t expected this—I’d already lived a totally insulated life. I didn’t want to go back to it, not like this, anyway.

  “But what about grocery shopping?” I asked. “Or coming home from the dojo or the gym when you have an afternoon shift?” I understood Hiro’s point, but those little bits of independence were the only thing that kept me from being a complete drain on every minute of Hiro’s time.

  “We’ll have to work something out. Maybe Karen can give you a lift after training on some days. And I’ll take care of the groceries. Until we have a better sense of whether Konishi is in L.A. or whether they’re out looking for you, it’s just not worth the risk.”

  “But—” I struggled for the right words. “I don’t want to be the same protected girl I was back home. It’s like my father’s fist is tightening around me even here. And I’m still someone else’s responsibility. Yours.”

  “I know it’s hard, Heaven, but it’s only temporary. We have to figure out who’s after you, and you’re far from being ready to protect yourself. So promise me you won’t leave the house alone.”

  “Okay.” Deep down, I was relieved that Hiro would stay with me, but I wondered how long his patience would last. “I just wish that I was a samurai already. Then I could take care of myself.” I sighed.

  “You’ll get there,” Hiro said. “I promise.” He smiled at me, and something melted in my heart. “I bet you’re hungry.” Hiro went to the refrigerator and pulled out a jar of pasta sauce. “Spaghetti à la Hiro?”

  “Mmmm…my favorite.”

  “So how was your shopping trip otherwise?” Hiro asked as he chopped up an onion. “Did you get what you needed?”

  I leaned against the counter. “Yep. I got a pair of jeans and two T-shirts and some underwear on the half-off table in a really funky store. Oh. And the Converse, of course.” I looked down and admired my purple sneaks.

  “Good. I guess you really did need some clothes.” Hiro paused and turned off the flame under the boiling noodles. “I know it’s hard to adjust to this new lifestyle. Trust me, I went through it, too.”

  He strained the spaghetti and ladled it onto two plates. I fixed us glasses of ice water and we sat down.

  “I can’t quite get over the feeling that I’m living in a dream,” I admitted. “I mean, things were strange enough back in Tokyo after they told me I was going to marry Teddy.”

  “That must have been hard. Tell me, why did you agree?”

  I thought for a second. “Well, I didn’t, really. I told my father I wouldn’t do it, but he basically ignored me. My tutor, Katie, talked to him, too, and got fired for it. It might even be why my father threw Ohiko out. They had a fight—it could have been about me. It was definitely something about family loyalty.” I hesitated, and once again I saw the tears on Mieko’s face, staining the white powder, when my father ordered Ohiko out of the house. That’s what had made it real to me. She never cried.

  “I guess I felt like I didn’t have any choice,” I continued. “It wasn’t like I’d ever done anything on my own. Now that I’m here, I can see all the ways I might have tried to get away, but…when I was living inside my father’s compound, any thought of disobeying him seemed inconceivable.”

  Even as I gave Hiro my explanation, I felt like I was kidding myself. Why had it seemed so impossible? After all, Ohiko and I had planned on leaving eventually. Ohiko and I.

  “I guess when Ohiko left, it seemed like any possibility of escape went with him,” I confessed. “I was too sheltered to consider doing anything on my own, so I just sort of gave in to despair.”

  The scary part was that I wasn’t sure I’d changed that much, even though I wanted to. My life was different now, but how different was I?

  “It’s hard to break free from them, isn’t it?” Hiro said as he twirled a chunk of pasta onto his fork. “When I first told my father I was coming to the States, I was terrified he would disown me.”

  I knew Hiro was trying to make me feel better, and I was glad he’d changed the subject to himself. “Did he?” I asked. Hiro had never gone into much detail about his relationship with his family, but I sensed there was a pretty intense back story there.

  Hiro smiled. “He hardly could—after all, I was basically disowning myself. I just didn’t want our ties to be completely severed, which is a painful thing no matter what. I think my father believed my coming here was just a passing thing. It’s been a few years, but he still writes me letters asking me when I’m coming back. He even says he has a job for me.”

  “Are you ever going back?”

  Hiro seemed to consider the question. His face took on the same expression that I thought I had, a sort of sad frown. I was sure he was thinking about how hard it would be to ever go back, to ever let someone else make all the decisions about your life. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Not anytime soon. I have commitments here now, and I’m just getting started on what I really want to be doing. It took almost a year just to figure out how to live a normal life—you’re still in that stage. If I left now, everything I’ve tried to do would feel like a pretty big failure.”

  “So your first months here were pretty rough, huh?” I wanted to know everything about him. Start with your birth and go on from there, I imagined telling him. And don’t leave anything out.

  “Absolutely. I was staying at a YMCA—Young Men’s Christian Association. Basically it’s an organization that runs these places where people can stay when they’re down on their luck. Some centers just have gyms and community facilities, but the one I was staying at was really seedy. I had to share a bathroom. The first night I was there, all I could think about was taking a long bath at home.”

  I laughed. “That’s so funny! That’s exactly what I was thinking about the night I slept on the pile of clothes at that girl Cheryl’s house. My bathroom at home!”

  “I thought about it for a long time afterward, too.” Hiro smiled ruefully. “I was at the YMCA for two months before I found a job and an apartment, and by then I was living on corn-flakes and bananas.”

  “Yikes. I’m lucky I have you.”

  Hiro smiled again, and a warm glow washed over me. For the first time we were really connecting. He was talking to me as if I were a friend, not just a little kid he had to baby-sit.

  “More spaghetti?” he asked.

  “Just a little.” I handed him my plate and suddenly had the urge to confide in him like I used to do with Katie. I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I longed to have someone I could tell things to. So many weeks had passed and I hadn’t had a single soul to really talk to. I had a million thoughts just waiting to come out.

  “I’m hoping that the training becomes more natural soon,” I said.

  “In what sense?” Hiro sat down again, putting the plate of seconds in front of me. The training was really turning me into a power eater. I’d probably have to get two jobs just to support my food habit.

  “Oh, you know…like that I’ll stop worrying about stuff from before. Rearrange my priorities. I’d like to be more serious, more focused, but I’m not sure if I can totally change my personality.”

  “You’ve come farther than you realize already—but a little more seriousness wouldn’t hurt, you’re right.” Hiro took a bite of spaghetti, getting a teeny-tiny dab of sauce on his upper lip, right in the dip in the middle. I had this crazy urge to wipe it off. “Maybe next week we can work on some meditation techniques to get you grounded,” Hiro continued.

  “That would be good,
” I said doubtfully. I felt like he was kind of missing my point. “What I’d really like to do is shake off some of the baggage, you know? I mean, sometimes I just get frustrated thinking about all the things I can’t have anymore.”

  “Like what?” Hiro’s voice sounded a bit flat, but maybe it was just because he’d taken another bite of spaghetti.

  “Oh, like my father’s unlimited credit card. Katie and I used to really have fun with that. It seems silly, but I miss going shopping with her and knowing I could get whatever I want. Or watching DVDs and making popcorn. Ohiko and I loved movies—all kinds. Blockbusters, art films—it didn’t matter. Of course, we could only watch them when my father was out of town, but that was a lot of the time.”

  Hiro rose to put his dishes in the sink and didn’t respond, but I was on a roll, so I just kept going.

  “I guess that basically, I miss being carefree. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t even want to have fun since Ohiko is”—my voice caught on the word—“dead, but the other part of me just wants to be young and not have to worry about anything.”

  Hiro dropped the saucepan in the sink with a loud clank. Clearly the mood had been broken. I tensed. What had I said?

  Hiro turned around. Gone was the laid-back guy who had just shared details of his life with me. Now I was face-to-face with my trainer. And he wasn’t happy.

  “Have you made any progress on your mission?” Hiro asked, his voice suddenly cold.

  “No,” I whispered, surprised that I had actually chosen that moment to be so honest about my failure. Once the word was out, though, I felt the familiar anger welling in my chest. “And you know what, Hiro, I’m less ready to accept death now than ever.” I felt betrayed. I had confided in him, and not only had he missed my point, he’d gotten all pissed. “Why would I want to die now when I have no idea what happened to Ohiko? To make sure that I will have led a totally useless life?” I raged. “And was I supposed to be contemplating my acceptance of death when I was hiding in a shoe store from Teddy Yukemura, someone who might actually want to kill me?”

  “Maybe you feel that way because you’re spending too much time wishing that you were still at home watching videos and shopping with your father’s blood money!” he yelled.

  I couldn’t have been more stunned if Hiro had actually slapped me across the face. His words hung in the air between us, and I felt the blood rush to my face.

  “J-Just because I think about how things used to be doesn’t mean I still want them that way,” I stammered. “If that was the case, then I would have taken your advice and gone back to Konishi right from the start.”

  “Maybe it was a mistake to train you after all,” he said, with barely concealed frustration. He looked like he was thinking of the right words to lecture me with.

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. Maybe he was right. If I was really serious about being a samurai, I wouldn’t even have those thoughts. I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn’t want to make him angrier.

  Hiro turned back to the sink and started washing the dishes. I helped clean up the kitchen. The silence finally got to me. “What?” I burst out. But he just shook his head and retreated to his bedroom.

  How had things gone so horribly wrong?

  I got ready for bed, opened the sofa, and lay down. But I stayed awake, lost in memories of life “before,” as if doing that would help me get back at Hiro somehow. Shopping with Katie was fun, and so was coming home to the delicious dinners that Kiyomi, our cook, used to serve. But it wasn’t just the stuff I missed. It was Katie, and Ohiko, and the peacefulness of that previous life that seemed so far away. I even got a pang when I thought about studying!

  I wondered how Hiro could have completely blocked out his own life back in Japan. He’d always been more serious than me, it was true, but he seemed so convinced that everything about the way I’d lived in Tokyo was wrong. But for the most part, I’d lived a quiet, isolated life of studying. He didn’t understand that. Or that when I talked about movies, it wasn’t because I hadn’t spent time thinking about more important ideas, but because I’d watched them with Ohiko. When my father was in town and we ate dinner together, we would talk about philosophy, history, science. My father spoke five languages, and even Mieko knew French and English, so there would be nights when one of us would choose a language and we would only be allowed to speak in it, no matter what. I couldn’t help but be grateful to my father for opening up that world of knowledge to me. I might have been naive. I was definitely sheltered. But I was never stupid.

  I flopped onto my back and closed my eyes. No. I’d made it this far. I definitely wasn’t stupid.

  I can’t sleep. I know I should go out there and apologize to her. It’s not her fault that this has happened to her. Or that I’m always broke.

  What’s my problem? Like I told her, I spent hours and hours thinking of sinking into a hot bath in one of the many tubs at home. Among other things.

  I have to be patient. Walking away from your family, no matter how corrupt they are, is hard. And I don’t think she even really knows who her father is or what he does. A family, any kind of family, means that you are never alone.

  She feels alone now, and I’ve made things worse. Why shouldn’t she have fun? She didn’t ask for any of this. Even I sometimes want to go back to the easy life, and I chose the life I have now. I think that’s what set me off—the fear that I’ll start longing for all the material things I’ve chosen to give up.

  The red numbers glow from the face of the clock. It’s midnight. But I can’t sleep. Should I go to her? Tell her that I can see a centuries-old samurai strength buried somewhere deep inside her? Tell her that sometimes, when we’re training, I’m in awe of her abilities?

  I picture myself going out to her, sitting by her side on the flimsy sofa bed, saying I’m sorry. Tucking the covers in around her—she would look at me from under those long, long lashes of hers and hold her arms out to me—

  No. Go to sleep, Hiro. Save the talking until tomorrow. There will be time.

  Hiro

  13

  The next day, when I woke up and stretched, I noticed that something thick and white had been shoved under the door. Hmmm. I crept over and picked it up. An envelope. In the middle of it was one word—written in my father’s handwriting. Heaven.

  A little shock went through my heart. He knows where I am. He traced the call. He’s found me. But why did he just leave the envelope? Why didn’t he knock on the door and demand that I come with him?

  I tore open the envelope. Cash. Tons of it. I quickly counted the money, breathing fast. It was three thousand dollars total.

  Should I take the money? I clutched the envelope in my hands, picturing how much Hiro would disapprove if he ever found out. But this way I wouldn’t have to burden Hiro financially. And I could—God, I was shallow. But what I kept thinking was that I could use this money to go shopping like I used to. Buy some DVDs or cute underwear. Have fun.

  I hurried back inside. Hiro was still in the shower. Good. I shoved the envelope under the sofa and sat down. Okay, I thought, trying to calm myself. Clearly my father is going to leave me alone. For now. Nothing’s changed. I’m all right.

  “All set?” asked Hiro, emerging from the bathroom fully dressed.

  “Yep,” I said, loudly and brightly.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Hiro told me. “I overreacted. Can we still work together and be friends?”

  “Of course,” I said, wishing that the word friend didn’t roll so easily off his tongue. Weren’t we at least a little more than friends at this point? Hiro grabbed his bag and headed out the door. I guessed that was all there was to say, then. Sigh.

  Once at the dojo I started practicing my front snap kicks, which, according to Hiro, could be very painful to any attacker. The real question was, when would I have time to complete my mission? Every minute of my day was booked, but it was clear it couldn’t be put off any longer.

  I raised my knee,
trying to remember to keep my fists tight and my toes turned up, then snapped my kick out with as much force as I could muster. It was hard not to lose my balance. I vowed to think about my mission once per kick:

  Snap! Why would Hiro want me to accept death?

  Snap! How would accepting death help me to find out who murdered Ohiko?

  Snap! What did it mean to “accept” death? I doubted you could just say, “Okay, I accept it,” and get by on that.

  Snap! I lost my balance and stumbled forward onto the mat.

  “Dammit!”

  “Rough move?” Karen stood in the doorway of the practice room, a sympathetic smile on her face.

  She looked very sleek in the crisp black gi all the instructors wore, with her thick dark hair smoothed back from her widow’s peak into a neat bun. I realized I must look like a total loser, splayed out on the ground in my crumpled white suit, sweating, with my ponytail coming loose.

  “Hi,” I said, wiping some sweat from my forehead. “I just can’t seem to get my footing right.”

  “Snap kicks are hard,” she told me. Was there something a little fake in her tone? Why was she being so nice to me? Had Hiro told her to? I didn’t like the idea of the two of them talking about me like I was a little kid.

  “You have to channel all your energies to one point, and it’s hard not to sacrifice force for balance,” Karen continued. “Why don’t you show me what you’re working on and we’ll run through it?” She walked over and reached out a hand. I grabbed it, hopped to my feet, and retied my ponytail. “Let’s see your ready position,” she said.

  I stood with my legs spread in a half-crouching position, my arms bent in front of me almost like a kangaroo’s. Karen tilted her head and watched me run through some adjustments until I held what I hoped was the correct stance. “Okay. That’s pretty good,” she said. “Scoot your legs wider and loosen your arms. You’re not doing arm snaps right now, are you?”