Senshi (A Katana Novel) (10 page)

18

A
s soon as the bell rang signaling the end of seventh period, I took my phone out of my pocket and stared at the blank screen. The troubled feeling I’d felt from the moment I awoke this morning had grown at a steady pace. All I could do was watch the clock above the whiteboard and count down the seconds until class was over.
Why haven’t you called me, Kim?
I dialed his number for the hundredth time and, like every time before, the call went straight to voicemail.

I shoved my books inside my bag, trying my best to ignore the way my stomach was folding in on itself like an origami crane.
Deep breaths, Rileigh.
I sucked in air, held it for the count of ten, and exhaled. Some of the pressure in my chest loosened.
Dr. Wendell promised to check on Kim
, I reminded myself. If something was really wrong and Kim was in trouble, Jason would have called me. No news was good news, right?

I whipped my backpack over my shoulder and darted from my seat. I hurried through the crowd of students milling about the hall, weaving and dodging until a body appeared in front of me. I stopped short to avoid colliding into it.

Carson, wide-eyed, took a step back. His T-shirt was a mess of dried blood. His nose was red and swollen. Purple circles rimmed both of his eyes.

My hands flew to my mouth to smother the gasp. “Oh, Carson. I’m so sorry.”

“
No worries.” He attempted to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “It looks worse than it really is.”

Somehow, I didn’t think so.

“Anyway … ” He jammed his hands into his pockets and shrugged awkwardly. “I gotta go.” He jutted his chin toward the doors at the end of the hall.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Maybe I’ll see you at the skate park sometime?”

Before I could answer my phone rang from inside my backpack. “Sorry.” I dropped my bag to the ground and fished my phone out. “I have to take this.”

Carson nodded. “Sure. Catch you later.”

I didn’t answer, glancing instead at the number on the phone screen. I didn’t recognize it. “Hello?”

“Rileigh? It’s Jason.”

My throat tightened. This was not good. Why was Dr. Wendell calling and not Kim? I took a step back and leaned against the lockers before my knees gave out. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated and I could feel the seriousness of his silence like a weight bearing down on me. He cleared his throat. “I need you to meet me at the dojo ASAP. ”

No longer able to stand, I slid to the ground. My stomach convulsed in tight ripples. “Why? What’s happened?”

“Listen to me, Rileigh. I need you to remain calm. Do
not
panic.”

I laughed and the pitch was too high, too crazy-sounding. Several nearby students cast me curious glances. I turned away from them, pressing one cheek against the cool metal of the locker and shielding the other side of my face with my free hand. “How can I be calm,” I hissed, “when you won’t tell me what’s going on?”

He paused and cleared his throat before answering. “We have a problem.” His breath hitched, betraying the fear underneath. “A big one.”

19

T
he blood in my veins turned to ice.
We have a problem?
Could he have been any more cryptic? “What does that mean, exactly? Is this an, ‘Oh no, we ordered the wrong color uniforms’ problem? Or is this a ‘Help! We’re under a ninja attack!’ problem?”

“Now is not really a good time to discuss this,” he answered. “Just get to the dojo.” He hung up before I could ask another question.

“Rude!” I huffed and swept my fingers through the blonde tendrils that had fallen in front of my eyes. Dr. Wendell was dangerously close to losing all the brownie points he’d earned this morning. Climbing to my feet, I slammed my palm against a locker, startling a huddle of freshman girls. The shock of pain to my hand did little to distract from the anxiety burning through me. This was exactly what I didn’t need. I had enough problems without adding to the list.

Ninja attacks, Whitley sightings, and runaway elevators—none of that mattered. Because the latest problem had to do with Kim. That trumped everything else.

Across the hall, Quentin skidded to a halt, his hand pressed against the side of his head. “It’s the craziest thing, I’ve taken two Tylenol and I swear this migraine only got worse—” He looked at me and stopped short, his hand falling away from his face. “What’s wrong?”

I marched past him, hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder. “I’ve got to go to the dojo. Kim’s in trouble.”

He was at my side in an instant, matching my swift stride. “I’m coming with you.” It wasn’t a question. And with that one sentence, I was able to forget for a moment about all of the tension between us. Whatever was going on with him, at least it didn’t stop him from being there when I needed him.

Quentin followed me to my Fiesta and climbed inside as soon as I unlocked the doors. After clicking my seatbelt, I started the car and peeled out of the parking lot. If I hadn’t been crushed under a wall of worry, I might have smiled. “Thanks, Q.”

He looked confused. “For what?”

“For being my best friend.”

He touched my hand that gripped the gear shift but didn’t say anything. We drove for several miles in silence until we crossed the Mississippi River. After I turned onto the Illinois exit ramp, Quentin spoke again. “Do you know what’s going on?”

I shook my head, trying to blink back the tears blurring my vision. “Kim never came over last night. I tried to call and got no answer. Dr. Wendell said he’d check on him and later called me to meet him at the dojo because there was a problem.”

“A problem,” Quentin muttered. He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a small problem? Maybe Kim caught the flu or something?”

I nodded, but the sour waves rolling through my stomach told me it was unlikely to be something that simple.

The dojo was located on a lone stretch of highway between two small towns. Surrounded by cornfields, the building—a converted pole barn—sat between a small brick apartment building and a lumberyard.

I pulled into the gravel parking lot and parked the car. Both Quentin and I had our doors open the second I pulled the key from the ignition. Michelle’s Cavalier, Drew’s Vespa, and Dr. Wendell’s Audi were already in the lot. Kim’s silver Trans Am was nowhere to be seen. The sick feeling in my stomach spread.

I pulled open the glass doors and ran inside the building where Michelle, Braden, and Drew paced in the lobby.

“Rileigh!” Michelle ran up to me. “What’s going on? Where’s Kim?”

“I have no idea.” I hoped I didn’t look as helpless as I felt. I turned to Braden and Drew. “I guess that means you guys don’t know, either?”

Drew shook his head. “We hoped you did.”

Braden leaned against the viewing window that divided the dojo from the lobby. “All of us received a text message from Wendell to meet here because there was some sort of problem.”

I bit my lip before replying. “I think Kim is in some kind of trouble. He never showed up at my house last night and he hasn’t answered my calls.”

“Kim?” Drew frowned, the surprise evident in his voice. “He seemed fine this morning.”

“What?” The muscles in my body tightened but refused to budge. It was as if I was trapped in one of those nightmares where I was stuck moving in slow motion. “You saw him this morning?” That didn’t make sense. If Kim really was okay, why couldn’t he have at least called to tell me?

Drew nodded, swishing his long braid behind his back. “Sure. We live in the same apartment building, after all. I knocked on his door this morning to see if he wanted to go for a jog—he said he couldn’t because he had something else to do.” Drew shrugged. “He didn’t look like he was in trouble. He did look really tired, though.”

Okay, but that still didn’t explain why he didn’t show up last night when he said he would. And what was his excuse for not returning my phone calls? Something didn’t add up.

The door separating the dojo from the lobby creaked open and Dr. Wendell poked his head out. “Oh, good. You’re all here.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Care to tell us what this is all about?”

He shook his head, looking more worn out than I’d ever seen him before. “I think it would be best if I let Kim explain.” He moved to the side and motioned us through the door.

Kim was here? I followed the others into the dojo, each step heavier than the one before—as if my body already knew the news waiting for me was not good.

The actual dojo was a large room with blue and black rubber mats covering the floor. The wall opposite the door was covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The mirrors were great for watching your form and for marveling at how pissed off you looked, like I did at this very moment. Mounted on a side wall was every bladed weapon you could imagine—and some you’d wished you hadn’t. Despite the assortment of pointy objects of death coupled with the aroma of sweat and rubber, this was my second home. A place I’d always felt comforted by.

But now, it felt dangerous.

“Where’s Kim?” I asked.

Dr. Wendell glanced at his watch. “He should be here any minute now.”

“Why can’t you just tell us what’s going on while we wait?”

Michelle, Braden, and Drew muttered words of agreement.

Dr. Wendell sighed. “Look, guys, I want to tell you. But Kim was quite insistent about telling you himself. ”

Drew folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t like the way this sounds.”

“No,” Dr. Wendell agreed, “I don’t imagine you do. And I wish it wasn’t about to get so much worse.”

Fingers of worry tore into my heart, which set off an electric buzz that prickled the tips of my actual fingers. I quickly balled my hands into fists, in the hopes of keeping the energy from building. “Get it together, Rileigh,” I whispered.

As if sensing my distress, Quentin moved closer to my side and slid an arm around my shoulder. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be okay.”

I nodded, willing myself to believe it even as my insides screamed under the pressure building within my body.

Dr. Wendell approached me, his expression worried. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need some air?”

No. I was far from okay. But I wasn’t about to go anywhere until I saw Kim. “I got it under control.”

“You sure?” Braden took a step back and covered his eyebrows with his hands.

I gave him a dirty look and exhaled loudly through my nose. The buzzing subsided just enough that I thought I might be able to suppress it. “I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth.

But the others didn’t look convinced. Everyone, except for Quentin, began inching away from me.

Drew motioned to the clock. “This is messed up. If Kim doesn’t show in the next five minutes, I’m going to go look for him. We deserve an explanation.”

“And you’ll get one.”

At the sound of Kim’s voice, a gasp tore from my throat.

He stepped through the door and I pulled away from Quentin and started toward him. But something about his expression, a silent pleading in his eyes, stopped me after one step. For the first time I could remember, in this life and the last, he looked nervous.

I held my hand out to him. If he would just come closer, if he would only slip his fingers through mine, everything would be okay. Whatever had him so upset, I was sure we would be able to handle it. Together.

But Kim didn’t move. He only stared at my fingers. The weight of his rejection piled onto my hand, heavier and heavier with each second it remained empty, waiting. Finally, I had no choice but to drop it to my side. “Kim?” His rejection didn’t make sense. Was he mad at me? I wracked my brain for any instance where I might have pissed him off and couldn’t come up with anything. Even so, if he was mad, I wished he had just punched me. The pain would have been less.

After a moment of tense silence, Kim shook his head, his eyes locked on the floor. “Sumi called me yesterday.”

Sumi. I should have known this had something to do with her. Whatever she’d done, I’d make her pay. When I got my hands on her—

The buzzing in my chest grew stronger, forcing me to abandon my plans for revenge. “Puppies, Rileigh,” I muttered. “Little yellow Labrador puppies prancing in a meadow singing songs about rainbows and moonbeams.”

Quentin gave me a curious look but said nothing.

Michelle folded her arms across her chest. “What does Sumi have to do with this?”

Kim looked up from the ground, his gaze sweeping over all of us before settling directly on me. “She’s awakened.”

The weight of his words hit me like a bus, staggering me on my feet.

“How is that possible?” Drew asked. “Who does she say she is?”

Kim’s eyes burned into mine. “Chiyo Sasaki.”

20

Japan, 1491

L
ord Toyotomi patted Akiko’s cheek. “Before you get settled, there is someone you should meet. Come.” He turned and shuffled down a wide hallway.

Akiko picked up the hem of her robe and hurried after him. She still couldn’t believe he had chosen to make her a samurai instead of sentencing her to death. She followed him down several halls. Their paths twisted and turned so often Akiko lost all sense of direction. Finally, they emerged on a balcony overlooking a garden.

“Right where I thought he would be,” Lord Toyotomi murmured.

“He?” Akiko didn’t know who he was talking about. At first glance, the garden appeared empty.

Lord Totyotomi nodded to the cherry tree just beside a stream bubbling with fat orange koi.

That’s when Akiko first saw
him
.

He knelt under the tree with his head bowed. His waist-length hair spilled over his shoulders, hiding his face behind a curtain of black. Every so often his chest heaved in a silent sob, unsettling the pink blossoms in his hair that had fallen from the branches above.

A hundred paper cranes took flight inside of Akiko’s stomach. Such a strange sensation and not one she understood. She watched from the balcony as his shoulders shook, his body hunched under the weight of grief. She felt embarrassed, as if she had intruded into someone else’s nightmare. She did not belong.

Lord Toyotomi placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her. “That is Yoshido, the captain of my samurai.”

Akiko couldn’t look away. There were always men in the pleasure house. Laughing, hungry men. Men drunk off of saki and opium. But Akiko had never seen a man so open, so raw, bleeding his misery for anyone to see. “Why does he cry?”

Lord Toyotomi leaned his hands against the balcony rail. He sighed. “Yoshido is in mourning. His betrothed, Chiyo Sasaki, was murdered by bandits.” He shook his head. “So tragic. Even though he was not there, Yoshido blames himself for her death.”

“But why?”

“Because he could not stop it from happening.”

Akiko moved to stand beside him at the rail. “He must have really loved her.”

Lord Toyotomi remained silent for a moment before answering. “Love does not weigh a person down. There are heavier emotions.”

“Like what?”

“Guilt.”

Akiko studied Yoshido, still hunched over with more than a dozen pink petals in his hair. “But if he was not there … how can he blame himself?”

Lord Toyotomi shook his head as if he, too, wanted the answer. “Because that is his way, child. If the world ended tomorrow, he would blame himself for that, as well. But”— he squeezed her hand—“that is where you come in.”

“Me?” Akiko took a step back. She couldn’t understand how she would be of any help to the lost warrior.

Lord Toyotomi nodded in Yoshido’s direction and coughed loudly. The samurai looked up and, upon seeing them, ran the palms of his hands down his face in attempt to erase the trail of tears. “Yoshido,” Lord Toyotomi called out, “I would like you to meet our newest samurai.” He gestured at Akiko, who couldn’t help but duck her head to hide her flaming cheeks.

Yoshido’s face remained impassive.

Akiko bit her lip. She waited for him to storm away, angry, as Zeami had done.

Lord Toyotomi continued, “I sense something in her, Yoshido.”

Yoshido nodded and walked toward the balcony. “You are never wrong about your inclinations, my Lord.”

With the warrior standing under her, Akiko guessed his age at around eighteen. He had wide shoulders, a defined jawline, and dark, piercing eyes that loosened something in her knees and made standing a challenge. She tightened her grip on the railing.

Lord Toyotomi smiled. “That is why I am entrusting
you
to train her to fight.”

“And so I will.” Yoshido bowed slightly at the waist. “What will be her weapon?”

“Hmm.” Lord Toyotomi frowned and stroked his beard. “The selection of a samurai’s weapon is a serious matter.” While he studied her, Akiko fought the urge to squirm under his unblinking gaze. Finally, he turned his attention back to Yoshido. “As it were, she already has some skill with a blade. Our own Zeami bears proof of that.”

Yoshido’s eyebrows shot up, his laugh muffled behind a fisted cough. “Very well, may I suggest the katana?”

Lord Toyotomi leaned in so closely that Akiko could smell the citrus oil in his hair. “That is the first time he has laughed since his betrothed died.”

Akiko wasn’t sure why, but this information renewed the fire in her cheeks.

Lord Toyotomi straightened and addressed Yoshido. “That will do nicely. Begin the training immediately.”

Yoshido bowed. “Yes, my Lord. What is her, uh”—he met Akiko’s eyes, stirring a whirlwind of flower petals inside her—“
your
name?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Lord Toyotomi
stopped her with a raised hand. “Senshi,” the daimyo replied. “Because she has a warrior’s heart. And because,” he said, his voice dropping so that only she could hear, “we cannot be weighed down by our past.”

Before she could react, Yoshido said her name—her new name—and just like that, it was as if Akiko had never existed.