Senshi (A Katana Novel)

by Cole Gibsen

  “I won’t,” I replied glumly and stuffed the bottle back into my bag.

  Seemingly satisfied, Mr. Fritz nodded and moved on to another table.

  “Anyway.” Carly smacked her gum, each pop like a hammer pounding the base of my spine. She poured the contents of a test tube into a beaker. “I didn’t want to do it—I know you guys are best friends and all—but I had to tell Mom that I didn’t feel safe with Rileigh coming over to our house anymore.” She looked up at me and smiled. “At least not until you work out your issues.”

  Quentin made a choked sound as I whirled around to face her.

  “What?” My pulse jumped from a jog to a sprint as the pressure built inside of me, pushing against my ribs until I thought they would crack. It was no secret that Carly and I couldn’t stand each other, but she’d never tried to come between Quentin and me before. He’d been my best friend since first grade. Not to mention he was the one person who kept me firmly grounded in this life. Without him, I’d be more lost than ever.

  Invisible hands ripped into my chest, trying to claw their way out. What little control I had was slipping away—and fast.

  Quentin, as if sensing my distress, snatched the empty test tube from Carly’s hand. “Carly, oh my God, you got something on your face.”

  Wide-eyed, she patted her face. “Where? What is it?”

  Quentin pointed to his nostril.

  “Oh, God.” The color drained from her cheeks. “Mr. Fritz!” She leapt from her stool, ran to the front of the

  classroom, and snatched the wooden hall pass from a hook on the wall. “I have to go to the bathroom!”

  He looked up from assisting a table of students and waved her away with a sigh. “Hurry back. Your table is behind the rest of the class. You should have your Bunsen burner turned on by now.”

  She nodded and ran for the door.

  Quentin gave a nervous glance to the matches in front of him. “Don’t listen to her. My mom loves you and she knows Carly’s a drama queen. She’d never ban you from the house.” He looked at me. “Are you—are you okay?”

  Not even close. But maybe if I lied to him I could fool myself. “I’m good.” I tried to sound convincing, but my voice came out strained.

  He took a match from the box but didn’t strike it. “Besides, I love you and isn’t my opinion the only one that counts?”

  “I just thought she’d be more understanding, you know? I’d assumed since I saved her life, lost my house, and almost died, she’d get off my back.” I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to harness the energy swirling inside me. It felt like I was being torn in half.

  “Yeah, well … ” Quentin turned on the valve that released the gas. “Welcome to high school.” He struck the match and raised the lit tip to the nozzle.

  At that moment, the hum of ki burst through my skin. To make it worse, I’d spent so much of my energy trying to keep it from escaping that I had none left to control it when it did. It happened so fast, I was helpless to warn Quentin about the attack coming his way.

  The Bunsen burner exploded in an angry fireball that ricocheted him off his stool, and he collapsed onto the floor. He buried his face in his hands while uttering a stream of obscenities under his breath.

  “Q!” I leapt from my chair and joined him on the floor. The acrid stench of singed hair stung my nostrils. “Oh my God! Are you alright?”

  He didn’t move but continued to mutter every curse word I knew, in addition to some awfully creative ones.

  “Mr. Fritz!” Fear strangled my voice into a garbled mess.

  My chem teacher was next to us in an instant. He placed his hand on Quentin’s back, his eyes wide with alarm. “What happened?”

  “I—I—” Oh, you know, I lost control of my ki and set my best friend on fire. “I don’t know. Quentin was lighting the Bunsen burner, and then—” I sucked in a ragged breath. “And then—”

  “It exploded,” Quentin mumbled miserably against his hands.

  Mr. Fritz held his arms up and glanced at the students who’d left their seats and were climbing over each other to get a closer look. “Okay, I need everyone to calm down.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. Calm down? I’d nearly roasted Quentin’s face off, and he wanted me to be calm about it? My stomach twisted until I thought I’d double over from the pain. What if it’d been worse? What if—

  Before I could finish my thought, the Bunsen burner flared to life again, issuing a beach ball-sized fireball that dissipated with a whoosh into black smoke before reaching the ceiling.

  “What the—” Mr. Fritz stumbled backward, knocking over Carly’s abandoned stool. I jumped in front of Quentin and grabbed onto a metal leg, righting the chair before it could fall on him. At least my reflexes hadn’t failed me.

  Mr. Fritz’s skin paled to the color of the plastic skeleton mounted on the wall. He grasped the counter and pulled himself to his feet. “Gas leak. It has to be a gas leak.” He looked at us, his eyes impossibly wide. “I want all of you”— he scanned the entire classroom—“outside and in front of the gymnasium. NOW.”

  The stunned silence erupted into squeals and shrieks as my classmates scrambled to grab their belongings before stampeding from the room.

  “Ms. Martin.” Mr. Fritz grabbed Quentin’s elbow and motioned for me to do the same. Together, we lifted him to his feet. “Get Mr. Farmer to the nurse. I’m going to the office to alert them about the gas leak. The school needs to be evacuated.” Mr. Fritz placed a hand between my shoulders and gave me an urgent push forward.

  I nodded even though I knew there was no gas leak. Wrapping my arm around Quentin’s waist, I guided him out the door and down the hall. I whispered how sorry I was more than a hundred times, but still he refused to look at me and kept his face buried beneath his hands. How badly had I burned him? Would he scar? Guilt twisted my insides.

  Carly had been right about me.

  I was dangerous.

  7

  The good news is, you’ll live.” The nurse, a tired-looking woman with a sloppy gray bun at the base of her skull, patted Quentin on the cheek. His eyes stayed locked on the mirror in his hands.

  I stood by his side, my chest tight with worry. “So he’s going to be okay?”

  The nurse smiled and tugged on the ends of the stethoscope wrapped around her neck. “They’re just eyebrows, dear. They’ll grow back.” She glanced at Quentin. “It is interesting, though. If you were as close to the Bunsen burner as you say, I’m surprised you weren’t burned. You’re a lucky young man. I’m going to get some salve for your face. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  When she was out of the room, Quentin set the mirror aside, closed his eyes, and groaned.

  “It’s not that bad.” I stared at the bare skin where his eyebrows used to be. The nurse was right. While the flames had burned away his eyebrows, his skin wasn’t even inflamed.

  “Not that bad?” He turned angry eyes on me. “Give me a robe and an ugly pedicure, and I could play the bad guy in those wizard movies!”

  I flinched. In all the years we’d been friends, he’d never once yelled at me. “Q, I’m so … I just … I’m sorry.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose. He stayed that way for a moment, like a deflated balloon, as the silence between us pressed against me so thick and heavy I thought I might suffocate. Finally, he opened his eyes. “I know.” He patted his hand against the vinyl table where he sat. I jumped up next to him and leaned my head against his shoulder. Maybe Quentin wouldn’t stay mad at me. Hope picked at the knot inside my chest.

  “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” he said. “But you need help, Ri-Ri. You’ve been struggling to control this ki thing of yours for what—a month? And this?” He wiggled the skin where his eyebrows had been. “This should tell you that you can’t keep doing what you’ve been doing.”r />
  “But I haven’t been doing anything.”

  He gave me a pointed look.

  “Oh. Right.” But that was going to change. Before today, I’d assumed the real threat was the ninja; that’s why finding them had been my top priority. Turns out I was wrong. The real threat was me.

  I met Q’s eyes. “I’m sorry I let things get so out of control and put you at risk. From this day forward, getting control of my ki is my number-one priority.”

  “Good.” He smiled, but his eyes remained serious. “Because next time, someone could lose more than their eyebrows. You understand that, don’t you?”

  I sucked on my bottom lip and nodded. I understood. Until I got my ki under control, I was a ticking time bomb.

  No one was safe.

  8

  A daimyo was the ruling lord of a village. In my previous life in Japan, Lord Toyotomi had been that man. But to call him just a ruler was like calling Tony Hawk just a skater. Lord Toyotomi had been my teacher, my counselor, and the closest thing to a father I ever had. Like me, he’d been gifted with the ability to manipulate ki. And he was the one who taught me to understand and use that power to my advantage.

  If I had any hope of doing so again, it seemed only logical that I should start with his teachings. And rule number one for controlling ki? Meditation. Easy to do when you’re in a silent courtyard surrounded by cherry trees and koi ponds. Not so easy in the middle of a city full of sirens and flashing lights.

  Don’t get me wrong, our new downtown St. Louis loft was nice, but it didn’t feel like home. Despite the fact they were tinted on the outside, the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up an entire wall of my room left me feeling exposed. Debbie said the new location was only temporary, until we could find a house. The problem was her job as a talent agent and Dr. Wendell’s constant (and annoying) presence kept her too busy to look.

  After tossing my backpack next to the bed, I placed several incense cones on a ceramic plate on my desk and lit them, hoping the citrus smell of satsuma would calm me. But city life made that nearly impossible. As a trained warrior, I couldn’t unwind—as much as I tried—surrounded by steel towers and mechanical noise. In other words, a place of dead energy.

  So, yeah, the meditation wasn’t going so well.

  But I still had to try.

  The entire school had been evacuated thanks to my handiwork in the chem lab. That meant I had four hours of uninterrupted meditation before I had to leave for training with Kim and the other samurai.

  I unrolled my yoga mat and plopped down with my legs crossed. After putting my earbuds in, I picked up my iPhone and a pang of guilt washed over me as I scrolled through my playlists.

  I knew I should call Kim and tell him about my incident, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull up his number. It wasn’t that I wanted to hide what happened. I just wasn’t in the mood for a repeat of the conversation we’d had every day for the last three weeks. The CliffsNotes looked like this: I’d tell Kim about my latest ki-related accident and he’d get all broody and frowny-faced. Then I’d ask if he had any leads on the ninja. He’d say no and get even broodier and more frowny-faced. Then he’d launch into his PowerPoint presentation on all the various ways I should be careful because there were ninja after me. Meanwhile, I’d smile and nod, but would actually be wondering if October was too late to keep highlighting my hair platinum or if it was time to darken it with the changing leaves to a honey color.

  Yeah, I’d tell him later.

  I found my meditation playlist and hit play. Instantly the sound of crashing waves filled my head and unraveled the coils of tension in my shoulders. I brought my palms together in prayer pose.

  After several minutes of sucking in deep, even breaths, I closed my eyes and fell into the darkness behind them. Two lifetime’s worth of memories waited for me. I don’t know how long I pushed through the flashes of images, searching for the one I wanted, but it only felt like seconds until I found it.

  And just like that, I was there. Seeing, through closed eyes, a memory so vivid I could almost smell the blossom-scented oil Etsu drizzled across my skin and feel the pointed blade nestled into the folds of my robe.

  9

  Japan, 1491

  After Etsu had left her alone in her room, Akiko threw up twice and tried to mask the smell by burning incense. A cup of lukewarm tea bobbled in her shaking hands. A cup she promptly dumped in her lap when the sliding doors shoved open.

  The samurai looked only a few years older than Akiko. This was good, she thought. Some girls had to service old men, a possibility that made her stomach lurch. But when the boy smiled, Akiko’s relief vanished. His eyes held a predator’s hunger that had nothing to do with desire.

  The crack of the door sliding shut vibrated through Akiko’s bones. With shaking hands, she tried to bury the tea-soaked silk of her robe beneath dry folds, lest the samurai find her clumsy and demand his money back. But as Akiko reached for the fallen teacup, a hand snatched her wrist and pulled her roughly to her feet.

  “Forget the tea.” The boy’s voice held the edge of a threat. “Now is my time. You will concern yourself only with me.” He encircled her body with his arms, leaving no room for escape, and ran his lips along her neck. Akiko gasped and instinctively pressed a hand against the samurai’s chest, trying to wedge free from his grip. This only made him laugh and hold her tighter.

  The other courtesans had told her that the first time, while painful, was usually fast. They told her not to be afraid because the men paid more for the privilege than the pleasure. But each passing second in the boy’s arms felt like an eternity. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and swallowed the acid burning the back of her tongue. Maybe if she could imagine herself somewhere, anywhere else, she could get through this. Akiko tried to conjure the fields where she gathered flowers with her younger sister and the market square she ran through with her best friend, Haruki. But the samurai’s breath, hot and sour on her neck, broke her concentration. The faces of the people she loved vanished, leaving her alone in the dark.

  This is an honor, Akiko reminded herself. This is all part of being a highly respected and well-paid woman of pleasure. The benefits are worth the sacrifice. But when a hand pulled at the corner of her robe, Akiko could no longer believe her own lie. It was then she realized she’d rather be a beggar on the streets than the recipient of this particular honor. She opened her eyes and twisted out of his arms. “Please,” she whispered. “There has been a mistake. I-I cannot do this.”

  The boy smiled. “Oh, yes, you can.” He reached for her shoulder and pushed her to the ground. “And for the price I paid, more than once.”

  His words unwound something inside of her. Despite the fresh bruise from her fall and the pain coursing through her leg, Akiko could only feel the slow rise of anger as it burned through her veins. “You cannot do this if I do not allow it.”

  His laugh was quick and harsh. “I am a samurai. I can do anything I want.” He leaned on top of her, pinning her to the floor, and slid his calloused fingers down the front of her robe.

  Akiko shuddered, bile fresh on her tongue. “I will scream.”

  His breath came out faster. “It is your first time. I think they expect you to.” His hand moved lower.

  The sour smell of the sweat that beaded along his skin made Akiko dizzy. She sucked in air through her mouth as she fumbled a hand inside of her robe. She knew if she fought him she’d be cast out of her home, arrested, maybe even worse. But none of that mattered. She’d choose death a thousand times over rather than let the smelly, sweaty, foul-mouthed samurai have his way with her.

  As his hand moved lower, almost to the curve of her breast, she found what she’d been searching for. There was no going back.

  Before his fingers could grope her further, Akiko slid the curved dagger from its hiding place and pressed it against his cheek. He froze.
r />   In a voice barely louder than a whisper, she said, “You will get off me.”

  He didn’t move. “You cannot be serious.” His eyes widened in disbelief. “If you go through with this, I will have your head for a trophy.”

  To prove how serious she was, Akiko dug the knife into his skin until he gasped and a thin line of blood trickled along the blade. “You will get off me,” she repeated. “That was not a request.”

  Slowly, he removed his hands from her robe and backed away. His eyes burned with rage.

  Akiko stood, keeping the knife in front of her. To her surprise, her grip on the weapon remained sure and unwavering. “You will leave me. Now.”

  His hands balled into fists that trembled at his sides. “You have no idea what you have just done.” With blood trailing down his cheek in a steady stream, he spun on his heels, whipping his robes behind him, and left.

  But he wasn’t gone long.

  An hour later he returned with two of the daimyo’s guards to place Akiko under arrest for assaulting a samurai. There was only one punishment for such a crime.

  Death.

  10

  I slid my sunglasses on so Quentin couldn’t see my clenched-shut eyes. We were about to cross the Jefferson Barracks Bridge that would take us into Illinois, and I couldn’t bear to watch. Being a samurai, the list of things that scared me was short, but Quentin’s driving made the top.

  A semi truck’s engine grumbled, shaking the Mini Cooper as Quentin weaved into the next lane. A car honked to the right of me and I tightened my already white-knuckled grip on the seatbelt.

  “Learn to drive!” Quentin yelled before swerving the car to the left.

  I opened my eyes to find us narrowly missing the car in front of us. “Q!” My throat was so tight with fear I practically had to spit out his name. “I didn’t live through a ninja attack only to have you kill me in a car accident.”