Katana at Super Hero High

by Lisa Yee

  hat night, Katana slipped out of her dorm room. It was easier said than done. Supergirl was set on having another one of her cookie parties—her aunt Martha had sent her biweekly box of homemade snickerdoodle, chocolate chip, and peanut butter cookies. Wonder Woman had decided that everyone should organize their rooms—she thought getting organized was a great way to have fun. And the Junior Detective Society wanted to talk to Katana about the haiku.

  Katana was slowly getting to know the underground corridors. Yet, even though she carried a lantern, it did little to penetrate the darkness of the seemingly endless labyrinth. Though she had a keen sense of direction, Katana was often lost on her infrequent visits to the swords. It was weird, but the aqueduct that brought the swords had dried up. Not a drop of water was left. She opened the door to where the swords now rested and put down her lantern. Instantly, the room was bathed in a warm glow. The sound of metal startled her as the swords stood upright at attention, like soldiers.

  Katana paused, waiting to see if something would happen. When it did not, she picked up the sword closest to her and examined it. It was heavier than the one Onna had given her, and much more ornate, with pearl inlays and a dragon carved into the handle. She tried it out. It felt good in her hands. Then she tried another and another. Each one had its own feel and strength. Each one was unique. Like being in the Harmony Garden that Poison Ivy had recently created, Katana felt a kind of peace and comfort just being in their presence.

  The mystery of the swords was as confounding to Katana as her grandmother’s disappearance years earlier. Though she had heard her parents whisper of what might have happened, they always stopped talking when she was near. Maybe, Katana thought, it was time to be bold and just ask.

  “Hi, Mom!” Katana said, looking straight into the computer. She knew that her parents hated AboutFace, but Katana had some questions and was certain that if she told them it was for a school assignment, they’d answer them. “Is Dad there?”

  “I’m here!” a deep voice said off camera.

  “You have to sit closer to me,” her mother said jokingly. “I won’t bite.”

  “Like this?” he asked. Katana could see her father’s shoulder. In that moment she realized how much she missed her parents.

  “Hi, Kat!” her father said, leaning so far into the camera that now all she could see was the tip of his nose. She would have thought that after all this time, they would have figured out AboutFace.

  “Hey, Dad!” she said.

  “How are your grades?” her father asked.

  “All As,” Katana reported. “Well, one B in science,” she said quickly, hoping they wouldn’t hear. “But I have an A-plus in art!”

  “Let’s try for all As, shall we?” her mother said.

  “Try?” her dad said. “Let’s do it! We can do it, right, Kat?”

  Katana sighed. She wished her parents weren’t so grade-oriented. But then, that was their world—academia. After all, they were professors. They had even met in college. School was sort of their life.

  “So I have a project for my history class,” Katana began. “Our teacher said we’re supposed to interview our relatives.”

  “That would be us!” her father quipped. A smile appeared on the screen just under his nose. He was very proud of his jests and would often say, “See! I’m not just a fuddy-duddy old professor, I’m punny!”

  “Katana, what would you like to know?” her mother asked. Her eyes were bright, and her small nose and strong jaw reminded Katana of Onna. Her grandmother had often said that she had hoped her daughter would follow in the family business, but that she would support whatever she decided to do. So when Katana shared that she wanted to be a Samurai, Onna was thrilled, even though her parents were not.

  “Well, we’re doing family legacy projects,” Katana explained. She held up her notes as evidence. “Looking back at the history of where we came from. How influences of the past help determine who we are today, and where we might be headed.”

  Both parents nodded. Katana continued, “I’d like the focus of my project to be Onna.” She noted that her mother’s smile froze on her face and that her father’s jaw tightened. “But I need to know more about her.” Katana hesitated. “Like what happened to her.”

  There was a long, awkward silence. Finally, her father spoke to Katana’s mother. “Maybe it’s time for our daughter to know the truth,” he said.

  Katana’s heart quickened. After all these years, she would finally find out where Onna had gone, and why she had never said goodbye. Afraid that if she spoke, her parents might change their minds, Katana remained silent.

  Her mother blinked nervously and her father put his arm around her. “Dearest,” she said to her daughter. “Your father is right. You are old enough, and strong enough, to know the truth.” She took several deep breaths, as if trying to gather her courage.

  Katana reached for a pad of paper to take notes.

  Her mother looked down at her lap and then directly into the camera. “Your grandmother,” she said slowly, “was a Samurai super hero.” Katana nodded. This much she knew, even if no one had told her.

  “Onna was very secretive about her assignments,” her mom continued. “On her last one she was meeting a classmate of hers. Like you, when she was a teen she attended a special high school to supplement her years of training as a Samurai warrior. Her classmate was, I later heard, a very willful creature who had long admired Onna.

  “Your grandmother was looking forward to reuniting with this old friend of hers. He too had amazing powers and skills, and she relished being in the presence of those like her.”

  Katana glanced at her bulletin board filled with photos of her friends and knew how her grandmother had felt.

  Her mother hesitated before continuing. “Onna never returned from that meeting. There were rumors that her old classmate had betrayed her. Why he might have done it and what he wanted, we will never know. We only know she perished.”

  Both Katana and her mom were now in tears. “It is dangerous being a super hero,” her mother cautioned. “But if that is your will, if that is what your heart desires, we will not stand in your way. That is what Onna would have wanted.”

  Katana couldn’t breathe. What she had feared all along, what she had known in her heart to be true—that Onna had died—was now a confirmed reality. She wished she were with her mom and dad so they could embrace her, and she them. Both looked like they were in deep pain, just like her.

  Katana thanked her parents and bid them goodbye. As she sat alone in her room with the news of her Onna, Katana felt hollow. Looking around for something to comfort her, she reached for the conch shell. When she held it tight, it brought her some comfort. Onna had loved the sea. Then Katana mustered the strength to do something out of character.

  “Batgirl,” she said, using her com bracelet, “I need you. And bring Barda, too.”

  In an instant, both were in her room. When they saw how upset she was, neither asked any questions. Instead, they did what friends do. They wrapped Katana in a huge, long hug.

  atana was quiet the next day. If Bumblebee and others noticed, they didn’t say anything, and gave her some space. Many of the Supers often retreated into bubbles of silence when the world, or high school, or just being a teen got overwhelming. There was that time when Wonder Woman had thought of returning to her home on Themyscira, or the times when Batgirl had retreated to her Bat-Bunker just because she wanted time alone with her tech.

  As Katana headed to Liberty Belle’s history class, Harley ran up and skipped alongside her. “Cat got your tongue?” she quipped.

  They passed by Cheetah, who gave them a mischievous smile.

  “Just a lot to think about,” Katana said diplomatically. Unlike Starfire or Beast Boy, who didn’t filter or hold back, Katana kept her innermost feelings to herself.

  “You can tell me!” Harley said. Her eyes twinkled. She leapt in front of Katana and blocked her way, turning on her camera. “I w
on’t tell anyone.” She winked.

  When Harley refused to budge, Katana leapt over her. Then Harley leapt over Katana. This went on all the way to class, like an odd version of super hero leapfrog.

  “Harley,” Katana finally said, crossing her arms. “I need some privacy. Can you understand that?”

  Harley grinned and turned the camera off. “Sure, sure, sure,” she said. “But I know you have a big story in you somewhere, and when you’re ready to tell it, I get first dibs, right?”

  Katana smiled. Harley’s boundless enthusiasm and energy were hard to resist. “Of course,” she said. “You got it!”

  As Harley ran away, yelling, “Flash, Flash, slow down, I wanna talk to you! My viewers want to know: what are you running from?”

  Katana wondered if she’d ever know what her story was.

  Though, like her peers, Katana had vowed to fight to make the world a safer place, now more than ever she wanted to live up to her grandmother’s legacy. But the confirmation of Onna’s death continued to weigh heavily on her, distracting her from the Legacy project and other schoolwork.

  “Dr. Arkham will be able to help you,” Principal Waller said. “He’s starting a weekly meeting called the Family Business, where Supers are encouraged to talk about the pressures and fears of living up to their legacies.”

  At Waller’s request, Katana had come to the principal’s office. As someone who was seldom, if ever, in trouble, it was an odd feeling for Katana. Bumblebee, who was Waller’s most trusted student assistant, flew in from time to time, delivering notes—though, because she had shrunk herself, it looked like the papers were flying on their own.

  Although Amanda Waller was constantly busy running Super Hero High, training the teachers who trained the new Supers, and keeping everything and everyone in line, she had an uncanny ability to be in sync with every student. Sometimes it seemed like Waller knew how her students felt before they did.

  “I’m fine,” Katana insisted. “Nothing’s wrong.” She had been raised not to complain or feel sorry for herself.

  A full-sized Bumblebee entered and set a tray of tea and honey on the desk. She winked at Katana before she left.

  The Wall sat very still, making Katana nervous. Her eyes were unblinking, and Katana, who was known to be able to stare anyone down, turned away.

  “Katana,” the principal said. Though her face looked stern, there was kindness in her eyes. “It’s okay to feel bad. We all do sometimes. That’s what makes us different from robots and drones. I want you to know that I’m here for you. That’s a promise I’ve made to every parent who has entrusted me with their child here at Super Hero High.

  “When you first came to us, you told me about your grandmother and how it is your dream to live up to her legacy.” Katana nodded. “And now that you’ve heard her fate, does it make you feel any different about wanting to be here?”

  Katana looked up, surprised. “No, no, I still want to be here. I need to be here now more than ever. But wait! You know what happened to my grandmother? How?” Who told? she wondered. Was it Batgirl or Big Barda?

  “Your mother called,” the principal said. “She told me. She’s worried about you. This is big news to absorb. You shouldn’t have to do it alone. I hope you’ll join Dr. Arkham’s group. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but, Katana, you have a lot of weight on your shoulders right now, and we want to help you.”

  Katana considered it. Supergirl and Batgirl had raved about how insightful Dr. Arkham was. What could it hurt?

  Dr. Arkham’s office was dark and there were stacks of books and papers everywhere, some so tall they threatened to fall over. Katana took a seat in the circle and nodded to her fellow students. All looked a tad embarrassed to be there. She recognized most and was as surprised to see them as they were to see her. For kids who were so bent on helping others, the Supers often had trouble asking for help for themselves.

  “This is a closed group,” Dr. Arkham assured them. His magnificently bald head was offset by a meticulously groomed beard. His glasses made his eyes seem unusually large. “Thank you for coming to the Family Business support group. No one is required to talk. However, we are here to share the pressures we feel from being in a super hero family. It is difficult, I know, to live up to the hype and responsibilities that others put on you. Or,” he added after a dramatic pause, “the pressure you put on yourself.”

  “My mother is a queen,” Wonder Woman said. Katana couldn’t believe her friend had problems. Wonder Woman was so strong and self-assured. “I am a warrior princess,” she continued, looking down at her hands folded on her lap. “One day I might have to become queen and live up to my mother’s legacy—and that’s scary to me. It makes stopping Giganta or a few Furies seem easy by comparison.”

  The others nodded. They each understood.

  “My father always compares me to how he was at my age. Plus, he was good at math,” Ravager said.

  Katana took a deep breath when it was her turn. “I am the granddaughter of a super hero,” she began. “But my parents would prefer I wasn’t one. They haven’t said it outright, but I know this to be true. I also know that what my grandmother did, what she achieved, is a shining example of what it means to serve this world. I only hope to achieve a small portion of what she did. I…I…”

  Katana couldn’t put it all into words. Not yet.

  “Good start. Thank you for sharing.” Dr. Arkham nodded to her and then said, “Let’s give someone else a chance to share.”

  Miss Martian raised her hand. Katana hadn’t even known she was in the room.

  “Yes, you there in the back,” Dr. Arkham said, pointing into the shadows.

  “I…I’m supposed to be a super hero,” Miss Martian began. Everyone strained to hear her. “My family can all read minds, but my powers come and go. I’m afraid I’m letting everyone down.”

  There was a murmur in the room, and everyone nodded. The young heroes knew this feeling.

  “Go on,” Dr. Arkham encouraged Miss Martian.

  “Sometimes I can read minds clearly,” she said. Several Supers looked nervous, and even Dr. Arkham shifted in his seat. “Other times I only get faint impressions. My uncle says I need to be more confident. More assured. And, um…that’s hard for me….”

  Katana watched Miss Martian fade again and made a mental note to be friendlier to her. Katana had seen others dismiss this alien from Mars, but just because she didn’t always appear to be in the room didn’t mean Miss Martian didn’t exist. Plus, not only was she kind, but she had also led Katana’s friends to find her and told her about the conch shell. Miss Martian, Katana could tell, was so much more than she appeared to be.

  hat do you mean you’re not sure?” Katana heard Harley saying. “It’s brilliant! I’m brilliant! We will be brilliant!”

  They were in the library. Batgirl was shelving books, swinging from the ceiling on her grappling wire to get to the top shelves, and Supergirl was rushing around checking out materials for her Liberty Belle project. Hawkgirl was on the super computer charting her family ancestry, and Beast Boy was polishing off a falafel sandwich. He let out a huge burp, and then grinned when everyone stared at him.

  “What?” he asked, clearly proud of himself. “If you think that’s big, you should hear what it sounds like after I’ve had a really huge meal in the form of an Apatosaurus.”

  Katana turned back to see what Harley was up to. She had cornered Miss Martian, who was starting to fade fast. “It’s a surefire hit! WHAM!” Harley said, causing Miss Martian to go almost completely invisible. “Everyone will watch it!”

  “What’s going on?” Katana asked.

  The alien forced a weak smile.

  “I’ve got this wonderful idea,” Harley said, gushing. She did a backflip. “I want to give Miss Martian her own show—a mind-reading show. It’ll be great for my ratings! She’ll be a Harley’s Quinntessentials regular. Imagine if she read the minds of those CAD Academy cads, or some celebriti
es and superstars…or best yet: teachers who give pop quizzes. WOWZA!”

  Harley turned to where Miss Martian once stood. “Where’d she go? Where’d she go?” she asked, running around the library shouting, “Miss Martian! I want to talk to you.”

  “Harley’s gone,” Katana said over her shoulder.

  “Thank you,” a small voice answered behind her.

  “You know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Katana assured her.

  When she was met with silence, Katana wasn’t sure Miss Martian was still there. She almost walked away, when she heard a familiar voice say, “I don’t want to use my powers as a gimmick. If I use them at all, I want it to be for good, to help, not for gossip or ratings. It’s unethical to read minds except for sharing insights, or for emergencies and life-and-death situations….” As the shy alien spoke, Katana watched her appear before her eyes.

  “Don’t worry. Harley will have some crazy new idea tomorrow and forget all about the mind-reading segment. But whatever you do, don’t read Harley’s mind. Who knows what’s in there!” Katana quipped.

  When Miss Martian began to laugh, Katana joined in, adding, “You know, you’re pretty special. Harley can see that…and so can I.”

  Miss Martian glowed when she heard this. She looked at Katana and said, “So are you.” She paused and took a breath. “Katana, there’s something you were born to do, something deep inside you waiting to happen—something big.”

  Katana felt a chill run through her. This wasn’t like when Frost blasted her in Wildcat’s class, or when Captain Cold tried to freeze her at Capes & Cowls. No, this was different, and she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

  “What is it?” Katana asked.

  Miss Martian shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s weird, but I’m getting impressions from an outside source. Like there’s a thought that is patiently waiting until the right moment to make itself known to you.”