The Book of the Sword

by Carrie Asai

  Do something, do something! The words tore through my brain, but I couldn’t move. I glanced quickly at the assembled guests and caught Konishi’s eye. He was watching the ceremony with complete concentration. When I looked at him, he nodded slightly. But there was no warmth in his gaze. It felt like he was watching me in the dance classes I took as a child, carefully observing my technique so that he could critique me when I arrived home. But this time I wouldn’t be coming home. And all of a sudden I realized that this moment was the reason for those dance classes. I mattered no more to my father than Blue Bandana, the million-dollar horse he’d once bought and then sold to an Arabian sheik. My heart shriveled.

  The priest handed the cup back to Teddy; then it was my turn. I hesitated—once I drank from that cup, it would all be over. I slowly raised the delicate cup to my lips. I was about to become Heaven Yukemura, and there was nothing I could do about it. I closed my eyes.

  Crash! My hand gave an involuntary jerk at the sound, and the cup flew from my fingers and smashed on the floor. I spun toward the rows of guests, and my heart spasmed in my chest. This can’t be real. Standing just ten feet away, under the gaping wreckage of the skylight, was a black-clad figure. He held a katana in his hands, and to me, it resembled the Whisper of Death. The figure’s face was masked so that only his eyes were visible, and he—it was definitely a he—stood in a fighting stance as his eyes darted around the room.

  This can’t be real, I thought immediately. This has to be a dream. Ninjas do not crash through skylights to attack weddings. But then I realized that my life had never felt quite real—so why should my wedding day be any different?

  It was eerily quiet for what seemed like forever but was probably only a few seconds, and then a woman’s scream pierced the air like a knife.

  “Ninja!”

  Oh God, it was terribly real.

  In one quick movement Teddy threw his beefy arms around me and pulled me back up against him in a suffocating hold. I could feel the sweat soaking his skin—smell it, too—and hear his breath coming in fast, shallow wheezes. Hesitantly he began to back toward the ballroom doors, pulling me with him. He kept me pointed toward the ninja. All at once I realized what he was doing, and it was enough to pull me out of my daze. Teddy—my would-be husband—was using me as a human shield!

  “You bastard!” I hissed at him, suddenly finding my voice. I’d never said the word aloud before, but it felt good. “Let me go, you coward!”

  I stumbled as Teddy released me. I jerked my head toward him and saw him join the mad scramble of guests as they fought their way toward the doors. The priest had already vanished. I was alone at the altar. Slowly I turned to face the ninja again—he hadn’t moved. My bones turned to ice when I met his gaze.

  There was no doubt about it—he was staring right at me.

  Why? my mind screamed as I studied his dark eyes. Why, why would anyone want to kill me?

  I knew I should start running, but the sticks of ice that were my legs wouldn’t cooperate. The stampede of guests faded into the background, and the ninja slithered toward me. All I could do was stand there like a trapped animal and think, I don’t want to die. Please don’t let me die.

  Then suddenly another cry broke through the eerie silence—a cry of anger, not fear. I ripped my eyes off the ninja.

  “Ohiko!” I shrieked. My brother, dressed all in black, ran toward me, shoving through the crowd. I hadn’t even seen him enter. It was the movie-style rescue I’d imagined! Ohiko raised his katana, and the ninja leapt to meet him. The clang of metal hitting metal was like a punch in my stomach. I had watched my brother practice samurai techniques before, but I’d never witnessed a real fight. Ohiko and the ninja moved so fast that their swords became a blur. I couldn’t tell who was winning. The horrible clang sounded again and again. The ninja made a pass, and a slash of red appeared on Ohiko’s arm. Blood. My brother’s blood.

  That’s when it hit me. Ohiko was a skilled swordsman, but the ninja was a highly trained killing machine. I didn’t know how much longer Ohiko would be able to hold off the ninja alone.

  “Help him! Somebody help him!” I turned and snatched the Whisper of Death from behind the altar. I ran out into the panicked crowd and grabbed a fat, bearded man I didn’t know by the tail of his tuxedo.

  “Take the sword!” I cried, thrusting the Whisper of Death into his hands. “He can’t fight a ninja alone!” The man yanked his hands away as if he’d been burned and continued to push his way toward the door. Everyone was running away. Where were the bodyguards who never let my father out of their sight? I knew they had guns. And what had happened to my father?

  “Don’t you understand?” I shrieked. “Ohiko will die if someone doesn’t help him!” The men ignored me and the women were useless, screaming and crying and clinging to the floor, where they’d fallen when they slipped in their high-heeled shoes. I kicked off my wooden sandals and shoved people out of my way. When I held up the Whisper of Death, the crowd parted for a moment.

  That’s when I saw my father. He was just standing there, not fifteen feet from where Ohiko and the ninja were fighting. “Konishi! Do something!” I cried. “Shoot him!” I knew my father carried a gun at all times. It was one of those things we never talked about in our house, but I knew, just like I knew another thing that we were never allowed to mention—that my real parents would always be a mystery to me.

  Other guests turned briefly at the sound of my voice. But Konishi, our father, didn’t even acknowledge me. “You can’t let Ohiko die!” I shouted.

  Finally he turned to me, and a chill crept down my spine when his eyes met mine. There was no recognition, no warmth. The man who had raised me from a baby looked through me like I was one of the potted rose plants that now lay scattered across the room. And then, in an act that I would relive in nightmares for months to come, my father turned away.

  I screamed, louder than I would have ever thought possible, no words, just a howl. I had no words left. As loud as I was screaming, nobody seemed to hear me. Everyone continued pushing toward the door. Including Konishi.

  “Everyone calm down,” a man shouted. Finally two bodyguards appeared, fighting their way against the crowd. I ran up to them, relief washing over me. One fired a warning shot at the ceiling. “The taller one is my brother!” I yelled. I pointed to Ohiko. “You have to shoot the other one.” With two men dressed all in black, it would be easy for the bodyguards to make a mistake.

  The bodyguard looked at me blankly, and in that moment Ohiko used his sword to drive the ninja back five or six steps. For a moment the ninja seemed to lose his balance. Ohiko raised his sword for a killing blow, and then the sword was no longer there. It clattered to the floor.

  I watched the ninja’s sword go through my brother. I swear I felt the cool metal in my own body. Time stopped as Ohiko leaned on the ninja. It looked almost like they were hugging. Then the ninja pushed him away and Ohiko fell. Shots rang out again, and the ninja leapt away through the side doors, the stragglers falling back to let him pass.

  “Call an ambulance!” someone shouted.

  “Ohiko!” I ran to him, sank to my knees, and pulled him into my arms. I pressed the sleeve of my kimono down on his wound to stop the bleeding. Ohiko’s hot blood soaked it in a minute. I kept my hand over the gash, pressing down hard, my brother’s blood staining my hand red. Ohiko looked up at me through dazed eyes. “I’m sorry…Heaven. My little sister.”

  “No, no, no,” I sobbed, pulling my brother closer. Tears, hot as the blood, stung my eyes and dripped down onto Ohiko’s cheeks. “You’re going to be okay, Ohiko, you’re going to be okay.”

  Ohiko drew a rattling breath and spoke again. I could hear the effort behind every word. “I had so much to tell you, Stinky Feet. Now you will have to be strong on your own.” Ohiko’s eyes began to close, and I struggled to keep him in my lap.

  “I love you, Ohiko. Please don’t die. Please wait for the ambulance.” His eyes glazed over, and a ra
ttling sound came from his chest. He struggled to speak.

  “What is it? Tell me, tell me.” I stroked his cheek, trying to memorize his face.

  “Find Hiro,” he whispered. His eyes closed, then snapped open again. “I knew I had to protect you from him.”

  Hiro? I shook my head, trying to focus on Ohiko’s words. “From who? Ohiko, from who? Don’t go, Ohiko, please!” I could barely talk through the sobs shuddering through my body. Ohiko’s eyes fluttered once more.

  “You can’t trust our family.” His eyes closed. The blood stopped pumping beneath my hand.

  “No!” I screamed. We were alone in the ballroom now, and my scream echoed off the polished walls. “Ohiko, wake up! Ohiko!”

  But it was no use. He was gone.

  I sat there for a moment, cradling my dead brother’s body in my arms. I was alone now—alone in a way I’d never been before.

  It was supposed to be me. The ninja was after me. The words echoed in my head like a mantra.

  I have to get out of here.

  “Good-bye, Ohiko,” I whispered, touching his cheek. Gently I eased him off my lap, laying his head down on the polished marble floor. My heart was breaking. I’d always thought that was just an expression, but I could actually feel it cracking into splinters and crumbling away, leaving a hole in my chest, an empty, aching hole.

  My father might as well have pushed the sword into my brother’s chest himself. He’d let Ohiko die. I couldn’t trust him. You can’t trust your family—that’s what Ohiko had said. And I definitely couldn’t trust that coward Teddy.

  I pulled the Whisper of Death toward me, the blade squealing against the marble. I wanted to live. Ohiko was dead, and there was nothing I could do. I had to get away now while I had my chance. “Be strong,” I whispered, repeating the words my brother had spoken to me. I wiped the tears from my eyes so I could see my brother’s face one last time. I kissed his forehead. It was already cold.

  “I won’t forget you, Ohiko,” I promised.

  One of my father’s bodyguards opened the door at the far end of the ballroom. “She’s in here, Haru!”

  If I couldn’t trust my father, I definitely couldn’t trust his men. I sprang to my feet and dashed past the altar, dragging the sword behind me. Hidden behind a shoji screen was a utility door. When I pushed it open, a fire alarm began to sound.

  The old Heaven Kogo had trusted her father completely. She had never wanted for anything—and never made a decision on her own. I’d loved being that person, but she was of no use to me now. The old Heaven Kogo died as I rushed through the door and raced into the night.

  I would become a new person. And I couldn’t help but think that perhaps now I would be the girl I was always meant to be, before I fell from the sky.

  Nobody knows how I have suffered or how the secrets that I keep have eaten away at me, day after day, year after year. The wife of Konishi Kogo does what she is told, it’s true, but she also watches. She listens.

  She knows.

  It’s cool in here, the bridal suite. Soothing. Downstairs chaos reigns, but Konishi will see to it. He always does. Just as six months ago he saw to it that Ohiko, my real child, my treasure, my only joy, was banished from our home—from our lives. And now he is dead. Yet Heaven lives.

  Heaven always led a charmed life, free to enjoy the riches that surrounded her, without knowing their source. She had no idea how fortunate she was to have landed in such a gilded prison. When I first saw her, the little miracle baby, my heart was undoubtedly the only one in Japan that remained cold. I had a premonition that she would bring death into our house. Death does not like to be cheated. But Konishi insisted. He would have her, at any price.

  Has the debt been paid to Death? Was Heaven worth our son’s life?

  The guests are gone now, and the bridal suite has become a morgue. My husband commands his little army downstairs. And I sit by the body of my son, because there is nothing else I can do.

  Because of her, Ohiko is gone. He was the only thing I loved in this world. And now, the little space in my heart that remained open for him will close. I feel it tightening already.

  I have watched and listened. Now it is time to act. Where are you, Heaven? Do you know that your luck is about to change?

  Mieko

  2

  When the thick metal door slammed behind me, I was shaking. I had just watched my brother die. I had never been exposed to death before—I mean, since being pulled out of the wreckage of JAL flight 999. Death had never touched the Kogo compound. Once, when I was little, Mia, one of the stray cats I had adopted, brought me a dead bird that she had killed out in the yard. It was such a sad little thing, so small and broken. I had cried and cried, hoping somehow that my tears might bring it back to life. But they didn’t. Konishi had the bird buried in our garden and distracted me with a beautiful new ballerina doll. Only days later did I think to ask what had happened to Mia. Nobody would say.

  I had left Ohiko lying there on the floor of the ballroom, all alone. I felt my knees go weak with guilt and grief, but I forced myself into motion. You can’t think about that now, I told myself. You’re in danger. That ninja was after you. You’ll grieve when you’re somewhere safe. For now, you have to push everything out of your head and just survive.

  Find Hiro. That’s what Ohiko had told me. And I remembered who he was. Hiro Uyemoto had attended the same ryu with Ohiko, beginning when they were three years old. Hiro was a great fighter, but he had never hung out and had fun with my brother. It made no sense. Why would Ohiko want me to find him?

  I dashed down the alley, a narrow hallway between the backs of buildings. Before I found anybody, I had to get away from the hotel. When I reached the end, heart thundering, I poked my head around the corner—a main street, the windows of shops and restaurants brightly lit. A werewolf and Ozzy Osbourne wandered down the sidewalk. I blinked rapidly, but Ozzy and the werewolf didn’t disappear. Great. I now knew one thing about the new Heaven: She was prone to hallucinations.

  But I wasn’t so confused that I’d forgotten about the bodyguards. If all the movies I’d watched had taught me anything, it was that when you’re running away from someone, you should stick to the shadows. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the alley was a dead end. This was the only way out. I would have to risk it.

  “Cool costume,” Ozzy called as I stepped into the light. Halloween. It was Halloween. I’d completely forgotten. Still, I would have to get out of Beverly Hills and quick. Halloween or not, I must look like some kind of freak. I could feel drops of sweat streaking down through the white makeup on my face, and my kimono was still wet with Ohiko’s blood. There weren’t enough people on the street to hide me. A group of middle-aged men and women dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns walked by and gave me strange looks.

  In spite of everything, I wanted to grab them and tell them that this wasn’t me, that I was a well brought up girl, that I had access to money, that I wasn’t some dangerous lunatic. I could feel my face flush as I tried to walk calmly by them. “Nothing to look at, ladies and gentlemen,” I imagined telling them. “Just a young Japanese almost-bride covered in blood.” As soon as their whispering faded behind me, I started to run, turning left at the corner, right at the next so I’d at least be a slight challenge for the bodyguards to find. A few more blocks and I took another right. I found myself on a dark, quiet street lined with large houses behind large gates.

  Think, Heaven, think, I told myself. What would some tough, smart, clever movie character do? As I ran, my scattered brain tried to think of an answer, but my mind felt like it does when you’re falling asleep and having thoughts that you know you should remember, but you can’t grasp them quickly enough before they float away. An image of Lara Croft popped into my head. I focused on that. Lara Croft wouldn’t be scared. She’d come up with a master plan and then follow it through. But she had weapons. And a tank top. And the breasts to fill a tank top up. Mine would barely—

  Wh
at’s wrong with you? I thought. Breasts? Like that was all I needed to help me out of this situation. No. I needed—my father. I couldn’t help thinking about him, needing him. Worse, I knew that thoughts of him were helping to hide what had happened to my brother. If my father were here, he would deal with this whole situation for me. But then I thought of him turning away from me in the ballroom, allowing Ohiko to be killed. And the ninja, pointing his sword at me.

  You can’t trust your family. What did Ohiko know?

  My father was the enemy now. The idea brought tears to my eyes, but that didn’t make it less true. I was on my own, and I needed to act that way. My bare feet slapped the pavement, and I realized for the first time that they were stinging from the rough cement of the sidewalks. I was cold, too. How was that possible? It had been so warm this afternoon. I shivered in spite of the many thick layers of the kimono that enfolded me.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and kept moving, even though I had to slow to a trot. There was so much space in L.A. So different from Tokyo. I missed the close press of the buildings, the cloak of the crowds. I felt too visible. And for what might have been the first time in my life, I was truly alone.

  As I trotted, my feet beat out a rhythm on the pavement. Thum-thum. Thum-thum. Hi-ro. Hi-ro.

  Where was Hiro now? I knew that he had left Japan for the United States pretty suddenly a couple of years ago. His departure had been discussed a bit around the house, but I couldn’t remember why he had gone or where. How to find him? I didn’t even have my cell phone, which was back in the hotel room, along with everything else I’d brought with me from Japan.

  I need the four-one-one, I thought. Katie had explained that the expression came from the number you call for the information service in America. So I needed to find a pay phone and call 411, and they’d give me Hiro’s number.

  Okay, next step, find a pay phone. I knew I wasn’t exactly in pay phone territory—in the movies people only talked on pay phones on busy city streets and outside 7-Elevens. I’d have to take a chance on another main street. I spotted a traffic light several blocks down and headed toward it. Yes! I thought when I reached it, resisting the urge to do a victory dance, since I was trying to avoid detection. There was a gas station across the street. One thing L.A. definitely had was a lot of gas stations. It seemed like people lived in their cars out here.