by Carrie Asai
It took a few minutes for someone to come to the door, and I was beginning to think nobody was home. But just as I was about to leave, the door swung open to reveal Cheryl, her dyed-blond hair sticking up in a million different directions, wearing an old sweatshirt and little shorts and talking on a cordless phone. She took one look at me and broke into a huge grin. “I’ll call you back,” she said to whoever she was talking to. She clicked off the phone and let out a whoop. “Oh my God!” she said. “Heaven, my ass-kicking sister! It’s so good to see you! Where’ve you been? We have to go out again!”
“Definitely,” I said, laughing. “I was just in the neighborhood. And see? I’m wearing my new clothes!” Cheryl laughed, too. Actually, I was wearing a pair of the tight pants Cheryl had helped me pick out, with a simple hoodie that I’d picked up at the Gap. Most of the stuff I’d bought with Cheryl was a little too party girl to wear out during the day. “Actually,” I said, “I was wondering if you wanted to get a cup of coffee or lunch or something.”
Cheryl grinned. “Awww, you’re too nice. I’d love to. But why don’t you come in instead? I was just making tea. Have some with me. We can catch up.”
I shrugged. Why not? I smiled and followed Cheryl inside. I thought that some of the stuff I’d seen last time was decoration for the Halloween party, but either Cheryl had been too lazy to take down some of the cobwebs and tribal masks, or they were permanent additions.
We sat down at her kitchen table and Cheryl chattered away about whatever came into her head. Although I was brimming over with my need to tell someone my news about the job, listening to Cheryl was strangely soothing. I guess after being around serious Hiro and cool Karen—and even awkward Farnsworth, for those few minutes—I was a little on edge. Cheryl was upbeat and crazy and supercreative. She seriously lit up the room.
Once we were nearly done with our tea, she looked at me. “So what’s happening with your situation?” she asked.
Well, there are people trying to kill me and I’m in love with my trainer, who’s dating my temporary roommate, and I seem to be working in a nerd factory for fifteen dollars an hour…. “A lot,” I admitted. “You remember that friend of mine I was staying with?”
“The friend on Lily Place?”
“Yeah, him. Well…” I sighed. I needed yet another excuse for moving out of Hiro’s house besides There are some crazy people trying to kill me and I don’t want them killing Hiro. “There’s not enough space there,” I said finally, “and he’s just starting to date this girl, so he needs his privacy. So I’ve been looking around for another place to live.”
Cheryl smiled. “Thinking of hanging around in L.A., then?”
I shrugged. “I guess. I just got a job today that pays fifteen dollars an hour.” I smiled shyly.
Cheryl raised her eyebrows and whistled. “Awesome!” she said. “What a score!”
“I think it will be pretty easy work. So yeah, I guess I’ll stay.”
Cheryl pounded her fist on the table exuberantly, making the teacups shake. “You might be in luck, Heaven. I know someone who’s looking for a roommate.”
“Really?” I said.
Cheryl nodded. “Can you tolerate noise?” I shrugged. I was a deep sleeper, especially since I’d started training with Hiro. Practice wiped me out. “Are you fairly clean? Apparently this person’s last roommate was an absolute slug when it came to pitching in.” I nodded. I might not be as neat as Karen, but Hiro had definitely taught me that I was responsible for my own mess. Cheryl wrapped her hands behind her head, satisfied. “Okay, so listen, Heaven. The person looking for a roommate? It’s actually me. And I’m kind of freaking out about it, if you want the truth.”
“You?”
“Yeah. Me. My roommate, Otto? You might have seen a glimpse of his head last time you were here? He moved out last weekend and announced that he was going to spend a couple of years in Europe. The jerk. It was completely out of the blue! I have no idea how he’ll find the money to do it, but whatever. I mean, in a way, I’m glad to be rid of him. The guy was a complete bore and was good for nothing. He didn’t even have a job. But I am strapped for cash. Seriously. If I don’t come up with this month’s rent soon, I’m going to have to live in my car or something. And look at this place!” She swooped her arms around, gesturing to the multicolored wall murals and the crazy mobiles hanging from the ceiling and the eccentric assortment of furniture. “I’ve spent a while decorating! What would I do with all these chairs? I don’t want to go home to live with my mom, Heaven. I would rather die, actually. Do you see my dilemma?”
I nodded.
“I was going to put an ad in the paper today, but if you want to stay here, that would help me out so much. Plus I know you. You’re a kick-ass chick.”
Okay, so I was officially proclaiming this day the Best Day of My Life. All right, all right, maybe that wasn’t totally accurate—there wouldn’t be people trying to kill me on the Best Day of My Life. So maybe it was only a Pretty Damn Good Day. I couldn’t believe my good luck. I’d love to live with Cheryl. I felt comfortable with her. It seemed much safer than moving in with a stranger. Cheryl was completely unconnected with my world. She already thought the Whisper of Death, my family katana, or sword, was a stage prop from a costume, and hadn’t batted an eye at the blood-spattered “costume” I’d stumbled through her door in on my wedding night, which happened to be Halloween. I knew I could trust her not to be nosy.
“You’re serious?” I asked.
“Yep,” Cheryl said. “Rent’s five hundred dollars a month.”
I did some quick calculations in my head. “Sounds perfect.”
We walked into what would be my room—Otto’s old room. I remembered it from before: We’d looked up Hiro’s address in here. A strange pang hit me; that seemed like so long ago. I hadn’t even met Hiro yet. How things had changed! The room was sunny and spare, and Otto had left his bed and dresser. “You can even have your own phone line in here, no big deal,” Cheryl said.
I smiled, quite proud of myself. “I’ll take it,” I said. “In fact, can I move in today?”
“Definitely,” Cheryl said. “And let’s go out tonight to celebrate!”
When I woke up the next morning after a night of partying with Cheryl, the first thing I noticed was that I was in a real bed. The window next to me held a sweeping view of downtown L.A. I shot up. Where was I? Then I remembered. Cheryl’s place. My place. Moving around so many times in a couple of days was pretty dizzying.
Cheryl was knocking on my door. “Heaven? Phone call.” Then she whispered, “I think it’s Hiro.”
I smiled. Over dinner I’d confessed to her that I had a crush on Hiro and that he’d started to see this other girl. Who I was insanely jealous of. It had been so long since I’d had a girlfriend I felt I could really trust, and Cheryl was a good listener. We even started laughing about it after a while.
My stomach did a little flip when she said Hiro’s name. But when I picked up the phone, he sounded angry.
“You scared the hell out of Karen,” he said, reverting back to Japanese. I wondered if the Japanese meant that Karen was still there. She was of Japanese descent but had been raised in the United States and didn’t speak the language. “She said that you weren’t home when she got back. That you left some kind of cryptic note and all your stuff was gone.”
“It wasn’t a cryptic note,” I argued, feeling a flush of guilt. I hadn’t meant for it to be cryptic, anyway. “I told her that I’d found a place to live and I’d found a job. That’s all. How is that cryptic?” As I said this, I knew I should have waited for Karen to come home to explain it to her myself. But when I’d gone back to Karen’s place to gather up my stuff and found that Karen wasn’t home, I’d just grabbed my stuff and split. Where was Karen if she wasn’t home? A late-night dojo class? Grocery shopping? Not likely. She had to be with Hiro, probably having a crazy make-out date right then as I stood there in her living room. I’d felt jealous. Childish, I kn
ow. But I didn’t want to be in the way, and I certainly didn’t want to see her when she got home from the date I wanted to be on, starry-eyed and oblivious. So I had quickly grabbed a sheet of paper from Karen’s desk and written her a note:
Karen—
I had good luck today! I found both a job and an apartment. I’m living with someone who’s helped me out before, Cheryl. Her phone number is 555-6790. She lives over on Dawson Street. Please tell Hiro that I am fine. I’ll tell you everything when I see you next. I’ve taken my stuff with me. Thanks for a great day yesterday.
—Heaven
If Karen was so worried, why hadn’t she called last night? Or had she even come home last night?
Ugh. I really wished I hadn’t thought of that.
“Why didn’t you call me about any of this?” Hiro said.
“It didn’t occur to me,” I admitted. I knew that sounded inconsiderate. The truth was, I hadn’t called him because I’d thought maybe Karen was at his house. And I guess I’d just wanted to avoid the whole thing. It was obvious that I needed to separate myself. I needed to be my own person.
Hiro said, “Well, who is this person you’re staying with? I mean, is it someone you just met off the street? Is that safe? Why didn’t you wait for me to find you someone? I told you I’d take care of it.”
“It is safe,” I interrupted. “I mean, as safe as anyplace is going to be for me. I met Cheryl when I was running from everything happening at my wedding. She’s the one who gave me the change of clothes, the one I went out with that night that you…got mad at me for. She’s the one who led me to you!”
Hiro sighed. “If you’re sure you can trust her, fine. Did you have any luck finding a job?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” I said. “It’s at a cybercafé, part-time, and it pays fifteen dollars an hour.”
Hiro whistled. “I’m impressed,” he said. “It’s hard to find a job in this city. How did you do all of this stuff in one day?”
“I can take care of myself,” I said smugly. Talking to Hiro made me even more proud of myself. It was next to impossible to find a job and an apartment in my situation, but I was just the woman to pull it off.
“I guess you can,” he replied. “Good. I want to remind you that our training starts up today. But like I said, we should start meeting in different areas, not just the dojo. How about your house? Does it have room for training?”
I thought about it. Cheryl would be leaving in a couple of minutes for her job at some record store; we’d have some privacy. “I guess,” I said, and gave him the address.
“Good,” Hiro answered. “I’ll be over soon.”
Hiro showed up in record time and we got started on our morning aikido. I was feeling a little stiff from being out late last night. Also, I realized, this was the first time that I’d been alone with Hiro since right after the attacks. But quickly after I’d awakened from that strange dream with the kiss and Ohiko and my dead father, he’d rushed me off to Karen’s house. It certainly was the first time I had been around him since I found out about Karen. Would he tell me about it? Did I really feel like discussing it? I decided not to bring it up. I didn’t feel like talking about any of it.
Apparently he didn’t either. We went through our warm-up aiki-taiso movements and then did a few exercises that would prepare us for another attack. We went through some basic Japanese karate moves. First the age zuki, or rising punch, which at first looks like a straight punch, but during execution, the fist arcs upward so that the knuckles are the striking surface. And then the hiza geri, or knee hammer—a quick blow of the knee that can be aimed at the head or the groin. When Hiro announced that I had to attack his groin, I didn’t know whether I should laugh or cry. The last thing I wanted to do was kick Hiro in the crotch. Or was it? I didn’t want to touch him, actually. This was too hard. Finally he noticed what was probably a strange expression and threw up his hands. “You’re not actually going to do it, Heaven,” he said. “You’re just going to go through the motions.”
“Right,” I said. “I know.” Idiot.
We practiced attacks against high kicks, arching kicks, hooking kicks, arm locks. I began to feel dizzy. Only a few days out of practice and I was a complete weakling.
“Okay, let’s stop for now,” Hiro said. Of course he was barely sweating. Robot. “Let’s sit down, Heaven. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
What could he want to talk about? My mind started racing. It must be serious. Did Hiro love me and not Karen? Were he and Karen getting married? Had Karen spilled the beans about my “crush” from Japan? Did Hiro really know I was in love with him? If he confronted me, should I deny everything?
Hiro went on. “I know we just dove right back into practice, but I think it’s time to talk about your second mission.”
My heart sank. Oh. My second mission. Fun.
“I want to give you a little background first,” Hiro said. “You know, first off, that the samurai culture grew out of the aristocracy. But there were other types of warriors roving Japan at this time as well. There were the lawless samurai, the ronin, and there were also the ninja. The ninja were an interesting group of people because they tended to be of lower-class descent and adopted the ninja way as a defense against the constant samurai raids of their territory. They tried every trick in the book, including what some surmised to be ‘black magic,’ basically because the samurai outnumbered them, and they had to survive in any way possible.”
Talking about ninjas made me shiver. I thought about the cloaked man at the wedding. I thought about the vaporous figure who had brought down my father.
Hiro continued. “The ninjutsu way is portrayed through plenty of movies as being this renegade, evil power, but we have to understand that they were just trying to defend themselves in any way possible. There are very important things we can learn from the medieval ninja. One, that superior numbers don’t necessarily ensure victory. The second thing that we can learn from them is the art of stealth,” Hiro said. “Ninjas thrive on the shadows. They’re able to use concentration, mind power, and a few simple movements to make themselves completely invisible—or so you think. Really, they’ve just tricked you into not seeing them. They’ve developed a heightened sense of haragei, awareness, and have created a sound, unshakable sense of concentration so that they have the utmost dedication to their surroundings and enemies.
“But being invisible isn’t the crazy stuff you’ve seen in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or those Bruce Lee movies,” Hiro said, smiling. Of course, that was what I’d been thinking. “That’s an exaggeration. It’s much more subtle than that. But it’s a priceless resource if you can master it. There is a very real philosophy, called the shinobi-iri method, which, if practiced, can make you invisible when walking down a crowded street. It can make you invisible when fighting your enemy. It can come to your advantage if you think your enemy is more skilled at combat or stronger than you are. And if there is more than one foe you’re up against, it can help you bring them all down.”
Great, I thought. Because I was so looking forward to being up against more than one foe.
I led Hiro back into my almost empty bedroom. We went through some of the simple invisibility moves. First was the stealth walk, which was basically a way of walking soundlessly. There was also a camouflage method of holding weapons. “Always hold them close to the body,” Hiro explained. “Otherwise your silhouette will give you away.”
It sounded too easy. We went over the simple roll as well, which enabled a person to get across a room faster and much lower to the ground—and thus be less easily detected. We spent about a half hour rolling back and forth across the room. I couldn’t help but giggle. I felt like Pikachu, the little yellow Pokémon character.
“This is serious!” Hiro said. His seriousness made me laugh even harder. I almost wanted to make him angry.
We went over what Hiro called the “most important” part of the process: the meditation and mind-c
ontrol segments. Hiro had us sit down and breathe very evenly for about fifteen minutes. “Tension means weakness,” he whispered. “If all five senses are working together and relaxed, you can do anything.”
After we finished, Hiro paused and looked at me. “Are you okay, after what happened the other day?”
I almost thought he meant after finding out what I had from Karen, but then I realized he meant after the attack. “Yeah, I think so,” I said, trying to sound strong. But inside, just thinking about those thugs made my heart race. I guess it was stupid of me to hope that they were really after my father and that after he returned to Japan, the attacks would stop. They wanted me. What if they traced me to this address? I gritted my teeth. I had to learn more about who was after me.
“Hiro, I—” Before I could finish, his cell phone rang.
Hiro answered it after looking at his caller ID. “Hi, Karen,” he said. Crap. I stayed very still. Hiro spoke to her for a couple of minutes, not saying much more than “Yeah” and “Okay.” (I noticed his voice didn’t go all soft the way hers did when talking to him and felt kind of happy about that. But maybe it just wasn’t his style.) Finally he said, “Will you lock my apartment when you leave? Okay. Thanks. See you later.”
Lock my apartment when you leave? I felt like somebody had punched me in the stomach. Lock my apartment when you leave? Karen had spent the night there. That could mean only one thing.
Karen and Hiro were sleeping together.
I thought of how good kissing Hiro had felt in my dream. How warm his skin had felt. How I couldn’t get close enough to him.
Apparently Karen felt the same way.
As I was having my internal conniption, Hiro hung up and looked at me. I felt like I was blushing so hard, my face must be purple. Did he know I knew? His face betrayed nothing.
“Karen said that my bike messenger service just called my house and needs me to work a few hours this afternoon. How about this is it for today?”
