4 comments/ 12590 views/ 4 favorites More Than Words Ch. 01 By: fgmntfmgnshn As always: Thanks to "Alpineskier" for editing. Thanks to "Doc" for writing Jim's character. More than Words: Code, Honor, Discipline "Upon my code of honor, with the discipline of my being, I am bound to serve and protect you with my life and sword" * My mother and I live as second class citizens in our own home. No, let me correct that. The maid, butler, and the chef live better than my mother and I. On the random day I see my father, it is usually from a distance and I receive a small wave and a quick smile. If on the oft chance our paths collide, I get a pat on my head and a cheery cordial greeting like, "Good morning Sara." I've never liked that nickname. I feel it's another way to Americanize me. I prefer my full name of Kisara. My mother is Japanese in the strictest sense. Her name is Tsukiumi Akita and stands 4'9" with long, silky black hair that cascades down her slim body to her waist. Her brown eyes had a sharpness to them, as if they could pierce through cast iron. She spent the first nineteen years of her life in the "old" country, living more like a hermit with her family than civilized humans. We still live that way, as we have very few possessions. My father, William Bancroft, is the polar opposite. He is 6'3", has an average build, and wears wire frame glasses. His black hair is always slicked back. He is the quintessential, successful L.A. executive. I take after my mother in height and build as I'm only 4'7" and slender. I have shoulder length black hair and brown eyes like a hawk, but they are almost hidden behind my glasses. The rest of my face is seemingly American in its features. My parents met when my father had a business meeting in Tokyo and two days later, one in Osaka. He decided to drive side roads to view the country, but then his rental car broke down in the middle of nowhere. My mother found him wandering around about a mile from her secluded family home and was immediately enthralled with him, having never seen such a sleek man. He visited her on the way back as well, stayed a couple days, and, despite the disapproval of her family, came with him to the United States. I came along eleven months later. I do not know much about their relationship other than he pays for everything and if my mother asks for something, and I mean anything, it is given immediately, no questions asked, despite their never being married. However, she rarely asks. I also know she works for him in an unusual way. Four or five times a year, she leaves on trips spanning between three days to two weeks at a time. I'm never told any details. My father's estate is an expansive piece of property that has three buildings and an Olympic size swimming pool on it. The main building is a mansion where my father, his wife, a blonde-haired fake-breasted woman named Miranda, and his daughter, Danielle, who looks like her mother with a much smaller chest, stay in. The second largest building is for the help. The third, and easily the smallest, is where my mother and I live. We have two cramped bedrooms, a small kitchen and bathroom and an open area that only has a table that stands a foot off the floor. This room is used for our dining, training, and my home schooling. Right outside our home, we have a garden in which we cultivate our own vegetables. From as early as I can remember, every day was a routine. I was schooled in the normal student studies of math, science, literature, music, art, and history. I was also to be fluent in English and Japanese. I was instructed in three unique subjects: Japanese culture, American culture, and Bushido. My mother did not want me to forget where I came from, didn't want me to be an outcast in the society in which I am in now, and definitely wanted me to know where she came from. Bushido, also known as "The way of those who keep peace by literary or military means" or as Westerners call it "The way of the warrior", was easily my mother's favorite topic. My mother rarely smiled, only doing so if I did something that made her proud, but she always seemed to beam when we discussed Bushido. After my schooling, I went through intensive training in Jujutsu, or "art of pliancy", which is beating your opponent by using their momentum against them, and Kenjutsu, or "science of the sword". I started with just a katana, but gradually advanced to Nitojutsu, or "two sword technique" with the second sword being a wakizashi. After training, we would spar with our bokkens, or wooden swords. I never had a day off. Holidays, birthdays, or special occasions; it didn't matter. I worked to sharpen my mind and body. Once a week, my mother would take me into town and we would do all our necessary shopping. To my mother, these trips worked for two reasons. First, I would get human interaction with someone other than her. She would have me pay and talk to the cashiers. She would send me to random people and ask directions for places we weren't going or ask strangers opinions on products we weren't going to buy. The second reason was to test me. I was to be cognizant of everyone and everything. She would ask odd questions like "What was the fourth person we passed wearing?" or "What was the second thing you smelled after we arrived?" or "What did that teenager say on the phone and who were they most likely talking to?" My five senses were constantly tuned in to the passing world. When my mother would leave for work, I had a strict regimen to follow, but those were also the times I interacted with other people on the estate. Bill, the overweight, grey haired chef, and a very humorous man, always tried to play jokes on me. I doubt I will ever meet a more kind hearted human being. Connie, the middle aged brunette maid acted as a surrogate mother during those times, always making sure I had everything I needed. Then there was Danielle, my step sister. We had nothing in common, but that didn't prevent our father from forcing her to play with me. I tried to get her to spar with me, but one little bruise on the forearm ended that quickly. She tried to get me to play Barbies which, from what I understand, is to take a doll and pretend to go into town or play house. I never got it. If you want to go to into town, let's go. If you want to play house, let's go inside and clean and cook. Wouldn't that be more productive? As I got older and, despite our differences, Danielle still came over when mother was gone. I think our father had to bribe her. One time, shortly after my sixteenth birthday, she begged me to go on a double date with her. I got the distinct impression that our father would only let her go out if she took me with her. Poor Jack. We ate at the local diner and then went to a movie about a hero who dresses up as a spider. Really? Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of the hero and if you can be one, even better. But a spider? Just give me my katana and we'll see who wins that battle. Anyways, about half way through the movie, Jack yawned and stretched his arms. Then his right hand was heading for my shoulder. It never made it. Shouldn't Jack have known not to try to grab a woman from behind? Needless to say, Jack's wrist was going to be in a cast for many weeks. Idiot. A month later, I made my first successful contact to my mother in a sparring match. She displayed the biggest smile I ever seen on her. I walked a little taller and prouder the rest of the day. I felt I was nearing my goal, being as fast and skillful as my mother. The next day I was truly humbled as my mother was twice as fast as ever before. All this time, she was only going half speed. She was taking it easy on me. I still had a long way to go. It took over a year for Danielle to ask me to go on another double date. This time, the guy she's currently infatuated with, Dave, had a shy brother my age, Grant, and they wanted to give him a dating experience with no pressure. I agreed and then I had to promise not to break, throw, cut off, attack, or hurt him in any way. I answered "I promise" to 37 different asinine scenarios she offered. She assured me that Grant was shy, as if that mattered, and if I thought he was trying something, he wasn't. It would only be an accident because he's so clumsy and nervous. Based on what Danielle told me about what qualities make a guy attractive, I knew immediately why he never had a date before. He was tall and gawky looking and his brown hair, though not long, it was definitely unkempt. Factor in that his younger brother's girlfriend had to get him a date; I also knew he had a major confidence issue. But like I said, none of that mattered to me. Grant seemed hesitant to speak, but when he did, he was funny. He held every door open for me and asked me if he could hold my hand. At the end of the night, Dave, without warning, attacked Danielle's face with his. Instinct took over and Dave was mere inches away from losing his right knee when Danielle threw her arms around him and returned the kiss. I just rolled my eyes. "Kisara, can I kiss you?" Grant's voice was timid. "Yes." I replied knowing my code wouldn't let me break my promise to Danielle, but that didn't mean if Grant tried to do to me what Dave was doing to Danielle I couldn't make him severely uncomfortable. In a quick motion, Grant kissed my cheek and pulled back, nervously waiting for my reaction. I thought it was sweet and I smiled. Grant grinned. "Thank you Kisara. I had a lovely time." "I did as well." I liked Grant and as I entered my bedroom to change into my kimono, I wondered if I'd ever see him again. Would he have a significant other by the time my mother leaves on her job again? I'd have to ask Danielle for information. Finally we'll have something to talk about without one of us getting immediately bored. The next day, my mother arrived home early in the morning and I was back on my normal routine. When it came time to spar, I made short work of it and successfully landed only my second blow to my mother, and for the second time in my life, I saw that smile. "We're done for today." I bowed toward her and she reciprocated. "Put our bokken's away and I'll make us some tea. We need to talk." Mother handed me her bokken and headed toward the kitchen. I did as instructed and knelt at our table, patiently waiting for her return. I wasn't sure what to make of her words. Every day, after schooling, training, and sparring, we always talked. But this was different. This time she verbalized it. "We need to talk." This wasn't going to be one of our normal conversations. My mother came back into the room, set down the tea, and knelt across from me. "There's something different about you today Kisara." My mother spoke to me in the same voice she always did. Her tone never wavered and her posture was that of stone. No one, not even myself, could ever know what emotions she was harboring by the sight or sound of her. "What is it Mother?" "My daughter, I can tell by your fighting spirit. You've added a certain passion. Can I assume this means your encounter with Grant Chambers went well?" How did she know I was on a date? Apparently I am not made of marble because she read my mind based solely on my expression. "At least you didn't break his wrist like you did Jack Sommers." I lowered my head, feeling guilty for not telling about going out with boys. "I'm not upset with you. I trust you Kisara." I lifted my head. "I still should have told you." "Perhaps, but I don't want to talk about why you felt you had to hide that from me. I already know your reasons. I only want to give you advice right now." I listened intently for I knew my mother was going to impart to me some of her vast wisdom. "Beware the Americans." I wasn't expecting that sentence. "Code. Honor. Discipline. These are more than words to us. They are a way of life. Our word is our bond. For Americans, words are a convenience, a means to get what they want. Every word can be said with conviction or used as a hollow promise. Any way to twist and manipulate another's soul to comply with their wishes. I felt an added presence in your heart today and all I want is for you to be cautious." I was confused. "But Father is an American." "I know." My mother said it in the same fashion as everything else, but it was somehow different. And I knew. I suppose I always knew, due to the odd relationship of my parents, that something was amiss, but now I know my father hurt her emotionally and my mother never got over it. I was suddenly startled back from my thoughts. "Would you like some more tea?" With that, I knew this conversation was over. "Yes, thank you Mother." As she went to the kitchen, I got the distinct impression she felt she said too much. She knew the precise moment when to interfere with my train of thought to prevent me from asking follow up questions. To prevent me from over analyzing what was discussed. She was ordering me to let it go. As if on cue, there came a knocking at the door. It could only be one person. My mother set the tea down and answered it and in walked my father. Normally at the sound of the knock, I was conditioned to go to my room. My parents had business to discuss. Not this time. I held firm, trying to show the same stone façade my mother displays as to hide the seething I'm feeling inside. I doubt I was successful. "Good evening Sara." I could tell he was displeased I was still in the room in his presence. My mother shot me a look and I made my way to my bedroom. Or, should I say, I made it appear I made my way to my bedroom. My first act of disobedience of my mother in my life. Sure she didn't say "Go to your room", but we both knew that's what she meant. I felt sick. My stomach was in knots, but I also knew if I didn't try to figure out my parent's relationship I would be haunted untill the end of my time with those two words "I know." My father handed my mother a manila envelope. She opened it and pulled the contents only an inch over the top and thumbed through three pages. It was clear that one was a photograph. The guilt finally overtook me and I hustled to the bathroom and vomited. I dishonored myself by disobeying my mother and for what? To view a manila envelope that had a picture and two pieces of paper in it. If my mother wanted me to know, she'd tell me. I was drinking water from my palms to try to get the foul taste out of my mouth when the bathroom door opened. I turned immediately and bowed. "Mother, please accept my apology. I watched you and Father behind your back for a couple minutes." "I know." Mother paused. "I'll be leaving Saturday and will be gone four days. Grant's family is going on vacation Friday to New York and will be gone ten days. I know you would've wanted to see him, but don't let your despair in this matter interfere with your training or studies. As for eavesdropping, I'll consider it lesson learned. Of course, the next day my Bushido education centered on obedience. Lesson learned indeed. As soon as my mother left Saturday, I went looking for Danielle. She was in her room, listening to what she calls music. It's been a long while since I've been in her bedroom as father always sends her to me. I don't understand how she can complain of space when her closet is bigger than my whole bedroom, and I live comfortably. She confirmed what my mother told me about Grant's family. I went back to my regiment, feeling a little disheartened and wondering how my mother knew these things. It was now Friday and my mother still wasn't home. Her trips have lasted up to two weeks, but she said four days, and her word is her bond. She wouldn't have said it unless she was certain. I've been trying to remain focused on my regimen and any extra time I had, I dedicated to meditation. I was hoping to release the worry from my body. Come Sunday, I couldn't take it anymore and I sought out my father. "Good afternoon Sara. I just want to say, despite what happened, you can stay here until you are eighteen." "Why? What do you know?" "Oh, that's right. I haven't told you. I received this three days ago." He pulled an envelope with no return address on it from the inside of his black suit jacket and handed it to me. "Now run along. I have business to attend to." He patted my head and walked away. I trembled as I pulled out a Polaroid from the tattered envelope. I took a breath and flipped it over. I crumbled to my knees as I was faced with the reality of the picture. My mother was lying on the floor, in a pool of blood with her katana and wakizashi laying next to her. She had three bullet wounds in her chest and one in the center of her head. Under the caption were the words, "Is this your famed Akita?" I don't know why, but I didn't cry. I just knelt there, staring at the photograph. Anger filled me. Anger at the world. Anger toward the people who did this. Anger at my father for putting my mother in this situation. Anger at the thought of not being able to see my mother for a lifetime. I feel so helpless. What could I do? Dusk began to fall as my mourning subsided and a knew feeling began to take hold of my being. The need to know why. I rushed back to our small dwelling and went straight to her bedroom. It would have been the only place she could keep something undiscoverable from me. Her room looked exactly like mine. A futon mattress on the floor and one dresser with a lamp on it. I made short work of the dresser and found nothing, but was shocked at contents of her undergarment drawer. It had her regular underwear that I knew when I did laundry, but it also contained a slew of lacy, frilly bras and g-strings. The shroud of mystery that surrounded my mother grew. I turned my attention to the closet only to find it had a lock. A quick inspection found this lock was only effective if a person cared about the integrity of the door. I didn't. A hard kick to the weakest point and I was in. My mother's hung clothes seemed separated with a gap between her kimonos and outfits I've never seen before. They ranged from business executive suits to sundresses to provocative clothes designed to only cover the "essential parts" of the female anatomy. On the floor of the closet were a plethora of notebooks, a stack of manila envelopes with dates written on them in my mother's handwriting, and two black bags, one considerably larger than the other. I started with the manila envelopes, having an idea what was inside them. Each one had a picture of a person in it and a couple papers with typed information about the individual. On the back of these papers had hand written notes with dates, times, building information, and lastly, a location that was circled. I shuddered at what this information meant. Next, I unzipped the black bags. The smallest bag had numerous passports and identification cards in it. The surprise was they were not all for my mother. For each one my mother had, I had one too. United States, Japan, China, England, Italy, France, Russia, and countless others were all destinations I could go. If the passports surprised me, there is no way to describe how I felt when I opened the larger bag. Money. Lots of it. Finally I went to the massive pile of notebooks, and I lived in that closet for the next two days. They were my mother's memoirs, her diaries for the past eighteen years, all written in Japanese. Inside, they held all the knowledge I craved. I found the truth of how my mother came to this country, and it sickened me. My father was on his way to a business meeting and his car broke down. My mother found him wandering the countryside. She was impressed with him immediately. He was suave, handsome, and debonair; nothing like anyone she had ever met. He asked all kinds of poignant questions of her and was genuinely interested in her. When he returned a few days later, she was ecstatic. He was charming and romantic. After two days, he told her "I love you." She responded the best way should could. "Upon my code of honor, with the discipline of my being, I am bound to serve and protect you with my life and sword." She then explained that was the ultimate honor for the Akita clan, to find someone deserving and pledge themselves to them. Since she felt my father did so when he said "I love you", she was prepared with the ultimate self sacrifice. She entered an unbreakable bond with him. To her, it was a marriage. More Than Words Ch. 01 Two months after she reached America, my mother found it was all a ruse. My father had found out about the legendary Akita clan a couple years before and that is why he was in Japan. There was never any business meetings, my mother was the business. He went there hoping to entice someone to be with him. To make the famed promise he had only heard in whispers. The first two months was like a dream for my mother. They lived out a hotel room because he said his company just moved him from Chicago to L.A. and he hadn't found a place yet. As soon as he found out she was pregnant, he introduced her to his wife and moved her to a small house in the back of his estate. She felt bound by honor to stay with him, to ensure I had a father. Shortly after I was born, my father came to my mother with the first manila envelope. He offered her money and anything else she required. Then he used his words to try to manipulate her, saying he, as my father, would take me away from her and then reminded her of her oath. As my mother writes, his words weren't necessary. The code of the Bushido wouldn't allow it. At that moment, she considered seppuku, but decided against it, not wanting me to grow up without a mother and him as a father. Reluctantly, she took the assignment and became his assassin. My mother's new goal in life was me. Teach me so I wouldn't make her mistake. This explains why I never was told those fateful words. If I didn't know them, I couldn't foolishly enter into a pact. After every job, she was paid handsomely, but spent very little of it. Only necessities were purchased. The bare necessities. The only things she asked of father that weren't for a job were things she couldn't get on her own; specially forged katanas and wakizashis for both of us and, of course, school text books. She taught herself all the lessons for the next day after I went to bed. She self educated herself in all my subjects and became knowledgeable in not just the basics, but the advanced areas of each subject like physics and calculus. I finally came to the final entry, the last night I saw her. She wrote about her worries about me falling in love with an American. She understood not all were the same. As in all walks of life there is good and evil, but her experiences brought her concern. She then wrote how proud she was after our sparring practice. She felt I was close enough in my training for her to step up her level of speed once again. How many levels did she have? I must continue my training. I must be like her. Reaching the final sentence, I knew what I wanted to do. She did so much for me, the very least I could do is live my life the way my mother wanted to live hers. There was a knock at the door. I got up and tip toed through the mess I made to answer it. How could I face the man that stole my mother's soul? I opened the door and suddenly I felt my face turn to stone. I was channeling my mother's very essence. "Yes." I answered in a cold, unwavering tone. "Good evening Sara." He looked me over. "There's something different about you." "What do you want?" "I have an assignment for you. I have a unique understanding of your code and thought I'd give you the opportunity to avenge your mother's death." He handed me a manila envelope. "I'll give you the same offer I gave Tsukiumi." I just held the envelope, but I did not accept or deny his request. My expression never changed. "I'll give you a day to think it about it, Kisara. And if you decide to work for me, you can stay here as long as you want." He gave me an assuming smile and then turned and walked away. My father thinks he has me. He used my full first name for the first time ever. He wanted to get on my good side. To manipulate me. But he also did it because he was afraid. He didn't know me or what I'm capable of. I made no promise, no oath, no vow, or declaration with him. He was now afraid of me. I laid on my futon, feebly trying to succumb to sleep, but my mind wouldn't allow it. I was pondering my father's words, "avenge your mother's death." What should I do? What would my mother do? I missed her terribly. Then, a moment of clarity struck me. I want to avenge my mother's death, and there's no time like the present. I got dressed, grabbed the manila envelope and my katana and wakizashi, and walked out the door. I knew the layout of the building well. It was late in the evening and I knew my target would be in his home office. I snuck in easily enough, avoiding detection from the security cameras. Revenge dominated my thoughts. I was in the hall right outside his office. The door was open. He was at his desk, on the phone with his back to the door. I smiled. Could it be any easier? I slipped in unnoticed, staying in his blind spots. "Well, I'm confident we can replace it, but nothing will be like the original." He stayed silent for a moment. "Alright Sam, I'll talk to you tomorrow." I mirrored his movement as he swiveled in his chair to hang up the phone. My blade was drawn. As soon as I heard the phone click, I slammed my katana through the back of his chair and it came out through his chest while my free hand silenced his scream by covering his mouth. Satisfied my target was deceased, I threw the manila envelope in his lap. "Sorry Father, the answer is no." I had avenged my mother's death. I left my home of over seventeen years that evening, taking with me my current textbooks, my weapons, and my mother's bokken. That and two black bags. "Good bye, Mother. Until we meet again." 10 years later: I've been traveling the world. I have no permanent home. I put the majority of the money into investments and it has grown substantially. I spend a significant amount of time in libraries. I am now fluent in seven languages. I train as often as I can, wherever possible. Most of the time, I'll find a secluded alleyway and lose myself in my training for a couple hours. If I pass a dojo or recreation center, I'll ask to use the facility. If I'm in a dojo, as soon as I announce my name, there is always a challenge. Most don't believe I'm a part of the renowned Akita clan, especially with my American features, but they always relent their suspicions after the duel. I still haven't met anyone who could hold a candle to my mother, and I never saw her at full speed. The rest of my time, I roam the streets, searching for injustice. I've become a ronin; a samurai without a master. I've concluded it is the best way to honor my mother. I've always loved the idea of being a hero, and as I always thought, if you can be one, that is even better. And no, I don't wear a spider costume. Today, I was in New York. It was late in the evening and I was tired. I spent most of my day at the New York public library. I could spend an eternity in there and still have not read all there was to read. I then trained in an alley and lost track of time. I was walking to a motel when I saw it. A tall, slender man with brown hair had a gun pointed at him while being told to get out of his car. I reacted immediately. I always keep to the code of the Bushido - as I see it, it reads to try for peace by literary means first. "Are you sure you want to do this?" My voice was steady and my expression unflappable. My eyes riveted on the assailant. "Hell yes. What are you going to do about it?" There was a laughter in his voice as he turned the gun on me. Bad move. My katana sliced through his trigger finger like it was cutting butter. He staggered back and bumped into the car. He then turned and ran - his face full of fear. I took a step to go after him. From behind, another man called out. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" The words were followed by a gun shot. As I turned to face my new foe, a bullet struck my shoulder. The man started to run toward me, not a wise action to take. He changed his mind when he saw I didn't waver, completely unfazed by my wound, and he darted down an alley. You wouldn't be able to tell by looking at me, but he made me mad. I went to chase after him when I heard a voice. "Wait. Don't go." I heard the car door shut. "Let me look at your shoulder." I turned around and for the first time in a long time, I showed an emotion on my face. I did a double take. "Grant? Grant Chambers?" "Yes. Do I know you?" He looked at my face curiously for a moment, then looked at my wound. "My name is Kisara Akita." I put my sword back into his sheath. A light bulb went off in his head. "Oh my God. Kisara, how are you?" Grant seemed excited to see me. "I'm shot." "Yes, I see that." He chuckled. "It's not bad. Let me take you to the hospital where I work. I'll have your shoulder fixed up quickly." During the car ride and the treatment of my shoulder, we caught up. Well, Grant did most of the talking. Nothing incredible had happened to me in the past ten years. His personality hadn't changed, except he wasn't as shy at talking. He came to New York to attend Weill Cornell Medical College and was now in his final year of residency at the New York Presbyterian Hospital. He wasn't seeing anyone and he was still humorous, still polite, and still a gentleman. He repeatedly thanked me for saving him. I still liked him. "Alright, your shoulder is all patched up. Don't overexert it and we'll see about getting those stitches out in a couple weeks. Grant said confidently as he threw away his medical gloves. He then began to stammer. "Kisara, um, would you by chance, um. Well, what I mean is, if you're not busy, um, would you like to go out to dinner with me?" "Yes, I would." Grant let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "How about Italian? I know a great place near here." He turned and put some medical supplies away. "Sounds wonderful." I slid off the hospital bed I was sitting on. "And Grant..." Grant turned back towards me. "Yes." "Upon my code of honor, with the discipline of my being, I am bound to serve and protect you with my life and sword." Sorry Mother. I know he is nothing like Father. Grant then gave a very quick, unusual smile. It almost appeared sinister in nature. It's probably my imagination. More Than Words Ch. 02 As always: Thanks to "Doc" for story consulting. More than Words Ch. 2: An Unbreakable Vow One year and three months later: "Tell me Grant, why don't we ever see or talk to your family? Is it because of me?" "No Kisara. Well, yes, but... How can I say this?" Grant appeared deep in thought. "Am I an embarrassment?" "No. Absolutely not. I love you Kisara and there is not a day that goes by that I don't feel blessed to have you in my life. My family is just... complicated." Grant began rubbing his temples, something he does when he is unsure of himself or what to say. "I love you too and I'm honored to be by your side and Mother would be so proud that I made my vow to such an outstanding human being. The time spent with you has truly been a dream. Perhaps if we discuss it, we could uncomplicated the situation." "I appreciate what you are doing, and I promise to tell you all about my family, but can it please wait just a little longer? I need time to figure out how I want to word it." Grant was on the verge of begging at this point. "Of course. Take all the time you need." The only person I considered family while growing up was Mother. I am curious to see what a real family is and I'm hopeful to be a part of one. I understand this is difficult for Grant. Something happened that caused him to move from L.A. to New York. He never talks to them, let alone visit. One thing I know is life is too short and I still miss Mother. But Grant asked and I will respect his feelings. I turn off the light and we fall asleep together. The alarm clock began to sound, signaling it is now 5 am. Grant has the long shift today and the night seemed to pass awfully quickly since we went to sleep close to midnight. He rolls out of bed and jumps in the shower. Even though I don't need to get up for three more hours, I don't hesitate and head to the kitchen. I start the coffee and prepare a light breakfast for us. I heard the shower stop and Grant entered the kitchen shortly thereafter. "How many times do I have to tell you, you don't have to get up just to cook me breakfast and make coffee." Grant was finishing buttoning up dark blue shirt. "I know I don't have to, I want to." "Because of your oath, aren't you supposed to do what I tell you to do?" Grant let out a chuckle. "Yes and no. I don't want you killing someone because you're operating on an empty stomach and without you're precious caffeine. Besides, the word "serve" is in there somewhere." I split the scrambled eggs onto two plates and went to the dining room table. "You are a true paradox." Grant shook his head. "Your face appears dead serious but your words make me laugh. Now if I could just get you to smile." "I can smile." "No, I think when your mother said don't make a face or it will stay that way, you didn't listen." "Well, how about this? Ha- ha." I spoke the words meaning laughter. Grant almost cried, laughing so hard. "You're going to make me late." Grant stood and kissed me. "Thanks for the great breakfast. Love you and I'll see you tonight, around 8:30." "Chicken alfredo for dinner." "Great." Grant called out as the door shut. After clean up, I get ready and make it to my dojo at 8:45. My clan's reputation, although I don't flaunt it, has brought me plenty of students. Some come with big egos as all they want to do is prove themselves by beating a famed Akita swordsman in a duel. It never happens. Most, however, just want to increase their skill by training with me. I also have a beginner's class. I really enjoy teaching the young children as they learn the basics. It's my way of honoring Mother by passing down her teachings. I was in the elevator on my way up to the 5th floor apartment Grant and I shared. The door opened and I did not move. I sensed something was amiss. I touched the button for the top floor and made my way to the roof and down the fire escape. I peered into the open window. There were two men, very tall and muscular wearing black suits standing six feet apart with their backs to me. The man on the right had four legs, which means he was overshadowing someone. A woman with short auburn hair done in a bun, wearing a navy blue executive suit with a white blouse came from the hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom and walked casually to the man on the right. She had a stern look on her face. "I can't believe you thought you could hide this from me!" She put her hands on her hips. "I guess this means my son has finally grown a pair." The man on the left let loose a quick chuckle and the woman gave a glance full of warning. "We set this up nearly twelve years ago in exchange for you leaving the family so you can play doctor in New York. You should have informed me you succeeded." "But Mother, I didn't." It was Grant's voice and it was shaky. "You mean she's been living with you for over a year and didn't make the oath?" She slapped Grant hard in the face. "Don't lie to me! It's shameful enough to know my first born is such a pussy he won't take a life, let alone fire a gun, and now you lie to me as well? Thank God I got it right the second time around." She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. "Grant, don't play poker." I dove through the window and did a somersault in between the two men. I did a sweep kick with my left foot to the man on the left. As soon as my foot cleared, I pushed up with my right foot and swung my right arm toward the falling man. My palm struck him on his right temple. If he is trained, he'll be down 43 seconds, if not, 1 minute and 27 seconds, and he'll still be woozy. The man that was on my right, now left, was slow to move to face me, having to move Grant as well. I made a quick step to the left and Grant I were suddenly face to face, mere inches apart. The man was bringing his right arm up, and with it, his gun. I made a sweeping motion with my left hand. It brushed across the tip of Grant's nose, causing him to flinch. "Drop." I whispered. My hand connected with the gun, effectively knocking it to the floor. Grant went to the floor. As soon as his head was clear, I thrust my right palm upwards into the man's nose. He was now deceased. And then there was applause. Grant stood and I turned around to face his mother, who was clapping. "Bravo. Really, bravo." The woman nodded her approval. "I must say, I never had the chance to see your mother live and up close, but that was impressive." 43 seconds. I slammed my left elbow backward into the first man's stomach and rotated my left fist 90 degrees upward and connected with his face. He'll be down for 38 minutes. Two men entered through the front door, guns drawn. I slide step so that I am directly in front of Grant, blocking as much of his body my small frame will allow. In my peripheral vision, a man and a woman walk from the bedroom, with the man in front. They both have guns as well. At this point, if a gun fight occurs, Grant will not survive the crossfire. If he doesn't live, nor will I. Upon my honor, I will fight to the death. "And to think your father said that nothing would beat the original." Grant's mother said with a laugh. "You must be Sam." I uttered my first words to this deplorable woman. She had a brief look of shock and then looked at Grant. "You told her about the family?" Her face turned to anger. "You shouldn't have..." "No, he didn't. My father was talking to you the moment before his death." "Calm down dear. It's okay. You'll have your revenge." The voice came from the man in the hall. A quick glance and I see it is Dave, Grant's brother, comforting my step sister, Danielle. She had a look of pure evil and an itchy trigger finger as she wanted my head in the worst way. "Grant, we're going up." I announced. "Ah, it's nice to know that the Akita is intelligent too. But you don't have to die. Grant, tell her to yield and we can all go back to L.A." I tilted my head so I could look at Grant. There was fear in his eyes. "Grant, I'll do what you ask, but do you trust me?" His head barely moved, but he did nod in the affirmative. I immediately grabbed him and bulled him through the open window. Gun shots rang out. "Grant, we're going up." Grant started up the fire escape as I stayed out of view on the ledge. I drew my katana from the sheath on my back. The first goon got one leg out the window and I sliced through him, hoping to create a bottleneck. I headed up the fire escape and caught up with Grant on the roof. "This way." I jumped the three feet to the neighboring rooftop. We stopped when we reached the end of the building. "You still trust me?" "With my life Kisara." Grant said while slightly out of breath. I grabbed him and jumped; pulling him with me. It was a seven story drop. We landed on the soft canvas of the shops awning below us and it caused us to slide. We landed with a thud on the concrete sidewalk. We both had some pain, but we were alive. "How long have you had that escape route planned?" Grant grimaced as he asked. "The day I moved in." Grant stood up and offered me his hand, always the gentleman. "Kisara, we have to hurry, they're coming!" I took his hand and he pulls. Everything went black. I groggily woke up to consciousness. "Grant!" I screamed as I attempted to sit upright, but I didn't get very far. My restraints held firm and I was jerked back to the hospital bed my arms were chained to. I had a handcuff on each wrist connected by a chain. The chain was wrapped underneath the bed, offering me about a foot movement in one direction at a time. I looked around and all I see is white. White walls, white tile floors, white ceiling, and one white table. Even the hospital gown I am wearing is white. I also realize there was an acute pain coming from my back. At most it is mildly irritating. "Boss, she's awake." The voice came from behind me from someone I couldn't see. "Where's Grant?" No answer. I can hear the man's breathing getting heavy. He was nervous to be alone with me. A minute later, the door opened and in walked Samantha carrying a briefcase. "I see you survived that gunshot wound. Grant said you would. Three inches to the right and it would've been a different story." Samantha snickered. "Akita's are apparently a resilient lot." "Where is he?" "He's safe, for now." Samantha's voice was meant to be intimidating. "Whether he remains that way is up to you." She set the briefcase on the table. "From now on you belong to me. You are to obey my commands. If not, well, all I can say is Grant's safety cannot be ensured." "You would kill your own son?" "Why not? You killed your own father." Samantha had an amused look on her face. "Only dogs are meant to obey. That is not what the vow is about." Samantha pulled a manila envelope from the briefcase. "That's what I'm making it about. So consider yourself my personal bitch and get on a flight to Hong Kong." She threw the envelope in my direction and it struck me in the face and came to rest on my stomach. "I'll give you 30 minutes to decide." She then looked at the man still behind me. "Let me know what her decision is. If it's no, let Danielle know as well." 30 minutes. I meditated for a brief moment before I appeared to struggle reaching for the envelope. "Sir, can you help me with this envelope?" Nothing. I swear I can hear him debating to himself. "Please, I only have 29 minutes and 8 seconds left." That did it. I hear his tentative footsteps coming closer. Judging by his gait, he was 6'2", 237 lbs. Give or take an inch or pound. I placed my feet flat with the bed. Closer. Closer. Using the bed as a springboard, I push off and wrap my legs around his neck. Because of my movement, the handcuffs dig into my wrists slightly. I'm cutting off his circulation. His hands went to try to break the hold. My grasp was too strong. His face was turning red. If he wasn't being strangled, he would've loved the view. "Where's Grant?" An ineffective attempt for a gasp of air was his response. "Speak now and I'll let you live or don't, you die and I find him anyway." I loosened my grip enough for him to answer. "He's locked in the penthouse suite at the Dunesbury Hotel. Please let me go." I retightened my grip. "This will hurt, but you'll live." I put my left arm as far to the left side of the bed as possible, giving me a foot clearance on my right side. This allowed me to tumble the rest of the way and drive his head into the metal bar on the right side of the bed. I still have him in my grasp as I search his pockets. I found the keys to the handcuffs in the inside of his suit pocket. I release my hold. He'll be off his feet for 32 minutes. 23 minutes left. I remove the cuffs and head to the door. I listen for movement on the other side. Hearing none, I gently open the door and look in both directions. The hallway is a disaster. It is also free of people. At the end of the hall to the left is a half broken exit sign barely hanging from the ceiling. I swiftly, yet cautiously make my way in that direction. I glance in each room I pass. No other was like the white room I was in. Every room appeared exactly as the hallway did, like a tornado passed through it. I get to the edge of the hall and I hear voices. I peek to the left and I see the exit. I also see two men guarding it while talking fantasy football. To the right, the hallway extends deep and is exactly like the one I'm standing in except it has light shining in from the rooms across from me. I've reached the end of the building. A shadow approached from the right and I quickly duck into the nearest room. The man turned the corner. He must be heading to my room. I waited for him to pass. I came behind him and put one hand over his mouth as my arms wrapped around his head. In one movement, I snapped his neck. I deposited the body in the room I just abandoned and went back to the edge of the hall. 19 minutes. Waiting for the perfect moment, I dart to the closest room across the hall. I look out the window and notice I'm on the ground floor of an abandoned hospital facility on an island not far from the Bronx. I also see my ride, a rowboat that appears to have gone to hell and back. I climb out the hole where a window used to be and make my way down the overrun grassy terrain to the small vessel. With all the technology in the world, why can't they design a hospital gown that doesn't leave your butt bare? It's annoying to be on a rescue mission with the cold wind blowing up my crack. I push the boat out and hop in. I have a 16 minute head start before they know I'm gone and it will take me 20 minutes to navigate the dangerous Hell's Gate Strait. I must reach Grant before they do something rash. If they don't kill him, there definitely will be an ambush awaiting me at the Dunesbury Hotel. I arrived on the mainland and began to maneuver my way through the streets of New York. Two different people propositioned me to play doctor with them as I headed to Evan Bannister's dorm. He's a 21 year old student of mine who I let run a class of his own at my dojo. He's barely 6'0 and he's toned, not muscular, but he has near flawless technique with a bo staff and only needs to work on his speed. I did ask him once why he chose the bo staff. He explained he was kind of a nerd growing up so his favorite turtle was Donatello. I didn't get the connection between a turtle, a bo staff, and an ancient renaissance painter, but I didn't ask him to elaborate either. Dusk was falling as I arrived at the dorms of City College and I received a good stare or a whistle from all the boys I passed. I knocked on the door. Evan had his back turned to me when he opened the door, laughing at his roommate over some joke about "shit." When he turned, his expression went solemn. He straightened up and gave a quick bow. "Sensei?" Evan was definitely stunned to see me, in a hospital gown no less. "Please come in. What happened to you? You haven't been at the dojo in two days. I did what classes I could, but not many of the adults stayed, as they only want to learn from you." I walked in and Evan shut the door. I heard another whistle as Evan's roommate blatantly looked me over. "Evan, is that her?" He gave an approving smile. "I now see why you go to that karate school every day. Maybe I should join." "I wouldn't mess with her George. She can kill you 100 different ways with moves I can't even pronounce." Evan paused a moment. "George, do you mind giving us a minute?" "Sure, take all the time you need roomie. I know you've wanted this for a long time. I'll be at Jerry's letting him know you finally have a girl over. As George passed, he attempted to swat at my bare butt. I caught his hand and bent. "You need to show more respect to women, especially when they are your roommates guest, and the only reason I'm not breaking your wrist right now is because I have an urgent matter to discuss with Evan." I let go of his hand. "Now if you'll excuse us." George meekly left the room; the fear of God in his soul. "I'm sorry sensei. George is just..." Evan struggled for the words as he was now embarrassed. "Immature." I finished for him. It's obvious Evan acts one way with me and another with his roommate. His true character showed when he immediately reverted for me despite being in his own room. "What did he mean you've wanted this for a long time?" "Oh, um, nothing. George just seems to have this idea I have a crush on you." Evan stared at the floor when he spoke. "I know." Evan outright blushed and was near panic at my words. "That's okay. I'm flattered." It seemed to be an awkward moment for Evan. He quickly tried to change the subject. "You said there was an urgent matter sensei?" "Yes. I assume you still have the key to the dojo if you've been teaching classes, correct?" "Yes I do. Did you want it back? I apologize if I overstepped my place." Evan appeared anxious. "No, you've done well. Thank you. I was hoping for a ride over there so I can get clothes and my alternate weapons." "Weapons? Now?" Evan curiously asked as he glanced out the window to verify darkness had indeed swept across the sky. "Are you in trouble?" "Grant is." "I want to help." Evan firmly announced. "It's not your fight." "Sensei, you always tell us, individually, we are one drop. Together we are an ocean." I stood speechless. The first time in a long time. Evan used one of my favorite quotes by Ryunosuke Satoro. When I tell my students quotes to help them through life, I don't expect them to be thrown back at me. Evan had a big smile, proud he got the best of me just once. "Here's a shirt, shorts, and a belt. I know they won't fit, but at least you'll be covered. We can argue in the car." We went to the dojo and I changed first and then turned my attention to my wall of weapons. I grabbed a katana and wakizashi and strapped them to my back. I then put a rope with 10 hira shuriken (throwing stars) over my shoulder. "I thought you didn't like those." Evan grabbed his staff off the wall. "I don't like to use them. They lack the elegance of being in close range combat like hand to hand, a sword, or your bo staff. You can't look your opponent in the eye and give them the respect they deserve as an equal from a distance. It's the same with a gun." I finished by grabbing two pairs of binoculars and placed them in a pack. "I'm using them because I made a vow and intend to uphold it." "So it's true what they say about a sacred oath and the Akita clan." Evan paused. "Can I hear it?" More Than Words Ch. 02 I turned and looked him dead in the eye. "It wouldn't be sacred if I told you without meaning it. Besides, I already made my vow to Grant." "Fair enough." Evan was disappointed. "I'm ready." We parked near the back entrance of a business sky rise located across the street to the Dunesberry Hotel and made our way to the roof. It was time to gather intelligence. "Wow, that woman is really pissed off." Evan let out a chuckle. "She's yelling at everyone." "That's Grant's mother." Evan lowered his binoculars to look at me. "Wait, Grant's mom is holding him hostage?" "Yes. She doesn't like Grant and she will kill him. I saw it in her eyes." "What a shitty parent. Please forgive my language sensei." Evan went back to looking through the binoculars. "I wonder what she's saying." "She said she's leaving to go back to L.A. in an hour and she's giving them two days to clean up this mess." "How do you know what she said?" "I'm reading her lips." "Really?" Evan looked over at me again. "That's a useful skill. And what mess is she referring to sensei?" "Me." I now looked at Evan. "This means we make our move in an hour and a half. I'll go in. Your only job is to get Grant out. You wait in the hall and I'll send him to you. Go to your dorm and I'll meet you there. Understand?" "Yes sensei." Right as Samantha left, we made our way to the receiving door entrance of the hotel. I'm sure there would at least be one man stationed in the lobby. I walked calmly and casually to the employee's elevator. Evan was two steps behind and the exact opposite. He was fidgeting with one hand on his bo staff; ready to pull it from its sheath in a moment's notice. "Relax Evan. You're acting as if we're going to try to free someone from being held hostage by his own mother." "I'm nervous. I keep going over the different possibilities of what's going to happen and I keep coming to the same conclusion. We are not..." I cut him off. "Evan, if you will feel you will lose before a battle, then you will. Never go into any situation with a poor mind. You will need your wits about you. Always be positive and trust your training. That's why we work so hard. If we need to use it, it's there. Besides we know there are eight of them and where they are located at." "Eight? I counted six in the room." "Yes, but based on a previous engagement, they tend to have two men standing guard outside the door." "So you've dealt with them before?" "Yes." The elevator beeped announcing we arrived at the top floor. "Wait here and keep this elevator on this floor." The doors opened. I took a breath and turned into the hall; unleashing four hira shuriken. Each hit their mark, one in the neck at the vocal chords and another to the body of each man. Each let out a stifled groan as I darted down the hall to brace the bodies so they wouldn't make a loud thud. I laid them down, closed their eyes, and bowed. I gave each the respect I was unable to show them had this been a proper duel. I located the electronic key card from one of the men and put it in the slot. I drew my katana and put my hand on the door. Grant should be on the couch. Four men at the table behind him, eating. One sitting in the chair to the right of Grant. The last man was aimlessly pacing. I won't know his precise position. One more deep breath and I went in. I went immediately for the man in the chair while locating, then throwing two hira shuriken at the pacing man. I jumped on the sitting man's legs and as I crouched I buried my katana into his chest. The three men at the table stood and reached for their guns. Where's the fourth man? I sprung off of the dead man and drew my wakizashi. "Grant get down!" Grant immediately complied, lying down on the floor in the fetal position with his arms lifted to cover his head. I landed amidst the three men, and we nearly formed a circle. I jumped again as a multitude of bullets riddled the air where I used to be. I did a mid air somersault and extended all four of my limbs. I sliced my katana at the man on my left, cutting off his arm. I threw my wakizashi and it stabbed the man on my right, piercing his heart. My legs thrust into the face of the man in the center, knocking him back into the table with a broken nose. I landed on my back and felt the stitching I had their rip open. "Grant, get out now!" I let out a loud yell as I flipped back up and did a round house kick with my left leg into the man now missing an arm. He went down immediately. This put me into position to forcibly apply my right elbow into the nose of the now standing, albeit barely, man who was in the center. His broken nose is now shattered and he collapsed into a heap on the floor, unconscious from the pain. The bathroom door opened from behind me. The missing fourth man. I turned and faced him. It was the same man from the white room at the hospital. He dropped his gun. "Don't kill me, please. Remember me? I told you he was here. I helped you." The man was slowly slide stepping toward the door. "Please. I quit. I'm done. Just let me go." He pleaded. I put my katana back in its sheath. "I never want to see you again." He turned and ran. As he hit the door, the end of a bo staff was planted in his face and then swung around and took out his legs. That man's second concussion of the day. "I was letting him go Evan." "You were?" Evan turned in from the hall with a smile on his face. "Sorry, kneejerk... "Evan froze in his tracks. "Oh my God, Grant!" I bolted and jumped over the couch that now more closely resembled Swiss cheese. I landed next to him and immediately cradled his head. He was shot twice, once in the lower left side of his back and the second just under his left shoulder. "Grant, tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this." "It's over Kisara. There's nothing that can be done." Grant's voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry I failed you." "You didn't fail me. It was my family who failed me." I started to cry. "So this is what it takes to finally get you to show an emotion." Grant let out a weak chuckle. "I love you." "I love you too Grant." I set his head down. "You will not be going alone." I drew my katana. "Upon my code of honor with the discipline of my being, I am bound to protect you with my life and sword." I turned my katana around and lined it up with myself, intent on committing sepukku. "Wait." Grant tried to grab at my katana, and then coughed twice. "You can't do that to our unborn child." It was Grant's final words. "Sensei, we have to leave." Evan carefully removed the katana from my hands. "The police are coming." In fact the police were coming as I heard the sirens for the first time. Evan had rounded up all the hira shuriken, my wakizashi, and now he had my katana. He took the sheaths from my back and put them on his. He carried everything, including me in his arms. I was in a daze, even as Dr. Harvey Camper, a highly respected colleague of Grant's, re-stitched my wound at Presbyterian Hospital. I kept holding my stomach. Was it true? Grant had taken care of my gunshot wound. He would have taken blood work. My menstrual cycle was supposed to start two days ago, but with all the drama and stress, I can understand why it would be late. Do I even deserve to be a mother? I failed after all. I've dishonored myself. I so badly want to commit sepukku. We made it to a hotel. Evan and I are sharing a room with two beds. He's carried me this whole time until he finally placed me lovingly in one of the beds. He pulled up the bedspread and took my hand. "Kisara." Somehow, Evan knew not to call me sensei anymore. "I am truly sorry about Grant." He began to lightly caress my hand. "I want you to now I am here for you. I'll help you get through this." I began to cry. "Upon my code of honor, with the discipline of my being, I am bound to serve and protect you with my life and bo staff." "Evan, no. You don't know what those words mean." I managed to say through the tears. "Yes I do. You made it very clear tonight what those words mean." There was a determined look in his eye. "Now I've said it, I mean it, and my first act upon it is to try to get you to sleep." I let out a small sigh. Such a meaningless act. I don't deserve devotion like this. I am unworthy. That's what the vow is about. Finding someone worthy. Someone like Grant. I am not. I don't even deserve to sleep. "Evan, don't throw your life away. Not for me." Coming soon, The Finale: Chapter 3 Full Circle More Than Words Ch. 03 As always: Thanks to "Alpineskier" for editing. Thanks to "Doc" for story consulting. Chapter 03: Full Circle 17 years and 3 months later: My Mom was a hard person to know. I suppose that's why only my Dad's immediate family and friends showed up to her funeral, and they were only here for him. It was an extremely light crowd. To be honest, I'm here only for him as well. I mean, I'm sad at the thought of never seeing my Mom again, but we were never close. While I was at school, she would meditate. When I got home, she would make me train for most of the night and then lock herself away in her room. We never talked and she never showed any emotion, to anyone. I swear she was made of stone. By the time my training was over, my Dad would be back from his dojo. We would talk, laugh, and he'd help me with my homework. He got me through all the difficult times in my life, including my first period. Looking back, that was a very comedic conversation. Basically, my Dad raised me and my Mom was just there. I never understood why he stayed with her. They never did anything together. They even had separate rooms. "Tsukiumi, are you ready to pay your final respects?" My Dad had a solemn look strewn across his face. The poor man was devastated. "Yeah Dad." I gripped his hand tightly as we walked up to the casket. I wanted him to know I am here for him. My Dad grabbed her hand and cried. I had to strain to hear him as he spoke in a hushed breath. "Upon my code of honor, with the discipline of my being, I am bound to serve and protect you with my life and bo staff." He paused. "Don't worry; I know my vow isn't fulfilled yet. I will still protect you Kisara, as you are a part of her." He then composed himself and faced me. "You okay sweetheart?" "Yeah Dad, I'm fine." We walked a couple steps, hand in hand. My mind kept wondering why he said what he said. Why would my Dad need to let my Mom know he'd protect me? The vow I suppose could mean a wedding vow, but they were never married. And what was all that garbage about honor, discipline, and being bound to serve? I now wonder if my Dad was a slave. "Dad?" "Yes Tsukiumi, what is it?" God I hate my name. "Well, I was just wondering what you meant when..." "Evan, can you come over here for a moment?" Grandma Bannister was waving him over to her. "Just a minute Mom." Dad turned to me. "What did you want to know Sweetheart?" "Oh, it's nothing." I gave a dismissing hand gesture. "Go see Grandma and I'll figure it out." "You sure?" "Yeah, it's fine." I'm actually grateful for the interruption. I can't believe I was going to ask my Dad if he was a slave. How absurd does that sound? I found the nearest seat as my Dad made his way to Grandma. "Excuse me, are you Kisara's daughter?" The voice had a heavy French accent. I looked up to see an older, slightly overweight man with a horrible comb over and a thin mustache standing before me. I had never seen this man before. "Yes I am." "I knew you were. You look just like Kisara when I met her 25 years ago." The man extended his hand. "I'm Jacques Bertrand and I am truly sorry for your loss." I shook his hand, puzzled over who this man was. "Tsukiumi and thanks." I looked to where my Dad was, hoping he'd come over. "May I sit Mademoiselle?" The Frenchman tilted his head and pointed to the empty seat next to me. "Sure." I didn't want to be rude, so I was going to wait a moment before excusing myself to the restroom. "Your mother was a remarkable woman." Remarkable, that's not the word I'd use. "She saved my life 25 years ago in Paris without being asked or any want of compensation. She just did it. I also know I'm not the only one she has helped. Ever since she saved me, I researched Kisara Akita as well as any information containing a mysterious woman carrying a sword who helped people. Not too many of those out there. You see I'm a journalist and I've been trying to get my editor to let me write an article about her. There are 23 others that I know for certainty, but I'm sure there are countless others. They are located all over the world, Paris, Moscow, Tokyo, Vienna, Buenos Aires, just to name a few. She prevented murder, rape, and even a terrorist plot. Like I said, a remarkable woman. When my latest search found an obituary of a swordswoman named Kisara Akita, I had to come to pay my respects. I was surprised it was in such a small town in the middle of Michigan, but if anyone deserved to live in a small, peaceful community, it was her." Jacques then stood. "Well it's time for me to give thanks for my life one last time. May you live life like your mother. It was a pleasure to have met you, Tsukiumi." "Alright, thanks for coming." The story of my Mom just got really strange. I mean, was my Dad a slave to a vigilante superhero? How do I even begin to ask my Dad that? A month went by and an attempt at normalcy tried to invade our lives. I had decided against asking my Dad about my Mom. I disregarded the slave thought, but kept the superhero concept, especially after a quick internet search found Jacques Bertrand was a reporter for Le Figaro, a newspaper based in Paris. I don't know why, but I focused almost all my time and energy on training. Maybe it's my way of having a closeness to my Mom who I'll never see again. I'm in the middle of another training session, beating the crap out of the wooden figure with my bokken. "Tsukiumi, Sweetheart, can you come here? We need to talk." My Dad called out. I bowed to the mannequin, I don't know why, I think I imagine I'm sparring with Mom, and then I head to the living room. Dad is sitting on the couch and looks completely pale. "Dad, what's wrong? Are you okay?" I was deeply worried as I sat next to him. Dad held my hand. "Tsukiumi, I want you to know, I love you. You are my world and I'll do anything for you. I won't let anyone hurt you and I'll always be here for you." "I know, I love you too Dad." He had my full attention. "I'm going to tell you some things you may not want to hear and some things I never wanted you to know, for this, I apologize in advance and I pray you can forgive me." "Okay." I drew out the word nervously. When a parent asks forgiveness before the conversation, you know it's not going to be good. "I don't know how they found us, but a representative for your grandmother came by my dojo today." "Is Grandma Bannister alright?" "She is, but I'm not talking about that grandma." "What other Grandma is there? I thought I was named after my other Grandma who passed away." "You were, but your other grandma isn't Grandma Bannister." My Dad took a deep breath and hung his head, almost in shame. "I'm not your father Tsukiumi." I am paralyzed. I was preparing myself for the worst when this conversation started, even 'Hey Sweetheart, I was a slave to your mother' but not this. Never this. My mouth began to move but no words were coming out. Tears started to slowly descend from my eyes. My hand was gripped tighter. "His name was Grant Chambers. A good doctor and a great man who lived in New York." "Was?" I managed to ask. "Yes. He died before you were born and it's his mother, your grandmother, Samantha Chambers who wants to take you from me. Since I'm not your biological father, I'm not even your stepfather, and she's your closest living relative, she's taking me to court for you." A few minutes of silence passed as I digested what I heard. "Dad, you may not be my father, but you will always be my Dad. I don't want to go. I wanna stay here with you." A smile graced his face and his eyes began to well up. "I'm so happy to hear you say that, but there is so much more you need to know." My Dad then told me the tragic love story between my Mother and Father. How my Father was being held hostage by my grandmother just so she can use my Mother's skills in an unethical way. My Father died during my Mother's rescue attempt. She had survived. My Mother may have died of an aneurism, but he believed her heart, which broke the day Grant died, finally gave out. She blamed herself and was even going to commit suicide if it wasn't for me. The knowledge of me spared my Mother's life. My Dad explained Samantha's intent was going to be the same with me as it was with my Mother. "Me? What's so special about me? I'm sure there are plenty of people out there more than willing to do the job." "Because you're an Akita." "I know. So?" I was then told of my heritage. How renowned the Akita clan is. "I maybe an Akita, but that doesn't mean I have those skills. I suck at martial arts. I couldn't touch Mom. Not once." Dad laughed. "No one could. You're better than most people who have been training their entire lives. I've seen her train you and there isn't a regiment like it. Did you know she began training you from the first day you could stand? There's a reason why I don't spar with you. It wouldn't do you any good as you'd kick my butt." "Really?" I don't believe it. My Dad, a person who runs his own dojo, who is so fluid and graceful with a bo staff, seriously believes I'd beat his ass. "Yes, and it's even worse now." Dad shook his head. "The past four weeks you've added focus and intensity. Sometimes I watch you and I see Kisara. It's uncanny." "Okay, for arguments sake, say I'm great, best in the world. I don't believe it, but whatever. What do we do? Do we run?" "No. Now that they've found us, they'll be on our heels forever." "Then we fight. Where are they? Where is this Samantha Chambers?" I was determined. "L.A., but I don't want that either. I don't want anything to happen to you. You are so precious to me." "Dad, the only thing Mom taught me was something called Bushido. I thought it was crap. But today, I understand what she was trying to say. You told me these people stole my Father from me and scarred my Mom so much she became a shell of herself and now they're after me. I'm sorry, but I'm going to L.A. I have to." There is a fire burning in my soul. "Wow." Dad chuckled. "Now you sound like your Mom, just with more emotion. Okay, to Los Angeles it is. But if we do this, we do it my way. You follow my lead. Understood?" He gave me his stern father look. "Sure Dad, whatever you say." We packed light and took the first flight to L.A. "So Dad, now that we're here, how do we find them?" "Easy. I have a court date tomorrow." Dad held up a court order. I waited in a café across from the courthouse. If Dad lost, which he knew he would, he didn't want me turned over immediately. Our goal was to find out who these people were and where they live. After six hours of waiting, I saw my Dad come out of the courthouse. I made my way to the rental car. "So what was the verdict?" "Well technically the court said you are to live with your grandmother beginning tomorrow, but the important verdict is right there." Dad pointed to a group of people coming down the steps. "The three power players are the older woman, your Grandmother Samantha, the man next to her is your Uncle Dave and the blonde next to him is your Aunt Danielle, your Mom's stepsister. Are you ready for this?" "What? Now?" I wasn't expecting that. "Yeah, now. What we'll do is follow them until their in an area that is a little less populated and then cut them off. If they make it to their house or place of business, there will be more to fight. Do it this way, we only have eight, the three targets and the five bodyguards." He paused to look at me. "You still okay to do this?" "Absolutely." We followed two cars, the front an SUV and the back car a limousine. After 35 minutes, we entered an area that was built for the truly wealthy. "This is it Sweetheart. Hit'em fast and hit'em hard. And let me give you some advice your Mom gave me. Don't go into battle thinking you'll lose. If you do, you already lost. Trust your training. Ready?" "Ready Dad." I took a deep breath as Dad whipped around the two vehicles and stopped suddenly. Anybody coming out of the passenger side was mine and Dad was responsible for the men on the opposite side. We got out, pulled our weapons, and darted toward the SUV. The passenger side doors to both cars opened, but I was already at the SUV. With the door open and one leg on the ground, I kicked the door right back into him, pinning his body. I sent my katana through the window, killing him. I pulled my katana back and reopened the door as gun fire from the second man rang out. The bullets hit the open door, protecting me. The man shooting was walking closer. I ducked in front of the car. As soon as he was parallel with the rear bumper, I bolted up the hood and on the roof and jumped. It was a kick that frankly, the man didn't see. He spun and was falling down. I sent my katana through his back. I looked over and my Dad was finished with his two. There was a fifth man standing on the roof of the limo. He has long black hair wearing a white suit and was clearly from Japanese descent. He just stood there watching the both of us. My grandmother, aunt, and uncle just stayed in the limo. My Dad and I apparently weren't worth their time. The man let loose a pair of hira shiruken toward Dad. One swift move with his bo staff and they stuck on the end of it. "Sweetheart, did you know you're Mom hated these? She said they lacked elegance and didn't give your opponent respect. Sir, are you disrespecting me?" The man charged at my Dad, pulling a katana from a sheath on his back. My Dad swung his bo staff twice and missed. I never saw him miss before. I jumped on top of the limo to head over and help. The man ax kicked my Dad's bo staff in half. Then his katana pierced his chest. "No! Dad!" I jumped and landed by his body. He reached for my hand. "Sweetheart, it's alright. Just promise me you won't get caught up in this. Live for your Mom and be happy in life." I cried. The man laughed. I looked up at him, my anger swelling inside my body. He laughed harder. "Let's see what you got kid." I stood and we briefly stared at each other. I calmed my rage. I moved first and swung my katana. He blocked. He countered. I blocked. The sounds of our grunts and our swords clanking filled the air. Every swing of my katana and wakizashi was blocked. Whenever I threw in a kick, he dodged it. I did the same to his attacks. We fought for nearly ten minutes. He took a step back, allowing each of us to have a quick breath, as both of us were glistening in sweat. This man was impressively good, fast. It didn't matter. I saw a weakness. "You are trained in a sacred form of martial arts." The man almost sounded irritated. "Who are you? Who trained you?" "Why the hell do you care?" "Please tell me before you strike me down. We both know you will." He spoke in a normal tone. It surprised me he showed no emotion about his death. "My name is Tsukiumi Akita. Trained by my Mother, Kisara Akita, named after my Grandmother, and I fight for their honor!" I said adamantly. "Tsukiumi Akita?" He drew out both words. "It can't be." "I assure you I speak the truth. Now let's finish this." I charged forward. He dropped to one knee with his head bowed. "You're Highness. Please forgive me for raising my sword to you." "What?" I stopped dead in my tracks. At that moment, Dave and Danielle got out of the limo. Both appeared pissed. "What the fuck are you doing Kazuki?" Dave yelled. "Stand up and grab her. We want her to come with us." Kazuki stood. "These people must have wronged you terribly for you to attack so outnumbered." The man turned and faced the evil duo. "I've wanted to do this for a long time Dave." "I told you to call me Master!" Dave shouted back. It appeared as one movement, but it was two. Dave and Danielle fell, dead. He just stood over them and stared at the bodies. "The one you want is still in the car." I understood. I glanced in the limo and I saw the old woman was trying to get out the other side. Like she would be able to outrun me. I jumped on the hood and then to the other side. There was fear in her eyes. "You tried to blackmail my Mom and you killed my Father, your very son. Any last words?" Her head bowed. "I'm coming to be with you William." I took my wakizashi and sliced it across her neck. It was over. Kazuki walked over to me. "You're Highness, now that it is done, will you come back to Japan with me?" "Why do you keep calling me You're Highness?" "Because you're Grandmother was in line to be head of our clan and that makes you the rightful heir." "You're an Akita?" "Yes, the same as you. And our first vow is always to our clan and it trumped the vow I got beguiled into declaring for that imbecile. I'm truly glad our journeys intersected and I truly apologize about your Dad." I walked around and kneeled next to my Dad. I took his hand and cried for an indiscernible amount of time. Kazuki placed his hand on my shoulder. "We need to go. Will you come with me?" I was unsure of what to do. This decision is mine alone, unable to lean on my Dad for an answer for the first time. "I will go with you after he is in the ground next to my Mother. It's where he deserves to be." "Thank you You're Highness. Our family will be most pleased to meet you."