Senshi (A Katana Novel) (12 page)

24

W
hen I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find myself in my own room. Even more surprising was finding Kim seated at the foot of my bed looking grim. For one fleeting moment I wondered if Kim breaking up with me followed by the ninja attack had only been a nightmare. But, after I glanced down at my bruised body and charred clothing, I’d realized the real nightmare had been waiting for me to wake.

I pushed myself to a sitting position and immediately regretted it when my vision wavered. “Whoa.” I placed a hand against my head. Another concussion was the last thing I needed. I was struggling enough in school to add actual brain damage to my problems.

Kim frowned but made no move to help me up. “You need to take it easy. You almost killed yourself trying to save everyone.”

I dropped my hand. “And did I?”

He nodded, a quick jut of the chin. “Yes. Everyone is fine.”

The knot in my chest loosened and I sagged against my pillow. “Good.” At least something positive had come out of today. But through my relief, a new sensation had taken root inside me—a raw ache in my chest. I had ninja to worry about, I didn’t need the distraction of a broken heart.

As if reading my thoughts, Kim shifted his gaze to my window. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for … any of this.”

I almost laughed. Was that his idea of an explanation? Five hundred years and that was all I got? The first spark of anger warmed my stomach. I swung my legs to the floor and stood. I couldn’t just lay there like an invalid while my world fell apart. But, without a course of action, I could only pace the floor. “So what are you doing here? You knew I was going to be all right when you got me out of the building, so why wait for me to wake? Did you want me to gain consciousness just so you could break up with me all over again? Because you could have saved yourself the trip—I heard you the first time.”

“No. That’s not—it’s just—” He swept a hand through his hair. “It’s not an easy thing to explain.” He met my eyes, his expression asking if I understood.

I didn’t.

“We spent a lifetime together, Kim. I loved you. I
love
you. I just can’t believe you would throw all of that away.”

“I know.” He stood and walked toward me but stopped when I retreated to the back of my room. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, either. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. But something inside of me is telling me this is what I have to do. I have a debt to Chiyo.”

I made a disgusted sound. “Chiyo is dead.”

“Because of me!” He sucked in a breath and stared at my ceiling. After a moment, he lowered his face and looked at me. The expression he wore mirrored the grieving warrior I’d seen under the cherry trees so many years ago. When he answered, his voice was quiet. “She died because of me.”

I thought about my sword taped to the back of my mirror and how much I’d like to grab it and smack the broadside of the blade against Kim’s thick skull. “Can you even hear yourself? Do you know how insane that is? You didn’t kill Chiyo. She was kidnapped by bandits. You had nothing to do with her death.”

His jaw flexed. “As her betrothed, she was my responsibility. It was my duty to keep her safe. And I failed.”

God, he was stubborn. Why couldn’t he see that we lived in the 21st century and didn’t have to abide by the old ways? But even before I asked the question, I knew the answer: Kim was, and always would be, a samurai before all else. And, as much as it broke my heart, the samurai in me was proud of him.

“So that’s it? We’re over?” The pain of saying the words out loud ripped through my heart like the prongs of a sai. It hurt to breathe.

Kim didn’t look so great either. His shoulders fell and every tendon in his jaw stretched taut. He took another step toward me and I took another step back.

I couldn’t let him get close to me. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I could stop myself from running into his arms and begging him not to leave me.

And Rileigh Martin did not beg.

“I don’t have a choice, Rileigh.” He took another step and this time the wall at my back ended my retreat. Son of hibachi. Kim stepped in front of me so I had to tilt my chin up to look at him unless I wanted my face crushed by his chest.

My pulse beat frantically against my temples and my fingers itched to cling to the fabric of his T-shirt and fold myself against his body. I quickly balled them into fists at my side. “What do you want from me, Kim?” As much as I wanted to, I would not look away. This was one staring contest I would not lose.

He brought his head down so I could feel his breath, hot against my skin.

“I want you to be safe. The ninja have made it very clear they are not going to stop until you’re dead. And I know you are struggling with your ki.”

A bitter-sounding laugh escaped my throat. “Please. I’m a big girl. You don’t have to pretend to care about me, anymore.”

He slammed his hand against the wall, startling me. “I will always care.” His eyes bore into mine. “Please.” He leaned his head down and I had to press my face against the wall before the urge to kiss him overpowered me. Little bits of textured plaster bit into my cheek.

“Sumi may have my vow, but you have my heart, Rileigh Martin. I will never stop loving you.”

I shook my head as much as the wall allowed it. “You don’t treat someone you love like this, Kim. You don’t leave them for someone else.” I felt the first of many hot tears trail down my cheek. Damn. So much for holding it together.

He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my face to his. His own eyes shimmered dangerously with tears. “I can’t stop being a samurai. It’s who I am.” He closed his eyes and brought his lips to mine.

It was my undoing. Every word, every thought in my head vanished until all that existed was the kiss. Our last kiss. Before I’d realized what I was doing, my arms reached around his neck, pulling him closer to me. It was as if by sheer force I might somehow change his mind.

But Kim pulled away with a gasp before I could. He backed away from me and looked around my room, his eyes wide, as if he were unsure of where he was. “I don’t—I wasn’t—” He pressed his palm to his temple and shook his head. “Everything is wrong.”

“What is?” Sumi? Our kiss? I closer to him, aware of how cold and empty I felt without the heat of his body against mine.

He looked at me. “Rileigh, I am so sorry.” He backed toward the door. “I’ve got to go.”

“Where?”

He blinked, as if he wasn’t quite sure. “Sumi,” he finally answered. “She needs me.”

And just like that, all the anger and hurt lying dormant inside of me swelled, pushing against my skin and electrifying my fingertips. The hair on the back of my neck rose in response. The pictures I’d taken over the summer of Kim and me rattled off my dresser onto the floor. “Fine. Go.” I flexed my fingers, hoping to contain the power growing inside.

“Rileigh?” Kim looked around my room from the tubes of lip gloss and mascara bouncing on the vanity to the stuffed animals performing flips off of my bed. “Are you okay?”

Why did people always ask that when it was so obvious you weren’t? “Get out, Kim.” A tendril of ki burst from my body and rattled my door on its hinges.

Kim stared at me for a moment longer. Finally, he nodded and turned to leave but paused at my door. “I can’t see you anymore.”

“What?” The shock of his words intensified the buzzing inside of me. I pressed my teeth together to keep the stream of insults from tumbling out. I was better than that. “You’re a dick, Gimhae Kim,” I said using his real name. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t better than that. Sue me.

Kim’s shoulders tightened, but he didn’t turn around. “When you’re around me, I get confused. And I can’t have that—especially when I have ninja to hunt.”

“That will be kind of hard, considering I’ll be hunting the ninja with you. I’m their target, remember?”

“I know.” He nodded. “And your safety is the most important thing in the world to me. But I have to hunt the ninja without you, Rileigh. I’m not leaving you alone—I’ll make sure the other samurai are watching—but I have to put distance between us. If you have an update, report it to the others. I can’t … ”

“What, Kim?” I spit between clenched teeth. “You can’t
what?
”

He was quiet for several heartbeats before answering, “You’re off the team—it’s for the best.” Before I could respond, he left my room and shut the door behind him.

25

Q
uentin pulled into his assigned parking spot in the school lot. He turned off the ignition but made no move to get out of the car. I could feel his eyes staring at me even though I hadn’t looked up from the latte in my hands. The post-breakup haze left me numb and empty. The heat the caramel macchiato lent to my fingers was the only sensation I’d felt in more than a week—since the night Kim had stolen into my room, kissed me, and told me he never wanted to see me again.

“How are you holding up?” Q asked, his eyes full of concern. At the very least, Quentin’s migraines had become fewer, which meant he was acting like my friend again—and for that I was grateful.

I lifted my sunglasses so he could see how red and puffy my eyes were from my crying marathons. It was embarrassing, really. I didn’t want to be
that
girl. The one who moped for months on end and stopped eating and sleeping all because a boy broke up with her. But wanting to get over
someone and actually getting over someone were two different things.

“All right.” Q nodded. “I’m sorry. Stupid question, I know.”

“I thought I was stronger than this,” I told him. “I hate feeling like my heart is this shriveled apple core inside my chest. I should be moving on. I shouldn’t be thinking about him as much as I do. And missing him—God, do I miss him.” I looked at Q. “You love psychology, right? Please, tell me how I’m supposed to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

I pointed to the school. “Just …
this.
How do I go back to my old life? Am I supposed to pretend I was never a samurai? I don’t know how to do that. How am I supposed to give a damn about homecoming dances and composition papers when half of my heart is missing and the other half is falling apart? Hell, my whole life is falling apart.”

Quentin reached over and squeezed my arm. “You have to start with now—the moment you’re in. The first thing you do is open the car door. The second is to walk into school. You have to tackle each step as it comes. Remember, your friends are here to help. C’mon.” Q opened his car door. “I’ll walk you to class.”

I nodded, hoisted my backpack on my shoulder, and opened the car door. Even with Q by my side, I couldn’t help but feel alone. When your heart breaks, you can’t help but look at the people around you who breathed without difficulty, the people who knew how to smile, and wonder how you forgot to do all of that—and if you’d be able to do it again.

I got out of the car and spotted Michelle and Braden walking through the parking lot two rows down. My heart warmed at the sight of them. Q was right. If I was going to survive this breakup, I needed to be with my friends. “Guys!” I waved my hand in the air.

Michelle frowned. Braden whispered something in her ear and she nodded. Together, they ducked their heads and hurried to the school doors.

An invisible cord pulled tight around my stomach. What the hell was that about? I knew they saw me—they looked right at me. So what was the reason for the blow off?

As I watched them disappear into the building, the ki buzzing beneath my skin amplified. It was bad enough I woke each morning with energy already humming in my veins—not a good thing for any pillows or Bunsen burners in my vicinity. The constant worry I would slip and lose control put me on edge. And to make it worse, now I had the feeling there was something going on with my friends.

On a scale of one through ten, my stress meter officially hit eleven. So when a hand clamped down on my shoulder, it was all I could do to hold on to the whirlwind swirling inside of me. But that didn’t stop me from throwing my coffee in my attacker’s face.

I rocked back on my heels and raised my arms in front of me. I was ready for a fight.

The only problem was my attacker wasn’t an attacker after all.

In front of me, Carson stumbled back blindly, his hands covering his face.

“Son of hibachi.” I dropped my fight stance and rushed to his side. Guilt stabbed through my gut. Of all the people, why Carson? Why
again
? “Are you okay?” I touched his shoulder as he frantically wiped coffee from his face. Red blotches decorated his skin where the hot liquid scalded him.

Quentin darted around his car with a look of horror on his face. “What happened?”

I shrugged helplessly. “I threw coffee at him.”

Quentin gave me a look suggesting he was considering having me committed.

“I didn’t do it on purpose! He surprised me.”

Carson groaned in response.

“We have to get him to the nurse.” Q frowned at me and wrapped Carson’s free arm around his neck. “Carson, I’m going to lead you inside the building. Do you think you can make it?”

“Yeah. I don’t think the coffee did anything to my eyes. I can see okay.” He blinked several times. “I’m not hurt. Just startled.”

“Hot coffee to the face startling?” Q said in a clipped voice. “Imagine that.”

Something told me angry, moody Q was about to make an appearance—so not what I needed at the moment. So I ignored him and focused my attention on Carson. “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m fine.” Carson looked down at his button-up flannel and the massive coffee stain soaked into the fabric. “But I think my shirt is ruined.”

“I’ll buy you another one,” I offered.

To my surprise, he grinned. “It’s fine, really. I just know better than to sneak up on you again.”

“C’mon.” Quentin gave Carson’s arm a gentle tug. “I’ll take you to the nurse just to be safe. I need to go there anyway and get some ibuprofen—I’m feeling one of my migraines coming on. Then we can stop at my locker. I keep a few extra shirts in there.”

“Yeah, okay.” Carson pulled at his shirt. “This stuff stinks.”

My cheeks burned. “I’m so sorry.”

He waved my words away. “Forget about it. I thought if I snuck up on you I might make you laugh. You looked so sad this week I wanted to make you smile.” He shrugged.

Wow. Just a second ago I’d thought I couldn’t feel any worse. There’s nothing like dumping a caramel macchiato on a boy who’s just trying to make you feel better. That plan backfired.

“Please don’t feel bad, Rileigh,” Carson said. “It was an accident. And it was my fault for sneaking up on you. Besides”—he gestured to Q—“if I borrow one of Quentin’s shirts, then I won’t smell like a coffeehouse all day.”

I offered him a weak smile.

Quentin shrugged. “You’re forgetting the most important point. You
get
to wear one of my shirts. This is a privilege. I have incredible taste.”

“I’ll say.” Carson’s eyes lingered on my face long enough that heat burned up my neck into my cheeks. I didn’t think he was talking about clothes anymore.

I walked behind Quentin as he led Carson to the school entrance. Once they’d passed through the doors, I stopped. The tingling in my fingertips remained. Today was the first day the buzz under my skin showed no signs of relenting. Definitely not good. I’d hoped I’d gradually be able to regain control of my raging ki. But the reality was what little control I had was slipping away each day.

I turned and walked away from the building to the bus stop down the block. I heard the metal door squeak open behind me as I made my retreat.

“Where are you going?” Q called behind me.

“Mental health day,” I answered without stopping. I had to figure out how to get my ki in check before something really bad happened. Everything had a breaking point and I was dangerously close to mine.