Vigilance
Explorer
“Hong Kong Knights Part 1”
Kimiko knelt on the matt, eyes closed. The sound of her breathing became her entire world. Her body was alive with sensation, muscles twitching with anticipation. Suddenly she was on her feet, her sword in her hand. Her eyes opened, slightly unfocused in the dim light of the dojo. She whirled, performing simulated attacks and defenses, parries and ripostes. The sword was a part of her and she of it. At no time did she feel more alive. More at peace.
A frantic banging broke her reverie. Swiftly she crossed the dojo and lifted a small curtain on the door. A small Japanese boy, perhaps eight or nine, was standing in front of the dojo, tears staining his young face. Instinctively, Kimiko glanced around to make sure he was alone before unlocking the door.
As soon as the door was unlocked he grabbed her hand, tugging her, he seemed panicked. “C’mon you gotta help me! It’s my brother, they’re killing him!”
v
Ari fell to his knees as another blow hit him square in the face. Stunned, he watched as the boy, taller than him when both were standing loomed over him for a moment, a hellish grin cracking his face. Ari’s arms were like lead. Compared to his tormentor he seemed to be moving in slow motion. He was unable to raise them before the boy hit him again. Ari’s heart pounded in his chest and the noise seemed even louder than the laughter and taunts that rained down on him as his tormentor turned to his friends, hands raised in a mock victory celebration.
“C’mon show us the round kick!”
“Yeah you promised you’d show us! This little punk can’t even move!”
The tormentor shrugged off his red silk jacket, “Ok, but once I unleash that bad boy, he’ll need a doctor. No more show…”
“Who cares, c’mon! You promised!”
Ari looked around, dazed, wondering what they were talking about. Wishing he could make his legs work.
v
Kimiko pushed her way through the crowd. After they noticed her, the boys, all wearing red silk jackets parted, making her way clear into the center of the circle. The crowd then closed behind her. Ignoring the boy at the center of the crowd, Kimiko knelt beside Ari. She tilted his head back, looking down critically into his eyes. “Possible concussion,” she thought to herself. At least nothing was broken.
The crowd had gone completely silent. Many looked at the boy in the center, their unquestioned leader for direction. Sure she was a girl. But she was also an adult. Somehow that changed the dynamic of the situation.
The boy’s laughter broke the silence, “Looks like the little boy’s rescuer has arrived. A girl and his little brother.”
Kimiko looked up at the boy, frowning. “He needs a doctor. I don’t know what this is about, but he’s coming with me. Go home.”
The boy just laughed again. “I still need to demonstrate the roundhouse kick for my boys here. Then you can have him.”
Kimiko stood up, barefoot, still in her practice gi, she moved between the boy and Ari. Her gaze locked with the boy’s for a tense moment, “You may demonstrate your kick.”
Laughter erupted from the crowd, but instantly quieted down, “On me. Not the boy.”
Again they seemed to look to their leader for how to respond to this unexpected development. He noticed several of his friends glancing nervously at the sword casually slung on her back. This only fueled the rage inside him. This all seemed like a challenge to his dominance somehow.
Regaining his composure, the boy grinned again, “All right then.”
Suddenly his body was in motion, a well-trained compact pivot designed to take the annoying girl’s head right off her shoulders.
Only it didn’t connect. The boy let his momentum carry around, head swiveling to locate his target for a second attack. Except she seemed to have vanished.
Kimiko ducked beneath the boy’s kick with ease. It wasn’t exactly clumsy, and he was extremely quick, but an attack she knew was coming wasn’t hard for a woman with her training to block. From a crouch she waited a split second for the boy’s momentum to carry him around, then she swept his weight bearing leg out from under him.
The boy was trying to figure out why he was on the ground. His ankle was killing him, and stars were still exploding from the back of his head where he had unceremoniously landed on the pavement.
Kimiko stood up, and with the help of Ari’s younger brother, got the boy on his feet. The crowd parted for them. The silence was deafening as they moved through the throng. A silence that was shattered by a click from the center of the crowd.
Ari seemed a little better able to walk on his own, and Kimiko whispered, “Head for the Gengetsu, then call the police.”
Turning, she saw the boy at the center of the crowd, a murderous rage in his eyes. A switchblade was in his right hand and he motioned the girl forward. Eyes never leaving the wicked little blade in his hand, Kimiko stepped back into the center of the circle.
The sound of her breathing became her entire world.
The boy lunged forward. Thankfully he was a better martial artist than he was knife fighter. Kimiko sidestepped the lunge, bringing her open hand down sharply on the boy’s wrist. He exhaled sharply in pain, and the knife fell clattering to the ground. Kimiko hooked one leg behind the boy, grabbing his shirt and using his clumsy momentum to carry him over her hip and back down to the pavement. In a heartbeat her sword was in her hand, the naked blade seemed to hum as it moved right against the boy’s throat, but no farther.
“What is your name boy?”
The boy stared up at her in stunned silence for a moment, and swallowed. Finally he croaked out, “Ryusaki Kata.”
Kimiko smiled for the first time that evening, “With a name like Kata you’d think you would practice more.”
A titter of laughter was heard from the crowd at this.
“Well Ryusaki Kata, should you ever pull a blade on me again, I will disarm you permanently. It will be your hand on the ground alongside your blade. Do we have an understanding?”
Kata’s eyes widened as he nodded.
Kimiko rose and pocketed the switchblade. Eyeing the crowd of boys, she picked up Kata’s jacket and threw it into the air. Her katana moved through it with no more effort than it did the air and the jacket landed in two pieces on the ground.
“You call yourself the Crimson Fists? Get off the street. Go home. Stop harassing other boys. I am not going anywhere. The choice is yours.”
Silence reigned as Kimiko sheathed her father’s sword and once again walked through the crowd.
To be continued...
Kimiko knelt on the matt, eyes closed. The sound of her breathing became her entire world. Her body was alive with sensation, muscles twitching with anticipation. Suddenly she was on her feet, her sword in her hand. Her eyes opened, slightly unfocused in the dim light of the dojo. She whirled, performing simulated attacks and defenses, parries and ripostes. The sword was a part of her and she of it. At no time did she feel more alive. More at peace.
A frantic banging broke her reverie. Swiftly she crossed the dojo and lifted a small curtain on the door. A small Japanese boy, perhaps eight or nine, was standing in front of the dojo, tears staining his young face. Instinctively, Kimiko glanced around to make sure he was alone before unlocking the door.
As soon as the door was unlocked he grabbed her hand, tugging her, he seemed panicked. “C’mon you gotta help me! It’s my brother, they’re killing him!”
v
Ari fell to his knees as another blow hit him square in the face. Stunned, he watched as the boy, taller than him when both were standing loomed over him for a moment, a hellish grin cracking his face. Ari’s arms were like lead. Compared to his tormentor he seemed to be moving in slow motion. He was unable to raise them before the boy hit him again. Ari’s heart pounded in his chest and the noise seemed even louder than the laughter and taunts that rained down on him as his tormentor turned to his friends, hands raised in a mock victory celebration.
“C’mon show us the round kick!”
“Yeah you promised you’d show us! This little punk can’t even move!”
The tormentor shrugged off his red silk jacket, “Ok, but once I unleash that bad boy, he’ll need a doctor. No more show…”
“Who cares, c’mon! You promised!”
Ari looked around, dazed, wondering what they were talking about. Wishing he could make his legs work.
v
Kimiko pushed her way through the crowd. After they noticed her, the boys, all wearing red silk jackets parted, making her way clear into the center of the circle. The crowd then closed behind her. Ignoring the boy at the center of the crowd, Kimiko knelt beside Ari. She tilted his head back, looking down critically into his eyes. “Possible concussion,” she thought to herself. At least nothing was broken.
The crowd had gone completely silent. Many looked at the boy in the center, their unquestioned leader for direction. Sure she was a girl. But she was also an adult. Somehow that changed the dynamic of the situation.
The boy’s laughter broke the silence, “Looks like the little boy’s rescuer has arrived. A girl and his little brother.”
Kimiko looked up at the boy, frowning. “He needs a doctor. I don’t know what this is about, but he’s coming with me. Go home.”
The boy just laughed again. “I still need to demonstrate the roundhouse kick for my boys here. Then you can have him.”
Kimiko stood up, barefoot, still in her practice gi, she moved between the boy and Ari. Her gaze locked with the boy’s for a tense moment, “You may demonstrate your kick.”
Laughter erupted from the crowd, but instantly quieted down, “On me. Not the boy.”
Again they seemed to look to their leader for how to respond to this unexpected development. He noticed several of his friends glancing nervously at the sword casually slung on her back. This only fueled the rage inside him. This all seemed like a challenge to his dominance somehow.
Regaining his composure, the boy grinned again, “All right then.”
Suddenly his body was in motion, a well-trained compact pivot designed to take the annoying girl’s head right off her shoulders.
Only it didn’t connect. The boy let his momentum carry around, head swiveling to locate his target for a second attack. Except she seemed to have vanished.
Kimiko ducked beneath the boy’s kick with ease. It wasn’t exactly clumsy, and he was extremely quick, but an attack she knew was coming wasn’t hard for a woman with her training to block. From a crouch she waited a split second for the boy’s momentum to carry him around, then she swept his weight bearing leg out from under him.
The boy was trying to figure out why he was on the ground. His ankle was killing him, and stars were still exploding from the back of his head where he had unceremoniously landed on the pavement.
Kimiko stood up, and with the help of Ari’s younger brother, got the boy on his feet. The crowd parted for them. The silence was deafening as they moved through the throng. A silence that was shattered by a click from the center of the crowd.
Ari seemed a little better able to walk on his own, and Kimiko whispered, “Head for the Gengetsu, then call the police.”
Turning, she saw the boy at the center of the crowd, a murderous rage in his eyes. A switchblade was in his right hand and he motioned the girl forward. Eyes never leaving the wicked little blade in his hand, Kimiko stepped back into the center of the circle.
The sound of her breathing became her entire world.
The boy lunged forward. Thankfully he was a better martial artist than he was knife fighter. Kimiko sidestepped the lunge, bringing her open hand down sharply on the boy’s wrist. He exhaled sharply in pain, and the knife fell clattering to the ground. Kimiko hooked one leg behind the boy, grabbing his shirt and using his clumsy momentum to carry him over her hip and back down to the pavement. In a heartbeat her sword was in her hand, the naked blade seemed to hum as it moved right against the boy’s throat, but no farther.
“What is your name boy?”
The boy stared up at her in stunned silence for a moment, and swallowed. Finally he croaked out, “Ryusaki Kata.”
Kimiko smiled for the first time that evening, “With a name like Kata you’d think you would practice more.”
A titter of laughter was heard from the crowd at this.
“Well Ryusaki Kata, should you ever pull a blade on me again, I will disarm you permanently. It will be your hand on the ground alongside your blade. Do we have an understanding?”
Kata’s eyes widened as he nodded.
Kimiko rose and pocketed the switchblade. Eyeing the crowd of boys, she picked up Kata’s jacket and threw it into the air. Her katana moved through it with no more effort than it did the air and the jacket landed in two pieces on the ground.
“You call yourself the Crimson Fists? Get off the street. Go home. Stop harassing other boys. I am not going anywhere. The choice is yours.”
Silence reigned as Kimiko sheathed her father’s sword and once again walked through the crowd.
To be continued...
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