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.