LADIES FIRST
My heart thudded hard in my chest. I stared in disbelief, terrified that this apparition was some demon who could somehow wear the faces of the dead. But most demons were obsessed with consuming souls, not winking at me. What I hoped was not the apparition of a senile mind reached down to a CD Walkman clipped to her hip, and with the pointed claw of a manicured nail, activated a kanji-packed talisman pasted across the shell.
The first beat of the song punched me in the chest. The second beat tossed me to my feet. By the third beat, I felt no more pain or aches.
This used to be the song, the call to arms that could rally my Sistahs no matter the location. I could feel it vibrating through my bones like magic, like a war chant, like the heavy beating of a taiko drum. A newfound energy cleansed me of my exhaustion, and I became a being of pure adrenaline, spurred on by the inexplicable power of nostalgia, a heavy bass, and a dope ass beat.
Hoop earrings swayed as Little Sistah swiveled her head. She asked, with that ever-present smirk, “We knuckin’ and buckin’?”
“And ready to fight,” I said without hesitation. In my mind’s ear, I could hear those words echoing from a younger version of myself. With that one question, all my doubts dissolved away. She was real. Somehow, someway, she had survived the attack on the capital. The how didn’t matter all that much right now, because first, we had business to take care of.
As one, we turned to the wall of guards protecting the warlord.
Little Sistah laughed. “Is that a diamond in his fo’head?”
“Sis, I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head.
“Seems kind of unnecessary if you ask me. Like, who he trying to impress? You think he cries rubies and shits out emeralds, too?” Little Sistah grinned wide, vicious, and cheeky, “Let’s go find out.”
Little Sistah reached into her obi and fanned out three talismans for me to take. I grabbed all three of the offered talismans. One of them had the kanji written for HEALING.
With a glance, we wordlessly communicated the plan, and oh, how I’ve missed that—such implicit understanding.
Little Sistah took the lead while I hung back to heal before joining the fray. I applied the healing talisman under the fold of my kimono, straight to my chest. As the ink faded, I could feel the cuts healing, the bruises dulling, and the burns diminishing. Even that incessant back pain I couldn’t properly stretch out eased to a minor inconvenience.
Usually, using a talisman made from someone else’s ink wouldn’t be as effective as ink made from your own soul, but that was the true strength of The Sistah Samurai: the secret ritual we underwent upon commencement allowed each Sistah to use the talismans of another Sistah with the same effectiveness. Other than today, commencement had been the closest I’ve ever come to death, and the experience still chilled me years later. Perhaps Little Sistah and I weren’t bonded by blood, but we’ve bled together, we’ve struggled together, and we’ve fought together. She and I shared the same soul.
Little Sistah held a small sickle in her left hand, and she spun the attached chain in her right as she walked toward the line of bodyguards with a swagger to her hips. I remembered how the village guard had noted that she didn’t carry the typical blade pair, but he didn’t mention the kusarigama. That was new. It seemed we had both changed over the intervening years. This twinge of worry and concern that squeezed my heart as Little Sistah walked into the fray was also new. Back in the day, I wouldn’t have worried, but now I’ve seen the bodies of too many fallen Sistahs not to have some doubts. This damn talisman needed to hurry up and heal me faster.
The bodyguards advanced, and I wondered how much ink they had previously wasted on me. If I had to guess, a significant amount considering how hesitant and careful they were in their approach. They had certainly used more ink than they needed to, and I viciously hoped they didn’t have much left.
Various magical attacks, a rainbow of different elements, were volleyed toward Little Sistah’s direction. One wide sweep and the chain of her kusarigama negated them all. With impressive coordination, the bodyguards with active talismans stepped forward, while those who needed to apply new ones took a step back.
But Little Sistah was already flying over their heads.
In the air, she whipped the sickle end of her weapon through a bodyguard’s neck at the back of the line. She landed and dragged the body toward her. She stomped on his shoulder, retrieved the sickle, and whirled the chained weapon toward the undefended warlord.
The bodyguards scrambled to protect him. Those who were ready to attack shuffled around the ones who weren’t, messing up their perfectly coordinated lines, and all I saw were their backs. They had forgotten about little ol’ me, and I smirked at their carelessness. I unsheathed my sword. The healing talisman peeled from my chest and crumbled to the ground to join the bits of frosted and burnt grass.
I read the other two talismans that Little Sistah had given me. A shield talisman and a . . . What the fuck? I shook my head with a nostalgic smile. Little Sistah had always liked to be more creative with her seals, creating whole sentences, much to our sensei’s horror. It was a risky talisman, but I wouldn’t have trusted it from anyone else but her.
I applied the first talisman to my blade, but didn’t activate it just yet. I split an unsuspecting bodyguard’s torso in half, cutting clean through bones and armor.
Warning shouts erupted around me, but not fast enough as I beheaded the next closest bodyguard. Interesting. Despite all their supply of ink and magic, they weren’t nearly as skilled at close-range. Mediocre swordsmen at best. I activated the talisman and the corresponding SHIELD popped into existence, right before a burst of lightning fizzled around me.
I streaked straight through the lightning. The sparks forked and sizzled the ground. I deactivated the shield once I had the attacker in range of my katana. I feinted to the right, my opponent’s guard shifted, and I slashed straight through their neck. Then I ran my katana through the stomach of the guard stupid enough to charge me from behind.
The guards quickly realized they were outmatched at close-range, as well as how dangerous and difficult it was to perform the bigger magical attacks at the risk of hitting an ally now that I was up close and personal in their faces.
They loosened their formation to create space for their attacks, but I skipped between them like a kid with too much candy and looking for more. I activated and deactivated the shield as needed to prolong its use, utilizing it just enough for me to get in range with my katana. Their spells bounced off me and Find-Out took care of the rest.
An icicle shattered into a hundred crystals before my face, and then the shield talisman fluttered from my blade, expired. A strangled cry escaped from the guard who had launched the frigid attack. A chain had wrapped around their neck. The spiked weight embedded viciously into their flesh, and then the bodyguard’s body went flying, bowling into another.
Little Sistah and I had finally met in the middle.
Without hesitation, we pressed back-to-back. Our remaining enemies circled us. Little Sistah looked back at me with a smirk, and I couldn’t help but smile in turn. Just like old times.
“All the ink anyone can possibly own, and they can barely hold onto their swords,” I said.
“Figures.” Little Sistah smacked her lips as if chewing gum, just as equally as unimpressed as I was. “I’ll give you an opening.”
Little Sistah’s kusarigama crackled with lightning. She whipped it around, a much better weapon for long-range attacks and managing crowds. She provided the distraction for me to get close and block, parry, slash through armor and limbs.
Stop, pause, play.