CHAPTER 39

抵抗 Teiko

Resistance

Jet looked up at the gray ceiling and shivered. It felt as though the cold space was closing in on her. She wanted to shut her eyes, to wipe out what was happening, to dissolve into nothingness. Mercifully, Takumi did it for her. He ordered his men to bind her. They put steel rings on her legs and wrists, and then threaded four metal wires through smaller rings. Then they clamped them to hooks in the wall. She shrank into her shackles.

“Pay attention, gentlemen. Don’t think because she’s a woman she’s any less dangerous,” Takumi said, touching the wires as if strumming a guitar to check for slack. They were taut and strong. She’d be able to move only her fingers. Jet looked at him, awaiting his next move. She felt a strange sense of detachment, amazed at his cruel precision.

“You almost got away with it,” he said softly, as if consoling her.

“If I hadn’t noticed your shape, you’d have defeated us.”

She tried to turn her head toward him. Everything had happened at the speed of light. What shape? she wondered.

“The shape of your body,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I saw your shadow. There’s no way I could have missed you out there. Even before you spoke.” His lips hung on the words, and Jet tried to press her way into them, back into him, but he had gone cold.

“How long will you keep me here?” she asked.

“Until we find the treasure,” he told her. “If you cooperate, we’ll let all of you go with your lives.”

“Why are you doing this?” She tried to hold his gaze, but he looked away. In his downcast eyes, she thought she still saw a glimmer of the man she’d met in the ramen shop, the one who’d talked about his upbringing, which was so much like hers.

“It’s too late for questions and answers,” he replied coldly.

“It’s never too late,” she said, daring him to turn around.

But he didn’t. The air hung compressed around them, like a cyclone frozen in the sky.

Then he abruptly turned and left the cell. The door slid shut behind him heavily, as if in a vault.

She twisted in her binds, finding no give. Shaking with frustration, she closed her eyes. If I hadn’t noticed your shape, you would have defeated us. What he meant was: If you hadn’t been a woman. All her training, all her mother’s suffering, all her ancestors’ battles, nothing could change that. Yes, I’m a woman, she thought, heart thudding in her chest.

She breathed deeply, directing her energy to her heart center, where the locket hung undetected. She focussed her breath on its mysterious kanji. Woman.

Send me your power, she intoned. Show me the way. For now she knew there was always a way. She had to use everything around her to win, like Ojiisan had said. All she had to do was be subtler and more determined than Takumi. She grit her teeth, filled with determination. She had to be the warrior her mother and Ojiisan believed she was destined to become.

The girl had died, the woman had been born. Now the woman warrior, the kunoichi who’d been locked in Jet’s heart for years, must finally emerge.

Their lives depended on it. They always had.

In the silence, Jet became aware of another sound: the faint blowing of air from the square vent on the ceiling. She surveyed the rough gray surface of the windowless wall, the heavy metal door. There must be a hidden camera somewhere. I have to find it!

Suddenly, the door opened. A tall blond man wearing an eye patch entered. He looked smug, like a child who’d gotten away with something naughty.

He stroked her cheek. She tried to kick him away.

He laughed, enjoying her reaction.

“I was going to punish your cousin for what you did to my eye,” he said, “but now that you’re here, it only seems fair that I deal with you directly.”

“Your eye?” she said, uncomprehending.

He pointed to the eyepatch. “What’s the matter? Lost your short-term memory?”

Then she remembered. The man she’d clawed in Tokyo!

He looked up at a black spot on the wall and spoke. “Rossi here. Deactivate the cameras and mikes in this room for a while.” Then he turned back to Jet.

“No one will bother us now,” he chuckled, taking a long knife from his belt and touching the blade with his finger. He trailed it along Jet’s throat, watching her flinch. Was he going to torture her like this for a while? Or were his intentions far worse?

Jet had a feeling they were. Revulsion rose in her belly. She had to get out of there.

I can’t sit back and let this happen. I have to think of something quickly. Anything. What would get me out of here?

Breath rose high into her chest. The locket heaved as she breathed.

That’s it! I could encourage him, pretend to be interested…

The thought disgusted her, but she knew it was her only way out. She took a breath in, made her voice sweet and inviting. Henge, she told herself. Transformation.

“Why don’t you release my legs from the vise?” she said sweetly. “That way I can move better.”

For a second, he hesitated, as if considering it.

Then understanding shadowed his face, and he became angry.

“You think I’m that stupid?” He kept the knife at her throat as he fumbled with his clothes. “Is that what you think?”

“No,” Jet shook her head vehemently. “Of course not.”

All she could do was close her eyes to escape what was happening.

Then she jolted upright. Never close your eyes. At any time, in any situation, keep them open! a voice inside her said. She shook her head. Never close your eyes! Face your fears!

She looked straight at him, as if her gaze could burn through his skin. At first she didn’t realize what she was doing. Desperation had set her into motion, and now she knew that her mother had trained her in ways she could barely recall, as if she’d hypnotized Jet to give her other, deeper lessons.

Ojiisan had told her about tapping into the mind of your enemy, and Jet tried to remember how he’d done it to her in the kitchen when they passed through the walls. She continued staring, calling on the wisdom in her blood, the power and knowledge of the generations of ninja that had gone before her, and the lessons that her mother had taught her since she was a child.

Rossi sneered as her gaze burned through his eyes into his brain.

“You won’t get away with it!” she told him. “Your karma will catch up to you!”

“Karma, schmarma,” he scoffed.

But his movements were slowing. His fingers couldn’t find belt-holes or zippers. Jet continued to stare, gathering her energy and boring her gaze into him like a sword. The wider she opened her eyes to what was happening, the less afraid she was, the more she felt in control. She sensed the hesitation in him. Doubt. Desire. Anger. Fear. He was not a meditator—a decent fighter, maybe, but a brain like Swiss cheese. She understood. So this was why the best ninjas meditated. You could win with the body and still lose with the mind.

The light within the room filled Jet’s eyes, and within it, she saw the darkness of her own mind. It was a place where she could act freely. And in that darkness, Jet saw the light that would lead her not only to survival, but to victory.

Summoning all of her strength, she made her move, and it was decisive.