Date: Thu, 5 Jan 1995 01:05:10 -0500 Reply-To: NancySSCH@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "N.L. Cleveland" Subject: Final Repost Aloha Ch 1.p 57-63 Aloha c 1994 N.L. Cleveland Chapter 1 p 57-63 "I just had to see that katana again. Yomo didn't want me to tag along, but I followed her here. I hope this is a good time?" Kassmir smiled urbanely, and moved towards the door. Jonathan stepped aside this time and let them both enter. Jonathan picked up his katana and brought it with him to the living room. Kassmir raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry. Jonathan ignored his expression, his senses alert for any tension, any sudden shifting of the man's muscles preparatory to making a move. Watching Kassimir from the corners of his eyes, as he looked at the woman by the couch. Yomo had laid the leather case on the coffee table. Beside it was a release form, certifying delivery. "If you would show me a photo identification, please, then sign the form." Her tone was level, even, but underneath, he could sense she was keeping tremendous emotion in check. "I'd like to see the merchandise first, if you don't mind." Was she just a messenger, or was she with Kassmir? And where were the Black Dragons? She knelt and opened the case, lifted out the velvet wrapped bundle and loosened the cloth. The ancient scabbard lay inside. Jonathan moved forward, and drew the blade. He held it next to his own. The same pattern. The same design. But the balance was different. He dropped the tip, and swung it lightly up again.The legends were true. Carefully, he laid the ancient katana down again. He stepped to a side cabinet and pulled out his current passport, turned and handed it to Yomo. "This should be sufficient." She glanced at it, looked at his face, and nodded briefly. "Please sign the forms." She held out a pen, and returned his passport. Jonathan brushed her hand in passing, and she snatched hers away as if she'd been burned. Kassmir was wandering around the room, looking at his art, his ceramics, as if calculating their worth. Jonathan tamped down a surge of rage, took the pen and scribbled his name. $600,000. Almost a quarter of his net worth. "Here." He handed the paper back to the woman. Yomo took the form, carefully avoiding any more hand contact, folded it and placed it in her shoulder bag. She tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder, then stood, looking at him. Assessing him. Waiting. "I'm sorry. I can't ask you to stay. I'm expecting...company. Perhaps another time, Atatul?" Jonathan moved to the door, ushering them out. Yomo followed him, silently. Kassmir lingered by the far wall, inspecting a brush work scroll by Mokoto. He turned and smiled again at Jonathan. The image flashed through Jonathan's mind, unbidden. He felt the sense of menace focus and stir. Yomo stepped out the door. Kassmir walked past Jonathan and closed the door behind her, then turned back to him, still smiling. < Here it comes. > Jonathan tensed, bending his knees slightly, centering his balance. He was aware of every object in the room, its location, his distance from it. "I have a message for you." Kassmir moved back into the room, to the table, Jonathan warily followed, every sense alert. "The Black Dragons asked me to deliver it." Jonathan reached for his katana on the side board, his movement quick and precise. Kassmir picked up Matogawa's katana, pulled it out of the sheath in a quick motion, twisted and slashed at Jonathan's face in a single smooth sweep. Jonathan ducked and blocked the attack, barely, the two katanas ringing as they met. Jonathan knew now that Kassimir was a skilled practitioner of iai-jutsu, the art of attacking in the same motion as the sword was drawn. With any other opponent, the fight would have been over almost before it started, with one of them dead on the floor. Jonathan recognized the shinto-ryu, the school of teaching Kassimir followed. He tightened his concentration a notch. This man could be his match. Kassmir slashed twice, up and down, and Jonathan parried, barely stopping his attack again, using nuki-uchi to press Kassimir back, combining the defense and his own attack in a single motion. The ancient katana flickered in Kassmir's hands and reached out past Jonathan's guard, stroking his chest with its cool steel embrace. Frozen flame ripped across his skin. He could feel the soft velvet warmth of blood slipping down his body, and his kimono stuck and flapped heavily as he moved, blocked, half parried what was meant to be a killing stroke. Would be, in another second. The pain was distant, not a part of him, yet. Jonathan leaned in under Kassmir's overextended reach, and felt metal strike bone as he thrust his blade forward. The shock traveled up his arm, jarring him to the teeth. Kassmir doubled over, gasping. Jonathan's katana jutted from his chest. Kassmir's hands clutched instinctively at it, tugging uselessly. "You *are* good. My compliments." Kassmir's smile spasmed. He sighed, and slid sideways to the floor. He lay huddled there, the steel blade still in his body, his eyes staring fixed and unblinking at the wall. Jonathan slumped against the couch, panting for breath, the band of fire across his chest burning, making it hard to breathe deeply. He looked around. Blood was everywhere, streaking the wall, smeared on the couch, puddling on the floor under Kassmir. He peered down at his own chest. The slash was messy, long and deep. It would need stitches. Later. It was too soon to tell how bad the damage was. He closed his eyes for a second, summoning strength, then moved stiffly towards Kassmir's body and dragged the katana out. It wasn't easy. The sword had stuck to bone. Jonathan paused for breath when he finished, fighting a wave of dizziness. A minute and a half, perhaps two minutes had passed since Yomo had stepped out his door, Kassimir had turned and smiled at thim, throwing down the challenge. An eternity. He knelt awkwardly over Kassmir's body, trying not to reopen the slash across his chest, searching the man's pockets from some identification. There was a wallet, well stuffed with cash and credit cards, the standard drivers license, a library card, membership in some private clubs, nothing more. No clue to how he came to represent the Black Dragons. A flash of metal caught his eye, at the edge of the gaping cut in Kassmir's chest. Jonathan ran his fingers along the ragged tear in the suit's fabric. He felt a resistance. He looked closer. The katana had sliced it neatly across. His fingers traced its path back to a small flat battery pack, taped to Kassmir's stomach. He unbuttoned the jacket, fumbling with the buttons in his hurry. A slight noise. Jonathan looked up. Jari, and another boy, stood at the kitchen entryway. They were frozen in shock, their mouths open in surprise. Jari held Jonathan's spare back door key in his hand. Jonathan looked closer, harder, at the second boy. He's the very image of Aki. The same delicate features, transformed from woman to boy. The same turn of cheek, curve of lip. "Hello Jari. Hikari. Come in". Jonathan skinned his lips back in what he hoped looked more like a welcoming smile than a snarl. He levered himself to his feet, using the ancient katana like a cane. The cut across his chest was stiffening, and he grimaced involuntarily as he stood, hunching over a bit. He stepped away from the body, holding his open hand out towards the boys. They stepped back, bumping into each other as he approached. "It's ok, I don't bite." He followed them into the kitchen, slowly, staring at the boy, at Hiraki. "I'm Jonathan." The boys continued to back away.