Disclaimer: Yuriko Oyama is not my character. This has nothing to do with
comic-verse Yuriko.
Blood and Sand
I was just sitting on the jutting ledge of the beach. I was letting the cool salt air swirl through my nostrils and kiss my eyes. Like a swarm of angels, a sudden wind caused a flurry of sand to slap me in the face. It stung. A smile played on my lips, happy to be so in tune with this place that we were unafraid to hurt each other. Just to prove to the beach that I was unafraid, I scooped a handful of pebbles, soft sea rocks, into my hand and flung it into the waves. It roared back.
My mother would be calling soon, crying for me to come home to the villa and try her cherry pie.She'd say, "Yuriko Yuki Oyama! You come here now! We don't come to America to stay by beach, you do in Japan too!". Then she'd tell me, in that artfully broken English of hers, that in Japan, I'd be working by now. She'd pat my head, try to rearrange my hair and scold me when I took it out of it's bun. Then she'd tell me to try her pie, "an American favorite", and give her advice. I never understood why she asked me for advice. She knew I was the worst cook in all of California.
Just as I'd expected, I heard her voice call me in. Swatting sand from my rear and shaking it from my boots, I let my eyes wander around the edge of the manzanita. A strange feeling washed over me, a sudden intense energy in the atmosphere. Being a girl of thrills, I felt the adrenalin rush as a sixth sense told me of something new, something fascinating and almost scary. I crept towards the manzanita bushes.
"Yuriko Yuki Oyama! Get here for dinner!" With a slight sigh, I sauntered into the villa we had bought off of Dad's inheritance. Mama bustled about and straightened my shirt and socks. I was still a girl, even though I had reached and passed twenty.
"Here, try some my pie." Mama pushed me a plate of pie, pumpkin instead of cherry. The scent of cinnamon and nuts wafted from the kitchen. Though I always tried to maintain my figure, I couldn't resist and devoured four pieces of pie.
"Advice?" Mama shuffled about, making the house pristine.
"I think I'd be taking advice from you, Mama." I said, careful to lace my sentence with a pleasing tone.
Mama ceased her cleaning frenzy and leaned against the window. "Why you not have job yet, Yuriko? You smart, pretty, good girl."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Because who'd be here to take care of you?"
Now it was Mama's turn to roll her eyes. "You no do nothing for me anyway."
Our cat Mi-Ke wound herself between my feet. I leaned down, running my fingers through her luxurious fur. It's strange, now that I look back, how much I miss those little things. I miss the smudge on Mama's lipstick, I miss the tinkling bell of Mi-Ke, I miss the scent of spices in the air.
"Yuriko, can you go get me seashell for decoration? We have visitor tonight." She resumed her frantic actions of tidying. Vaguely, I wondered who the guest was. Neither Mama nor I worked, we lived off of Dad's inheritance. It was uncommon to have a guest around.
Probably the reason we didn't have a centerpiece. I made my way down from the back door over the rocks, scrambling for footholds. Since I was a child, before I knew English, I'd clamber over these stones, slipping on falling on the slippery edges. It was dangerous, I knew, but I was infatuated with the challenge. Nowadays moving down them was my common practice.
Unfortunately, I caught site of the manzanita. The same sudden adrenalin rush moved into my senses. Something was out there, something new and unknown. So instead of taking the easier, worn path, I headed towards the bushes, careless. The algae from the sea had coated the surface, making traction hard. Being my cocky, confident self, I attempted to jump between the rocks, over one and then over two.
My elbow slammed against a sharp edge as I lost my footing and tumbled down. My eyes snapped open with the unsuppressed fear that I'd break my neck. Ever fortunate, I thudded into the wet sand below with my neck intact.
I struggled up in the damp sand, wiping clods of earth from my nose. I twisted my arm to look at my elbow. The skin, scraped white, was starting to bleed. For a second I watched it. Then a sudden noise jarred me back to reality.
"Who's out there?" A rustle from the manzanita caught my eye. "Who is it?"
The manzanita bush lay still, outlined against the setting sun. For a while I watched it, then turned back to my elbow.
There was no mark.
I checked my other elbow, wondered if I was imagining it. Nothing. I checked my knee, which had been skinned in the fall. Nothing but a slight tad of blood, but the skin was unbroken. I stared harder at it, hoping that it would start to bleed again, yet at the same time reveling in my newfound secret.
More noise from the manzanita.
"Who is it?" I called again, getting angry by now. Now I wasn't imagining. The bush rustled and shook and I looked closer, started moving back up the rocks, careful this time. I was two feet away yet saw nothing.
Then I saw the barrel of a gun.
A scream tore from my throat like the bullets ripped their way out my backside. I tumbled down the rocks again, a bloodied mess, no longer able to howl for help because of the pain. More guns, more bullets. They slammed incessantly into me, as one thought crossed my mind.
Why aren't I dead?
The answer, or so I thought, came soon enough. Vision blurred because of my tears, I gave a choked sound from the blood and bile in my throat. I heard Mama shriek and the sound of more bullets. Incessantly, lead slammed into my body, and I knew it was a matter of time before they hit my head and I died instantly.
"Please...shoot for the head..." I tried to talk around my weighted tongue and the fluid leaking from my mouth. Just let it end! Fresh holes were torn into me, each one as painful as the last. It was a miracle I was even forming coherent thoughts by now. Racking shots ravaged my body, killing me yet still letting me know I was alive. There was no pain in death, why didn't they just kill me?
After a while, something different, something small and sharp, slipped into my neck and the guns stopped. I felt no pain. An unearthly calm slipped over me, a cover against the chaos in my body. Blood slid from my mouth, leaked from my torso, streaked my legs. I could no longer see. Nothing mattered. Nothing ever did.
From that moment, Yuriko Yuki Oyama was dead. And Lady Deathstrike was brought into existence.
Blood and Sand
I was just sitting on the jutting ledge of the beach. I was letting the cool salt air swirl through my nostrils and kiss my eyes. Like a swarm of angels, a sudden wind caused a flurry of sand to slap me in the face. It stung. A smile played on my lips, happy to be so in tune with this place that we were unafraid to hurt each other. Just to prove to the beach that I was unafraid, I scooped a handful of pebbles, soft sea rocks, into my hand and flung it into the waves. It roared back.
My mother would be calling soon, crying for me to come home to the villa and try her cherry pie.She'd say, "Yuriko Yuki Oyama! You come here now! We don't come to America to stay by beach, you do in Japan too!". Then she'd tell me, in that artfully broken English of hers, that in Japan, I'd be working by now. She'd pat my head, try to rearrange my hair and scold me when I took it out of it's bun. Then she'd tell me to try her pie, "an American favorite", and give her advice. I never understood why she asked me for advice. She knew I was the worst cook in all of California.
Just as I'd expected, I heard her voice call me in. Swatting sand from my rear and shaking it from my boots, I let my eyes wander around the edge of the manzanita. A strange feeling washed over me, a sudden intense energy in the atmosphere. Being a girl of thrills, I felt the adrenalin rush as a sixth sense told me of something new, something fascinating and almost scary. I crept towards the manzanita bushes.
"Yuriko Yuki Oyama! Get here for dinner!" With a slight sigh, I sauntered into the villa we had bought off of Dad's inheritance. Mama bustled about and straightened my shirt and socks. I was still a girl, even though I had reached and passed twenty.
"Here, try some my pie." Mama pushed me a plate of pie, pumpkin instead of cherry. The scent of cinnamon and nuts wafted from the kitchen. Though I always tried to maintain my figure, I couldn't resist and devoured four pieces of pie.
"Advice?" Mama shuffled about, making the house pristine.
"I think I'd be taking advice from you, Mama." I said, careful to lace my sentence with a pleasing tone.
Mama ceased her cleaning frenzy and leaned against the window. "Why you not have job yet, Yuriko? You smart, pretty, good girl."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Because who'd be here to take care of you?"
Now it was Mama's turn to roll her eyes. "You no do nothing for me anyway."
Our cat Mi-Ke wound herself between my feet. I leaned down, running my fingers through her luxurious fur. It's strange, now that I look back, how much I miss those little things. I miss the smudge on Mama's lipstick, I miss the tinkling bell of Mi-Ke, I miss the scent of spices in the air.
"Yuriko, can you go get me seashell for decoration? We have visitor tonight." She resumed her frantic actions of tidying. Vaguely, I wondered who the guest was. Neither Mama nor I worked, we lived off of Dad's inheritance. It was uncommon to have a guest around.
Probably the reason we didn't have a centerpiece. I made my way down from the back door over the rocks, scrambling for footholds. Since I was a child, before I knew English, I'd clamber over these stones, slipping on falling on the slippery edges. It was dangerous, I knew, but I was infatuated with the challenge. Nowadays moving down them was my common practice.
Unfortunately, I caught site of the manzanita. The same sudden adrenalin rush moved into my senses. Something was out there, something new and unknown. So instead of taking the easier, worn path, I headed towards the bushes, careless. The algae from the sea had coated the surface, making traction hard. Being my cocky, confident self, I attempted to jump between the rocks, over one and then over two.
My elbow slammed against a sharp edge as I lost my footing and tumbled down. My eyes snapped open with the unsuppressed fear that I'd break my neck. Ever fortunate, I thudded into the wet sand below with my neck intact.
I struggled up in the damp sand, wiping clods of earth from my nose. I twisted my arm to look at my elbow. The skin, scraped white, was starting to bleed. For a second I watched it. Then a sudden noise jarred me back to reality.
"Who's out there?" A rustle from the manzanita caught my eye. "Who is it?"
The manzanita bush lay still, outlined against the setting sun. For a while I watched it, then turned back to my elbow.
There was no mark.
I checked my other elbow, wondered if I was imagining it. Nothing. I checked my knee, which had been skinned in the fall. Nothing but a slight tad of blood, but the skin was unbroken. I stared harder at it, hoping that it would start to bleed again, yet at the same time reveling in my newfound secret.
More noise from the manzanita.
"Who is it?" I called again, getting angry by now. Now I wasn't imagining. The bush rustled and shook and I looked closer, started moving back up the rocks, careful this time. I was two feet away yet saw nothing.
Then I saw the barrel of a gun.
A scream tore from my throat like the bullets ripped their way out my backside. I tumbled down the rocks again, a bloodied mess, no longer able to howl for help because of the pain. More guns, more bullets. They slammed incessantly into me, as one thought crossed my mind.
Why aren't I dead?
The answer, or so I thought, came soon enough. Vision blurred because of my tears, I gave a choked sound from the blood and bile in my throat. I heard Mama shriek and the sound of more bullets. Incessantly, lead slammed into my body, and I knew it was a matter of time before they hit my head and I died instantly.
"Please...shoot for the head..." I tried to talk around my weighted tongue and the fluid leaking from my mouth. Just let it end! Fresh holes were torn into me, each one as painful as the last. It was a miracle I was even forming coherent thoughts by now. Racking shots ravaged my body, killing me yet still letting me know I was alive. There was no pain in death, why didn't they just kill me?
After a while, something different, something small and sharp, slipped into my neck and the guns stopped. I felt no pain. An unearthly calm slipped over me, a cover against the chaos in my body. Blood slid from my mouth, leaked from my torso, streaked my legs. I could no longer see. Nothing mattered. Nothing ever did.
From that moment, Yuriko Yuki Oyama was dead. And Lady Deathstrike was brought into existence.