Sayuri Banzai Xan
By The Chronicler
London, England.
It was the day Buckaroo Banzai was born. Even a newborn, being swept around the room by a proud father, held up to be inspected by strangers, Buckaroo took it all with ease. Barely a tear shed.
His exhausted mother fell asleep just as soon as her son was returned to her arms, her husband to her side.
Dr. Banzai sat, watching his family in a daze of bliss, watching them breath, snuggling, at peace….
He had a son!
No one noticed the extra nurse as she cleaned up the room, scooping up the birthing mess and hurrying out. No one noticed how she carefully separated the umbilical cord, bagging it. No one noticed as she dropped what she didn't need on some nothing tray as she headed out the side entrance. No one noticed as she stepped into the back of a long, black limo.
Xan sipped at his champagne. "Is it done?"
The nurse nodded, holding up her prize. "Congratulations. You are about to be a father."
The evil man smiled over the rim of his glass.
Six years later….
She knelt, her back straight, her posture perfect, her hands laid lightly on her knees. Her eyes closed, her breathing even.
To anyone passing the little room, the child seemed a statue.
Silently, the assassin moved, sword slicing through the air.
The child folded, rolling across the floor. Her hands disappeared within her robes as she rolled. She landed on her feet, crouching down. Her little hands snapped out.
Before the sword had finished the swing, cutting through the air where her head would have been, two tiny throwing stars sunk deep into her attacker's throat. He was dead before he hit the floor.
With a tilt of her head, her clear blue eyes took in the sight of the body, bleeding out where, only a breath before, she had been meditating. Rising to her feet, she took a moment to straighten her robe.
A bony hand laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Marvelous, my precious child." Xan cooed. "Now, tell me… what do you think of that man?"
She looked up at him and blinked. "Why should I think of him at all?" she wondered.
Xan smiled proudly, his long fingered, bony hand patting her shoulder. "Indeed, why indeed." His chuckle rattled in his chest. Turning, he hissed "Come, my child. Time for your studies."
"Yes, Master." she answered, turning and, not giving the attack another thought, followed the ancient evil out of the room.
Eight Years later….
She was fourteen years old on this day.
Kneeling on the bamboo floor in the center of the room, her posture perfect from her silk slippered feet to the chopsticks that pinned her long, ebony hair in a bun on the top of her head. The only movement of her slim body was her eyes as they shifted from one to the other to the other of the four computers sitting on the floor around her. Each one asked her questions from a vast variety of topics in four different languages. She answered each in each language, her accents absolutely flawless, her answers perfect.
Then her head tilted ever so slightly. "Lessons pause." Then she was moving, somersaulting over her computers, rolling up onto her feet. As she swirled about, her fingers snapped out. Released from their locks, a long blade fell into each hand. By the time she had finished her turn, the blades were already wet with blood.
One of the four fell back against the wall, sliding down until he sat, dead, on the floor.
The other three didn't hesitate, leaping at her from all directions, swords swinging.
She folded back, a blade slicing through where her chest had been. One foot kicked up, sending the attacker jumping back. Her left blade sliced up the leg one man. Bracing on her right knuckles, she threw her feet up, feet spinning in the air, striking the third in the jaw, first one foot, then the other.
Then she was on her feet again, her blades spinning above her head. Each came down on either side.
The man on her left sputtered, blood spraying out from his jugular. He had bled to death before he hit the floor.
The one on her right, lurched forward, running onto her blade.
In front of her, the man who had jumped away from her first attack came at her, his own blades cutting and slicing. Sparks flew as his steel slid across hers.
Abandoning her right blade in the right body, she spun about, dodging the last attacker's second swing. She slapped the next swing aside with the back of her hand catching the flat of the sword. Her hand slid down the blade, catching his wrist, and yanking him forward. Swirling about, her remaining blade whipped up and across.
Like a hot blade through butter, the razor sharp steel sliced through his neck.
For a breath, the man stood, as if the blade had never touched him. But then his head rolled off his shoulders, bounced once on the floor, then rolled away. The body swayed, then dropped to his knees, then forward, out the door.
Both hands on the hilt of her blade, held at the ready, feet apart, braced, knees slightly bent, ready to spring, she waited for a breath, then another. Then she straightened. Pulling a silk cloth from the sleeve of her robe, she wiped clean her blade before returning it to the brace strapped to her arm. She turned to reclaim her other blade.
Xan held the weapon, resting the tip against the base of her throat.
She froze. Her heart stopped. Even the breath in her lungs.
"Tell me, my child." Xan purred as he stepped closer, raising the hilt of the blade until all he had to do was give it a little push to send it straight through her throat and down through her chest. "Tell me, my beautiful child, why did you release your weapon?"
Clear, blue eyes blinked. "I did not need it." she answered. She didn't flinch as her own blade cut her flesh, sending a trickle of blood down her throat, between her barely forming cleavage.
"If you did not need it, it would not be at your throat at this moment. You were wrong." Xan explained. "Do you agree?"
Again, she blinked. "Yes, Master." she breathed.
Xan smiled. With a twitch of the wrist, he flipped the blade and held it out to her, hilt first.
Blink. She took the hilt.
Suddenly Xan's hand snapped out, back handing her across the face.
The force of the blow stumbled her back a step, but sheer will kept her upright, self control kept her expression emotionless.
Xan shook a finger at her. "You are my daughter. Never admit failure! Never admit weakness!" he hissed. Then he turned and, stepping over the headless corpse, stepped out of the room and on his way.
Replacing the blade in its sleeve, she reached up with one finger and wiped away the blood from her neck. Taking a breath, she turned and stepped back over her computers. "Lessons commence." she commanded as she floated back down into position: back straight, hands folded in her lap, posture perfect.
Seven Years later….
She was only twenty-one years old, a slight 5'6".
Yet, every man at the table knew instinctively that this was a powerful, dangerous woman.
She glided into the room with perfect ease and poise. Her black, silk suit was perfectly pressed, every seam laying in just the right place. Her ebony black hair was elegantly braided and wound up into a tight bun on the top of her head. Her clear, blue eyes with a slight Oriental pinch shone strong and piercing. Her hands were clasped together, held at ease in front of her.
Mustering his courage, the man at the head of the conference table rose to his feet. "My Lady, it is quite improper for you to be here. This is not a place for a woman."
She blinked at him. "I will be brief and to the point, gentlemen." she spoke with a calm, song like voice. "You are no longer employed by Xan Enterprise. You have this moment, and only this moment, to gather your possessions and leave this building."
All twelve men sat stock still, staring at her.
The speaker leaned forward slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
She held up a delicate hand. "Do not beg, sir. Pardon will not be given." she explained.
Another man jumped to his feet. "You can not send us away! What gives you the right…"
Then the others were on their feet, protesting the same.
The man at the head of the table held up his hands, silencing them. "Do you know who I am? I am the President…"
"You were the President." she corrected him. "You were also a traitor."
He turned a sudden ghostly white.
She looked at each and every man, her piercing gazing stripping each and everyone of them down to his most vulnerable. Her tone remained calm and in control. "Did you think our Master would be blind? That he would not see your treachery? Your thievery? He is Hanoi Xan. He knows all. He sees all." she offered them a gentle smile. "It is only by his kind heart that I do not end each and everyone of you here, in this single breath in time."
One brave soul dared "One little girl against the twelve of us? We were killing long before you were even thought of!" He shook a finger at her. "You really think you could touch us?"
"Yes." was her simple, honest answer.
Again the President leaned forward. Eyes narrowed, he looked her up and down. "What is you name?" he wanted to know, though he had an idea. He was already silently preparing himself to meet his ancestors.
She blinked. "I am the daughter of our Master and the recreation of our dreaded enemy. I am Sayuri Banzai Xan." She blinked again. "And your moment begins… now."
The men gasped. In a rush, they pushed through the door and out into the main offices. They made it to the elevator, never stopping to gather anything. They were running for their lives. When the elevator doors opened, there was a sigh of relief.
But then the two men within opened fire.
Sayuri stood where she was, watching the President as he dropped back down in his seat. They could hear the gunfire, the screams. Then silence.
He closed his eyes, his hands dropping into his lap. "I have served our Master for many, many long years. I have fought the Banzai House for him. I have built this empire for him." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Do I not deserve the right of an honorable death?"
The girl blinked. "No." was her simple, honest answer. With that, her hand raised, she pistol aimed, and she squeezed the trigger.
Six Years Later…
The figure on the table laid still and silent as death. Her blond hair was laid carefully about her head and shoulders like a glow. Her skin so pale, her lips a light blue. The wedding gown was elegantly simple, strapless, with a beaded bodice and a flowing skirt. Bare shoulders and slender arms that ran down to perfectly sculptured hands, skin smooth and flawless. Her small, perfect feet in Cinderella glass slippers.
"She's beautiful." Sayuri observed with a tilt of her head. She looked up at her Master and Father at the head of the table. "I do not understand, Master. Why did you bring her here?"
Xan twisted his braided beard around a finger. "My Daughter, because it causes Banzai great pain to lose her." Xan reached down and held his long, sharp nails just short of actually touching the blond hair. "She is disgustingly innocent and virtuous." he sneered. "Everything young Banzai sees as good and pure in the world…. And I have taken it away from him. I have stripped him of what he desires most."
Sayuri watched him closely as he spoke, watching the lines of his jaw, the glint in his eyes, listening to the fluctuation in his tone. She studied and learned from his every move as intently as she had studied her lessons as a child. "Master," she spoke softly. "I was created to destroy Banzai."
He turned his black eyes up to her. "Indeed."
"He was within reach at the wedding. When I took his bride. I could have destroyed him then."
Xan smiled at her, pride evident in the glint of his eyes. Still… "You could have killed him." Xan shook his head. "I do not want him peacefully dead." His eyes became hard and dark, the muscles in his neck and face taunt with barely contained rage. "I want him to suffer. To destroy him one drop of sanity at a time. I want him twisted and rancid inside until he falls into the depth of evil. And then, when he can fall no further, then I will watch as his very own sister guts him like a fish!"
Unemotional, Sayuri blinked at him. "I did not kill him, because he suffers greater by surviving her. But why do I not kill her now?"
Xan shrugged, the rage gone as quickly as it appeared. "I do not care for waste." he admitted with a wave of his hand. As he turned and walked away, he called over his shoulder "Take care of her, my Daughter. Never know what uses we may find for her later." He paused at the door way. "Besides, she is your sister-in-law." He left the room echoing with his evil cackle.
Sayuri watched him go, then looked back at the body. "My sister, sister of mine" she whispered as she circled the table like a bird of prey circling a rabbit. "What can you tell me about Buckaroo Banzai? How many ways can he be hurt?" She smiled slightly to herself. "I suppose the answer to that is how many loved ones does he have?"
Four Years Later….
He swayed as if a slight breeze might finish him off. His red shirt was torn, exposing cut and torn flesh. One calf was sliced open. The other foot was twisted at a horrible angle. Blood streaked across his skin like fan blown paint. His eyes were dull, lids fluttering, struggling to stay open. Whether by thought or instinct, not even he knew which, he still clung to consciousness, still tried to fight.
She reached down and grabbed a handful of black curls. Pulling the Latin's head back, exposing that vulnerable, sun tanned skin of his throat, she flipped her hand, producing a dagger from her sleeve.
"Reno!" the cowboy yelled as he ran towards them.
The Indian woman, the bounty hunter, brought her rifle to her shoulder, but she couldn't take a shot without risking her friend.
Sayuri ignored them all as she pulled his head back until she could breath in his scent. She could smell his blood and sweat, smell his fear. She placed the tip of her dagger in the small of his back. The blade was the sharpest it could possibly be, and it slid in with little resistance.
His eyes shot open, his mouth gaped with a soundless scream.
"No!" was screamed to her right.
Sayuri ripped the blade out, letting her victim fall to the dirt, spinning about just in time to block the high kick from his girlfriend.
"Get the fuck away from him!" the oriental girl screamed as she kicked again.
Sayuri found herself suddenly angry. She had put the woman down once. She should have known that down, for these people, didn't always mean out. They were tough, determined.
Yet, she reminded herself, not tough enough.
She caught her foot in midair, lifted it up, throwing the woman off balance.
"Pecos! Get down!" the spiky haired boy yelled as he ran up behind her, gun in hand.
With a jerk, Sayuri twisted the woman's leg, her free hand coming down in a chop on the extended knee.
It was difficult to tell which sound was more prominent: the scream, or the sickening crack as her knee was snapped.
Sayuri tossed the leg aside, sending the woman tumbling to the ground to lay broken beside her dying lover. Moving on to the next task, she jumped forward, within the boy's reach, grabbing the muzzle of his gun and twisting it out of his grasp. Her dagger came in action again, sweeping up, slicing across his chest.
He tried to leap away, but Sayuri followed, taking another swing.
"Tommy, to the right!"
He twisted to the side, her dagger ripping through his shirt, barely missing skin. But her hand came down from the other side, striking him in the throat, dropping him to the ground, unable to breath, unable to recover.
Then he was there, grabbing her wrist and jerking her arm up.
Suddenly Sayuri was face to face with Buckaroo Banzai.
Blue eyes locked with blue eyes, and, for a breath, the world stood still.
But then he was moving. With a spin and a twist, he had her arm pinned high against her back. Pressing his thumb into the inside of her wrist, he twisted until he felt the joint pop.
Her fingers went numb, the dagger falling from her hand. But she kicked back, hooking her foot around his leg and kicking forward, pulling his foot out from under him.
Buckaroo stumbled back, losing his grip on her.
Sayuri spun, her foot flashing through the air. The razor edge on the toe of her slipper sliced a two inch cut just below Buckaroo's eye.
Buckaroo brought up his arm, blocking the next kick with his forearm. The razor cut again, leaving a bloody track from thumb to elbow. Again, the doctor was forced to stumble back until his heal hit Reno's leg.
If he retreated any further, he would leave his people to her mercies.
A rifle shot sounded.
Sayuri spun as she was hit in the shoulder. She lost her breath as searing pain ripped through her body. For a moment, her mind stopped functioning.
She was shot.
These people, tough and determined, shot her!
Then her mind snapped to, training and instinct kicking in. Sayuri flipped backwards, landing on the other side of the fallen boy.
Another shot sounded.
Another flip.
Sayuri felt the bullet tare at her hood, but then she turned and ran.
Even as she ran, hearing the shouts falling far behind, she smiled.
On this day she had finally faced him in his own house… and she had hurt him.
Three Years Later…
She knelt, her back straight, her posture perfect, her soft hands clasped together, resting lightly in her lap. Her eyes closed, her breathing even. She was dressed all in black, from her neck to her small slippered feet. Even the empty, leather sheath strapped to her back was a dull black. Her black hair was in a tight braid that fell down her back, so long it reached the floor.
"She hasn't moved in hours." Knuckles growled. "Maybe she's hurt more than she let on. Maybe's the time we should get in there and throw some shackles on." She looked at the others. "I'd feel a hell of a lot better if she wasn't able to move around."
Rawhide nodded his agreement.
But Buckaroo told them softly "If you go in there, she will kill you."
The two looked at him.
The doctor was so focused on the young woman on the other side of the window that he seemed almost in a trance. His arms crossed over his chest, his red rimmed glasses hanging off the tip of his nose, his black hair uncombed. His sleeve was torn and bloody, bruises were beginning to show color.
"Buckaroo, you should get checked out." Rawhide told him.
"How is this possible?" Buckaroo whispered. "She has the exact same genetic code… put aside a few manipulated cells… she could be me. My identical twin."
"'Cept she's a she." Knuckles pointed out. "Oh, and she's killed twelve BBIs, put half the Cavaliers in the ICU… again!" She threw a hand at the window, her voice raising "'Les there's a few things I don't know about you, that is soooo not you!"
But Buckaroo shook his head. "Does she know… does she understand… I have a sister… she is my sister…?" He tilted his head. "Do you think she knows who she is?" he wondered.
"Humph. She knows." Knuckles snarled. "She knows she's a cold blooded, soulless bitch who's solitary purpose in the world is to kill you. You know what I want to know? What the hell are we going to do with her? Sure as crap the cops can't pin her up. She'd go through them like a battle axe through butter."
The doctor didn't seem to even hear her. "Sayuri Banzai…" he breathed to himself, trying out the sound of it.
"Xan! Sayuri Banzai Xan!" The Bounty Hunter looked up at Rawhide, desperate for someone to get through to him. If Buckaroo didn't start thinking straight, she was sure, no matter what the Cavaliers did, he would not survive. Hell, the way this girl fought, most of them wouldn't survive.
Rawhide's eyes narrowed. "Knuckles, get out on the Gate. Until Pinky's on his feet again, you have the Institute's security." he ordered. When she had left the room, Rawhide stepped close to Buckaroo. "That is not your sister." he told his friend.
Buckaroo looked up at him. "Then what is she?"
"She is a thing, created, designed, and programmed to come after you. To destroy you. It is her only purpose in life. It is the only purpose for her life." Rawhide had to make him understand.
But Buckaroo just wouldn't give up. "We have the same genetic code, the same potential. If she had my chance in life…"
"Buckaroo, she didn't have your chance. She was damned from birth… hell, conception…. However the hell that evil bastard did it!" Rawhide grabbed Buckaroo by the shoulder, making him face him. "Your mother sang to you in the womb. Your father read to you. You were influenced by their love even before you breathed your first breath. How did Xan influence that girl? What do you think Xan sang to her?"
The two men stared at each other for what seemed forever.
But then another voice interrupted…
"I love you, you love me, lets go kill Banzai…. Eee…"
Rawhide and Buckaroo turned to stare at Perfect Tommy.
The boy shrugged. "What else would Xan sing?"
Buckaroo shook loose from Rawhide. "She's my sister. However she came to be. She. Is. My. Sister. I'm not going to just give up on her." And he started for the door to the cell.
"Buckaroo, she's dangerous." Rawhide warned.
Buckaroo paused at the door and answered simply "So am I."
Two Year Later….
It was the weight of the stare that had awoken him from a deep sleep. His room was shrouded in black, but, through the darkness, he could see those eyes.
Clear blue eyes, seeing straight through his thin skin and brittle bones to his very evil soul.
"Banzai." Hanoi Xan snarled. Instantly his hand wrapped around the dagger hidden under the mountains of silk pillows.
But then one of the torches at the foot of his bed was lit. Then the other.
Xan held up one bony hand, shielding his eyes against the sudden light. His other hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his dagger, his thin lips sucked back against his teeth. He was ready for the next breath to be his last.
But, he would make sure that this coward would feel his wraith before…
"Do not fear, my Master." breathed a musical voice. "I have not come to harm you."
Xan blinked. Dropping his hand, he dared the light to see the figure at the foot of his bed.
Sayuri stood between the torches, dressed in her black silk robes, and razor toed slippers. Her long, black hair, braided, slung over her shoulder. Her small, perfect hands clasped before her in respect and cordial.
"My child…?" he squeaked. Xan cleared his throat, forcing the confusion down, crushing his fear. Voice stronger, more in control, he said again "My child, why do you disturb my sleep?"
Sayuri blinked like a bird. "Banzai asked me a question that I had no answer for." she admitted.
Xan straightened in his bed. "Indeed?" he asked suspiciously. He had lost this precious weapon of his for many months while she was trapped in America,. Despite her evil intent, evident in the trail of blood and death that marked her escape, Xan could not help but wonder what influence Banzai had had over his sister.
A question of much concern now that she had awaken him in the middle of the night, the only person who could have ever entered his chambers without his personal guard challenging.
Well, even if they had challenged her, chances were she would have silenced them as easily as breathing. After all, she was Sayuri Banzai Xan.
Dark eyes narrowed as they studied her. "Tell me, my daughter, what is this question that troubles you so?"
Again she blinked. "I was created to destroy Banzai. It is my soul purpose, my only reason of being." She tilted her head to one side. "Tell me, my Master, what is my purpose after Banzai is ended?"
"Your purpose?"
"I am of the Banzai line." Sayuri observed of herself. "I am created to end that line. What is my purpose after I end Buckaroo Banzai? After I am the last of the Banzai line?"
Xan's raised his chin slightly. He spoke carefully, but he spoke honestly. "As long as there is a Banzai line, you have purpose. You know what that purpose is. Do you truly believe that there is an after that purpose?"
She blinked that same unemotional, tell nothing expression. After a few, quiet breaths, she admitted "No." Then she turned and stepped into the dark as silently as a shadow.
Xan stared at the dark, wondering if she really had left or if she was watching him in turn.
Hanoi Xan had lived many, many long years, had done many, many evil things. But this was first time he had ever felt truly afraid.
What had he created?
One Year Later….
The night was dark and storming. Lightening and thunder ripped apart the sky simultaneously, letting assault upon assault of rain hammer down onto the earth. Wind rushed through the air with a scream, tarring trees from their roots, smashing waves on the rocky cliffs.
On the furthest point of the rocky cliffs, all but surrounded by ocean, was a long forgotten, time and weather battered, old lighthouse, not much more than rubble. At its base, much like scene from an old samurai movie, two warriors circled one another, their swords held high and at the ready. Both were bleeding and battle worn, both swaying in the wind.
"This needs to end, Sayuri." Buckaroo Banzai yelled over the wind.
"You finally understand, Brother." Sayuri answered. "Ending this, ending you and I, is what I was created for." She leaped, sword sweeping down and up.
Buckaroo spun, deflecting the blow with his own blade.
Sparks flew, sizzling in the rain.
Again the two parted, circling.
"What, brother?" Sayuri taunted her opponent. "No attempt to save your baby sister's soul?"
"You're a killer, Sayuri." Buckaroo answered. "You've proved time and time again that there is nothing I can do about that."
"There is one thing, brother." The toe of her slipper dug into the mud. Her katana came up over her shoulder. "You can kill me!" And then she lunged.
Buckaroo jumped back, letting her blade slice through the air where his throat had been. His own katana came up and around, throwing Sayuri's blade aside. He jumped forward, into her reach, grabbed her by her robe and jerked her against him.
"Why?" he hissed as he looked down into those eyes, so alike his own he could have been looking into a mirror. "It didn't have to be like this. I'm your brother. You're my sister. We're the only Banzais left."
"And that is why it does have to be like this." she hissed right back.
Buckaroo grabbed her wrist, but it was too late.
Her dagger was buried in his side, just above his hip.
With gasp, Buckaroo's grip loosened.
Sayuri spun out of his grasp, twirling as she dropped to a crouch. When she came up again to face him, her fallen sword was in her hands.
Swallowing, Buckaroo reached down and pulled the dagger from his side. Numbly, he looked down at the small weapon: a simple, black ivory hilt; sharp, smooth, black silver blade; crimson blood pooling in his hand…
For a breath, he thought the dagger itself was bleeding.
But, his knees wobbled and his stomach twisted. And then the pain hit, spreading across his side, down his leg, across his ribs….
He started to close his eyes, give in to the pain and blood loss. His body was just too tired, he was just too war battered…
"You are stronger than that, Buckaroo Banzai." Sayuri reminded him.
Buckaroo blinked. Taking a shaky breath, his fingers tightened around the hilt of his katana and he looked at her. "What do you get out of this? Even if you kill me, Xan won't let you live. You know that. Just because he raised you doesn't change the fact that you are Banzai."
"You are not listening to me, brother. The only way this ends is if we both, you and I, the last of the Banzai line, die."
Buckaroo shook his head and chuckled.
Insanity. The only explanation: insanity!
"Fine. Go ahead. Jump off the cliff. I'll be right behind you."
Sayuri smiled. "You are just like I am, and I like you. Seeking our purpose, chasing fulfillment." She opened her arms. "This, here and now, is what we were born for, what we were created for."
"I was not born to kill my own sister!" Buckaroo yelled at her. "I was not created for war, for killing, for murder!"
Again she blinked. "I was."
Rain beat down on her, lightening lit up the sky, and, for a moment, she had an almost angelic glow.
Then her sword cut through the air, seemingly to slice the storm in half.
Buckaroo's katana came up to meet hers, and sparks flew.
With a fury of cuts and slices, spins and kicks, the two matched each other blow for blow, almost as if they were mirror images of each other. Sparks flew from their blades, giving their battle a celestial appearance.
Suddenly, Sayuri gasped, stumbling away. Her eyes wide with shock, she dropped one hand to her stomach. A red line stretched across her midsection from left hip to the right.
Buckaroo stopped, his katana held up and at the ready. He stared, equally shocked, as the red line began to seep thick, dark blood. Then gush.
Again Sayuri gasped and she started to double over. But she gritted her teeth and forced herself upright again. Shaking, Sayuri held up her sword.
Buckaroo shook his head. "Please, Sayuri… Don't do this."
"Please, brother." Sayuri spoke softly, some how making herself heard over the wind and the rain. "If you do not kill me, I will kill you."
Again Buckaroo shook his head. But his fingers tightened their grip on the hilt of his sword.
Light suddenly shown down on them. Mixed in with the sounds of the storm was the sound of a helicopter.
"Sayuri Banzai Xan, put you weapon down and step away!" came a voice over a loudspeaker.
The woman actually smiled. Letting the tip of her sword fall, she spread her hands. "You know, brother, in a way, I do love you as a sister loves a brother. You may be the only being I have ever loved. Maybe because you and I are the same. Maybe because we are all that is left of our blood line." She started to turn away, but paused. "Maybe because you are the only one able to kill me." She swallowed against pain and dizziness. Then looked back at him and smiled. "Buckaroo Banzai, when you are strong, and filled with enough hate to do what we were meant to do…. Then I will back… Then we will end this."
"Sayuri…" Buckaroo whispered.
But she turned away and ran.
"Halt! Stop where you are!" was ordered over the loudspeaker.
Sayuri ran without hesitation to the cliffs.
"Sayuri!" Buckaroo screamed after her.
And she leaped off of the cliff, diving straight down to the rampaging sea below.
Buckaroo Banzai stared in disbelief. And as his world faded and he began to fall back into deep, dark unconsciousness, he wondered was it a dream? A nightmare?
Two Days Later…
Rawhide crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the infirmary window.
On the other side his friend, brother in all but blood, laid helpless in a bed, tubes running this way and that. Buckaroo was conscious… barely… but Jersey seemed to think it was only by sheer will. He had lost a chunk of his liver and a lot of blood. There were broken bones, cuts, bruises…
Rawhide remembered the way Buckaroo's boot sloshed when he had pulled it off. At first he had thought it was rain water, but then it tipped over, pouring blood out onto the floor. None of them had realized just how hurt Buckaroo was until then. They stood around staring down at that pool of blood like… like… like nothing they had ever done before.
The big man closed his eyes a gave long, tired sigh.
"If you don't get some sleep, you're gonna wind up right in there beside him." Perfect Tommy warned.
Rawhide looked across the room to the young man. "Then get out of my chair and go do something useful." he growled. He couldn't help but be irritated with the kid. Tommy had been right beside him, day and night… so how the hell did he look so spit and polished.
Perfect Tommy grinned up at him. "Man, he's alive. Breathing, beating heart, and all… alive. Take a moment."
"How long?" Rawhide asked.
"Hell, take a day, take a night, take a damn vacation."
"No." Rawhide looked back at Buckaroo. "How long is he alive for?"
Perfect Tommy leaned forward. "You think Sayuri is still alive? Rawhide, she did a swan off a hundred foot drop into rocks and storming ocean."
Again Rawhide let his eyes close. He could still see that figure, the glint of her blade, the ripple of her robes, the splash as she hit the water. He opened his eyes and looked at Perfect Tommy. "You think something like that would kill Buckaroo?" He didn't need an answer. Tommy, like most of the others, had faith in one thing, and one thing only: that if anyone can do it, it's Buckaroo Banzai. "Sayuri has the same genetic potential as Buckaroo. If you believe he could survive, than you have to believe that she has, at least, the potential."
"Still… even Xan is celebrating Buckaroo's `evil deed'." Tommy pointed out, reminding the big guy of the message they had received from Xan only hours earlier. "If he thinks ol' Bucky killed her…"
"If he knew for sure, he would have paraded Sayuri's body across the screen, rub it in." Rawhide shook his head. "All he did was tell us she didn't return to him. Which means she's in the wind, running under her own law. Which is more dangerous than if she was under Xan's control. Least we know Xan. Sayuri on her own…" Again he shook his head, turning back to the window.
Every time they had faced the girl she had been on Xan's leash, doing his bidding. Rawhide shuddered to think what blood would run now she was off that leash.
Perfect Tommy's eyes narrowed. He looked at Rawhide for a long time, before he climbed to his feet. "Sit, before you fall over. I'm gonna get us some coffee."
Rawhide nodded, grateful to have a quiet moment to himself.
At the door, Perfect Tommy stopped. "Hey, Rawhide?"
"Yea?"
"If Sayuri has the same genetic potential as Buckaroo, doesn't it go vise versa? Buckaroo has the same genetic potential as Sayuri?" Tommy asked in hushed tones.
Frowning, Rawhide looked over his shoulder at the kid. "I suppose."
Perfect Tommy seemed intently plucking at some invisible sliver in the door frame. "You know," he said after a moment, "Sayuri's insane."
"What's your point?"
"The way he is… about Sayuri… about some things…" It was as if Tommy had to force himself to look at Rawhide when he asked "Does that mean Buckaroo has the potential of being… insane?"
Rawhide took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Does he be the big, strong leader of the Cavaliers? Everybody's rock?
Or does he tell the kid, admits that he had been chewing on that same question?
Licking his lips, Rawhide turned back to the window. "How about making that an Irish coffee? Heavy on the Irish."
Sayuri Banzai Xan
The End