Episode 23: Kurenai
I
Yuna's grip was firm on the edges of the wooden plank. Her knuckles felt like steel. When the punch finally came, both her hands and the wood would be tested, and only one could win.
Then Taro struck the board, and both the wood and Yuna's hands found that they could both win after all.
"Ow," Taro muttered, rubbing his knuckles. He was already a small kid, but he shrank even further as his fellow students watched on with bitingly disappointed gazes.
"Um..." He said, his voice barely loud enough for Yuna to hear. "Can I try again, Kamihara-sensei?"
"Next week, Hanba-san," Yuna said. "Spend some more time training, and you'll get it. I know you will."
"Oh...Okay."
With that, teacher and student exchanged bows. Taro went to join his classmates, his gi making him seem less like a warrior in the making and more like a frightened child wearing pajamas. Yuna had learned a great deal from her students, but among the most valuable lessons was that people were much more than what they wore.
Yuna looked up and down the line of students at the edge of the blue mat. She felt like a shark circling a deserted island, waiting for someone to fall into the water. All eyes were on her, and all hands, save for two pairs, held tight to one half of a split board. Yuna wondered how long each student would keep their halves. Who would bring home something forever changed by their effort, training, and passion? Who would bring home two meager pieces of broken wood?
Aside from Taro, only one other student was without a broken board. Every other face was stone, but this one was twisted into a smirk. Yuna imagined a mischievous yokai disguising itself among a row of statues.
"And lastly," Yuna said, "Your turn, Piko."
Piko stepped onto the mat as Yuna held the board out at arm's reach. The smirk twisted further.
Yuna had already held a board out to a student seven times today. Every other time had felt like she was extending her hand to them. Watching Piko's smile curl, she felt instead as though she were raising a shield.
"When you're-"
Yuna spoke and seemed to summon a fist careening into her chest. Her arms, clutching two halves of a screaming, shattered board, flew back towards her as if in retreat. The fist had only just touched her, but it was enough to force Yuna to dig the balls of her feet into the cold, coarse foam of the mat.
She refocused herself, just as she always told her students to, and found Piko again. She seemed to have never moved. The punch may as well have been telekinetic.
"Sorry, sensei," Piko said. "I guess I don't know my own strength."
Yuna stood up straight, placing the two split halves together. As the sensei, she could do whatever she wanted. She imagined kicking Piko across the jaw, erasing that crooked smirk. To the students, it would be a justified show of discipline. But what else might they learn from it? What might Piko learn from it?
Yuna abandoned the idea. She could do whatever she wanted, but the trick was wanting to do the right things.
"I believe," Yuna said, holding out the broken board, "that you know your own strength very well, Ito-san."
Piko's smirk dissolved. She took the board, bowed, and joined her statuesque classmates. Taro seemed to shrink even smaller at the sight of her.
"You have all done very well today," Yuna announced. "But remember that this is only another step in your journey. You are still only a fraction of the master you will one day become, but a greater fraction all the same."
Her students were entranced by her words. Piko, however, seemed distant. Yuna may as well have been telling her a bedtime story.
"Before I dismiss you, I want to hear you all recite our three defining principles."
A choir of firm, impassioned voices rang out. They would have sounded magnificent were it not for the infection of Piko's drab tone.
"We shall defend the weak!"
"We shall show compassion for friend and foe alike!"
"Ichariba chode! All who cross our paths, no matter how briefly, are family!"
II
Yuna's walk from the dojo to her home was always strange. In many ways, it was exactly the release she needed after a class. The cool grass carpeting the forest path felt even softer following an afternoon on a coarse, padded mat. The twittering of terns was a relief to her ears after mainly hearing hi-yaas and shattering wood all day.
As refreshing as it was, Yuna never quite felt as though the sensei had remained at the dojo. Despite beginning and ending every lesson by reciting the three principles, she knew they were not as easily enforced outside the dojo as they were within. Inside those four wooden walls, Yuna was the peacekeeper of her own infinitesimal piece of the world. But if anything happened outside, she would have no more power than the twittering terns that flitted among the trees above her.
The forest path opened, revealing a small wooden house with a tiled roof that reached towards the sky like an arrowhead. The sight of it lifted a tremendous weight from Yuna's shoulders. She entered briskly through the front door, finally completely shedding the skin of the sensei.
"I'm home, Obaa-chan," she chirped as she kicked her shoes off. She lined them up in the corner beside the door, where they would eagerly await her next outing. They sat beside only one other pair, which seemed glad for the company.
Yuna turned left, gazing into a room centered with a knee-high wooden table surrounded by cushions. The table was decorated with a glistening violet teapot. Steam rose from its spout, twirling and dancing as it vanished into the air. Sat cross-legged on the other side of the table was an old woman with her silver hair tied in a bun. Yuna thought she resembled a statue of a great, wise spirit beckoning her towards a shrine.
"My magnificent sensei returns," Obaa said. She smiled as Yuna sat down across from her and poured herself a cup of tea.
The steam brushed Yuna's cheeks with a minty aroma.
"How was it today?" Obaa asked, savoring a sip from her tea.
"It was good," Yuna said. "Taro almost broke his board. I think he'll do it next week."
"I think so too. Did anything bother you today?"
Yuna could still feel the fist against her chest.
"No," she said.
Obaa raised a grey eyebrow. "Nothing at all?"
"Nothing important." Yuna took a slow, careful sip. The tea's minty warmth washed over her, smothering the feeling of the ghostly fist.
"Not important to you?" Obaa asked. "Or just not important enough to tell me?"
Yuna looked into her brown eyes. She was only 14, but her grandmother was 74. Though they were only separated by a wooden table, Yuna knew that Obaa looked at her from across a six-decade-wide chasm. Her eyes warmed Yuna, but the chasm was always visible.
It had been since Ojii...
"Just Piko," Yuna said.
"That girl from the inner lands?"
"Yeah. She just doesn't get it...I don't know how she can even say the three principles every class."
"Yet you allow her to stay, so you must believe she can change."
"I hope so. I just don't know what it will take..." Yuna took another sip. She drank more than she thought she would. When she was done, she found her grandmother offering her a letter.
"What's this?"
Obaa smiled. "Something to cheer you up."
Yuna took the envelope, opening its flap with precision so it might be reused. The paper inside contained several paragraphs, but to Yuna, they were merely camouflage for a single sentence.
Your application to join the 17th Annual Okinawa Karate Tournament has been accepted.
Yuna felt as though she'd just stepped off of a rollercoaster. Her heart slingshotted away from her and then ricocheted back.
"Congratulations," Obaa said.
"How did you know?" Yuna said.
"Do you think I'd ever even dream that you wouldn't be accepted?" Obaa had another careful, savored sip.
Yuna tried to think up the perfect words to thank her grandmother. They never came. Instead, she simply went around the table and hugged her. She thought that would be better than any words. After all, Obaa could talk to anyone around town, but how many other people did she have to hug?
As they hugged, Yuna glanced once more at the letter. She spotted a tournament bracket near the bottom. She found the box with her name, wondering who she'd be up against first.
What she found crumpled her heart up like a used wrapper.
Piko Ito.
III
Yuna knew that she should be training. Tomorrow morning, between the bus ride to the tournament dojo in the city, the tournament itself, dinner afterward, and the bus ride home, there would be little time for training. However, Yuna felt that even a lifetime of the most vigorous exercises possible wouldn't make her feel prepared for tomorrow.
A walk through the forest at dusk, at the very least, helped her to relax. Pillars of orange light fell through the green leaves. They seemed deliberate, as if they were constructing a majestic foyer just for her.
Thinking of tomorrow felt surreal. Yuna tried to imagine the excitement of her first tournament, the audience's anticipation, the masters welcoming her. She tried her hardest, but she always found the audience filled with Pikos staring her down. Instead of a wise, welcoming master, there was only Piko's judging glare.
Dreaming of the future was getting her nowhere, so Yuna turned instead to remembering the past.
"What do you think, Ojii?" She asked out loud. "Do you think I can beat Piko?"
If I say yes, will that somehow give you some strength or skill you don't already have?
"I don't know," Yuna chuckled. "Maybe."
Then yes, I think you can beat Piko. If that's all that matters to you.
"It's not all that matters."
It mattered enough for you to ask.
"I just...If I can beat her, it might show her that being good at karate, or knowing karate at all, doesn't make her better than anyone else."
Do you really think nothing in any of your lessons was enough to make her see that already?
"...I don't know."
Some people will always tilt their heads so they can see the world exactly the way they want. Any faults they find are other people's, not their own.
"How do you help someone like that?"
You might spend your whole life trying to help them. I certainly did. You can show them any bridge you like, but crossing is a decision they must make in their own time.
Yuna shut her eyes and listened. The leaves whistled in the gentle breeze. She could hear the swift, ghostly swipe of Ojii's kun.
"I just wish I didn't have to fight her," she whispered. "If I lose..."
Everyone loses some fights.
"But this one..."
Why should losing to Piko make you the worse fighter?
Yuna opened her eyes. She looked up, expecting to see Ojii's withered, shadowed, yet tender smile. There was only the orange sunlight peeking through the tree branches overhead.
The forest made it easy to forget.
The whistling wind harmonized with footsteps behind Yuna. They were light but rapid, like a torrent of hailstones.
Yuna turned. She was barely quick enough to avoid a slicing, leaping roundhouse kick from a crimson leg. Her lungs were on fire; she had been lost in her head for so long that she couldn't be sure whether she'd dreamed the kick up or not. It had come at her like a missile but hit the tree behind her like a butterfly.
Yuna tried to look at her assailant, but the foot bounced off the tree and struck her in the shoulder. She rolled along the grass, barely managing to catch herself on a knee and a palm.
"What was that for?!" She demanded.
She finally got to see who she was up against. It was a creature about as tall as her, covered from feline head to clawed toe in firey-red fur. It had an explosive silver mane, a long, flowing brush of a tail, and gauntlets of fur around its wrists and ankles, all of them quivering in the wind like bursts of white flame. It planted its feet firmly on the grass, raised its fists in front of its maw, and snarled with a mouthful of ocean blue teeth.
At the very least, its stance was near perfect.
"It can't be..." Yuna whispered, rising to her feet. "A yokai..?"
"I want to be alone," the creature said. Its voice was feminine yet deep. Yuna imagined Obaa having a similar voice in her younger years.
"Get out."
"You don't own the forest," Yuna said. Her fists were already in front of her chin. They'd risen without her command like loyal guard dogs.
"I've come here my whole life, and so did Ojii and lots of other people."
"I haven't been here your whole life," the creature said. "Now I am."
"That doesn't mean you just suddenly own this place! It's nature! You don't have any more right to it than anyone else!"
"Incorrect."
"Incorr-?!"
Yuna suddenly found the creature rushing towards her again. As it pounced at her, she loosened her fingers, ready to catch its foot when it sent out another slicing kick.
As the creature fell, its leg moved as though it were about to lash out. However, the kick never came. Yuna had only a second to realize the feint before her feet were kicked out from beneath her.
Hitting the grass hurt differently than hitting the mats in the dojo. Not more or less; just differently. At the very least, the dirt smelled fresher than the fabric.
Yuna straightened up, throwing up her left palm fast enough to catch a descending fist. The punch carried on, missing Yuna's head, but determined to see its task through regardless. Yuna couldn't stop the fist, but she could keep hold of it, much to the disdain of her shoulder. She held the fist even as it returned to its monstrous owner.
On the one hand, being so near that snarling blue maw terrified Yuna. She felt as though those jaws might bite her heart out before she could even see them coming. On the other hand, she was in perfect uppercutting distance.
An uppercut led to a hook, then another hook. Yuna kept her combo going, striking quickly and striking hard, just as Ojii had always instructed.
She landed a perfect blow on the creature's cheek. The creature fell backward, and Yuna's heart shot upward. Had she beaten the challenge?
She hadn't, which she discovered as a padded sole careened into her chest.
For a few seconds, Yuna was flying. The wind rushed out of her throat. For a moment, she forgot her pained chest and her racing heart and enjoyed the thrill of being airborne. Then she was skidding along the grass, and her fury came bubbling up again.
She held her burning back as she stood up. A thick film of grass and dirt was stuck to it. She pushed through the pain, returning to her fighting stance.
She looked around. The creature had vanished. Yuna considered standing her ground, readying herself for another counterattack.
You already tried that. You can't outmatch it, so what else can you do?
I can outwit it, Yuna thought.
I knew you'd been paying attention.
Yuna bolted through the forest, strafing between the trees, hoping that, wherever the creature was, it wouldn't have a clear shot at her. She was sure that it could track her, if not by scent then perhaps by some sort of supernaturally-enhanced vision. She imagined watching herself from the treetops, a fleeing, grass-stained red shirt amid a sea of green. She stopped imagining; it was frustratingly unhelpful.
She managed a heaving, relieved sigh when she heard rushing water. She skidded to a stop at the edge of the river. On any other day, it would've been a calming sight. The distance between Yuna and the other side, which only a fallen tree could've bridged, would've been nothing but a passing curiosity. The depth of the water, which Yuna was unsure of, wouldn't have mattered. It would've been a sight to behold, a spot to meditate, to practice with Ojii. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yuna only wished she'd been more curious before. For better or worse, she was about to learn the answers to those pointless questions. All she had to do now was-
"AH!"
The kick came like a falling star. Even in her alerted state, Yuna could never have seen it coming. As she fell backward into the river, her hands saw her plan through. They reached out and seized the creature's ankle before it could retract its leg. She gripped the limb as tightly as she could as both fighters plummeted. Yuna wondered if the creature's foot was going as numb as her knuckles.
The water was warmer than she thought it would be. It was deeper, which was helpful, but it was also much stronger. The water pushed against her like a thick gust of wind.
As the river dragged her away, she felt herself being dragged down by the arms. She turned and looked down through the mist and the bubbles, finding the creature going limp as it sank to the stone-cluttered riverbed.
She'd done it. She'd won. All she had to do now was get back on land.
We shall show compassion for friend and foe alike.
No. That wasn't all.
Yuna heaved the creature into her arms. Despite the power behind its strikes, it had seemed light on the forest floor. Yet, as Yuna kicked their way to the surface, she felt like she was carrying an armful of stones from the riverbed.
She screamed for air. The river was carrying them away as though it were being pursued.
Up ahead, Yuna spotted a cave embedded in the wall of the riverbank. A thick, viny branch stretched from it, waving like the hand of a would-be rescuer.
Yuna knew that she could catch it with two hands. However, it was another challenge entirely with only one hand. She considered dropping the creature. After all, it had thrown the first hit. It was the only reason either of them was trapped in this kidnapping river. Yet Yuna's arm was tight around the creature's chest.
Maybe she couldn't bear to let the creature go.
Maybe she was just too cold to move.
Yuna reached out towards the branch. It seemed to retract as she careened ever closer. She envisioned herself back home, wishing Obaa good night as she went up to bed. Before that, she had to get on land, and before that, she had to get into the cave. But first, she needed to get a hold of the branch. If she could make that happen, then everything else would happen.
She reached out as far as she could...
I knew you could do it.
And caught the branch.
IV
The creature finally stirred as Yuna got the fire started. She wondered if it had already been awake for some time, and had only been waiting until Yuna had done all the work of gathering dry sticks from the cave floor.
Yuna sat against one wall of the cave as the creature straightened up against the opposite wall. Now that it was still, Yuna could get a proper look at the creature's eyes. They were the same reddish-brown as rusted metal. Yuna remembered the decades-wide chasm in Obaa's eyes. The one in the creature's eyes was just as wide.
Eventually, Yuna got sick of listening to the rushing river beside them.
"So," she said, "what's your name?"
The creature blinked. Its face wrinkled into a look that was either irritation or confusion.
"Experiment 461," it said. Its voice was deeper than Yuna expected. Somehow, she could imagine Obaa having a similar voice in her youth.
"That's a strange name," Yuna said.
"What should I be named, then?" 461's face was unchanged.
"Well, my name's Yuna."
"And I think that's a strange name."
Yuna's face seemed to mirror 461's of its own accord.
"Why did you attack me?" She asked.
"I told you," 461 said. "The forest is my home. You were trespassing."
"And I told you that no one person can just own the forest."
"Why not?"
"Because it isn't yours! It's meant to be shared. Didn't your parents tell you that?"
"Dr. Jumba said I could have anything I could pry out of someone's hands," 461 said with a face as blunt as her tone.
"Oh..." Yuna was too tired to ask all the questions she wanted, and she could tell that 461 was too annoyed to answer them all. She'd have to choose each question carefully.
"So...You have a lot of brothers and sisters, then?" She asked.
461 blinked twice. Her rust-colored eyes then lit up. She looked as though she'd just translated a peculiar word that Yuna had said.
"There are others like me," she said. "More of Dr. Jumba's Experiments. I know there are more of them on this planet. As the more powerful of them make their way here, I will reunite with them and aid them in the rest of their conquest."
Yuna took a deep breath. She tried to blot out words like 'more powerful' and 'conquest.' She could only do so much at once.
"You all got separated?" She asked.
461's eyes were drawn to the fire. The flames' reflection made her eyes glow.
"I remember going to sleep in the lab...And I had this dream. I was in some kind of case, being passed around...Then I was falling...Then I woke up on the grass. Water was falling from the sky..."
461's maw hung open as though she were about to say more. Instead, she looked back up at Yuna. Her eyes were dark without the fire's glow.
"Why did you save me?" She asked. "You exploited my weakness. Why risk me attacking you again?"
Yuna looked into those rusty, unblinking eyes. She thought she had to search for the answer. Then she realized that she already had it.
"I teach others how to fight," she said. "And I teach them all three principles. One, defend the weak. Two, show compassion for friend and foe alike. Three, ichariba chode; all who cross our paths, no matter how briefly, are family. If I don't stick to those principles, then I can't ever really win any fight."
"You say you won because you saved me?" 461 asked.
"I guess so."
461's eyes glowed in the firelight again. "That's not what Dr. Jumba says."
"Well, maybe Dr. Jumba doesn't know everything."
461 was quiet for a while. She seemed to be studying the fire.
"You keep saying the forest is meant to be shared," she finally said. "If you don't need it for shelter, then what is it to you?"
"Usually a place to practice," Yuna said. "Or...Just a quiet place."
"Why would you need a quiet place?"
Yuna didn't want to answer. Thinking about her match tomorrow made her sick. Then she thought about 461's dream. She tried to imagine falling asleep at home, then waking up somewhere new and alien, oblivious to where Obaa might be.
The best she could do was remember Ojii.
"I'm fighting in a tournament tomorrow," she said. "I'm not sure if I can win my match...Or what will happen if I can't."
"You bested me," 461 said. "And I'm certain that your opponent, whoever they are, is nowhere near as skilled or as strong as I am."
"That's true. Although she'd definitely argue with you on that." Yuna managed a chuckle, but it was quickly smothered by 461's stone face.
"She thinks it's all about being stronger than the other fighter, but I know it isn't. I've been trying to get her to see that, but if she beats me tomorrow, then she'll think she's right. I'll be able to get through to her."
461 looked up from the fire, but somehow, her eyes stayed bright. "You're worried for your opponent?"
Yuna looked at her. She barely blinked.
"Well," Yuna said, "it doesn't matter unless we can get out of here."
461 instantly rolled backward, perching herself on the wall in a graceful, spider-like stance.
Yuna's eyes widened. "You can get us out of here," she said, rising to her feet.
"I could," 461 said, crawling back to the cave floor and towards the fire. "But should I?" She made her way to Yuna's side of the fire, then straightened up. Her red-edged silhouette shrouded Yuna.
"What do you mean?" Yuna's fists were already hovering upwards.
"You managed to beat me," 461 said, "so you clearly know more about fighting than most. You don't think it's just a battle of skill; you think it's a battle of beliefs. I want to see just how strong your beliefs are."
"So you want me to beat you again?"
"I want you to get past me. Get to the other side of this flame without me stopping you. If your beliefs can get you that far, then I'll carry you the rest of the way."
Yuna exhaled. It seemed simple enough. But she could still remember 461's speed in the forest. Even so, if she could find just one opening...
She darted left. 461's arm fell in front of her like a toll gate.
Yuna rushed to her right. She found 461's foot in her chest. It wasn't a kick but rather a forceful push.
"It still feels weird calling you a number," Yuna said, pacing for a moment. 461's pacing was somehow slower than hers.
"You should have a proper name."
She sprinted to the far left side of the cave. 461 slid after her, cartwheeling onto the cave wall and blocking Yuna's passage with two outstretched arms.
Both combatants returned to their starting positions, ushered there by some unseen referee.
"What sort of name do you think you'd like?" Yuna asked.
461 was deathly silent. Her rusty eyes were almost pitch black with the fire's light behind her. For a moment, Yuna thought she saw her maw curl into a smirk. A smirk uncannily similar to Piko's.
Something rushed over Yuna. Her arms were suddenly lashing at 461 as if she were being puppeteered. She sent out every punch and kick that she knew, but she may as well have been striking at mist.
Finally, after a swooping roundhouse kicked, 461 caught her ankle and cast her to the cave floor. Her arm moved with the same lazy arc as someone tossing out a garbage bag.
Yuna returned to her feet instantly. Her side throbbed with the aftershock of the stone floor's burn. Her fists were still up, but whatever had commanded them was gone. Instead, all Yuna could feet was water in her eyes. The rest of her was thin air.
461's smirk was gone. Yuna wasn't sure if it had ever been there at all.
She managed a smile. "How about Kurenai?"
461's face was frigid.
Yuna tried several more times to get around the Experiment. She twice got her arm past the fire, but 461 always managed to yank or push her back. They might've fought for hours. Or only a few minutes.
Finally, as they faced each other once more, 461 spoke.
"Why Kurenai?"
"It means crimson," Yuna said, suddenly realizing how heavy her lungs felt. "Red, like your fur."
461's rusty eyes narrowed. They seemed like blades being slid across a sharpening stone.
She extended a clawed hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
Yuna blinked. "But I haven't beaten your challenge yet."
"My challenge isn't getting us back to the surface. And you've made your point. Come on."
Yuna found herself clinging to 461's back. She braced herself for a long, arduous climb back to the forest floor, but 461 scaled the walls of the river's channel with alarming grace. Her moves were fast but calculated, careful, deliberate.
Yuna suddenly felt even more like air than before. She wondered how long she'd been trying to get past 461. Her eyes hovered.
She searched for a bitter pit of disappointment in her gut, knowing that she hadn't actually beaten 461, but she couldn't find one.
"So, what do you think of Kurenai?" Yuna asked.
461 didn't answer. Maybe she hadn't heard.
Yuna thought that, in 461's mind, that she'd beaten the challenge after all. Or, in her own mind, it may simply have not bothered her.
As her eyelids grew heavy, she wondered if she'd feel the same after tomorrow.
V
Yuna felt as though she'd teleported to the city dojo. Breakfast with Obaa and their train ride to the dojo had passed her by like a dream. She couldn't even remember going to sleep, let alone waking up. She may have always been here, kneeling on the mat as one in a sea of two dozen.
The dojo was colossal. The walls stretched wide enough to contain an army of medals, certificates, banners, and posters. Looking up at the ceiling felt like looking down into a tiled abyss. The judges were lined up on the other side of the mat, all of them standing with faces as curved and stolid as stone. They were like statues with moving eyes.
If Yuna's dojo was a shrine, then this one was a cathedral.
One of the judges, who wore a gi as charcoal black as his goatee, stepped forward and began announcing the rules. Yuna had already read over them in her acceptance letter. They drifted through her ears as her mind wandered out of the dojo.
"First to three hits..."
"...Anything I could pry out of someone's hands..."
"No hits to the face, head, knees, or..."
"You're worried for your opponent..?"
"...Immediate disqualification."
"Why Kurenai?"
At some point, her body had carried her to the center of the mat. She could see the audience behind her fellow participants, but all she could see was Obaa swimming in a sea of blank faces.
To Yuna's surprise, she spotted Taro in the sea. He seemed as small among the crowd as he did among his fellow students. Even so, to Yuna, it filled up the empty-faced sea a little more.
And yet, she still found herself scanning every face. She knew that she wouldn't see who she was looking for, but she couldn't help herself.
She would look harder after the match. She still had a lot to say to Kurenai.
Yuna turned to face her opponent. Piko's smirk loomed like a rising leviathan.
The referee announced the beginning of the match. Yuna ducked a lunging punch, dropping to one knee and landing a strike of her own in Piko's side. She looked like she was reaching down to a low shelf, but her heart had charged into her ribs.
One point in as many seconds. Yuna would've felt elated had it not been for Piko's smirk twisting into a firey-eyed glare.
As the second round began, Yuna could've sworn that Piko's first attack came a whole microsecond before the referee's announcement. The punches came like a swarm of mosquitos, diving incessantly at Yuna's face despite her arms' swift yet effortful blocks. She knew she'd never get another hit in like this. If Piko would just throw a punch at the right angle, she could maneuver around it and-
"Point!"
The referee saw it before either of the combatants did. Piko looked just as disappointed as Yuna felt; she surely would've kept throwing out punches all day, regardless of whether any of them ever hit.
Yuna felt the slightest throbbing in her right shoulder. It was so faint that she couldn't even be sure if she'd really been hit there or if she only imagined it. Piko's face had been one of someone intending to do much more than a tap on the shoulder. Then again, this wasn't about hurting; it was about points, and all Piko needed was more points.
But if she couldn't have that...
The third round became a match in and of itself. The audience released melodious gasps at graceful kicks and skillful combos from both sides, all of which were avoided with equally perfect dodges and blocks.
At one point, Yuna nearly spat out her heart when her swooping leg landed under Piko's arm. She slid out with a backward somersault that was either a desperate move or her plan all along. She forgot immediately.
Whenever she blinked, she saw stone walls behind a red-edged silhouette.
She stepped forward, aiming a back punch towards Piko's chest. As she came towards her opponent, she saw bared teeth and heard a deafening roar. For a moment, she was back in the forest, staring down the mysterious yokai.
Then something struck her in the head. It landed in the space between her left eye and ear. Even after it had left her head, some ghostly force kept pushing her towards the mat. Before Yuna was on the floor, the referee's roar matched Piko's.
"Disqualified!"
Yuna got to her feet instantly, ignoring her throbbing head's urgings to back off. She was ready to keep going. Piko was storming off in a huff. The referee asked Yuna if she was okay. Obaa and Taro were sending proud but concerned looks from the audience.
But she was ready to keep going.
She didn't put her fists down until she was halfway back to joining the other participants.
She'd won. She was moving on to the next bracket. Yet all she could feel, apart from the throbbing in her head, was the twisted, sickening feeling of unfinished business.
She wondered what Kurenai would've thought of the match.
VI
Walking about town that evening felt surreal. Yuna wandered the same streets where she'd fretted about the match days prior. Now that the fight was behind her, the streets seemed emptier, more peaceful. The market shelves looked neater. Passing cyclists seemed to move slower. Even the guest band at the cafe sounded much softer than before. Yuna wondered if they'd always been like that.
On any other day, she would've taken her walk in the forest. Today, she found herself drawn to her dojo. She wanted to see just how small it was.
"Kamihara-san."
Yuna turned around. Piko stood on the other side of the street, framed in the chair-stacked tables outside the cafe. The dusk sun stretched her shadow towards Yuna like a reaching claw.
"Ito-san," Yuna said. She didn't bother pointing out that Piko had used the wrong honorific. It hadn't been a mistake.
"Well done today."
"I know," Piko said. "Too bad we didn't get to finish our fight, though."
"You got an out-of-bounds hit. You know the rules."
"Who cares about rules? You know they don't actually matter outside of the dojo, right? Real fighting is nothing like what you teach us."
Her smirk was gone. Yuna was surprised to find that she missed it.
"Martial arts aren't just about fighting," Yuna said. "If you listened instead of just standing around, waiting for your next chance to throw a punch, you'd understand that."
"People don't listen," Piko said. "They just fight. If you can't win fights, then you can't do anything."
"So, what do you want?"
"A real fight. Right now." Piko put up her fists. "So I can finally show you that your rules don't mean anything."
Behind Piko, the ajar cafe windows leaked their guest band's evening performance into the streets. Guitar strings and piano chords surrounded Yuna and Piko as the judges had at the tournament.
"I could not look back,
"You'd gone away from me..."
Out of the corner of her eye, Yuna spotted a single passerby at the end of the street. With a grocery-filled paper bag wrapped in each arm, Taro stood as meekly and attentively as he did at every karate lesson. His face was pale, but behind his glasses, his eyes glowed.
"I felt my heart ache,
"I was afraid of following you..."
Yuna glanced upward. There was a familiar feline figure blocking what remained of the dusk sun behind the cafe's rooftop. It was as still as a statue but watched Yuna with intense, rusty eyes.
"When I had looked at,
"The shadows on the wall..."
She wondered how both Taro and Kurenai would answer this challenge. Whose answer would be best? Would they even be different?
"I started running into the night,
"To find the truth in me."
A fist came flying towards Yuna's face, and she realized that she wouldn't get to answer.
The fight felt instantly different from the dojo or even the forest. Where mats or grass would've offered Yuna some comfort, the pavement felt like a second opponent. Its rough, obnoxiously flat surface wasn't going to tolerate the slightest misstep or fumbled kick. Yuna felt the full quaking weight of every step she took as she maneuvered around Piko's relentless strikes.
"Arashi fuku kono machi ga omae wo daku,
"Fukinukeru kaze ni sae me wo tojiru..."
It was nearly impossible to get a look at Piko's face. Her blows constantly careened towards Yuna's head, no doubt looking to recreate the disqualifying hit from the tournament. As she blocked each hit, Yuna felt like she was running through a jungle, shoving dangling vines out of her path but never seeing the road ahead of her.
She was never going to get anywhere like this. She needed some kind of trump card, like her river gambit yesterday. But what could she possibly find out here?
"Omae wa hashiridasu nanika ni owareru you,
"Ore ga mienai no ka sugu soba ni iru no ni..."
After every few blocks, Yuna tried to catch one of Piko's fists. She was nearly successful but opened herself to a hit in the ribs or the cheek. She pushed through them. Their pulsing sensation faded into the forceful pounding that rattled and rushed her entire body.
She finally caught a punch but was rewarded with a knee crashing into her gut. Following close behind was a punch to the forehead. The third and final hit came from the pavement as Yuna landed on her back. She opened her eyes but shut them again when the world wouldn't stop spinning.
"Hitonami ni kiete yuku kioku no toiki,
"Ai no nai hitori butai mou taekirenai..."
Yuna heard footsteps speeding towards her. She tried to get to her feet, but her brain kept somersaulting in her head. She braced herself for a cheap blow. Piko had won, and now she would see how much she could win.
"Outta the way," Piko yelled. "Or you're next!"
Yuna forced her eyes open. The world stood still long enough for her to see Taro, disarmed of his groceries, standing between her and Piko.
She smiled. He remembered his stance.
"All of you in my memory is,
"Still shining in my heart..."
"No," Taro declared.
"What did you say?!" Piko's eyes widened in a mixture of fury and bewilderment.
"I said no! You're supposed to show compassion for friend and foe alike! And Kamihara-sensei isn't supposed to be your foe! She's supposed to be your sensei!"
Yuna got to one knee. Taro, Piko, and the cafe behind them wavered like waves in a sideways ocean. Even so, behind them, she found the rusty eyes again. Something inside them had been lit.
"Sure chigau kokoro wa afureru namida nure..."
"Come on," Piko said. "You don't really believe all that junk, do you?"
"I do," Taro said.
"And what's it done for you? You can't even break a piece of wood!"
"I will," Taro said. "I know I will, and I'll do lots more, too, starting here!"
Piko scoffed. "Then let's get started."
Her fist rose towards Taro's chin.
"Kurenai ni somatta kono ore wo,
"Nagusameru yatsu wa mou inai!"
Piko's face was one of ghostly white shock. Yuna had to admit that it was fun to see.
Kurenai stood tall at Taro's side, her extended claws tight around Piko's fist. She looked as intense as she had in the cave, but her rusty eyes had softened. With a swift swipe of her arms, she forced Piko backward.
"Wow..." Taro said, lifting his glasses for a moment before dropping them back on his nose.
"Are you a yokai?"
Kurenai turned to him. "For all I know, I might be."
They each offered a hand to Yuna, who accepted eagerly as she got to her feet.
The three fighters faced Piko once more. They all assumed their battle stances. Piko's was hunched, her head leaning forward like a bull waiting to charge. Yuna glanced left and right, finding both Taro and Kurenai mirroring her tall stance, fists at the ready.
She smiled. This was how she would answer the challenge.
"Kurenai ni somatta kono ore wo,
"Nagusameru yatsu wa mou inai!"
Piko's face wrinkled as if it were shrinking. She threw her fists down.
"Fine," she grumbled.
"See you next week?" Yuna asked.
Piko stared at her. For once, her face rested.
"Yeah." With that, she turned and walked away, her head still hunched forward as the music from the cafe faded away.
"Kurenai ni somatta kono ore wo,
"Nagusameru yatsu wa mou inai..."
Yuna sighed. Her lungs felt as though they'd just dropped a heavy suitcase at the end of a long journey.
"Thanks, you two," she said.
"I'm glad you're okay, Kamihara-sensei," Taro said. "Um...Who's she?"
Yuna turned to Kurenai. She looked back as if unsure of how to answer.
"This is Kurenai-san," Yuna said. "She's my new friend."
"Oh," Taro said. "Well, nice to meet you, Kurenai-san."
Kurenai remained silent. Her hands hovered at her side, lost without a stance to assume.
"I was hoping I'd see you again," Yuna said. "Thanks for helping us out."
"All who cross our paths, no matter how briefly, are family," Kurenai said with surprising speed.
"Ichariba chode." Both Yuna and Taro grinned.
The faintest of smiles crept onto Kurenai's maw. "I found you again because there were two questions I wanted to ask you about that," she said. "That was the first; I couldn't remember what that phrase was."
"What was the second?" Yuna asked.
"I wanted to know..." Kurenai's eyes shimmered. A fresh coat of paint had swept over their rust.
"If that meant me."
Yuna remembered the Dr. Jumba she had talked about in the cave. He sounded far from the most agreeable of individuals. Still, perhaps, in some peculiar way, he wasn't so different from somebody Yuna knew.
You really have been paying attention, haven't you?
Yuna held out her hand. "Of course," she said.
Kurenai took her hand. Her grasp, though intense, was soft, just like her eyes.
VII
Kurenai didn't recognize the gi-garbed creature in the mirror. She looked patient, welcoming, even...Fluffy. She couldn't even remember what her reflection on Jumba's ship had looked like. For how away the lab, her creator, and her brethren were, they may as well have been dreams.
She took a deep breath. The warm, minty flavor of Obaa's tea still lingered on her throat. It felt like a gentle force anchoring her mind whenever it drifted too far towards the past or the stars.
"Nearly ready?"
Kurenai turned to find Yuna entering the dojo's closeted back room. Like everyone else on this befuddling planet, she looked strange and alien to Kurenai. However, she found something encouraging about seeing Yuna wearing the same white uniform as her.
"As I'll ever be," Kurenai said.
"You'll do great." Yuna stood beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Somehow, despite their radically different appearances, their reflections matched.
"We've got a few tourists doing a one-off lesson today. It'll be great practice for you."
"These days, everything feels like great practice for me," Kurenai said.
"That's a great way of looking at it. Do you have any last-minute questions?"
"Yes. You call everyone 'san,' but everyone calls you 'sensei.' What do I call them?"
"You call them 'san.' It's what you call people who you only know a little bit. They call you 'sensei' since you're their teacher."
"Then should I be calling you 'sensei?' You've been teaching me so much these past few days."
Yuna grinned. "You've taught me lots, too. We teach each other, so 'san' is enough for us."
Kurenai sighed. "And it seems I've still much to learn."
"That's a good thing," Yuna said. "Somebody once told me that learning is one of the greatest victories you can ever have."
Kurenai looked up. She imagined stars imposed over the grey ceiling.
"If the others heard that," she said. "If they saw this...If they saw me...What do you think they'd say?"
To Kurenai's confusion, Yuna's grin grew.
"I think you'll find out very soon," she said. "Come on; don't keep your students waiting."
Kurenai followed her to the dojo's main room. As she stepped on the mat, she gazed out at her first batch of students. They seemed to be a rowdy bunch, chattering away with one another as they awaited their instructor. They might've been content had Yuna and Kurenai never appeared.
Among them were a young man and woman, along with a child who might've been a miniature version of the woman. They mingled merrily with a plethora of others, but they looked nothing like Yuna or her companions.
When Kurenai saw them, she broke into her widest grin. It occurred to her that it was also her first grin.
She wiped it away instantly.
"Attention, everyone," she declared.
The chattering snapped to everyone standing in attention along the edge of the mat.
"Before we begin..." Kurenai glanced over at Yuna, who stood at the edge of the mat, watching as eagerly as the students.
"You must become familiar with this dojo's three defining principles."
She traced the line of students up and down, struggling to hide her astonishment at seeing her brethren again. They looked familiar yet totally different, and not only because of their gis.
"First, we shall defend the weak."
021's yellow fur glowed around her smile. Kurenai remembered the wall of rage that would thunder about Jumba's lab. She couldn't imagine how it had found its way here.
"Second, we shall show compassion for friend and foe alike."
033's hammer-shaped face, which seemed to have been built for grimacing, had the merriest of grins for Kurenai. Beside him, 177 couldn't help but lift her lengthy claws in the most discreet wave she could muster.
"Third, ichariba chode..."
There were four that Kurenai didn't recognize. One red, one pink, one golden brown, and one blue. Yet their smiles as warm, if not more so, than the others in the dojo. As she took in their faces, Kurenai felt as if she'd always known them.
"All who cross our paths, no matter how briefly, are family!"
When she said it, every smile grew tenfold. They illuminated the dojo.
Kurenai felt something in her eyes. She would deal with it later.
"Remember them," she said. "I will ask you to repeat them at the end of our lesson. Understood?"
"Yes, cousin," the students answered, followed with equal conviction by, "I mean, sensei."
Kurenai looked again at Yuna. Her lips quivered as they struggled to contain laughter.
"Then we'll begin," Kurenai said. "We've much to learn today."