SCOUT

Leave it to a boy to fuck everything up, and Grey McCoy almost had. Scout rolled her eyes as she passed him on her way from her locker. Seeing Drea just ahead, she wove between the sea of teenagers to catch up to her.

Drea smiled, seemingly in a perpetually good mood since earning the privilege of teaching. "You going to the dojo?" she signed as the two walked together.

Scout nodded, adjusting her backpack to free up her hands. "Yes. I've got to stop by home to pick up my bag. I'm supposed to meet my Dad at four thirty. He's taking a break between shifts at the restaurant so I can train."

Her cousin's brow furrowed. "So, just how many hours a day are you training?"

How much was she training? She was up at four with her parents, when her mom went to the restaurant for morning prep. Her dad usually went with her, but since requesting extra dojo time, he'd been making breakfast for everyone then leaving with her instead. She trained until thirty minutes before school. So, what, two and a half hours in the morning? Two hours after school… stopping for dinner, then two more until time to go home. On weekends she'd been there from open to close…

Drea nudged her. "Are you seriously still counting the hours in your head?" Her eyebrows lifted as she looked away then back. "That's a lot, Scout. And competing again? You know how serious Uncle Leo gets." She almost lowered her hands then lifted them again. "I mean I know your dad's awesome fun to train with, but at your level, Uncle Leo isn't likely to stay completely out of it."

"Tell me about it. He was so mad about the whole thing with Grey, he wasn't going to let me compete until I convinced him I'm in total control." Scout's lip's pursed, her hands moving in frustrated jerks. Though she was complaining, she'd learned a lot that week, in fact was still learning. But that didn't mean Grey hadn't gotten what he deserved. She looked at Drea, grinning as she signed. "As if that wasn't a totally controlled kicking of Grey's ass!"

Drea laughed then shook her head. "He's coming back you know."

Scout stopped walking. "What?"

"Oh yeah. He signed up for classes. Private. With Uncle Leo." Drea smirked. "He's got it bad for you Scout and he's not giving up."

"Well he's wasting his time." Scout's teeth ground together as she expressed her irritation through her hands. Then she caught sight of Grey, still at his locker. Signing toward her cousin, but looking at Grey, she told Drea, "I forgot something in my locker. Will I see you at the dojo later?"

Drea followed Scout's line-of-sight then tapped her on the shoulder. "Yeah, just so you know, your renewed commitment to the arts has all of our parents dragging us in twice as much as we'd like."

Scout sighed. "Right. Sorry about that. But it's keeping my mind off drugs, so I'm afraid you'll have to deal."

"We'll manage." Drea grinned, then pointed down the hall. "He's leaving. In case you wanted to, you know, maim him before Leo starts training him to kick your butt."

"Right." Scout laughed. "I think Grey might know the moves, but he's missing the mind-body connection."

One of Drea's eyebrows popped up. "Who better to teach him that?"

Scout stopped laughing.

"See you later." Drea signed.

Great. She was way right. Scout wove her way down the hall, Drea veering off one way and her the other as she caught up to Grey. She tapped him on the shoulder. He smiled at her as though she hadn't embarrassed the hell out of him in the dojo.

"Hi." He signed.

"Yeah. Hi." She replied, expressionless. "Look, can we talk?" She motioned to the opposite side of the hall where the last students were thinning out.

He nodded and followed her to a near empty space between the entrances to the gym and cafeteria. "What's up?"

She looked up at him, realizing how tall he was, well to her anyway. His black hair was long in the front, shaggy surfer-ish looking, really setting off his silver eyes. How rare was it for a Korean to have eyes like those? She blinked. No. No. No. That is not what she wanted to think about.

He smiled, flashing her an adorable set of dimples. Her pulse quickened and she swallowed. Good Gods. Stop it Scout. Focus. When he leaned toward her, one eyebrow lifted in question as the air shifted around him and the scent of patchouli wafted into her head. Her insides warmed and she began to feel a little drowsy- or maybe tingly? Blinking, she stumbled back a step.

"You okay?" he signed.

"Fine." She nodded, keeping back enough that she couldn't smell him. "Look. I'm sorry about what happened in the dojo."

He stepped closer, as if unaware she wanted space. "Me too."

What? He was sorry? "Why?"

"Because, I had no idea your uncle was so strict. Scout, Jem let me beat him in that test, because I wanted to look like I was good enough to get in a ring with you." He shrugged. "I just want to know you better. But you keep shutting me out… Or beating me up."

Jem let Grey beat him? Oh. Oh. If her prying twin hadn't done that then she wouldn't have been in trouble with Leo! Oh. She was going to beat his butt. And she bet he did it for that snoopy girlfriend of his. Grrr. Peaches would be so lucky if she didn't track down Blondie next.

"Scout?" Grey waved a hand in her face.

He blurred into focus, pulling her from her various twin assault plans. "Grey," she asked. "Why would Jem do that?"

"Mimi probably asked him to." Grey replied, confirming her suspicion.

Scout's teeth ground together. She was going to make a cream pie out of Peaches and Blondie. "Why would she do that?"

"Because she's crushed on Jem about as long as I have you." Grey blushed, but kept signing. "We kind of formed a Hamato-twin crush club together. Became really good friends. You two aren't easy to get to know, you know?"

Scout opted to ignore his admission of liking her. There was no room for romance in her life anytime soon. Not with a brother and his troublesome girlfriend to deal with. Yes. Mimi Voss was her next stop. Right after she made something clear to Grey.

She looked into his eyes, found them giving her pause. They seemed familiar in a way. Open. Honest. Reminding her of her father's. Hopeful. Maybe even optimistic. Then she remembered the look in Grey's eyes when she'd took him down. A pang in her heart softened her words. "Look, Grey. I wasn't lying about what I said in the dojo. I've had a hard time recently. I can't even entertain the idea of any sort of relationship with anyone. Not right now. I need my art right now. And if I'm honest, I still need my dad." Her lip quivered, still not having forgiven herself for that black eye. Maybe she never would. It was a line she would never cross again.

Unable to hide his complete disappointment, Grey nodded. "Well, how about just being my friend? I'd really like to get to know the fearless Scout Hamato better."

Heat rushed her face. "Fearless?" How ironic he would call her by her uncle's moniker.

"Well yeah." He signed. "Here I am walking around still struggling with a lisp that's improved with a lot of hard work, but not without a ton of bullying along the way. But you, you walk with confidence. Head up. Like whatever it is, bring it. Come at me. You know? I want to be like that."

Scout stepped back, his words resonating with her. She had no idea anyone had given her that much thought. She just was who she was. Dealt with things with the tools she had.

She looked at Grey, a sincere smile on his face, warmth, kindness. Hope. Maybe she could share her art with him. Help him. Her brow furrowed as she hesitated before signing. "Grey, I- I have to ask my dad. I've never taught anyone. But I could ask him if he thinks it's okay for me to teach you a few things. Maybe we could work out together sometimes." Her eyes grew wide. "But only if my dad approves. See, my sensei has to give his permission before I can take on a student of my own."

"I'd like that." Grey smiled. "So, are we friends now?"

Scout laughed and his dimples appeared again, sending a little tickle through her. "Do I sound funny when I laugh?" she asked.

She could tell he was chuckling, by the way his chest moved, and the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He shook his head. "No. Not to me. You sound amazing."

Her cheeks burned. "Friends."

He nodded.

She pointed down the hall. "I have to go. I'll be late and my dad will worry."

He waved and she waved back, before setting off down the hall. A friend, she mused, descending the stairs onto the campus sidewalk. She'd always had her cousins. She'd had Jake, Liam and Kato back at the club. Their connection had been real, but they'd always been high, so how well did they really know each other?

Maybe it would be nice to have a friend who could sign and practice the arts with her, because he wanted to, not because anyone was pressuring him. The way her cousin's parents did to them. Hopefully, they didn't get too upset with the side effects of her renewed commitment. But she really did need it. Thrived off of it.

As she stepped off the campus, she passed an alley, noticing a black-hooded figure leaning against the wall. He lifted his head as she neared. His eyes flashed in the light, like a nocturnal animal. Mutant. Her mind registered. She kept walking, intent on passing him, but rotated her backpack around to her front. It would serve as an impromptu weapon, meanwhile, she began unclasping the latch of her bracelet.

The figure lifted a clawed hand, pushing back the hood to reveal his face. Scout ground to a halt, her mouth falling open. Jake. Her heart began to pound as she released the clasp, shifting her backpack in its rightful place. For the first time, her inability to communicate with him surfaced. She scanned his eyes, which were usually cataract. Not now, instead his piercing blues peered into her, albeit his pupils were pinpricks. He was high. Her stomach churned as the beast inside awoke.

"Essence!" It screamed. "You can hear! He'll help you!"

Her heart began to pound.

No. No. No.

But it was Jake.

Her friend.

Her head tipped to the side as he smiled at her, his lips moving. She read them. "You're even more beautiful when you're clean, Little Seeker."

More heat to her face. She sure was blushing a lot today.

He held out a hand, flashed her a glimpse of four pink gel-caps. "Want to talk?"

She stepped back, shook her head, began fidgeting with the charms on her bracelet. Her eyes darted from her tiny nunchaku clasped to the gold, to the pink pills, to Jake, who she now noticed had one hand pressed to his side. The fabric around it was wet.

As she approached him, the scent of copper hit her nostrils. Adrenaline spiking, she pushed away his outstretched hand, reaching for the one pressing tight against his body. Her eyes darted to his as he looked away, frowning. His snout wrinkled, as she suspected by the movement of his chest, that he'd gasped in pain. She worked the zipper down, peering inside to find bloody lacerations across his chest. A stab wound in his abdomen, beneath his palm. She stepped back, her eyes searching his. "What happened?"

He held out the pills again and she refused, motioning to his body. She looked around, noticing now that he'd been backing further into the alley, inching in fact. And now she was out of ear shot of the sidewalk. What was this? Then she felt the air around her shifting. Every sense in her telling her to get out. Run. Get away. But she looked at Jake. His eyes grew dull as he began to droop, the blood spot widening, dripping down off the hem of his hoodie.

"Who did this to you?" she tried to ask.

His lips moved, slow, too slow. She read them as she reached out two fingers, pressing them against his throat. His pulse was sluggish. He was losing too much blood. "Take… pills. I'll tell you everything. Hurry. They're coming."

She looked in his eyes. Shook her head. "No. Jake. That's not who I am anymore." She hoped she sounded right. "Let me help you."

His chest moved as if he'd laughed then he started coughing, spit out a mouthful of blood. Low-lidded eyes looked to her as he began to sag against the wall. "Poisoned. Not. Much. Time."

Scout's eyes widened, her stomach rolling as she began to shake. No. No. No. Abandoning her backpack, she reached out, pulled him to her as he slumped in her arms. He looked up at her, pressed the side of his face to her shoulder. Her eyes grew blurry, her chest shaking as he reached up and touched her face. "Jake," she gasped. "No. I'll call an ambulance."

He forced a smile that didn't look quite right, tears filling his eyes. He formed his words slow again, carefully as if they were important. "They want you. Talent. Need it. Coming. For. You. Had. To-" His chest shuddered, her hands growing warm as blood seeped through.

She pulled him closer, hugging him tight as she sobbed. "No. Jake. No. No. No."

He gasped, then went quiet.

Still.

She held him until they pulled up. The van blocking one end of the street. Black. Tinted windows. With exotic dancers painted on the side. Marcos. Another slum joint. The door opened, ten figures dressed head-to-toe in solid black, faces covered, spilled into the alley. Her eyes were wet, blurry. She blinked away her tears, wiped her face with a bloody hand, then her sleeve so she could see clearly. If they were talking she had no way of knowing. Their faces, mouths were covered.

Get on your feet, Scout.

She looked down at Jake. Stiff. Gone.

He'd been homeless.

Blind.

Lost.

And they'd taken his life, what little he had was who he was, and that was gone from him. Stolen. By giving him false hope. The same way they almost did to her.

Only Jake had no one to pull him back.

She held him closer, pressed her lips to his brow. "I'm so sorry, my friend." Her eyes pricked with heat.

But as she lifted her gaze to the men encircling her, the softest place in her turned to steel. Pressing her lips tight, she gently guided Jake's body to the side. The fingers of her right hand touched the clasp of the bracelet on her left wrist, beneath the cover of his neck.

Releasing the chain as she let Jake slide to the ground, she placed her hand down, shifted her weight and lifted her leg, driving her foot into the face of the guy closest to her. Using the momentum of her move, she lifted her chest, brought her foot to the wall and ran up it, flipping off so she was on the outside of their circle. She landed in her stance, weapon in hand.

Not waiting for them to figure out what was happening she moved. With smooth flicks of her wrist, she whipped the chain across eyes, backs, around one guys neck as she jerked his face into her knee then pushed him into his buddy. Blood spurt out over her clothes, coating fresh scarlet over the drying brown of Jake's life spilled out. She'd failed him. Forgotten him. The way whoever had first given him life had. She'd left that life behind her. His life. When she'd walked away from Essence. Selfish.

She lashed out with her weapon again. Someone with an iota of skill captured the end, yanked it toward him. One thing her dad taught her early on is when someone has the other end of your weapon, let it go. It is replaceable. You are not.

Hesitation wasn't something she could afford. As much as she loved the bracelet and the many tiny charms, instinct prevailed, the chain slinking to the ground as her fingers parted, immediately closing into a fist. Some part of her was on fire. It seemed to rise up from her gut, erupting from her throat in a battle cry. Whoever sent these people was evil. And this was a street fight. A fight for her life, if Jake's blood was any indication. Her right eye twitched as she adjusted her stance, opening a vault of forbidden moves, taught but held on reserve for a situation- Exactly. Like. This.

She scanned the standing, verses those writhing on the ground or out cold. There'd been ten. Five still standing. She eyed their hands. Knives. But no guns. Good. The first one dumb enough to swipe at her caught a pressure point attack to his weapon-holding arm. Immediately flowing into a hold, she snapped the limb while attacking his leg and kidneys as she maneuvered his body then let it drop.

With his weapon now in her hands, she planned her next attack, briefly battling with a blooming flicker of regret. She was about to cross a line she'd never breeched before. But her arm followed through, releasing the blade into the chest of the guy to her left. She began to shake despite herself as he crumpled. Fresh tears burned her eyes as some part of her mind broke. She felt it. Fracture. Something done she couldn't take back.

In that second, one of her three remaining attackers landed a blow to the side of her head, another a kick to the back of her legs sending her falling forward. She rolled into the momentum, back to her feet in a sprawled stance, her eyes up, seeing double. But enough. As one of them launched his knife at her, she rolled clear then to her feet lunging forward, attacking his groin, eyes, and torso with the efficiency of Aunt Zoe. Kyusho was so not a waste of time.

Two remaining. One began backing away. The other charged forward, swiping at her face. She ducked and dodged his attacks. Slow. Poor form. Blocking him with minimal effort, she began countering, pushing him back, working him into the wall. Cornered, she struck both sides of his skull bursting his eardrums, then she grabbed the back of his head, slamming her knee into his nose. The man swayed, crumbling to the ground. She scanned the alley. The van and the last guy were gone.

Swallowing hard, she looked at the guy she'd most likely killed, afraid to confirm the possibility. Her stomach reeled and she ran behind a trash can, losing the contents. Sensing movement, she collected herself, saw a few of her enemies already trying to get up. Grabbing what remained of her bracelet and yanking the knife from the man's chest, she shoved it all in her backpack and ran for home.

She should've gone back to Tripp's when she'd gotten out of rehab. She ran through the lobby of her apartment building, for the service elevator, blood smudging the buttons as she stepped on. Should've gotten her answers. Brought the fight to that bastard. The doors opened and she tugged out her keys, threw open the front door and dropped her backpack. Maybe if she had Jake wouldn't be dead.

Marching to her room she stripped off the bloody clothing, leaving it on the floor. No more. They'd done fucked with the wrong Hamato. She opened her closet, pulled out her forbidden weapons bag and her smaller weapons tote. Grabbing a pair of black yoga pants and a black tank she dressed and swept her hair back in a ponytail, stopping long enough to wet a rag and wipe the blood from her face. The abuse of mutants and hybrids, like her and Jake, would end. Returning to the larger bag she unzipped it, selecting her kusarigama and traditional chucks, a handful of shuriken and smoke pellets, transferring them all to the smaller bag. At her dresser, she slipped on her sleeping powder ring, and her clawed ring.

Someone was going to pay for hurting her. For hurting Jake. Something sinister was at play and had cost the life of her friend. She marched out the apartment, not even sure she'd locked the door. Elevator ride down, she attempted to wipe away the blood smears. Jake's blood. Mixed with her enemies. Maybe the man she'd probably killed. Her stomach churned. She swallowed hard, walked through the lobby, down the steps and into the flow of foot traffic on the sidewalk. She didn't make it a block when something sharp struck her in the neck. She reached up, closed her fingers around a feather and tugged it from her neck as the world went dark.