I survey my recently acquired collection of bumps, bruises, and lacerations in the mirror and sigh.
I ponder the irony of simultaneously being in the best shape of my life while getting the crap kicked out of me on a daily basis.
I have rock hard abs. You know, that "six pack" abdomen all over the fitness magazines? I have that. Only it's covered by black and blue contusions.
Not a pretty sight.
My chest and shoulders are well-toned. Pecs, biceps, and triceps are as defined as they've ever been. Too bad the welts, cuts, and other minor wounds stick out like a sore thumb. Speaking of thumbs, I nearly dislocated my left one during my last practice.
Don't even get me started on what my legs have been through. I'm lucky I can stand in front of a mirror, much less walk.
I lean a little closer towards my reflection and check out the black eye Master Yoshi gave me less than an hour ago. It contrasts nicely with the brown undamaged one, although if I hadn't partially blocked his strike, both of them would have been hit.
At least it's stopped swelling up, so I guess those herbal remedies he smeared all over it really work.
My attention is drawn to my hair. Or rather, what little is left of it.
I'm still not quite used to it being cut so short. Hell, they practically buzzed it when I joined the Clan.
Technically, I'm not an official member just yet.
They've been running me and the rest of my training class ragged for almost two months now. There were ten of us at the start, but now we're down to six. A couple guys washed out within the first week, while another got sick of the regimen a month into it. I don't think I really want to know what happened to that guy. I doubt he's still breathing.
The last guy to go was Billy.
Billy was a stand up guy. Always fought honorably and pretty smart to boot. He was the closest thing I had to a buddy since this latest nightmare in my increasing shitty life began. Too bad that bastard Takara broke his back during balance training.
We were sparring hand-to-hand while walking a tightrope 50 feet above the ground. No net, of course. The Foot isn't too concerned with safety. Big believers in survival of the fittest and all that.
Anyway, Billy and Takara were going at it pretty fast and furious. No one in our class likes Takara all that much, mainly because he's made it clear he's willing to do whatever it takes to win, including serious injury to his teammates. A point proven once again when he finally knocks Billy off the wire.
Billy manages to catch himself before he falls, snagging the tightrope with one hand. Normally, that'd be the end of it. Takara wins. Yay. Now we get to listen to him brag about it all day. Only this time, winning's not enough.
So Billy's dangling there, barely holding on, and does Takara help him? Hell, no! He stomps on Billy's fingers and watches him fall.
Poor Billy. He tried to twist and land correctly, but it's simply too far for him.
I'll never forget the sickening sound his back made when he hit the ground.
Worse part was, I stare up at the sonovabitch who dropped him and he's laughing.
Like crippling someone for life is a fucking joke.
Master Yoshi punished Takara later, but it's merely a slap on the wrist.
Ruthlessness is rewarded in the Foot Clan.
For about the millionth time I wonder what the hell I'm doing here.
"You look like shit," a feminine voice remarks from behind me.
I spin around, surprised.
An oriental girl with shorn hair and green eyes is standing there.
Sato.
One of the two girls in our training course.
Believe it or not, the Foot Clan is an equal opportunity employer. The garb the ninjas have to wear is padded so that you can't tell the gender of the person. Add the mask and the silence, and you have no clue about any of their members. The Foot become endless hoards of faceless, voiceless soldiers aligned to one common purpose.
What that purpose is, lowly trainees don't need to know.
Yet.
Sato stares at me, looking somewhat amused. She cocks her head appraisingly and reaches out to brush the side of my face. I wince, and pull back.
"Ouch."
Then I do a double take.
She's not supposed to be here.
"Sato, what are you doing here? This is the male dorm. If you get caught—"
"What's the point of learning all of this ninjitsu if we can't use it to get into places we're not supposed to go?"
I can't come up with a decent response.
I'm too busy looking at her eyes. They captivate me. I've never seen eyes that green. Not even in the movies. I noticed them within the first few seconds we met.
The rest of her isn't so bad, either.
She holds her own in a fight, that's for sure. I made the mistake of going easy on her the first time we sparred, letting my instinct to protect woman get the better of me.
I was rewarded with a hard kick to the nuts. I never made that mistake again.
She says something I don't catch.
"What?"
Boy, that was clever.
"I said, I liked the way you bested Takara today. The jerk had it coming."
"'Bested?'" I reply, "Do real people talk like that?"
She makes me nervous, and when I'm nervous the sarcasm flows freely.
"Fine," she steps over to a neighboring mirror and checks herself out, "I loved the way you kicked his ass. Is that better?"
She runs a hand through her short hair and sighs.
She turns back to me, and it takes me several more seconds to realize I'm staring.
"Are you okay? Is there something on my face?" She looks back into the mirror, breaking the hypnotic spell she apparently has over me.
"No. . . No!" I stammer, realizing I'm practically naked since I had just come out of the shower a few minutes earlier. I'm uncomfortable around Sato when I'm fully clothed, much less wearing only a towel.
I decide to turn away from her and finish cleaning up.
"Is there something I can do to help you, Sato? We only have a few minutes until curfew."
"Maybe," she says slowly.
She slides next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. She tilts her head so that it rests against mine. I look in the mirror, seeing the two of us together like that.
I have to admit I like it.
She smiles.
"I overheard something today . . . while I was . . . practicing my stealth skills."
"Practicing?" Once again, I manage to wrest free of my hormones and use my head, "You mean, eavesdropping!"
I pull away from her, although a good chunk of me doesn't want to.
"Sato, do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in for breaking rules? It's not like you'd just get detention! Remember what happened to Osiris?"
She folds her arms over her chest and looks annoyed.
"Do you want to hear about it or not?"
Curiosity and an equal desire to please her make me nod my head.
She smiles, looks over her shoulder to make sure we're alone, and leans in conspiratorially.
"I overhead Master Yoshi speaking to Hun," she whispers, "Tomorrow night is our final exam. Only four of us are going to be allowed to pass it."
I whistle softly, "That means two of us are out of luck."
"Good, you can do math," she says sarcastically, straightening up.
I blush a bit. I'm about as smooth as a pot hole when it comes to her.
She rolls her eyes and continues.
"But that's not the juicy part. Get this! The exam is going to be outside, in the city."
"No way!" I blurt, truly excited. I haven't see anything beyond the training compound in almost 60 days. The thought of fresh air and open space gets my heart pounding faster than when I stare at Sato.
"Isn't that awesome! I can't wait!" She smiles broadly, and for a second Sato's just a typical high school teen gushing about prom or some other mundane event. In that instant, she is the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on.
Sadly, it doesn't last.
"There is a down side, though," she continues, face serious once again, "The final is going to be tough."
"Duh," I reply, "That goes without saying."
"No, you don't understand. It's a hunt."
"What? Like a scavenger hunt?"
"No. Foot ninjas are the hunters."
My stomach drops. Other than Master Yoshi, I haven't seen a Foot ninja since my near death experience in Hun's office. And while I now have basic knowledge and training in the ninja arts, those guys scare the hell out of me. I'm like a star high school football player. Those guys are the freaking NFL.
"And we're the prey?" I ask quietly, already knowing the answer.
She nods.
We stand there in silence for a few minutes.
The bathroom has become cold. I shiver slightly.
"Why are you telling me this, Sato?"
For the first time, she seems a bit taken aback.
"I just wanted to give you a heads up, that's all."
"Are you telling everybody, or just me?"
She pauses, taking in her surrounding for a few seconds before continuing.
"I told Jesse. We're pretty tight."
I smile. Jesselina is a Latino girl. Tough as nails. She always helps me up when she kicks my ass. I do the same when I return the favor.
"What about Theo and Shea?"
She shakes her head.
I don't need to ask about Takara. Did I mention that he's a chauvinist on top of all his other endearing traits? Whenever he takes one of the girl's down, he makes a crude remark, usually some variation of how being on one's back is the natural position for a woman. At if that wasn't enough, he's got this look in his eye when he watches Sato and Jesse. A nasty combination of contempt, anger, and lust.
Real piece of work, that Takara.
"So why'd you pick me, then?"
She blushes.
Not by much, but her cheeks definitely color.
"Look, I don't have to explain myself to you!"
She spins away and begins to leave.
"Wait! Wait a second!"
I reach out and snag her wrist.
She whirls back around instantly, breaking my hold and assuming a combat stance.
I immediately raise my hands and back off.
"Whoa! Hey, take it easy!"
She relaxes.
A little.
"I just wanted to say thanks. I appreciate the information. You went out of your way to help me out. I won't forget that."
Her face softens.
Then she closes with me abruptly and brushes my cheek with her lips.
"Just take care of yourself out there. Okay?"
She leaps straight up and disappears into an air vent, all without the slightest sound. Sato always was the best in the class at stealth.
I stare after her.
I just know that slight touch is going to haunt me all night.