To Know You
They said Kuina had eyes in the back of her head. And maybe they were right. Whenever someone made a face, she seemed to know. Whatever whispered comment might pass in the boy's room where, sprawled over futons, personal space was just a helpful suggestion, she heard about it the next day. None of them could guess how. Even Sensei, who knew everything and was her father besides, seemed amused by it-but always with a bit of melted ice behind his smile as if it hurt just a little bit. But boys though they were, they were man enough not to notice or forget what they had seen.
In any case, Kuina knew. She always did. Even if they were careful. Even if it had been in the bath. And one of the older boys had said she was a shadow demon, just as a tease, and the next day Kuina had lifted her eyes from her rice bowl and pinned him with a stare that could have nailed a fly down dead at thirty paces. He'd had an upset stomach for a week afterwards and didn't whisper again.
"She knows," they told the new kid. The weird new kid. All dirty feet and granite expression and green hair who'd frowned so severely at the shinai in his hands that they were surprised the bamboo didn't split just from the force of it. "She always knows," they'd said. "So don't say anything stupid..." and then looking at him added under their collective breaths: "If you can help it."
"Of course she knows," he'd said. "She expects it. Doesn't matter what you say. So might as well say it to her."
So the next day when he promptly told Kuina that she had chicken legs and had matched her stare for stare, the boys whispered and buzzed and fights broke out over whether this kid was that brave or had that much of a death wish.
Either way, they knew they were outmatched and could only sit back and watch. It wasn't long before they learned to enjoy the show.