(no subject)
The notes were simple, and left for people she thought were friends. Derek, poor sweet Warren, Stu, and a few others.
They said, "It is time for me to go. I thank you for your kindness, your friendship, and everything you taught me."
...and so she walked away from it all. Nothing had been a part of her life, really, for so long, and she walked away.
She packed a suitcase, put her shamisen and swords and the scrolls into the case she'd had specially made for it, caught the bus out of town, and got to Pittsburgh. She had a good deal of money on hand, and a passport, and that made it easy. Pittsburgh to Los Angeles for two days, and then Los Angeles to Tokyo.
It was on the way out of Narita International Airport arrivals, not even to the luggage carousel, that the first attack came, two men in suits trying to kill her with small knives of such sharpness that there was barely any sound as they cut the air. She evaded them, with nothing but the case with her.
The second attack was heralded by the growling sound of an engine. She barely dodged the motorcycle as it flew off the fourth-story roof towards her, and that surprise almost did for her when the four men on motorcycles attacked. Again, she evaded rather than fighting.
It was in Akihabara she was attacked again, trying to eat some ramen in a streetside shop. Five men, in jogging suits, drawing long knives and throwing irons and a chain. One of them greeted her with a cry as she stabbed him in the eye with a chopstick, then threw herself at a door that claimed to lead into the back door of a Pachinko palace.
It did not. It led her somewhere stranger than she could have ever dreamed...
...and from there, a man with more arms than a man should have gave her something like a watch, and said it would take her 'home'. But home... Japan was a place with men who wanted to kill her. Pennsylvania... was not home anymore. Where to go?
So after setting the room she was in as 'return point', she pressed buttons randomly, and ended up on a street in the middle of a riot. Men and women running around, screaming at the top of their lungs.
...no, no, not screaming. Laughing.
And at the end of the street, a man in a purple suit, with chalk-white skin and jade-green hair and a mad smile laughed. "Yes, yes, I know! I am the funniest man on Earth!" Then he held up a device. "And now that you've heard my joke... well, they said if you gotta go, go with a SMILE!"
Another man, this one in a grey suit with a fluttering cape swung in, kicking the device out of the madman's hand. "Not this time, Joker!"
"Batman. Daaaaaarling. How LOVELY to see you."
Eiko watched, amazed, as the one called Batman used at least three different arts that she knew of - and two she did not - to knock the madman's assistants out, and then the madman himself.
Someone grabbed her from behind, an arm snaking around her neck, and then something cold was pressed against her temple. "Yo, Bats," he said. "Little girl here, looks like. Let the boss go or I'll ventilate her skAAAAAGH!" The last part was because, with a near-casual move of the hand, Eiko had poked him in a nerve cluster in the elbow of the hand holding the gun. He wouldn't be able to move his fingers for love or money for an hour, and it was extremely, immensely painful.
The 'Batman' came down. "What did you do to him?" he demanded of Eiko.
"Sho-itami nerve strike. You know it too." She shrugged.
He switched to a harsh Japanese. "That is a ninjutsu technique of the Korogi clan. One inch off and you'd have caused a muscle spasm that would have dislocated his elbow. Where did you learn this technique?" he demanded.
She responded with the icy politeness that most Japanese would know means supreme anger. "My family taught it to me, as part of the jūhachi-kei, from before I can remember. I have trained myself for two years. No one speaks to me in that manner." She turned, and he grabbed her shoulder. She tried to throw him; he knew the counter.
"You remind me of someone I once knew. She was also trained to kill. Why are you here?"
She'd come to accept her skills at her art as being possible to kill, but had never, not once, taken it to that point.
"I came to find somewhere I could make a home. I do not think this is it." She sighed. "I must continue looking," she continues, switching back to English. "I will not be a trouble again."
As he watched, she touched the strange wristwatch she had, and disappeared in a flicker of light, and was gone from Gotham City.
They said, "It is time for me to go. I thank you for your kindness, your friendship, and everything you taught me."
...and so she walked away from it all. Nothing had been a part of her life, really, for so long, and she walked away.
She packed a suitcase, put her shamisen and swords and the scrolls into the case she'd had specially made for it, caught the bus out of town, and got to Pittsburgh. She had a good deal of money on hand, and a passport, and that made it easy. Pittsburgh to Los Angeles for two days, and then Los Angeles to Tokyo.
It was on the way out of Narita International Airport arrivals, not even to the luggage carousel, that the first attack came, two men in suits trying to kill her with small knives of such sharpness that there was barely any sound as they cut the air. She evaded them, with nothing but the case with her.
The second attack was heralded by the growling sound of an engine. She barely dodged the motorcycle as it flew off the fourth-story roof towards her, and that surprise almost did for her when the four men on motorcycles attacked. Again, she evaded rather than fighting.
It was in Akihabara she was attacked again, trying to eat some ramen in a streetside shop. Five men, in jogging suits, drawing long knives and throwing irons and a chain. One of them greeted her with a cry as she stabbed him in the eye with a chopstick, then threw herself at a door that claimed to lead into the back door of a Pachinko palace.
It did not. It led her somewhere stranger than she could have ever dreamed...
...and from there, a man with more arms than a man should have gave her something like a watch, and said it would take her 'home'. But home... Japan was a place with men who wanted to kill her. Pennsylvania... was not home anymore. Where to go?
So after setting the room she was in as 'return point', she pressed buttons randomly, and ended up on a street in the middle of a riot. Men and women running around, screaming at the top of their lungs.
...no, no, not screaming. Laughing.
And at the end of the street, a man in a purple suit, with chalk-white skin and jade-green hair and a mad smile laughed. "Yes, yes, I know! I am the funniest man on Earth!" Then he held up a device. "And now that you've heard my joke... well, they said if you gotta go, go with a SMILE!"
Another man, this one in a grey suit with a fluttering cape swung in, kicking the device out of the madman's hand. "Not this time, Joker!"
"Batman. Daaaaaarling. How LOVELY to see you."
Eiko watched, amazed, as the one called Batman used at least three different arts that she knew of - and two she did not - to knock the madman's assistants out, and then the madman himself.
Someone grabbed her from behind, an arm snaking around her neck, and then something cold was pressed against her temple. "Yo, Bats," he said. "Little girl here, looks like. Let the boss go or I'll ventilate her skAAAAAGH!" The last part was because, with a near-casual move of the hand, Eiko had poked him in a nerve cluster in the elbow of the hand holding the gun. He wouldn't be able to move his fingers for love or money for an hour, and it was extremely, immensely painful.
The 'Batman' came down. "What did you do to him?" he demanded of Eiko.
"Sho-itami nerve strike. You know it too." She shrugged.
He switched to a harsh Japanese. "That is a ninjutsu technique of the Korogi clan. One inch off and you'd have caused a muscle spasm that would have dislocated his elbow. Where did you learn this technique?" he demanded.
She responded with the icy politeness that most Japanese would know means supreme anger. "My family taught it to me, as part of the jūhachi-kei, from before I can remember. I have trained myself for two years. No one speaks to me in that manner." She turned, and he grabbed her shoulder. She tried to throw him; he knew the counter.
"You remind me of someone I once knew. She was also trained to kill. Why are you here?"
She'd come to accept her skills at her art as being possible to kill, but had never, not once, taken it to that point.
"I came to find somewhere I could make a home. I do not think this is it." She sighed. "I must continue looking," she continues, switching back to English. "I will not be a trouble again."
As he watched, she touched the strange wristwatch she had, and disappeared in a flicker of light, and was gone from Gotham City.