Chapter 1

"The devils were coming."

The small girl crouched shivering in the corner trying to make herself invisible. She'd stuffed the sleeve of her gi in her mouth to keep from crying.

"The devils were coming."

She always knew when they were coming, everyone knew. You could hear the screams of damned souls just before they came. A tiny whimper forced itself out of her throat. She bit down on the heavy cotton sleeve, bit through till the white cotton was stained red.
She'd wet herself in her fear and was too terrified to feel ashamed.

"The devils were coming."

. . .and Papa wasn't home. That was the worst of all. She wouldn't have been afraid, not AS afraid, she amended with silent honesty, if Papa had been home. But he had gone out to
the store, and somehow the devils had known. And now they were here, coming up the stairs. She pressed herself further back into the corner, further, harder, as if she could pass through the heavy wood and find safety. Had she dared, she could have reached out and touched
them as they passed by. Devils all in white, the color of a corpse, the color of death and mourning. Devils with weapons of heavy steel and leather. The chief devil with his third eye, flat and shiny like a dead fish she'd seen at the beach.

"NO!" The protest almost forced itself past her fear. "Oh no." They were at Mama's room. Mama was sick and couldn't fight them. Always before, Papa had been there and had driven the devils away. But now. . .

"There...!" She heard it. . . The big front gate slammed against the wall. Papa, Papa was home. She wrenched around as the front door opened with a crash. Papa was outlined in the door like an avenging hero from the old tales he liked to tell her. And for an instant she was almost afraid of him, for the expression on his face was terrible. Up the stairs he came, strong as a dragon, swift as fire. Her papa. Papa was home, and now everything would be all right. Papa would drive the devils away. O-neesama would cook dinner. Maybe tonight she could sit quietly in Mama's room before bed. She like that, liked just looking at Mama. Some times Mama would talk to her. But she was content to just sit and watch. O-neesama told stories of Mama singing and playing with them. And she almost remembered going to a big green place with water and flowers. And Mama had been there with the most beautiful things.

Maybe Mama would let her sleep in her room tonight. She was supposed to be a big girl, but she didn't feel very big. Her head came up at the sound. She didn't know what it was at first. The devils came out... with Mama....and Papa. Papa... crying. Papa didn't cry. Papa never cried. She couldn't move as the devils went past. Then she jerked herself from the corner and rushed to Mama's room.

Papa was curled on the floor, arms tight around his belly. The devils, they'd beaten Papa. But Papa was the best martial artist in the world. No one could beat Papa. She wanted Papa, but Papa couldn't hear her crying. She wanted her mama, but Mama was gone. She wanted
O-neesama but, O-neesama wasn't there. She was the only one, she realized in horror. She and Papa were the only fighters, Papa was down, and she was the heir. The heir to the doujou, to the name, the school.

A martial artist's duty is to protect the weak, to serve justiceand act with honor. Papa said that. All of his stories told of heroes fighting devils, and bandits and dragons. Told her that it didn't matter if you were afraid or had only been training for
a year or were only six years old. If you were a martial artist, a true martial artist, only honor and justice mattered. But it was hard, so hard when all she really wanted to do was crawl in Papa's lap... have him hold her... tell her everything was all right.

The slamming front gate acted like a trigger. She snatched a kanabo off the wall where it hung with other family treasures and sprinted for the front. Shapes loomed before her, hands grabbed... but they might as well have tried to hold smoke with chopsticks. All of her attention was on the devils disappearing with Mama. She had no
attention to spare to see her neighbors' horrified faces, hear their pleas for her to stop or their failing steps as she left them behind.

"There!" the devils had turned left, toward the Mejiro-dori highway. She remembered that from last week, when they'd gone to the Gokokuji Temple to pray for Mama.

The devils were fast. She'd never catch them... unless. Suiting thought to deed, she turned down a blind alley at a dead run. Four feet from a stone wall, she dug the tip of the iron staff into the ground and jumped... up... and over. She landed on the far side in a crashing jumble of broken glass, rotting food and other refuse. A soundless explosion burst through her knee and up her spine, telling her she'd ripped up something inside. Thrusting the pain aside, she pounded hard for the cross street, her bare feet leaving a bloody trail. The devils reached the cross street as she came into view and turned toward the highway into Tokyo and escape. Head down, lungs burning, she forced her body on after the fleeing devils, after Mama. Tried to force a body too young, too frail to meet its heart's demands. A body saturated
with fatigue and stress poisons to the point of death. Even as her will pushed on after her mother, her body betrayed her, throwing her to the ground in a sudden spasm of pain and defeat.

"Mama!" She tried frantically to follow after her mother. She couldn't get up.

"Mama!"

She tried and tried and tried.

"Mama....

Maaaaamaaaaa!!"

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Everyone commented on how well the family was holding up. Tears
were only natural after such a shock, and surely Mr. Tendou would be back on his feet soon. The eldest girl was such a treasure, so like her mother even at her tender age. The middle girl, always so quiet and shy... well she'd come out of her shell. These things just took time. And the baby.... well such carryings on that day. But she seemed much better now. Akane heard without hearing friends and neighbors as they eddied and swirled around the main hall like autumn leaves.

Nothing could touch her now... not pain, not sympathy, not despair. Nothing mattered anymore. Except The Book. The Book she'd found in the attic. . . found in the place she'd gone to cry after the devils took Mama. . Gone to cry where no one would hear and sympathize. She hated their sympathy, their pity, their words. Always talk, talk talk. But no one would DO anything. No one would go get Mama and bring her home. They said her Mama was gone... "Liar"; gone to heaven..."Liar"; gone to Buddha...."Liar"; gone and never coming back. "LIAR, LIAR, LIAR. STOP LYING." And they had stopped.

She knew better. She knew the devils had Mama, and she was going to get her back. She clutched the secret book tighter. She couldn't read all the words yet; they were too hard. But she understood the pictures...understood this was a book of techniques... SECRET techniques. She'd learn... she'd get strong. Stronger than anybody. Stronger than the devils. Then she would go get Mama back. She'd kill the devils and bring Mama home.