Senshi (A Katana Novel) by Cole Gibsen

myself.”
    He nodded, his long mustache lifting to hide the grin underneath. “Good. That is what I want you to do. A long path has been laid before you. If you walk it with the weight of your past, you will tire and fail. Do you understand me?”
    Akiko nodded. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the room in focus. How had she gone from Akiko, failed woman of pleasure, to Akiko, samurai? She dug her fingernails into her palm to prove to herself she wasn’t dreaming. One thing was clear; Lord Toyotomi had spared her life and given her a second chance. She lifted her chin and dared to stare him in the eyes. “I will not let you down.”

17
    W hen I arrived at Quentin’s house, his mom greeted me at the door in a faded purple bathrobe and holding onto a spoon still dripping with pancake batter.
    “Rileigh, dear, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Farmer tilted her head, oblivious to the batter dripping on what was probably a very expensive rug. That was one of the things I liked best about Quentin’s family. Their house, a 3,000-square-foot mansion, was pristine on the outside, thanks to the landscapers that came by weekly. But, once you walked inside and took in the sink full of sippy cups and the always-sticky television remotes, you realized this family cared more about living their lives than making an impression.
    I took a step back as a glob of blueberry batter narrowly missed my sneakers. “It’s my day for carpool. Is he ready to go?”
    A toddler squealed upstairs, the youngest of Quentin’s five brothers and sisters, and Mrs. Farmer looked over her shoulder distractedly. “I’m sorry, honey, but Quentin rode with Carly today.” She cocked her head and gave me a sympathetic look. “Carly told me you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Are you sure you didn’t get your days confused?”
    Yeah, I’m sure that wasn’t all Carly told you. I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Thanks for your concern, Mrs. F. I’m sure that’s what happened.” But I knew it was so much more than that. Quentin would never willingly subject himself to riding with his twin. He was obviously avoiding me. I opened my mouth to excuse myself, but something crashed in the kitchen followed by the sound of a child crying. Mrs. F sighed and shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry, dear. I have to go.” She slammed the door, but not before I heard her yelling something about no Irish step-dancing on the table.
    Sometimes I was reminded that being an only child wasn’t a bad thing.
    I drove straight to school, skipping my morning stop at the Starbucks drive-thru. The last thing I needed was to add caffeine to my already-jumbled emotions. I marched straight to Q’s locker, where I found him wearing workout clothes and shuffling through a duffel bag.
    “Q!” I weaved around the kids who were starting to filter through the hallway.
    His shoulders straightened, but he didn’t look at me.
    I stopped in front of him so he’d have no choice but to acknowledge me when he stood. “Where were you this morning? Tuesdays are my day to drive.”
    He rose slowly, juggling a stick of deodorant between his hands. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I forgot to tell you that I needed to be at school early. Since Carly had pom practice, I caught a ride with her. And, figuring you stayed up late with Kim, I didn’t want you to get up any earlier than you had to. I thought I texted you.”
    “You didn’t.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And for your information, I wasn’t up late with Kim.” Because he never showed up, but that was beside the point. “And why did you have to be at school so early, anyway?”
    He shrugged and hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder. “I wanted to work out in the school’s weight room.”
    “But why? We get plenty of exercise with martial arts. Why would you want to sit in a room that smells like mold and stinky feet and touch equipment that at least a hundred other guys have sweated all