Tentacle University pt. 18

Cherry sat on her bed, the tools of her training laid out in front of her. The blades were still cleaned, their edges razor sharp, and the few satchels of protective herbs still held their normal, pungent aroma.  She had cared for them, even though she had never planned on using them again.  It had been out of habit.  Now she was both grateful, because that meant she was prepared, but also disappointed. 

Every single object that lay before her was another reminder of the life she just couldn’t seem to escape. No matter how hard she tried to be normal, some force beyond her control kept pulling her right back into the life of a Hen warrior. 

She picked up a long, pointed dagger.  Whitley had given it to her when she had turned 15.  She could still remember how proud he had been when she had unwrapped the package. 

“I saw it, and instantly thought of you.” He had mussed her short, springy hair with his large, calloused hand.  “My like sister, the blade master.”

She had smiled and accepted the gift.  She had even let Whitley train her in how to use it, but even then, she was sure that the life of a warrior was not meant for her.  Now, feeling the hilt of the blade in her palm, she twirled the knife in her hand, the blade cutting a fierce, whirring circle in the air before her fingers found purchase again. 

“Still got it,” she whispered to herself. 

The door to her room flew open, and Peter walked in.  She quickly dropped the knife, pulling her messy blanket over the assortment of weapons sprawled out in front of her.  

“Don’t you ever knock?” She could feel her face burning.  What had he seen?

“Sorry, I just forgot some of my stuff over here, and I wanted to make sure to grab it before tonight.  I’m helping some people with a new number, and I realized that all of my dance gear was over here.” His eyes never seemed to focus on her, his mind too wrapped up in whatever he was talking about.

He hadn’t seen anything.

“Your bag is under the sink in the bathroom.” She gestured towards the bathroom door, but never moved from the bed.  “You might want to wash it before tonight.  Unless you want to knock everyone flat on their asses with the sheer level of stank coming out of that bag.”

He finally looked at her, smiling.  “Oh, really?”

He walked over to her, his hands gently moving towards her shoulders.  His touch was soft and warm.  He gave her a light squeeze and leaned down, his lips moving towards hers. 

She felt the blanket slip, and the blade she had been holding earlier clattered to the floor.  Her whole body went rigid with panic.

Peter pulled away, bending down and picking the blade up, his fingers clumsy in their handling of the delicate weapon. “What’s this?”

“It’s… an old family heirloom.” Cherry couldn’t think of a lie fast enough, so she settled on a half truth. 

“What? Do you come from a long line of ninjas or something? Do you know karate and shit?” He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. 

That eyebrow really pissed her off.  “Actually, that isn’t too far off.  My great grandparents were African immigrants in Tokyo. My grandfather was born there, and my grandmother is actually Japanese.” As she spoke, recalling the lineage she had heard so many times, she could feel the pride welling inside of her. “So a great deal of my family’s traditions come from Japan.”

She was smiling.  Something inside of her took great joy in remembering the diverse background that formed her family, and revealing that side of her to Peter felt like she was claiming it all over again. She had told him just enough to make him feel like a jack ass, and not enough to spill the whole history of the Hen warriors. 

“So, know Japanese?” Peter was playing with the blade, swinging it back and forth.  She couldn’t help but notice the mocking twinge in his voice.

Watching him disrespect that weapon brought on another emotion she hadn’t felt in a while. Rage.

“Whitley does.” She snatched the blade from him so quickly that he hadn’t even seen her hand move. “I just opted for the ‘karate and shit’.”

She flipped away the blanket, revealing her entire arsenal, and slid the blade into its rightful spot. 

Peter just stared at her, open mouthed.