Humayre: The Chronicles of Ronin Wilder
Chapter 38

A steel sword fashioned after a Mayreblade glistened in the torchlight behind a thick glass case. The plaque below the sword read KIA. Ronin swallowed hard. Stabbed in the chest while sitting in a chair was hardly Ronin’s idea of killed in action. The plaque should have probably read, Murdered in the Most Despicable, Dishonorable Way Imaginable.

As Ronin stood staring at Cyrus’s memorial, guilt flooded over him for not paying his respects sooner. He placed his hand on the glass, and said, “I’m sorry.” He turned his gaze away from the memorial. Cyrus’s death played over and over in his mind like a song on repeat. If he couldn’t find a way to control his thoughts they would consume him. They even haunted him in his dreams. To survive under Dick’s care Ronin had learned how to block things out. To ignore things that might otherwise have drove him to uncontrollable anger. That’s what he had to do, he had to block it out.

“Ronin,” said Mr. Wetstone, in a firm voice.

Startled from his thought Ronin spun around.

“I’ve got good news.”

Unless he was going to tell Ronin that he could stay at the school despite his tournament performance it wouldn’t be good news as far as Ronin was concerned.

“You were right about Dr. Grey and Ryan,” said Mr. Wetstone. “When our agents went to question Dr. Grey at the BioTech labs, all they found was a disheveled and partly cleaned out office. Apparently the conspiracy was even bigger than you thought. Half the staff fled with Dr. Grey. We found skeleton plans for the weapon you described as well as a few others. They took the detailed schematics with them.”

“They fled?” asked Ronin. It was only a slight relief but at least they knew Ryan was responsible for Mrs. Kinney’s attack.

“Yes. They were tracked to a private airstrip. The flight logs were missing. We can only guess they fled the country.”

“Too bad they got away.” Ronin rubbed his hands together and stared at his claws. Once he got back to the normal world he wondered how he was supposed to hide the monstrosities

Mr. Wetstone furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

“I’m happy that Ryan will never be able to show his face here again.”

“What about the fact that you won’t be expelled for slander? I thought for sure you would be relieved.”

“I have to go,” said Ronin. “I’m late for practice.” Practice, what a joke. It didn’t matter how much he practiced, he couldn’t magically give himself the strength of a normal Humayre. He took his focus from his hands and emptily stared at Mr. Wetstone. “Can I leave now, sir?”

Mr. Wetstone nodded. “Of course.” As Ronin started to walk away Mr. Wetstone grabbed his shoulder. “Wait.”

Ronin turned.

“Is something wrong? Perhaps I can help.”

“Can you get me to the fourth round of the Tournament?”

A look of understanding came over Mr. Wetstones face, or perhaps recognition of the situation. He stood in stunned silence as Ronin turned and walked away.

The wooden practice dummy stood at the center of the training room. Just to the right of the dummy was Grace with a smile on her face. As down as Ronin was he couldn’t help but to feel happy when he looked at Grace. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Of all his friends he would miss her the most.

“You ready?” asked Grace.

“Yeah.” Ronin nodded.

A black helmet rested at Graces feet. She picked it up and tossed it to him. The helmet flew through the air. One of Ronin’s claws extended as he reached his hand out. The claw hit the helmet before his fingers. The helmet bounced off his hand and rolled to the floor.

Rage fired through Ronin like a volcanic explosion. It all came to a head at that moment. Mrs. Kinney, his parents, Raven, the reality that he was going home to Dick. It all hit him at once. He grasped his hands together and smashed his thumb claws into each other. “These stupid claws,” he hissed. His eyes furrowed as he grabbed his thumb claw and pulled. He wanted to tear the horrid thing off.

Grace rushed to Ronin. She put her hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” snapped Ronin. “Everything is wrong.” Grabbing the wooden bokken leaned against the dummy, he added, “Do you know how hard it is to hold a stupid sword with these claws?” He dropped the sword and stared at the cylindrical, pearlescent, daggers on his fingertips. “This is what I got.” He held his hands up and extended all ten claws. Grace took a step back. Seeing her afraid softened his anger. He quickly lowered his hands. “Everyone else gets strength.” He felt his upper fang with his thumb. “I get back scratchers and a messed up smile. Yeah. That’s a fair trade off.” The training dummy was just to his left. He extended the claws on his left hand and swiped across the dummy’s midsection. The strike left four deep cuts in the wood.

“I’ve got something that’s going to cheer you up.” Grace took Ronin’s hands and held them in her own.

Grace’s green eyes were mesmerizing. Realizing he was staring, he fired his eyes to the back of the room. “I doubt it. Unless you just got news that I won’t be expelled if I lose in the Tournament.” With a pleading doubt in his heart, he found Grace’s jade like eyes with his own. “This place is like a dream and now I’m going to have to leave.” Tears welled up his eyes, he turned away before Grace could see. “You guys are like my family, and now I’ll never see you again.”

“Would you just stop bellyaching for a moment so I can tell you the good news?” She smiled. “I think I found a way for you to get to the fourth round. It’s a loophole in how we do things here. Kind of like cheating. But I don’t care. As long as you get to stay.”

The color returned to Ronin’s cheeks and his eyes lit up. “How?”

“I call it… Take a hit to win technique.” She giggled to herself.

“I don’t understand.”

“There is a flaw in our thinking in regard to dueling. We are taught to protect ourselves at all costs. Parries, ripostes, dodges, blocks, you name it they hammer it into us. What’s the first thing they teach us? Don’t answer that, I’ll tell you. Do not lose focus. One injury is all it takes to give your opponent the upper hand.”

Folding his arms, Ronin said, “I don’t see how this helps me.”

“I’m getting there. Anyway. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. I’ve replayed every duel I can remember off the top of my head and it always plays out the same way. We do everything we can to keep from getting struck.”

Shaking his head, he said sarcastically, “I could have told you that.”

“Okay. Then wrap your mind around this smart guy. What if you let your opponent strike your body so that you can get in a head strike? You charge in protecting your head leaving an obvious opening to your body. When they strike your body you strike their helmet. If done correctly, you will get the win shot. Essentially you will be trading a point for a win.”

Ronin thought about it for a second. It might just work.

“It will take everyone by surprise. No one gives up a free point. Not because it’s not a smart thing to do but because all of our training tells us it could get us killed.”

A problem popped into Ronin head. “Won’t I have to crack the helmet?”

“Yes,” said Grace, as she used a rubber band to tie her hair into a ponytail.

“What if I don’t have the strength to do it? If I don’t crack the helmet then all I accomplish is losing a point.”

“It’s not about strength. It’s about technique. And I know the technique.” She lowered her eyes. In a choked up voice, she added, “Cyrus taught me.”

A sickening heaviness attacked Ronin’s stomach. Not a day had gone by where he didn’t think about telling her that he was there when Cyrus was killed. But every time he found the courage he talked himself out of it. The guilt of betraying her was too much. He put it into the back of his mind and pretended as though he didn’t see her pain.

Wiping her cheek free of a single tear Grace stood tall and pulled her shoulders back. “If we work on the technique all day, I think you can master it.”

“Okay,” said Ronin. At this point he was willing to try anything.

“We are going to work you like you’ve never been worked.”

“We?”

“Yes. I’ve already talked to Mike and Kevin. We are going to take three hour shifts. Since we are the ones taking the blows to the head we need to take breaks.”

Ronin nodded.

“Don’t worry.” she said. “This is going to work. It has to.” She smiled and walked to the lockers. In front of Ronin’s locker was a black duffel bag. She opened it and pulled out her team helmet. She put it on and tightened the chin strap. “Okay. I only have one helmet so we can’t break it. Therefore we will work on the technique but you will use quarter power strikes.”

“Got it,” said Ronin.

“Okay then.” Grace’s voice was muffled behind the mask of her helmet. “Let’s start.” With bokken in hand she approached Ronin.

Twelve hours with fifteen minute breaks every three hours. That’s how long they had been training. Sweat saturated Ronin’s black tee shirt. In the corner of the training room was a stack of soaked black shirts. All were Ronin’s.

“Okay.” Grace faced Ronin with her bokken held in two hands. “This will be the last one.”

Mike held his right hand in the air while the other rested on his head. “Bro. I think you cracked my coconut.” He opened the door. “I’m gonna crash for few. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” said Ronin, and nodded to Mike.

“No problem, Bro.” He nodded and exited the training room.

“Focus,” said Grace. “Ten more reps and we are done.”

It was all Ronin could do to not collapse where he stood. Never in his life had he been so exhausted. Never in his life had he felt so most satisfaction. The training had paid off. In twelve hours he had all but mastered the technique for cracking a helmet. In theory it was really very simple. It was all in the angle of the blade and the point of impact on the helmet. As simple as it seemed, the correct stroke was difficult to perform. But, despite its difficulty, Ronin had triumphed. He could hit the spot he needed every single time with the exact angle needed.

Ten reps flew by. Ronin made perfect contact on every one.

“That’s good,” said Grace. “I think you got it. There’s just one last thing I want to work on. More of a check than anything else. Should only take a few minutes.”

Ronin was bent over sucking in air. Sweat dripped from his forehead and pooled on the floor beneath his face.

“You have anything left?” she asked.

Nope. At any moment he might barf. What if he threw up on her on accident? The embarrassment might kill him. Well, if that happened he wouldn’t have to worry about the tournament. He straightened up. “Yeah. I’m good.”

As Ronin waited for Grace to explain what they were going to do, his conscious began to pick at him. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or perhaps the guilt but he decided he couldn’t keep the secret any longer.

“Before we finish there’s something I have to tell you,’ said Ronin. Nerves and fatigue sucked the wind from his lungs. He took a deep breath.

“Okay.” Grace’s voice was sweet and soft.

Ronin told her everything, he left out no detail. Grace didn’t say a word through the entire confession. Ronin wasn’t able to gauge what she was thinking. The only clue he had was Grace’s accelerated heart rate but that was normal considering he was talking about her dead boyfriend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” said Ronin. “I was afraid you’d blame me. And I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“It’s okay.” Her voice was empty of emotion.

Ronin couldn’t believe she was taking it so well. He thought for sure she’d never want to talk to him again.

“Let’s finish,” she said. Her face was expressionless. “I just have to test one thing to make sure you are still able to execute the strike.” She held her bokken up, and ordered, “In the ready position.”

Ronin held his bokken out in front of him with two hands. Shifting his feet he placed his right foot forward.

“Begin,” said Grace.

Ronin burst forward. His sword was held at his side and high. The position opened up his midsection but protected his head. Grace shot forward. She struck him in the chest with her shoulder. The impact threw Ronin off balance but he was still able to adjust his downward strike. His blade had the perfect angle. As his sword flashed down towards Grace’s helmet a scent filled his nostrils. His eye’s burst wide and his heartbeat ignited into a flurry. It was the smell of hormones. Hormones that were only released in times of absolute rage. They smelled bitter. It was Ronin’s least favorite emotionally induced scent because it affected him physically.

Grace ducked her head to the left and fired the handle of her sword up into Ronin’s chin. His helmet pushed back and up. It lifted off his head and caught his nose before it spun into the air. Ronin’s eyes watered uncontrollable. Wetness spread down his upper lip. A coppery flavor filled his mouth.

The tears clouded his vision. He grabbed his face with both hands. Pain fired through his forehead and cheeks. He jerked his hands back and yelped out in pain. Tiny punctures riddled his face. Dizziness sapped the strength from him legs. A blurry stool in front of his locker was his only hope. Carefully holding his throbbing nose he stumbled across the room and collapsed onto the stool.

“Oh my gosh.” The desperation and panic in her voice was obvious. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” She rushed over to Ronin. She was about to touch his shoulder but pulled back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay. It was an accident.” He knew it wasn’t an accident, he just wanted her to feel better. “I’m okay.” He pulled his hands from his face and felt the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think it’s broke.”

Grace stared at Ronin’s nose, she looked as though she might burst into tears. “I’m so sorry.” She averted her gaze. “I have to go.” She stormed out of the practice room with her helmet still on.

The pain vanished behind Ronin’s heart ache. If she ever spoke to him again he’d be shocked. He didn’t blame her. He knew it was all his fault. As he sat there wallowing in his own self-pity a strange feeling came over him. It felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Mrs. Kinney snuck into his thoughts. She used to tell him that without honesty the heart could never truly love. It never made sense to him before, but it did now. The lies he told had kept his friends at arms-length. He never fully trusted them because he didn’t trust himself. A sense of purpose reinvigorated him. He shot up off the stool. He was going to tell Mike and Kevin everything he’d just told Grace. Hopefully they would all eventually forgive him. At least now he would be able to trust, although it might be too late. Even with his new technique he wasn’t guaranteed a win against a Vein. Win or lose, either way it didn’t matter, he couldn’t continue on without his friends knowing the true him.

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