Page 20 of Outfoxed

I could run like Lora, and I didn’t need the hundred dollars in my pocket to pull it off. I could shift and take off, popping up in the East at my leisure, assuming I could find safe places to hole up while waiting for the evening storms to roll through. I’d probably lose, but I’d lose on my terms.

I couldn’t bring myself to go, though. Outsmarting a bunch of bounty hunters would test me, but it beat giving up. I wouldn’t, not without a fight.

It took us longer than I liked to convince the girl to accept our boss’s offer and leave in the morning. I left the instant she agreed, hurrying towards my second job at the martial arts center skirting Inner Tulsa. Had Batbayar picked a place three blocks over from his current roost, he would’ve been one of the lucky ones. At a sane pace, it took me thirty minutes to reach the center, but as I’d lost precious minutes convincing Lora to head to the East to enjoy a better life, I jogged down the sidewalks as though Mother Nature intended to give me a beat down for defying her.

I made it with two minutes to spare and gasping for breath.

“It would not have killed me for you to be late, Jade,” Batbayar scolded. “Have I not told you time and time again I am an understanding soul?”

As he taught a bunch of kids the way of the sword—or their hands or feet—he needed to be understanding but firm, else his students would never respect him and learn. “You have, but I promised to be here at this time, so I am here at this time.”

“This time would be eight, and you are two minutes early and not late at all. I consider twenty minutes after eight to be late for future reference. After eight but being late is being fashionable and sane.”

“I’m neither fashionable nor sane, Batbayar.” I peeked into the main studio. Instead of the herd of younger children I expected, a pack of teens and some of the older kids did their stretches and waited for instruction. “Oh. It’s the older ones tonight? What about the little kids?”

“There is an active warning for tonight.”

Damn it. I checked my watch again. If he ran the class for the usual hour, I’d have no more than thirty minutes to clean up and pack up. “For sunset?”

“They think it’ll roll in an hour after, which is why I opened doors to the older students if they wished for an extra lesson. I have decided we will begin to learn the way of the sword.”

The immigrant, originally from Mongolia as far as I knew, adored Japanese kendo, its spirit, and everything to do with swords as an art rather than just a weapon of war. I’d heard him talk of Mongolia’s brutal history, and I found it almost as fascinating as his desire to embrace the art of another culture. “What do you want me to do to help tonight?”

Batbayar smiled. “Today, I wish for you to be an example.”

That didn’t sound good. “An example? Am I going to learn why swords are dangerous weapons? I already know swords are dangerous weapons, sir. The last time I was an example when you held a sword, I was bruised for weeks, and you kept showing all of your students just how badly I was bruised and taught them to avoid getting a matching set.”

Batbayar laughed. “You are a treasure, just as your name implies. No, today, I’m going to show the students the power of observation. Come along, and you will understand soon enough.”

Sometimes, the old man drove me crazier than Tulsa’s unpredictable and cruel weather. What did he mean by the power of observation? Sure, I’d watched him teach students for over a year, but he only invited me to participate in the rare beating to demonstrate why skill could mean the difference between life or death.

I’d gotten excellent at dodging armed opponents thanks to his rare demonstrations. Of all the skills I’d picked up over the years, I valued that one above most. Avoiding a blow beat landing a hit in my opinion.

Batbayar led me into the antechamber to the main martial arts studio, which connected to two small locker rooms and bathrooms. He picked up the spare judogi he kept around in case he wanted to beat on me. “Get changed and meet me in the dojo.”

Some days, I liked to prick the man’s ego and remind him he wasn’t actually Japanese, but I took the uniform and stepped into the women’s locker room to change and stuff my clothes and money into the locker he kept reserved for me, locked with a combination only we knew.

Five minutes later, I emerged, rolling my shoulders and doing what stretches I could to prepare for whatever hell he intended to put me through.

Within the studio, the students sat along the wall, leaving plenty of space for Batbayar’s demonstration of how to smack around someone with grace and finesse while I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off.

It would be a bad night.

“As most of you are aware, this is Jade,” Batbayar announced. “I invited you here to begin the next stage of your training. You have noticed by now that while you’re all over the age of ten, you are not with your usual companions. There is a reason for this. They have more to learn about unarmed combat before they are ready to begin learning the way of the sword. Some of you have already been introduced to the weapon you will train with. Others are as new to this as Jade. Unlike you, Jade has no practical experience with martial arts. The few times I have invited her onto the mat, she has done so as the greenest of combatants. This was deliberate, to allow you to see the natural mistakes and skills of the untrained.” Batbayar’s expression turned rueful. “She is wasted on such exercises, as some of you have commented to me before. Some of you have even demanded to know why I have allowed such natural skill to wallow. I haven’t. Because I have allowed her to remain on the sidelines, she will be better able to help me teach you how to embrace your weapon and use it well. Had we done this in a traditional fashion, you would have begun much younger, but that is not the American way of things. If you work hard, you will not find yourself disadvantaged—compared to other Americans. With enough hard work, you will become a jewel, much like Jade.”

“I’m going to throw up on you if you keep flinging around compliments like that,” I warned.

As expected, the class laughed.

“I only speak the truth, however nauseating you may find this. I will remind you that the rules still stand. Should you throw up on my floor, you shall be cleaning my floor until it shines with the brightness of a new sun.”

Damn, the old man wasn’t pulling his punches. “That should be considered cruel and unusual punishment.”

Unfortunately for most in the United States, that part of the constitution had gone rather extinct as magic had changed society’s rules.

“You’ll survive. Now, I have brought out a collection of practice blades for the class to admire. I have already picked the weapon that best fits your spirit. It’s an obvious choice, really.”

“Heaven forbid I have an actual choice in how I stab people.” At the rate I was muttering, I’d forget how to speak like a normal person by the end of the night.