Revenge of the Ninja, page 3
5
NINJA DOWN
Scarlett always came up with her own plans. But she usually ran them by either Hādo or Yawarakai before presenting to the rest of the JOES. Sometimes an idea that seemed good on paper wasn’t realistic in practice, and the only way to know that was from experience.
After school the next day, Scarlett walked to the Arashikage Dojo to see if she could get feedback on her plan to infiltrate Destro’s office. Zoro-me said he had something to take care of and would meet her there. The fact that he wasn’t telling her what suggested it was something for his uncles. It wasn’t that the Arashikages didn’t trust her. But she had learned there were levels of trust, and she had not yet reached the deepest one. Maybe one day . . .
As luck would have it, Scarlett reached the dojo just as Yawarakai was returning. He was once more wearing “civilian” clothes. Scarlett was intensely curious about what he’d been doing lately that required him to blend in like that, but she knew better than to ask a ninjutsu master their business.
Yawarakai beamed. “Shana-chan, you have that look in your eye.”
“What look, Sensei?” she asked innocently.
He chuckled. “Don’t be coy with me, little girl.”
“Fine, you got me,” she admitted. “I was hoping to get your opinion on something.”
“More trouble-making, I presume?”
“You know me so well, Sensei.”
“And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He gestured for her to follow. “Let’s go inside, and you can tell me all about it over a cup of tea.”
“Watashi wa ocha o nomimasu,” she told him.
He winced as he unlocked the door. “Please don’t inflict your attempts at Japanese on me without warning.”
Her face fell. “That bad, huh?”
“We’ll work on it,” he promised.
What came next happened so fast that Scarlett would replay it all for days after and still not be certain she had it right. Yawarakai opened the door slightly, then froze with his hand still on the knob. His head tilted to the side. Then he turned back to her, his eyes filled with sadness.
“Gomen’nasai,” he said softly, which meant “I am sorry.”
Then he slammed his palm into her chest so hard she flew backward fifteen feet into the side of a parked car. The impact knocked the wind out of her, snapping her head back so hard it hit the glass.
In that same moment, the dojo exploded.
Scarlett fought to remain conscious, even though her head rang and her chest heaved. She clumsily reached up to grasp the side-view mirror. She was able to pull herself halfway up before her legs gave out.
Zoro-me caught her before she hit the cement. He cradled her, his scarred face gazing down at her in concern.
But it wasn’t her that he needed to worry about. She stretched out her hand toward the blazing dojo and managed to croak:
“Sensei . . .”
Zoro-me’s eyes widened in something close to horror.
He placed her back on the ground, then turned toward the inferno.
“Zoro-me! Wait!”
Before she could stop him, he charged into the raging fire.
She gritted her teeth and once more hauled herself up. This time her legs held, but when she tried to walk toward the fire, they felt rubbery and unstable. Still, she staggered forward. She had no plan, no strategy, and barely any thoughts. She just knew she had to help Zoro-me save his uncle.
But an iron grip closed around her shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Hādo asked.
“I have to help . . .” Scarlett mumbled.
“Tch! And what sort of help do you think you can provide in your current state?” He turned to Tommy, who stood gaping at the wreck that used to be his home. “Help your brother! Now!”
“Hai!” Tommy snapped out of his shock and shot forward into the flames.
Scarlett and Hādo stood there in painful silence. The fire seemed impossibly large. It sent a thick column of black smoke into the air, bringing with it a terrible stench that spoke of death and destruction.
At last, Zoro-me and Tommy emerged from the burning building, with Yawarakai held between them.
“He’s alive!” Tommy called. “But he needs a hospital!”
Hearing that Yawarakai was alive sent such a flood of relief through Scarlett that she swooned and had to cling to Hādo’s hand just to stay upright.
“I’m sorry, Sensei,” she whispered. “So sorry . . .” Hādo looked down at her, his face unreadable. “He prioritized your safety over his own.”
She nodded.
“Would you have expected anything different from him?”
She shook her head.
“We each act in accordance with what we believe, and that has ever been his way. So don’t blame yourself, child.”
It was probably the kindest thing Hādo had ever said to her—and the thing that broke the dam that had been holding back her emotions. She sobbed into the old man’s arm so long and hard and loud that it felt as though she might never stop, until at last she lost consciousness.
When Scarlett woke, her head still hurt and her vision was a little blurry, but she could tell she was somewhere soft and warm. A bed? Finally, her vision cleared, and she understood that she was in a hospital room.
A nurse appeared soon after. “Good to see you awake, honey. Can you tell me your name?”
“Scar—” She stopped herself. “Shana O’Hara.”
The nurse nodded, looking satisfied. Scarlett knew that when someone received a concussion, it was standard to ask them obvious questions, in case they showed signs of confusion or memory loss.
Scarlett waited patiently while the nurse bustled around the room, checking various monitors and entering information on her Lyre XR. At last, she looked back at Scarlett and smiled. “Ok, everything looks good. Do you have someone who can come get you?”
“Of course,” Scarlett lied.
The nurse nodded. “Then you’re free to go. Just make sure to let us know if you experience any dizziness, confusion, or nausea.”
“Will do.” Another lie. Springfield Hospital, like nearly everything in her town, was financially supported by DeCobray, and therefore suspect.
Once the nurse was gone, Scarlett waited expectantly. A moment later, three ninjas emerged from the shadows.
Hādo stood in the center, his face as unyielding as stone. He was flanked on one side by Zoro-me, and on the other by Tommy. All three were dressed in their yoroi, or ninja armor, and armed with katanas, shuriken, kunai, and probably a bunch of other things Scarlett couldn’t even see.
“How is Yawarakai-sensei?” she asked.
“Stable, but in a coma,” Hādo said tersely. “The doctors are unsure when he will wake.”
“Do we know what happened yet?” she asked.
“The Springfield Police are calling it an accident.” Hādo’s tone was scathing.
“It was Cobra?” guessed Scarlett.
“Or one of their associates,” replied Hādo. “Perhaps this newly arrived Destro fellow. Regardless of who it is, they will regret their actions.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“That is none of your concern, Shana-chan.”
She wanted to argue with him. To tell him that, actually, it was her concern because she had been there when it happened. That it was partly her fault Yawarakai was in a coma, and she loved them all so much sometimes it almost hurt. But even recovering from a concussion and extremely upset, she knew better than to contradict the Hard Master.
She bowed her head. “As you wish, Sensei.”
“We have only come back so that my nephew can say farewell.”
A bolt of panic shot through Scarlett. “F-Farewell?”
“It is clear we are now targets. My nephews and I must go into hiding while we plan our . . . response.”
“Your revenge, you mean?” she whispered.
“And what of it?!” snapped Hādo, his expression suddenly furious. “Do we not have cause? After such a heinous and cowardly act?”
Scarlett had never seen him so upset before. She hadn’t even realized he was capable of such intense passion. But the dark, seething wrath emanating from him was terrifying. All she could do was bow her head once again before its might.
Zoro-me stepped forward and took Scarlett’s hand.
Thick emotion welled up in her throat, and her eyes stung. “You’ll . . . you’ll come back, right? When it’s over?”
He looked at his uncle. Then he looked back at Scarlett.
For once, Scarlett wished she didn’t know what he meant. That her best friend couldn’t promise they would ever see each other again. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and looked down at her lap so she didn’t have to gaze into those heartrendingly earnest blue eyes.
“Goodbye,” whispered Zoro-me.
She felt his hand slip free from hers.
When she looked up, they were gone.
And Scarlett was alone.
Again.
CHAPTER
6
BAD LUCK WITHOUT SNAKE EYES
Scarlett managed to talk her way out of the hospital without an adult to sign for her release. Then it was a slow and lonely walk home. By the time she arrived at the house, it was after midnight and everyone was asleep, which was just as well. It wasn’t like she could count on anyone in her family for comfort.
She would have loved to sit and wallow in misery for a few days, maybe lose herself in the latest online game. But people were counting on her. AVC needed intel on Destro and MARS that only the JOES could obtain. And to do that, her team needed to be confident in her leadership and their ability to succeed in the mission.
“Without Zoro-me?” Stan asked when they met in the clubhouse after school the next day. The three of them sat at the small shack’s table as wan afternoon sunlight filtered through the lone window.
“Our most skilled member?” added Julien, in case there was any confusion.
“Guys, I know we’ve relied on Zoro-me a lot,” she said. “But I promise, we can do this, just the three of us. Everything is fine.”
“Everything is fine?” Stan repeated. He exchanged a glance with Julien.
Julien sighed. “Okay, Scarlett. Before we start talking about any kind of mission stuff, let’s talk about the fact that you’re really bad at pretending you’re okay when you’re clearly not.”
“I’m fine!” she insisted.
“Really?” Stan asked doubtfully. “You feel fine? Tell me you feel fine.”
“I feel . . .”
She remembered the sorrowful look Yawarakai had as he apologized—just before saving her life—and her voice seized up.
Scarlett cleared her throat and tried again.
“I feel . . .”
She remembered Zoro-me’s intense blue eyes as he squeezed her hand, and the pressure behind her eyes became so intense it felt as if they were bugging out like a Toon Town filter.
Scarlett took a slow, painful breath. They were right. Who was she kidding?
“I feel . . . not-fine.” Her voice trembled. “What am I going to do without him? What if he’s gone forever?”
Wordlessly, they both hugged her. And she cried. Again. Not as bad as the night before, but still harder and more embarrassingly than she would have liked. Her friends bore it patiently, until her breathing slowed and her eyes dried.
She gave one last defiant sniffle, then squared her shoulders. “Okay, but for real. Here’s the plan.”
Getting the layout of the principal/headmaster’s office had been easy. She could have gone to Dr. Hauser, who had not only briefly been the principal, but was also a member of AVC and theoretically supporting them. But Hauser didn’t like the idea of kids involving themselves in dangerous activities, even if it was ultimately for a good cause. If he thought there was even the tiniest risk to their lives, he would delay or even downright forbid the mission. And with Zoro-me gone, that seemed most likely.
Instead, Scarlett went to her American Literature teacher, Ms. Peña. She told Ms. Peña that she was working on an extra credit assignment about class and privilege in modern American education, and she wanted to know just how much better the principal’s office was compared to the others. Ms. Peña was a well-known gossip and a self-described “rabble-rouser.” She had no problem dishing on the “obscene luxury” to be found in the principal’s suite, as it was apparently called.
The suite had a full-size waiting room with a secretary, a main office large enough to hold a conference table, a Contemplation Room for meditation, and a Media Room where the principal could theoretically stretch out to watch education-related presentations—or the latest series on DeCobray’s streaming service, Anaconda TV. (“Shows so bingeable, they’ll never let you go!”) There was also a small fitness room, a private bathroom, and even a dining room with a dedicated chef.
“So,” Scarlett summarized to Stan and Julien, “excluding the bathroom—because eww—that still leaves seven rooms that need to be bugged.”
“Which is two more than the faculty lounge,” said Stan.
“And we have one less person,” said Julien.
Scarlett grimaced. “Yes, it’s going to be a challenge. But I know we can do it!”
They attempted the mission the following night. Julien wasn’t great at sneaking, or frankly walking in a straight line without tripping. He would act as remote tech support for Scarlett and Stan.
They waited until they were sure that Destro, his secretary, and his chef were all gone for the day. Unlocking the main door was easy enough. It was connected to the school’s network security system, which Julien had hacked months ago. Once Scarlett and Stan were in the waiting room, they split up.
Scarlett crept down the dark hallway, her steps completely silent on the carpeted floor. The first door she found had no window or any way to peer inside. If Ms. Peña’s recollection was accurate, this would be the Contemplation Room. She pressed her ear against it but heard no sound. She carefully turned the handle, then slipped inside.
The room was almost pitch black, but she could tell it was small. She touched the wall and felt soft quilting, which was good for soundproofing. As her eyes adjusted, she could see there wasn’t any furniture, just a couple of round pillows on the ground.
Then the lights flicked on.
Scarlett spun—and found herself looking at a very smug Anastasia Cisarovna.
“Well, if it isn’t the great Shana O’Hara.”
The Baroness, as Anastasia like to be called, had long black hair and round black glasses. Normally she only wore black clothes as well, but even she was forced to wear the new gray-and-red Springfield Academy uniforms.
“Anastasia,” Scarlett said quietly.
Anastasia had some connection to Cobra. She had been working with Zartan and Michel, though not enough to disappear like they had. She also seemed to fancy herself Scarlett’s rival in strategy. Up till now, she hadn’t shown herself worthy of that title. So how had she anticipated this mission?
“How mysterious to see you here, Shana,” Anastasia gloated. “I hope you and your Average Joes are behaving yourselves. You know how our new headmaster despises student misconduct. I shudder to think what would happen if he found out you were skulking around his private quarters.”
The threat was clear. But what could Scarlett do? Was there any way she could convince Anastasia not to turn her in? Scarlett had to admit that, if nothing else, Anastasia was very good at making certain no one ever had any leverage on her.
“What are you going to do, Anastasia?” Scarlett asked bluntly.
“Hmmm, what indeed . . .” Anastasia tapped her cheek, pretending to think about it.
Scarlett was caught. This was a pretty grievous offense. Suspension at least. Or even worse? What would a billionaire obsessed with warfare do when he found out a kid had snuck into his office? It could cost Scarlett her life. Maybe she could knock Anastasia out and flee. Stan and Julien hadn’t been compromised, so they would at least be safe. Scarlett could join Zoro-me in hiding. They could live off the grid, striking Cobra from the shadows, until they were inevitably captured and ki—
“Weeelllll, I do enjoy some mystery,” Anastasia said, breaking into Scarlett’s spiraling panic. “I think I’ll simply let you go.”
Scarlett stared at her incredulously. Was this a trick?
“You’re . . . not going to tell on me?”
“That’s right.” Anastasia broke out in an absolutely malevolent grin. “It can be our little secret.”
Something about the way she said it made Scarlett’s blood run cold. But what could she do other than accept?
Anastasia flipped her hand dismissively. “Now, why don’t you run along to your childish clubhouse.”
Scarlett hated owing something to the Baroness. But a tactical retreat was the only viable option. So as much as it pained her, she nodded to Anastasia, then messaged two words to Julien and Stan:
Abort mission
As she fled, Anastasia’s quiet chuckle followed, ringing in her ears far more painfully than any booming bass drum.
CHAPTER
7
TIRESOME OLD MEN
As soon as Shana was gone, Anastasia leaned against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. That could have gone very badly.
Fortunately, while Shana was gifted in many things, poker was clearly not one of them. Because of course Anastasia had been bluffing the entire time. She couldn’t turn Shana in to Destro, because she was also sneaking into his office. She didn’t know Destro very well yet, but she knew enough to suspect that getting Shana in trouble would not have lessened her own punishment. They would have both been punished, and probably severely.
But instead, because of Anastasia’s quick thinking and poise, she had turned the entire situation around. Now that insufferably conceited Shana O’Hara believed she owed something to Anastasia, which was sure to come in handy later.
Anastasia flicked the lights back off, turned on the night vision in her glasses, and resumed the work of carefully concealing a bug inside the fabric of one of the meditation pillows. She was determined to find out what Destro’s true plans were. She had been furious when he began treating her like any other student. The Baroness, merely one of the masses? Absurd! She would show him. And the Commander, too! When she’d finally summoned up the courage to voice her complaints to the leader of Cobra, the Commander had only nodded and said in his laconic voice, “Yesss, that does sound frustrating.”
