Katana at Super Hero High Page 9

  Her friends discussed the possible meanings.

  “The battle of good versus evil?” Hawkgirl asked.

  “The battle for humanity?” said Poison Ivy as she passed out fragrant roses in bloom.

  “The battle for the best fencing team?” The Flash suggested.

  “The battle of determining who we are?” said Batgirl, looking up from her portable computer.

  The Junior Detective Society was meeting to discuss the latest haiku. Katana had set the two conch shells on the table. All stared at the shells as if they were the answer, when really, to Katana, they were the questions. Her mind drifted back to her grandmother.

  “You ask so many questions,” Onna had said, pulling her granddaughter close for a hug.

  “I am sorry,” young Katana said, smiling because she knew that Onna would always give her an answer, or a story that seemed to contain an answer.

  Onna stepped back and put her hands on Katana’s shoulders. “Seeking the answers is always admirable. Those who ask are open to knowledge. Those who do not, presume.”

  Gathered around Batgirl’s computer, the Junior Detective Society was trying to parse the haikus by using a poetry analysis program. But as with the other attempts to pull meaning from the spare words, they had made little progress and kept circling without finding the center.

  Katana leaned back in her chair and thought about home. She was grateful to her parents for keeping Onna’s legend alive with stories about her career as the first female Samurai super hero. They had been telling her more to help with her Legacy project, and she was making a lot of progress.

  Katana let her mind drift back to a recent conversation.

  “Like you, Onna had quite an imagination,” her mother said as they began their weekly AboutFace on-screen talk. “She tried to shield me from some of her more dangerous missions, so I never knew what was real and what was not.”

  “Was she in danger a lot?” Katana asked.

  Her mother looked away. “I think maybe. I was just a girl when I discovered who my mother really was. I worried for her all the time, just as I worry…”

  She didn’t have to finish her sentence. Katana knew what she was thinking. “Mom, I promise to do all I can to keep safe.” Her mother nodded unconvincingly. “That’s why I am here at Super Hero High,” Katana said brightly, hoping her mother would catch her enthusiasm. “I’m at school to learn. To practice. To become the best super hero I can be!”

  Her mother nodded again, then finally spoke. “Tatsu, my daughter, you are an only child, just as your Onna was, and as am I. I just want what any mother wants—for her daughter to be happy and to be safe.”

  “I am happy,” Katana assured her. “And I thank you and Dad for giving me this chance to learn and to honor Onna in the best way I know how. But I want to know more.” She paused, then corrected herself. “I need to know more. It would help me in my journey to become a super hero.”

  Her mother looked resolved. “There are some things of your grandmother’s that you may find of interest,” she said. “I will send them to you.”

  “The battle to end all battles?”

  “The battle with one’s self?”

  Katana came back to the moment and rejoined her friends in the conversation. “Maybe it means the battle for the last piece of Superfood Cake in the cafeteria.”

  They looked at each other. Grins spread across their faces. After a moment’s pause, everyone dashed out of the room, laughing and squealing.

  One morning a couple of days later, Katana found a wooden crate outside her room just as she was headed to class. Inside, wrapped in layers of padded cloth, was a red-lacquered teak chest. Katana ran her fingers over her grandmother’s name. It was carved into the top and written in Japanese.

  Slowly, she lifted the lid. It creaked slightly as a familiar scent wafted upward. Katana instantly recognized the smell as that of the Japanese snowball, a flower her grandmother had always loved. The flowers were plentiful in the woods near their house, and Katana could imagine her grandmother closing her eyes and inhaling its sweet perfume. The box was filled with the dried petals of the flower.

  The first thing she found was a brown leather high school yearbook. A gold embossed crest consisting of a star, a flame, and a lightning bolt was on the cover. Katana gently brushed the petals off it. There was no time to go through everything in the chest, so she tucked the yearbook under her arm and headed out to class. She would look at the rest that night, Katana decided, after fencing practice, when she could devote more time to it.

  Katana glanced at the chest before closing the door to her room. What mysteries did it hold…or solve?

  ou look alike!” Big Barda said as she turned the pages. Katana peered over her shoulder. She and Onna did look alike: The same determined expression on their faces. The same strong stance. The same twinkle in their eyes.

  Katana took the yearbook back. Though it was two generations old, she marveled at how the students still seemed the same. There were awesome aliens, dangerous dragons, a variety of humans, and creatures of undetermined origin. There were clubs and awkward senior photos, and teachers who looked stern. At least this was real, Katana thought. She had heard so many stories from her grandmother that she wasn’t sure what was fact and what was fiction.

  “Can you tell me about her? I wish I had a real grandmother,” Big Barda said wistfully. “I mean, Granny Goodness raised me, but she ended up being, you know, evil. Sheesh, I always wonder what it would be like to be raised by someone good. A real super hero.”

  Katana felt she needed to tell Onna’s story as much as Big Barda seemed to need to hear it.

  “Before I was born, everyone thought my mother would have a baby boy. Something about the way her stomach looked, and the fact that even then I was always kicking. But since I was a girl, my parents named me Tatsu Yamashiro—Yamashiro being my grandmother’s side. She was the last in a line of the Samurai legacy in her family, and with no boys to carry on the family name, the honor was bestowed upon me.

  “I was a happy but intense child, and curious about everything, especially my grandmother’s swords,” Katana continued.

  “ ‘Careful, Tatsu,’ Onna was always saying. ‘You may hold my Katana sword, but only if I have my hands around yours.’

  “The first time I held the sword, I couldn’t stop smiling. Even though it was way too big for me, it was as if I had just been reunited with an old friend.” Katana absentmindedly touched her sword. “ ‘Katana!’ my grandmother said, laughing. ‘We should call you Katana.’

  “And from that day forward, everyone called me Katana,” she said, looking off into the distance.

  “It’s a really good name,” Big Barda said. “So you were named after your sword? I wonder if I should tell people to call me Mega Rod.”

  “Barda is a beautiful name,” Katana said. She began looking at the yearbook again. She stopped on a page that had her grandmother’s photo on it. She was sitting between a small, skinny dragon and a girl with wide white wings.

  “Wow, you really think so?” Barda asked.

  “Think what?” Katana said. The photo had distracted her.

  “That my name is a nice one.”

  Katana nodded. “The name is nice and so are you.”

  “Thanks, but don’t let that get around,” she said, punching Katana lightly on the shoulder.

  “You have my word on that, Mega Rod,” Katana replied. And the two girls burst out laughing.

  That night Katana couldn’t eat dinner fast enough. While sisters Thunder and Lightning were in a heated discussion over their Legacy projects, and Beast Boy, Cyborg, and The Flash were goofing off, Katana was eating her veggie lasagna as fast as she could. She was in such a hurry she ignored the thick slice of pineapple upside-down cake on her tray.

  “You going to eat that?” Big Barda asked as she dug into her mountain of mashed potatoes.

  “It’s all yours,” Katana said, handing her cake over. Bar
da beamed.

  “Will you be joining our book club tonight?” Batgirl asked as Katana pushed her chair away from the table. “We’re going to be discussing that new book about Shakespeare in the Fifth Dimension.”

  “Sorry, there’s something I have to do,” Katana said, brushing past Adam Strange. He had just adjusted his jetpack and was now flying around the room passing out homemade Moon Cakes that his grandmother had sent him.

  “Katana,” he called. “Catch!”

  She leapt high in the air, caught the Moon Cake, tucked into a twirl midair, and continued running without breaking her stride all the way to the dorms.

  After the hustle and bustle of the dining hall, Katana’s room was blissfully quiet. She closed the door behind her and pulled the red teak chest into the middle of the room. Katana stared at it, wondering what she would find. Slowly, she raised the heavy lid of the chest. She was once again met with the sweet scent of snowball flowers. Inspired by Batgirl, Katana took inventory of what she found, including the yearbook:

  1. High school yearbook from senior year

  2. Snowball petals, dried and scattered

  3. Articles about famous Samurai super heroes

  4. Letters from Onna’s parents telling her to be careful

  5. Framed senior portrait of Onna looking strong, staring at the camera while wearing armor with a fresh snowball flower on top of the helmet

  6. Misc. photos of Onna with friends—a group of girls, some alien, other earthlings, grinning; fencing team photo, with caption ONNA-BUGEISHA YAMASHIRO AND DRAGON PRINCE LEAD RED PLANET PREP TO VICTORY

  7. Assorted weapons

  8. Red silk kimono

  Katana pulled her sleek black hair into a bun and secured it with a hairstick. She sat on the floor taking small bites of Adam Strange’s Moon Cake as she lingered over the photos. High school! Everything was from when Onna was her age—when her grandmother was training to be a super hero at Red Planet Prep.

  Onna looked so young. Her grandmother was co-captain of the fencing team? Why hadn’t Katana known that? She wished Onna had talked more about herself. Katana examined the photo with the skinny kid called Dragon Prince standing next to her grandmother. He looked supremely uncomfortable. Both were holding their swords. Onna stood tall and looked straight at the camera, while her co-captain was looking at her.

  As she read the articles, Katana learned more about the Samurai—and that when the reign of the Samurai ended, many did not know what to do with their lives. Some went into business, others took up other family trades like pottery and farming, a handful became super heroes—and though Onna could not have known it at the time, she would join their ranks.

  Katana lifted up the kimono and held it in front of her. The red silk was shiny and there were delicate patterns embroidered with gold thread around the collar. A scene of an ocean was repeated on the robe. It was heavier than it looked.

  Opening the kimono, Katana slipped into it. It wrapped around her like a robe. The garment fell to her ankles, and when she stretched her arms out, the kimono made a thick T-shape. Katana secured the obi, a kind of sash, in the back and regarded the image of herself in the mirror. She lifted her arms but noticed that one side was heavier than the other. Curious, Katana felt the long sleeve that draped halfway down the kimono. There was something inside it.

  he small black book was secured shut with a bronze latch. Katana flipped the latch open. It made a satisfying clinking sound. Inside the leather cover, Katana recognized her grandmother’s handwriting. How could it be delicate and strong at the same time? On the first page it read: Private property of Onna-Bugeisha Yamashiro!!! Keep out!!!

  Katana had to laugh. Her own diary had a similar warning on it. Wondering if she should continue, Katana paused. It seemed wrong to read something so personal that someone else had written. Yet, at the same time, this was her invitation to get to know her grandmother even better. She made up her mind and began to read…

  Hello, Diary! I am honored and excited to have been accepted to Red Planet Prep. Everyone says it’s one of the best super hero high schools in the universe! Though it’s small, it has a reputation for graduating great super heroes. If I can make it all four years, I shall be among those ranks.

  It may seem petty for me to mention this, because everything else is going so well, but my roommate is causing me stress. She has the annoying habit of flying in her sleep, which means we have to keep the windows shut at night, lest she fly away to who knows where. But when she bumps against the walls, I can’t sleep—and our teachers keep telling us that because we work so hard in the day, we need to sleep hard at night. Plus, I am used to sleeping with the windows wide open and miss the fresh air and sea scent.

  Katana laughed at the thought of a sleep-flying roommate and was glad that she had her own room. Everyone did at Super Hero High, although they shared common space where the rooms connected. Katana kept reading, eagerly turning the pages.

  Onna had many of the same fears and challenges that Katana had—like fitting in and doing well at school. Though Onna had written:

  Some of the other students don’t like it that girls are here. Red Planet Prep was a boys-only school for the longest time. But we’re here to change that!

  This was a new idea to Katana. She couldn’t even imagine Super Hero High being all boys—or all girls.

  Later, in other passages, Onna would go on to write:

  Am I homesick? Yes, I must admit I am. Father sends me letters three times a week and each one says the same thing: “I am so proud of you, Onna. Because you are an only child, you will be carrying on the legacy of the Yamashiro name. And as a super hero ? The first female Samurai super hero? You bring such honor to our family.

  Your mother, of course, worries about your safety all the time. I admit, I do, too, but we both are behind you and wish you love. Speaking of which, have you found love at the school? Your mother and I met in high school! Papa.

  Not much had changed since her grandmother was in high school, Katana noted.

  As the sun set and the stars came out, Katana kept reading. There were larger issues, too, she discovered.

  Why is being the first at something so difficult ? There are those who aim to dissuade me from being a Samurai super hero. They say that a girl cannot do that—she is not strong enough, physically or mentally. Well, I am here to prove them wrong! Still, I must admit, their reservations, sometimes loudly vocal, are wearing on me. Most come from outside the school. There’s a reporter who’s keen on chronicling our lives, and he’s penned several editorials asking, “A girl Samurai ? A girl Samurai super hero? What is she thinking?”

  Well, here’s what I’m thinking—it’s about time! It’s about time there was a female Samurai super hero. I know that there have been others who have tried before me. But they were talked out of it, or even asked to leave their training academies. I sometimes forget how hard others have fought to allow us the liberties we have now. It is my dream to succeed, or at the very least make my dream a reality for someone else.

  Katana stopped reading. Her heart was racing. She had just taken for granted that she would follow in Onna’s footsteps. Though she knew that her grandmother was a first, Katana had never considered what she had gone through to achieve this honor.

  A knock on the door startled Katana out of her thoughts. “Come in!” she called out.

  “Hey, just wondering if you wanted to join our Legacy project work session,” Bumblebee asked. She was holding a jar of honey in one hand and a photo album in the other.

  “Thanks,” Katana said. “But I’m working on it right now and would sort of like to be alone.”

  “Okay, sure. Later, then,” Bumblebee said. Before she left, she said, “Nice kimono!”

  Katana had forgotten she was even wearing it. The silk felt soft against her skin, and knowing that Onna had worn this when she was her age made it even more special. Once the door closed, Katana returned to the diary. When she got to the part about sele
cting their weapons, Katana read with a keen interest. She had the Katana sword her grandmother had gifted her, of course. But there were other weapons as well. Mr. Fox always told his students that they should never rely on just one weapon, power, or strategy in battle.

  Katana put the diary down and looked at the weapons that had been in the chest. There was a heavy kusari-fundo, a weighted chain made of metal. Katana stood and circled it over her head, the way she had watched Wonder Woman do with her lasso. The ninja stars were smaller than the ones she had, but Katana noticed that Onna’s were sharper. She set them aside—they would make a great addition to her weaponry.

  In her own arsenal Katana counted a variety of knives of different sizes, a couple of spears, and her beloved tsubute, a stone-club throwing missile that Batgirl had supercharged by adding an electrified tip. There was also her blowgun, complete with knockout darts. Mr. Fox always made sure that Katana had a good supply of these. But Katana’s sword was her weapon of choice; after all, she had been named after it.

  In her diary, Onna had written of this very sword:

  I love my Katana. It is sleek and simple, but serves me well. Or is it I who serves it? In fencing, Dragon Prince often makes fun of me for loving it so much. He says, “Are you going to marry it?” He’s so funny, though not when I beat him in fencing!

  I am grateful that my family supports my goal to become a super hero. Dragon Prince’s father, the King, chides him at every opportunity. And whenever his father hears that he has lost another fencing match to me, Dragon Prince broods for days. “I lost to a girl,” he says bitterly.

  “We are friends,” I always tell him. “And we battle as such. We learn from our losses and get stronger each time.”

  He is full of excuses, though.

  “The sun was in my eyes.”

  “My sword is not as balanced as yours.”

  “I ate too much at lunch.”

  And I have to laugh. There is no excuse for not doing your best and being open to learning. When one ceases to learn, what is left?