up the sheath for his katana. He sheathed the blade, then grabbed two bokken - wooden training swords that roughly echoed the shape and weight of the katanas - and came back again. He spun one bokken in his hand, as if adjusting to its weight. The second, he pointed at me. "Let's go, Sunshine."
Damn, I thought, not eager to be the focus of Catcher's lesson, especially in front of an audience, but I stood up and unbelted my own katana, then bowed respectfully before stepping into the middle of the mat. Catcher handed me the extra bokken.
"The next time we do this," he told the band of guards, who all looked a little too eager to watch me fight, "we do it blindfolded. Your senses are all good enough that you should be able to fend off an attack even without your visual acuity. But today" -
Catcher bladed his body, one foot before the other, knees bent, both hands around the handle of his sword - "you may use your eyes. Standing position," he ordered, indicating that I could defend his attack without having to rise and act out the unsheathing of my sword.
I mirrored his stance, two sword lengths between us, bokken raised over our heads.
"First Kata," he said, just before striking down in front of me. My muscles clenched beneath the breeze of the slicing wood, but he didn't touch me. I responded with my own downward slice, my movements smooth and fluid. I was no Master, but I was comfortable enough with the Katas, the building blocks of katana sparring. It was the same idea as basic ballet positions - you learn the fundamentals, and the fundamentals give you the working knowledge necessary for more-complicated moves.
When we'd completed the first Kata, we went back to our starting position, then worked through the remaining six. He seemed generally pleased with my work, at one point stepping back and making me repeat the final three Katas against an invisible opponent to check my form. He was an exacting teacher, with comments about the angle of my spine, the placement of my fingers around the handle, whether my weight was appropriately distributed. When we were done, and after he'd made comments to the group, he turned back to me.
"Now we spar," he said, eyebrows arched in challenge.
My stomach sank. It was easy enough to hide multiple vampire personalities when I was wearing fancy clothes or walking around the block. It was going to be a lot harder in the middle of a sparring round when a wooden sword was being aimed at my head. That was just the kind of thing that got her attention.
I blew out a breath and bladed my body again, my sword before me. I wiggled my fingers, adjusting their positions on the blade, trying to keep my heart from racing in anticipation of the coming battle.
No. Correction: battles.
Between me and Catcher, and between me and her. The vampire inside.
"Ready. Set. Fight," Catcher said, and attacked.
He came at me with his arms raised, and brought the katana down in a clean, straight slice. I pivoted out of the way, bringing my own sword horizontal and swinging it around in a move that would have sliced his belly open. But for a human, Catcher was fast, not to mention nimble. He spun around in the air, his body at an angle, and avoided the slice of my bokken.
I was so impressed with the move - it looked like something Gene Kelly might have done, it was his brand of defying gravity - that I dropped my guard.
In that instant, he nailed me.
Catcher followed through with the spin, a full 360-degree turn, and brought his own bokken, the inertia of his body weight behind it, across my left arm.
Pain exploded. I threw out a curse and clenched my eyes against the pain.
"Never drop your guard," Catcher unrepentantly warned. I looked up, found him back in the starting position, bokken bladed. "And never take your eyes off an assailant." He bobbed his head at me. "You'll heal, and you'll probably have worse injuries than that when it's all said and done. Let's go again."
I muttered a choice curse about "my assailant," but bladed my body again and adjusted my grip on the handle of the bokken. My biceps throbbed, but I was a vampire; I'd heal.
It was part of our genetic deal.
He may not have been a vampire, but he was good. I was fast and strong, but