Outfoxed (The Fox Witch #1) - R.J. Blain Page 0,29

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.

“You will not be stabbing as much as you will be slashing, although you will find that your weapon can be used to run unwanted people through with a little effort. Much like you, it is a versatile blade. I’ll admit, part of my choice was pure aesthetics. A fox needs a Japanese blade, and only one blade I know well is good for you.” Batbayar worked a toe beneath one of the wooden practice blades, a katana. With a flick of his foot, he launched the weapon in my direction. I’d had enough poles and wooden tools flung my way over the years I caught it before I comprehended he’d aimed right for my face.

What a bastard.

Catching the wooden sword with my hand rather than my face earned me an applause from the students.

“Despite her lack of formal training, her participation in the basic warmups done every session has honed her reflexes and general physical strength. This is something inherited through hard work. And make no mistake, while Jade has never participated as a student in a traditional fashion, she has worked hard and learned much.”

Well, I’d certainly learned how to dodge intercepting a wooden blade with my face. I examined the weapon, and I recognized it as something similar to a katana, if a katana had been broken down to its base, crafted out of wood, and restrained to be less lethal. “A katana, sir?”

“Yes. I have chosen the katana to be your weapon. It is a blade with enough heft to be a serious contender on the battlefield without being overbearing in your hand. It matches your nature well.”

Of course. Kitsune. The legendary nine-tailed fox of Japanese folklore and myth brought chaos and curses in its wake; I’d listened to Batbayar’s tales of legends when he gave the students a rare chance to catch their breath and recenter themselves before their next exercise.

The stories he’d told made the kitsune seem more of a trickster than anything else, an omen of ill-fortune rather than a benevolent being. I considered the implication.

It would do. While I lacked a single drop of Asian blood, if he believed I needed to be a trickster to survive, I could handle that. I’d need every trick up my sleeve to evade Sandro and the other bounty hunters. I’d need more than a few tricks up my sleeve if I wanted to pull off the greatest stunt of my life: cornering Sandro on neutral ground for a closer look at him without the protective shield of his clothes in place.

I blamed the adrenaline of dodging a sword to the face for my unhealthy interest in a man who viewed me as a paycheck.

Batbayar prowled around me, and when he came full circle, he retrieved another blade, similar to the katana I held but longer and with a sharper curve to the blade. “This is a tachi. It is similar to Jade’s katana, but with a longer reach and originally meant for horseback. Consider it the katana’s older brother. For the purpose of demonstration, it will suffice.”

Without prelude or warning, Batbayar whipped his weapon at my side. I yelped, more from surprise than anything else, and sliced my wooden blade up and to the side to deflect the blow. The blades clacked together, and his bounced away. I hopped out of his reach, and my heart drummed in my chest. Had he struck me, the judogi I wore would’ve offered no protection against the weapon. As a rule, he pulled his blows to prevent breaking bones, but my hand tingled