A Scuffle in Tokyo

A bit of adapted fiction from my last NaNoWriMo. This one is for is Frank:

The Way teaches balance. There is Order in apparent Chaos, a duality of Nature: Light-Dark; Hot-Cold; Life-Death. However, the ordered mind recognizes that of these vectors, the "negative" is simply the absence of the "positive." There is really only Light, Hot, Life.

Truth: only people are chaotic in their dualities: Good-Evil; Innocence-Guilt; Mercy-Justice. These vectors are active. Evil is more than simply the absence of Good; and Good is not simply the absence of Evil. The Innocent must have Mercy. But for the Guilty, there is only Justice. That is balance. That is the Way.

The night was alive with energy, pulsing like the heartbeat of a great beast. It was a good night. And Hinageshi had long been a creature of it. The scent of food wafted her way from the nightclub district. Hinageshi inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Her stomach growled, and she headed down the avenue toward the aroma.

The streets of Tokyo never seemed to empty. People laughed and dashed from this club to that bar through colliding techno beats. Hinageshi ran her fingers through her close-cropped green-and-yellow tinted hair. In some ways, she was downright conservative in this crowd. With the whimsical costumes sported by so many, no one noticed the punky girl with eyes that matched her hair and the tattoo decorating the side of her face.

Except the ones who did. She stopped at a snack stand, and caught a glimpse of them. Four punks; much like herself, truth be told. They ducked back, and she acted like she hadn't seen them, purchasing yakitori and moving on down the boulevard. She was clearly without companions in the crowd. She knew they were following, looking for an opening. Smirking to herself, she decided she would give them one. They could be yakuza; she hoped they were. Meandering down the avenue, she ate the kabobs.

She turned down a darker street, away from the crowd, as if heading home. It would be harder for them to disguise their pursuit. Indeed, she perceived that they had been joined by friends, making seven in all. So much the better. Ever the easy prey, she turned down another street.

"Hey, sweet thing," their leader called to her. "Don't you know it’s dangerous for a girl out alone in the night?" A couple of the others chuckled.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” said the leader as he got closer.

Another thug called, "You need an escort home, little thing? We'll keep you safe."

At this point, she glanced back over her shoulder, "Somehow, I don't think so."

She picked up her pace. So did they. Ever closer they came. She glanced back over her shoulder again, a scared look on her face. Perhaps in another block or two they would give up and leave her alone.

But they continued their pursuit. Hinageshi started to jog, half a block more, then down a blind alley. It smelled slightly of rotting garbage and stale urine. The leader grinned like a predator, she was making it too easy. She reached the end, turned around, terror etched on her face. They had her cornered, and the yakuza moved in for the kill.

The leader grabbed Hinageshi by the arm. He pushed her up against the wall of the building.

"You shouldn't have run away like that, little thing." he said, still speaking as if to soothe. "We just wanna have a little fun." He moved closer to plant a kiss on her trembling lips.

She could feel the adrenalin surge, her heart beating faster, time slowing down. She saw all of them, gauged their positions relative to her and to each other. The precepts of the Way flashed in her mind. "In Chaos, Order. For the Innocent, Mercy. For the Afflicted, Comfort. For the Guilty . . .

"Justice."

The kata of the Way guided her body. The ebb and flow of thousands of battles of her forebears refined her movements. Allowing herself to be pulled closer to the leader, she drew one of her wakizashi from its scabbard hidden in her sweater. The terror he saw in her eyes evaporated. Two flicks—The Rising Tide—and the punk’s fingers were falling to the ground. He screamed. The others registered surprise, then confusion. Hinageshi's second blade glinted in the streetlight.

The second thug found his breath cut off, then his life, as Hinageshi’s blade passed through his windpipe—The Rushing Wave—on its way out the back of his spine.

The third tried to defend himself, drawing a Beretta that clattered to the ground, still gripped tightly by his severed fist—The Whirling Breeze—followed closely by his head. The fourth tried to flee—The Wind in the Reeds—but found himself unable to run effectively with no feet. Hinageshi continued her swing—The Sudden Calm—ending his misery.

The fifth thug had drawn a knife, but a series of downward strikes—The Hailstorm—deprived him first of of his weapon, then of his lifeblood. The last two had time to fully draw weapons, but wisely chose to run screaming into the night. Hinageshi let them go.

She turned to the leader, whose cry had faded to a whimper. He was on his knees, rocking. He clutched the stumps of his hands under his arms. His pants were soaked in his own urine. Looking up at Hinageshi in fear, he babbled, begging for mercy. Her yellow-green eyes stared down at him. Before relieving him of his head, Hinageshi leaned in close, and whispered in his ear, as if to soothe:

"For the Guilty, Justice."

Such is the Way.

Evil creatures from other dimensions encroach on our reality, hungering; befouling Nature, sowing disorder. Sometimes the World’s monsters don't come from another place. The Way answers them all.