Alex Archer - Warrior Spirit

He saw recognition flash across her face. “That was you?”

“With makeup, but yes.”

“Those necklaces were awful knockoffs.”

“That was deliberate. I knew you would never waste any time looking at them. You’d be able to pick them out as bad forgeries from a mile away and therefore not waste any time on my stall. I could easily watch you without fear of you becoming suspicious about me. To you, I was simply another would-be con man trying to hawk some ridiculous goods to the naive.”

“And that, I suppose, was the gap in my defenses?” He saw her smile in spite of herself.

Ken nodded. “You see? I was in plain sight, but so apparently not a threat or of interest to you that you simply didn’t even catalog me except way, way back in the furthest reaches of your consciousness. True invisibility exists, but not the way that most people believe it would. By being obviously ridiculous without making a spectacle of myself, I faded from your mind.”

Annja nodded and Ken felt that she just might have some appreciation for the techniques he’d learned so many years ago.

“It’s actually pretty impressive,” she said.

Ken smiled. “If I had meant you any harm, Annja, please believe me when I tell you I could have easily done something to you much earlier than this. There’s absolutely no reason for me to make myself an obvious threat to you now. I’d be almost leveling the playing field by doing so.”

Annja’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Almost leveling?”

Ken smiled again. “You’re good. Don’t get me wrong.”

“But you’re better. Is that it?”

Ken held up his hands. “I will plead the fifth, as you Americans say.”

Annja smiled. “Yeah. Well, we’ll see. Why don’t you take me back to my hotel? I could use a good sleep.”

Ken pulled the car away from the curb, relieved to have seemingly defused any suspicion that Annja might feel toward him. In her place, Ken would have felt exactly the same way. He might have even reacted more aggressively, taking out the potential threat rather than allowing it to continue to exist even for another few hours.

But Annja Creed was not like him. And that was why Ken felt sure she would make the perfect aide in his quest to find the sacred Yumegakure-ryu vajra . Her knowledge and ability would keep them in good stead.

And Ken also appreciated how utterly beautiful she was. What he liked the most was how unaffected she was by her natural beauty. Briefly, he wondered if she might think him handsome. Just as quickly, he pushed the thought out of his mind. He needed to stay focused if he had any hope of recovering the artifact before the others did.

“Are you going to tell me why the Yakuza is so interested in you?” Annja said.

The question jolted him. Ken struggled to come up with a response and instead chuckled. “So much for a segue.”

Annja stared at him. Something had changed. Ken could see it in her eyes. There was a hard edge there, way back, but present nonetheless. “What happened at the restaurant, it was more than a chance encounter. Those thugs were waiting for you,” she said.

“Are you asking or saying?”

“I’m saying. It’s a fact,” Annja said.

“Maybe.”

“Were they waiting for me, too?”

“No.” Ken shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

They pulled up to the hotel and Ken put the car into Park. Annja sat facing him.

“Ken, you seem like a nice enough guy. But I need to know what I’m getting mixed up in here. I don’t like the thought of tangling with the Yakuza or even wanna-be Yakuza. If they’re interested in you and I’m around, that will make me a target of opportunity, as well.”

“You don’t strike me as being averse to danger. Some of your past adventures certainly contained far more danger than what I propose we undertake.”

She shrugged. “I’m not necessarily averse to much. But I’d be a fool if I took all of this at face value.” She placed one hand on the door handle. “You may not want to talk about it right now. That’s fine. It’s late and we’re both tired.”

“Thanks—”

She looked at him. “But we will talk about this. If you want my help finding this vajra , then you’re going to tell me exactly what the hell is going on here. Otherwise, I will vanish and not even you will be able to find me again.”

She opened the door and strode off to the hotel entrance. Ken sat still in the car and then after another minute smiled slowly.

Annja Creed, he thought, you might just be my dream woman.

Annja hunched over her laptop and started composing a post for alt.archaeology.esoterica—the newsgroup she favored so much for its candid information on many of the more obscure topics relating to history and relics. She hesitated, trying best to make sure she didn’t come across sounding like a lunatic. After a moment, she sighed and typed:

Does anyone know anything about the Japanese martial art of Ninjitsu?

I’ve met someone claiming to be involved with this art and I’d like to know if they might be legit. Thanks!

She leaned back and crossed her arms. It could take hours before anyone would respond, giving Annja plenty of time to think over the night’s events.

She decided on a long, hot soak in the deep tub that sat in the corner of her small bathroom. Everything in Tokyo seemed as if someone had pressed the reduce button on a copy machine, but the tub looked large enough for her.

Annja padded into the bathroom and turned the spigot. A rush of hot water blossomed and streamed into the tub. In seconds, steam filled the air and Annja realized she was suddenly overdressed.

Outside in her room, she stripped down. With her pants and turtleneck off, she ran her eyes over her skin, doing a basic damage inspection from the tournament. Nezuma’s kicks had left some nasty welts. She could see purplish bruising above her ribs and on the backs of her legs. His punches had also left souvenirs. She frowned. Someday, she’d get him back. And the idea of him flat on his back while she stood over him as a proud victor definitely appealed to her.

She walked into the bathroom and stepped into the piping-hot tub. She knew the Japanese favored hot baths for their health benefits and the relaxation they provided. Annja gritted her teeth, wanting to enjoy the hot water but also aware that it felt as if she were burning the skin off her bones.

She withdrew her leg, emptied out some of the contents and then added cold water. After another minute, she tried getting in the tub again and this time found that she could stand the heat.

As she sank into the bath and let the water come up to her jaw, Annja closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply, allowing the stress of the day to melt away. She was tired and the steamy heat made her feel even more so. As she replayed the day’s events, she found herself focusing on Ken and his strange past.

Certainly she hadn’t come to Tokyo to get involved in the hunt for some relic. Japan was supposed to be for herself only—away time from the stress and pace of her vigorous lifestyle. Not that fighting in a martial-arts tournament was the kind of prescription most vacation-bound folks would equate with rest and relaxation. But for Annja, it enabled her to play to some extent, without it being a matter of life and death. And since so much of her life lately had revolved around serious fighting, Annja also felt that any time spent practicing was time spent well.

“He is handsome, though.”

Annja’s eyes popped open. Had she just said that out loud? A smile flickered across her face. Apparently the hot water was doing its job by relaxing her to the point she felt comfortable speaking out loud. Annja sank deeper into the water and grinned just beneath the surface.