The woman smiled.
It was the saddest smile I'd ever seen.
And then she drew the blade across her neck.
Red cord erupted.
It poured from her throat in a waterfall of crimson—endless, impossible amounts of it. The cord cascaded down her chest, over her fire-colored kimono, pooling at her feet. It spread across the miniature Tokyo like the city itself was drowning in blood.
No. . .
She swayed.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
And she fell.
Her body crumpled to the floor in a river of red, her kimono spreading around her like flames being extinguished. Her head came to rest near the base of a tiny Shinjuku skyscraper. Her hand, still holding the dagger, landed and fell open at her side.
The two men stood frozen. Their swords hung limp at their sides. They looked at the woman they'd destroyed.
Then they looked at each other. And I saw it in their painted faces—the realization that they'd both lost. That their fight had cost them everything. That she'd rather die than watch them tear each other apart.
The koto struck its final note.
And then there was only silence.
I couldn't breathe.
Holy shit.
I stared at the display—at the red cord covering everything, at the woman lying still as death, at the two men standing in the ruins of their own making.
What did I just watch?
Kenji's lips brushed my shoulder.
I'd almost forgotten he was there.
I turned my head slightly and found him watching me. “Did you see that?”
“Barely.”
“Kenji that was fucking amazing.”
“Not as amazing as watching you watch. You were scared, Tora.”
"Kenji." I shook my head. "That was incredible. Is it okay for me to clap? Is that the normal thing to do?"
“Of course.”
I faced the performers and clapped my heart out, letting them know that they had absolutely thrilled me. “Bravo! Bravo!”
The woman rose with the dagger clutched in her hand. All three smiled, got closer to us, and bowed deeply.
First to Kenji.
Then, to me.
