Sisters of the Sword by Maya Snow Page A

merest hint of an opening, and only frantic rolling of my wrists enabled me to swing my blade back to deflect his attempted strikes.
    I caught a brief glimpse of Hana watching us with a terrified gaze. Ken-ichi’s friends called encouragement to Ken-ichi as they held Hana back. One ofthem had seized her sword and twisted it from her grasp. Her face was flushed as she struggled against them.
    Breathless now, Ken-ichi and I danced around each other, the dust on the road churning beneath our feet. He was quick and light, his blade flashing up and then downward in a glittering arc. My cousin’s years of training here at the dojo showed in his smooth, purposeful movements. I felt a sudden stab of fear. How could I hope to defeat him?
    Desperately fighting back, I kept my gaze fixed on Ken-ichi’s swinging blade. I could hear myself grunting as our swords jarred together. The midday sun beat down on our heads and I felt sweat prickle across my forehead.
    Again and again, our blades sang through the air, upward, sideways, back, down. I shot one hand straight out in front of me, struggling to keep myself centered while my sword hand flashed upward—and suddenly Ken-ichi ducked beneath my blade and came in so close I felt his arm touch mine. He grasped the handle of my nihonto and twisted hard.
    The next moment I was flying through the air and landed hard on the dusty road, the breath knocked from my body. Knowing that I must get up again, I tried to stand. But it was too late. A shadow fell across me. Ken-ichi was there, blocking out thesunlight as he loomed over me. His sneer was triumphant as he slowly brought his sword down and placed the blade against my cheek.
    â€œRemember the rules, rice boy,” he said softly. “First blood…”
    â€œNo!” Hana cried in horror, struggling harder against Ken-ichi’s friends.
    But Ken-ichi ignored her. I could feel the razor-sharp edge of his sword pressing into the soft skin just beneath my eye. I gritted my teeth and told myself that I would not beg my cousin for mercy.
    All at once a loud and commanding voice cut the air around us. “Stop!”
    Immediately Ken-ichi sprang back. I glanced up and saw a man standing calmly in the gateway of the dojo. Gray-haired with bushy gray eyebrows, he was dressed in a long black silk kimono belted with a wide black sash. With his straight back and strong shoulders, he did not seem like an old man. His face was stern.
    At the sight of him, Ken-ichi hastily sheathed his sword. Ken-ichi’s friends let Hana go. One of them tossed her sword down into the dirt as I scrambled to my feet.
    Ken-ichi bowed low. Although I had never seen the man before I guessed that this must be Master Goku. He had taught my father and my brothers, and Father had often spoken of his wisdom and skill.
    â€œI heard the clash of swords as I led my class in meditation,” Master Goku said in a quiet, measured tone. “I thought that perhaps bandits had dared to come to the gates of my training school. Naturally I hurried to investigate.” He stared at Ken-ichi with narrow dark eyes. “But on my arrival I see no bandits. Merely boys. Perhaps, Ken-ichi, you could explain to me what is going on here?”
    â€œThis peasant insulted me, Master Goku,” Ken-ichi replied. His ferocity was gone now that he thought he might be in trouble with the Master, and I saw a glimpse of the cousin I used to know. “He did not move aside to let me pass on the road.”
    â€œIs that so?” Master Goku’s stern gaze rested on me for a moment. “Did you insult my student, boy?”
    â€œI meant no insult,” I said quietly. “Our swords touched, but it was an accident.”
    Ken-ichi snorted and would have protested, but Master Goku silenced him by raising one hand. “It is easy to see the worst in any action,” he said thoughtfully. “A good samurai should know the difference between an insult