Chapter 1

My name is Terry Corbett, and I’m a Japanaphile.

What’s a Japanaphile?  Someone who loves all things Japanese, of course.  And that’s a real word.  Completely not made up.

I think I was 10 when I realized that I loved Japan.  Martial arts, anime, video games, cars.  All of the best came from Japan.  Even my best friend was Japanese.  Fujiko Kobayashi.  She’s full-blooded Japanese, though she was born in America.  I’ve known her since Kindergarten, so her being Japanese was just an interesting coincidence.

Fujiko and I are complete opposites.  She embraces America almost as much as I embrace Japan.  She wants to be a famous artist and actress.  Me, I’m a math and science geek, so engineer is my best shot.  She watches dramas on cable.  I’m an otaku with more anime DVDS than any one person should have.  She’s slim, fit, and beautiful.  I’m short and fat, and the only exercise I get is my weekly karate class.  The only thing we really have in common is our dislike in stereotypes.  The only stereotypical Black behavior that I showed was my taste in music.  Fujiko almost seemed to go out of her way to not be a typical Japanese girl.  She didn’t even like anime!

So, why are we friends?  That’s a good question.  I think she puts up with me because I got her through all of her math classes in high school, though she would say that I just hang out with her because I like Asian girls.

I…can’t deny that.  Fujiko is beautiful.  Long, jet-black hair, warm, brown eyes, and a beautiful face.  And then, there’s her body….  Yeah, she’s nice to look at.  But we’ve been friends forever, even before she grew that killer body.

Unfortunately, we’re just friends.  She found out in high school, from someone with a big mouth, that I liked her.  She thought it was sweet, but wrote if off as a crush, and basically told me that I was too much like her brother.  So, I never tried to pursue her.

Not that she had any reason to be interested in me, anyway.  She once told me that she liked guys that were taller, older, and a gentleman.  At 5’ 8”, I was barely taller than she was.  As for age, we had the same birthday, and she was actually a couple hours older.  So, at best, I was 1 out of 3.

She did used to tell me that, if I took better care of myself, I'd be handsome.  According to her, my best feature is my hazel eyes.  Unfortunately, my dark brown hair and beard were usually too far grown out and unkempt, and I was a good hundred pounds overweight.

She’s had a lot of boyfriends, but it always ended the same way.  They’d try to get in her pants, she wouldn’t put out, and they’d dump her.  And then, I would always be there to help her pick up the pieces.

I did have a girlfriend once, in college.  I thought that maybe she was the love of my life instead of Fujiko, so I threw myself into the relationship fully.  After a year, she broke my heart.  Even though we had drifted apart during that year, Fujiko reached out and brought me back from a really bad place.  Since then, we’ve been closer than ever.  But still just friends.

Now, I’m in Grad School working on my M.S., while Fujiko, having finished her double major in art and theater, now works at the Kobayashi Museum of Japanese Art and History.  The name is no coincidence.  Her grandfather owns it.

When we were kids, we spent a lot of time there.  Fujiko’s grandfather is actually from Japan and he knows a lot about Japanese history.  He hired Fujiko to keep her close to her family, though he would say he hired her because of her art degree.  I know that Fujiko views this as a temporary situation.  She wants to make art, not run a museum.  And if one of her auditions ever paid off, she would run off to Hollywood.  But for the time being, she had this job, and she was actually good at it.

Every week, I would go to the museum at least once, mostly to spend time with Fujiko, but I really did enjoy the museum.  It used to be Fujiko’s grandfather who told me stories of ancient Japan and the Kobayashi Clan.  Now, I make her do it.

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“Excuse me, miss, but could you tell me about this exhibit?”

Fujiko stood there dressed in a blue women’s suit looking very professional, except for her annoyed expression, which looked much cuter than she wanted it to.  “Terry, do we have to go through this every week?”

I smiled.  “Yes, we do.  After all, you’re getting paid to do this now.  And it’s not like you have anything else to do.”  Which was true.  The museum was never that busy, and I tended to show up near closing time.  We were alone, except for Grandfather, who was cheerfully watching from a distance.

She sighed.  “All right, all right.”  She cleared her throat and put on her “tour guide” smile.  She was a method actress and this was just another role to her.  “This mural depicts the final battle between the legendary swordsman Yoshio Kobayashi, also known as Rakurai, the Thunderbolt, and a powerful demon known as the Oni Lord, who terrorized ancient Japan over 700 years ago.”  The mural showed a man from behind dressed in a black kimono and hakama surrounded by light facing…something in the darkness.  Fujiko turned from the mural to a sword in a display case.  “And this is a replica of the seiken that Rakurai wielded.  Legend has it that he sacrificed his very life and soul to defeat the Oni Lord and seal its evil away forever.  All that remained was the seiken.”

“Isn’t that a katana?”

This question, though she should have expected it, broke her out of her role, as always.  I guess I should say that she’s almost a method actress.  She didn’t know the next line.  “No…it’s a seiken.  There’s…a difference.”

At this, we heard Grandfather chuckle.  When we were younger, it used to be her asking that question.  And when she would ask what the difference was, he would say that it’s too complicated to explain to children.

“Yes, there is a difference.  Not that it matters right now.”  We all turned to face several men standing behind Grandfather.  Most of them looked like thugs, and were armed with various weapons.  All but the one in front.  He was a Japanese man dressed in a suit.  But for some reason, he seemed more dangerous.

“And who might you be?  You should know better, sneaking up on an old man like that.”  Grandfather tried to sound cheerful still, but I could tell he was nervous.

“Who I am doesn’t matter.  But if you do what I say, Mr. Kobayashi, then this can be over quickly and you will never have to see me again.”

“What do you want?  The museum is closed!”

The stranger sneered.  “Where is the crystal?  I know you have it and I suggest you give it to me.”

At the mention of a crystal, Grandfather started to get angry.  I had never seen him angry before.  Also, I noticed a slight shifting of his weight.  To the untrained eye, his stance had not changed, but I could tell that he had shifted to a ready stance of some sort.  Something else I didn’t know about the old man.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Now, leave!”

Something was about to happen.  I knew it!  I reached for Fujiko’s hand to pull her out of the way so I could help Grandfather.

“Grandfather,” Fujiko asked, obviously confused, “what’s going—Ah!”  He was so fast!  I didn’t even see him move, but suddenly, he was past Grandfather and had Fujiko!  He had her armed twisted behind her back and she cried out in fright and pain.

“Mr. Kobayashi, I would suggest you give me the crystal.  After all, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your lovely granddaughter here.”

Right in front of me, this guy was threatening the life of the woman I loved.  “Let.  Her.  GO!” I yelled out as I rushed him from behind.  And that was when he sent me flying into the glass case the Kobayashi Sword was in.  My world exploded in pain and blood.  I had never been hit so far before.  I couldn’t see or hear Grandfather’s surrender.  But that didn’t matter.  All that mattered was getting up.  Somehow.

Somewhere in the broken glass, my hand touched something.  A sword hilt?  Replica or not, I didn’t care.  As I gripped the hilt, I somehow found the strength to stand and draw the sword.  I gripped the hilt with both hands, but didn’t feel its weight.  I didn’t seem to feel anything, but rage.

“I said…LET HER GO!”

“What?  How?!”  The stranger turned and looked at me like I was death himself.  “I…did not bargain on this.”  At this point, he shoved Fujiko into Grandfather, snatched the crystal off of the chain, and seemed to step into darkness.  “Kill them.”

The thugs all rushed me at once.  I charged right at them.  In the back of my mind, I realized that my clothes felt different.  Everything felt different.  As I cleaved the arm off of a knife-wielding thug, I decided that wasn’t important right now.

Most of the thugs had knives and blades.  Obviously, they were here as an intimidation factor, but they did know how to use their weapons.  My blade was much bigger, though.  It IS bigger now, I thought as I realized that this was now much larger than a katana.  Before I could start to dwell on that, someone caught my sword with a chain.  He tried to yank the sword out of my hands, but I grabbed the chain with one hand, pulled him close to me, and drove my knee hard into his stomach.  That’s when I noticed the black kimono and hakama.  And the fact that I was strong enough to do that.  Figure it out later!  Before he could react, I was suddenly in front of the next closest thug, cleaving him in two.  This finally got the others to turn tail and run.

“Terry…?”  Hearing Fujiko, I turned around.

“Fujiko!  Are you alright?”  And then, Grandfather shoved me out of the way and his chest exploded in blood.  I turned around and saw the one-armed thug holding a smoking gun with his left hand.  “You…BASTARD!”  He managed to shoot at me again, twice, but both times I deflected the shots with my sword.  Then, I lopped his head off.

I turned back and saw Fujiko kneeling down cradling her grandfather’s head.  “Fujiko….”  I sheathed the sword on my back—How did that get there?—and started walking toward her.  But the floor rushed up to me and everything went blank.