“ To open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.” Acts 26:18
A ttack.”
Aimi did just that, her movements lithe, balanced, light as a dancer’s, doing as Hikari bid.
Sam waited calmly, trying not to grin, knowing that Aimi had really taken the previous night’s lesson to heart. Hikari had read from his favorite textbook on swordplay — Miyamoto Musashi’s, Book of Five Rings. The passage had been about the environment and how to use it to your advantage. Aimi, with her usual academic brilliance, had memorized every last word.
She stood with the descending sun behind her, knowing full well the effect it had on Sam. A normal opponent would’ve been at a disadvantage, their vision impaired by the light in their eyes. With Sam, it was compounded, his eyes much more sensitive to daylight. He squinted, keeping his eyes downcast, using his peripherals to track her movements.
Behind and to Sam’s right was the training rack. Aimi came in from his left, trying to force him that way. Sam almost laughed. It was a textbook maneuver, straight out of Musashi. When the fight comes, always endeavor to chase the enemy around to your left side. Chase him towards awkward places, and try to keep him with his back to awkward places.
She knew that Sam would have to watch his footing as he backed away, conscious of the obstacle behind him. He thought of a few tactics to counter her. Musashi’s tactics. Foremost amongst them was to dash in quickly, attacking before she could, taking her by surprise. Ken no Sen. But he knew she would anticipate this, having committed every scrap of Musashi wisdom to memory.
Instead, he did what Hikari had been drilling into him recently. To think laterally. To do the unexpected.
He took this to heart, doing a backwards somersault over the rack, landing lightly, poised for her attack. She didn’t disappoint, jumping over the rack, her spear stretched outwards to stab at his heart, committed to Ken no Sen herself.
It was a rash move and, in Sam’s mind, the wrong one. Aimi took all the wisdom from her books too literally. For all her intelligence, she sometimes lacked flexibility and the ability to think outside the box, obeying the lessons to the letter like it was carved in stone. He supposed that Hikari hadn’t worked with her like he had with him, knowing that she wouldn’t need to adapt as much as he.
With a lesser opponent, her attack probably would have succeeded. With Sam, despite her obvious skill and speed, it was almost too easy. Moving so swiftly he doubted she saw the danger, he brought his left shinai across the shaft of her spear, sliding the weapon down to his right side. His right shinai came in over the top, lightly tapping her on the top of the head.
The fight, in his opinion was over. Aimi had lost. He stepped backwards and lowered his weapons. Unfortunately for him, Aimi had other ideas. Unexpectedly, she darted forwards, straight into his arms. Before he could react with anything other than astonishment, she planted a long, wet kiss on his lips.
He didn’t know what to do. All thoughts of tactics or strategy went out of his head along with any other coherent thought. The kiss was, after all, pretty good. He suspected that both he and Aimi were both getting better. At kissing that is. They’d certainly been practicing a lot lately.
It wasn’t until he started returning the kiss that he felt it pressing up against his ribs. Reluctantly, with something that felt like despair, he broke off the kiss and looked down. Clutched in Aimi’s tiny hand was a knife.
He raised his chin, catching Aimi’s stare. She looked serious for a moment, intense, and then she suddenly broke into a huge grin and started laughing, hugging him and giving him another kiss.
“I hope you’ve learnt something from this, Sam,” said Hikari. Sam glanced over at his master. He could tell that Hikari was using every ounce of his self-control to remain outwardly calm and not break into laughter.
“And what’s that?” he demanded, failing in his efforts to control his blush.
“Never underestimate your opponent,” replied Hikari.
“And never trust a woman,” grinned Aimi.
This time Sam couldn’t resist her, his heart brimming with happiness. He gathered Aimi into his arms and pressed his lips against hers, forestalling the smile that was in danger of breaking out on his face.
“Stop it, Samael.” The familiar voice suddenly intruded into his thoughts. He broke off his kiss, snapping his neck around, trying to identify the source. When it wasn’t immediately repeated, he shrugged, trying to connect with Aimi’s mouth again. But this time, something was wrong. He felt it. The edges around Aimi were becoming blurred, but he wouldn’t allow this to stop him kissing his beloved.
Just as their lips met again, the voice came back. Annoyingly persistent.
“This isn’t helping, Samael. We need to get out of here. Now. Snap out of it.”
Sam broke off his kiss again. He shook his head, trying to shake the irritating voice out. It didn’t work.
“This isn’t real, Samael. This is your projection of a happier time. Long ago. You need to come back to the present.”
He looked at Aimi again. Now, she appeared far less substantial, almost ghost-like. He tried to touch her but his hand passed through her harmlessly. Around him, the rocky terrain and the red brush-smattered soil of Utah was fading out fast. Hikari had disappeared, as had the weapons rack. Desperately, he tried to cling to it, cling to the happy memory — because that’s what it was. A memory. He knew it wasn’t real, wasn’t happening now, but a part of him didn’t care. He wanted it to continue, didn’t want it to end ever. It was a beautiful memory, one of the happiest of his life.
And then he knew where he was.
Heaven.
The Utah landscape disappeared altogether, replaced by a white, translucent mist. Out of it, a winged figure appeared. White feathery wings, burnished silver armor, long sword. It was, of course an angel. How could it not be, here in Heaven?
Sam didn’t panic as realization crashed in upon him. He was in Heaven. Samyaza must have brought him here, must have rescued him as he plummeted from the Chrysler building, lifted him up. Saved him. But where was the Watcher now? And what was this angel doing?
As the angel approached, Sam’s hands, without conscious thought, crept towards the hilts of his swords. The being stopped a sword’s span away from him. It was a male, and something about it looked familiar.
“Hi,” said Sam, completely at a loss for anything better to say.
The angel spoke. “It’s me, you idiot,” said the voice Sam had heard earlier. “Samyaza.”
“But, you’re…”
“Yes,” said Samyaza impatiently. “It’s called a disguise. You’ve got one too, by the way.”
Sam looked down at his body. It had occurred to him that something was different. It’s just that he hadn’t managed to put his finger on exactly what it was. Sure enough, he too was decked out like Samyaza in silver armor. He craned his neck and caught a glimpse of wings. Despite everything, a part of him thought that was pretty cool. He reached over his back, intent on playing with them but was stopped short by the edge in Samyaza’s voice.
“My injuries?” he asked. They were gone. Healed, like they’d never been.
“I took care of them,” replied Samyaza curtly. “We’ve no time for this. This disguise won’t fool other angels for very long. And, if I was you, I’d pray that we don’t encounter any archangels. They’d see through it straight away.” The irony of what he’d just said suddenly appeared to occur to Samyaza. He smiled crookedly. Even in his disguise, it was a smile that would have melted any human woman’s heart.
Sam returned it, feeling almost upbeat. Not only was he alive and whole, but he was in Heaven. A place that he’d thought he never be able to see. “How did I get here?” he asked.