Ninja Stars

The dojo was quiet in the morning. My boots padded against the soft mats on the floor and with a sigh, I unlaced the boots, and threw them against the wall. They landed with an angry thump.
I shrugged and tugged the jacket over my head, showing off a deep black tank top that felt skin-tight. I glared at my body. I hated it sometimes. I grabbed the track suit bottoms off of one of the benches that lined the long side of the dojo. I tugged them on and stepped barefoot onto the mat. Instantly, I flipped, enjoying how my hair followed in confusing spirals and curls.

I curled my fists together and grinned, feeling the adrenaline already pound through me like a hammer. My toes curled in, and my grin widened.

An old radio sat on the other side of the room away from me. I smirked and strode towards it. I pressed the button and it took a while for the music to start up, which gave me time to wrap my hands in bandages and make my way to the punching bag.
'She's cold and she's cruel but she knows what she's doing...' the music floated around the room as I started putting light punches to the bag of softness. Soon, I started punching it faster and faster, grunting with each. I kicked it more, and round house kicked it twice. I cartwheeled past it, acting like it was my opponent. My enemy. My dance partner.

'She's just the girl I'm looking for!' with the ending of the song, I screamed and hoisted my leg up. I round house kicked high, and sent it flying, breaking the punching bag from it's secure holding pins, hanging. I cursed under my breath and twisted it back into place quickly.

"Hello Onyx."

"Sensei." I turned swiftly and fell to my knees, head bowed and hands on my lap. My hair acted as a curtain and I felt his presence. He stepped in front of me swiftly.

"Stand." he ordered and I instantly stood and stared at him. His white stubble stood out on his face, the tidbits of a beard of a wise man. Salt and pepper curly hair fell around his head and dark brown eyes stared at me, burning me. But I held eye contact.

"Sensei, are you angry with me?" something was wrong. Sensei smirked and turned away from me, and stared at the squared window. I let my hand drift over the useless punching bag to stop it swinging.

"You always had a way of telling," he answered, "But no, I'm not angry. Concerned, my young one."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Why, Sensei?"

He sighed deeply and turned to me. I went to get down on my knees again, but his short bo staff that was tied to his belt suddenly gently touched my chin. He guided me upwards to face him. He took it away and i set her hands behind my back. "Why. Sensei?"

"You improve each day, you are one of the most guided and organised in this academy," I blushed, and I hated it. I hated being a girl. "But, I'm worried of you. Since you are our best, I must send you off. This happens with many st-"

"Sensei? What do you mean?" I asked, outraged. My hands came loose and I gripped my track suit bottoms.

"I'm sending you to America."

"America!" I bellowed, outrage in my voice, lacing it. I punched the useless punching bag harder, and it swung off it's hinges like before. I didn't attempt to screw it back in. I spat on the floor.

"Never."

"I know that when you last went to America," he pinched the bridge of his nose, which made him look older than he already was. It made me loosen, only the smallest bit. "...was when you were young. But you'll be safe there, this time."

I growled and kicked the punching bag angrily, the adrenaline pumping through me now. Th bag flew off it's hinges and fell to the floor. I screamed and shot a ninja star at the wall, my logo half smashed into the old, worn wood.

Sensei sighed and let me vent, climbing the small stairs from the dojo as I continued to scream, flinging ninja stars like a mad woman and flipping round and round.

America. Never again.

--

I stepped off the airport platform, a duffel bag slung over my shoulder. My coat hung beneath it, the dark burgundy contrasting against my dark ripped jeans. My converse padded against the floor and I stared across the crowds of people. This is the disadvantage of being short.

I pushed through everyone and made my way down the long hall way, where people pushed and prodded. New yorkers were weird. I'd never fit in. My British accent would stand out.

Suddenly, I caught sight of a girl with red hair. She held a sigh high above her head, even jumping high to see over the crowd. It wobbly, curved handwriting 'Onyx Hamiki' was printed on the large sign. My breath caught when I noticed Sensei's last name.

"Onyx! O-o-onyx? O-onyx!" yelled the girl, jumping up and down near the entrance. I sighed and pushed through the crowd, keeping my gaze on the red head. Large boots were strapped onto her feet and her gaze flickered over to me when I stumbled out of the crowd.

"Onyx Hamiki?"

She grinned. "Thank god! I was sent here to pick you up and I had no idea what you looked like!" she said, relieved and tossed the sign behind her, grabbing my wrist quickly. I flinched away from her and she stared at me for a second, before gesturing for me to follow her.

"Anyways," she started. "I'm April, and it's nice to meet you." She grinned happily at me.

I nodded at her and shrugged the duffel bag further up my shoulder. We walked in comfortable silence until we reached a beat up Mercedes Benz. April squealed and skipped her way to the old car. She opened her hand to take my duffel bag politely, but I merely declined.

When we were in the car and starting it, she turned to me before we started the journey. "Onyx, did your Sensei say anything about his... acquaintances living somewhere different to most?"

"Yes, he said they live somewhere, very, different." I inquired, letting my eyes drift to the window when she started the car.

Thank god I'd tuned in my senses over the years, or else I'd never heard "Boy, do they ever..."