The Sword of Kaigen

by M.L. Wang

“You can try to stop me,” she said and headed for the door. “Misaki—” Takeru grabbed her arm. She made herself water and slid through his fingers before his iron grip had a chance to tighten. Ducking under his arm, she darted for the door, but he was faster. Misaki knew the moment his bruising grip closed around her wrist that she wouldn’t be able to twist free, but she wasn’t out of defenses. Moving on reflex, she focused all her jiya into her free hand and drove her first two fingers into Takeru’s arm. Outside the myth of the Blood Puppeteers, it was impossible for a jijaka to control a significant amount of the blood inside another person’s body. Nowhere was a theonite’s nyama more powerful than in their own veins. But what Tsusanos had learned centuries ago was that a minuscule amount of blood, manipulated with pinpoint accuracy, could be the deadliest weapon of all. Misaki’s power narrowed to a needlepoint. Takeru’s strong body and even stronger jiya made him difficult to penetrate, but Misaki managed it. For a split dinma, his blood became her needle, striking a pressure point deep inside his arm. Takeru’s arm jerked, stiffening for a moment, before going absolutely limp. His hand slid from her wrist, and Misaki almost wished she could stand there and relish the look of utter shock on his face.