Chekhov’s Katana

As Jonathan waited in the line with his wife, he couldn’t help but feel tense. He wasn’t sure if it was the long line, the couple arguing behind him, or the car he vaguely recognized, but something was off. As he kept looking around and checking his watch, tired of standing in the cold, Vanessa leaned in close and kissed him on the cheek.

“Baby, you ok?” she took his hand in hers, hoping to find some warmth.

“Yeah I’m fine it’s just...” he trailed off.

“Just what?” Jonathan looked at the restaurant's sign. He figured he was just stressing himself out, focusing too much on old memories.

“It’s just so cold,” Jonathan wrapped his arms around Vanessa and moved her closer.

“Well we’ll be inside soon enough, don’t worry,” she put her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jonathan gave her a tender kiss as the line moved up. They had barely seen each other all week, and they wanted nothing more than to enjoy a nice night out with one other. He swore to himself he wouldn’t ruin this dinner, not with deadlines or work calls or any other distractions. So he decided to push down his worry and relax. Though, even with the scent of fresh food in the air and the love of his life next to him, he couldn’t help but think about her and feel his stomach twist.

As they entered the restaurant, Jonathan and Vanessa were blown away by the elegant feudal decor. The walls were covered in woodblock prints, oil lanterns lit up the room, and as they entered, they crossed over a clear bridge with a small koi pond beneath it.

“Right this way sir,” the hostess met them on the other side of the bridge and led the couple to a table close to the entrance. The whole way Jonathan kept talking about how nice the grills were, while Vanessa kept gushing over the “cute little fishies” in the pond.

The table was a half rectangle, with all the seats facing the huge grill in the middle. The hostess seated Jonathan and Vanessa across from a group of four fit Japanese men, whose faces were stony and expressionless. Between them, on their side of the table, was an empty chair across from Jonathan. He wasn’t sure if he knew them, but they kept giving him snide glances. He gave them a shy wave as he sat down, but they didn’t return the gesture. 

Jonathan looked over the menu and took in the decor, thinking absently about all the chopsticks he had mysteriously lost. As he considered rice and scanned the room, his eye was caught by something on the wall.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I have a question,” Jonathan said as the waitress arrived.

“Is everything alright sir?” She rushed over to his seat while she set down everyone's drink.

“Yes, yes of course. It’s just that… well, that katana on the wall, is it real?” Jonathan pointed to a sheathed katana placed on the wall. It was decorated in fine, polished gold decorations. His eyes glowed as he thought of its history and design, though his mind split as he remembered its uses. He remembered how many ways there are to cut a man, how blood can stick to the blade, and how hard you have to work and scrub to clean them.

“According to the manager, it is. Are you a fan of swords or action movies?”

“I’m a historian. I’ve been studying Japanese culture for years. The Edo period mainly but I’m interested in all aspects of the nation's history,” The waitress looked delightfully shocked.

“Oh honey, tell her about the exhibit you did,” Vanessa chimed in. Work talk was supposed to be off limits, but she loved watching him talk about his research. His eyes got new light in them, and his nostrils flared up like a dog. She always thought it was cute. 

Jonathan took a sip of water and cleared his throat.

“Oh, well at the museum I work at, they had a lot of different cultural exhibits, but the Asian history section was very lackluster. So a couple of us took on different countries, and I ended up in charge of the…” Jonathan trailed off, his enthusiasm fleeing to make room for confusion.

“Nyoko?” he whispered to himself in disbelief.

“Nyoko?” Vanessa gave him a weird look while she drank her water.

“Uh… Kyoto. The temples there, they were a great inspiration for the overall look of the exhibit,”

“Oh, thought you said something else,” Vanessa giggled to herself, “You know I spend all my time around him and I still can’t pick up a lick of Japanese,” she told the waitress.

Jonathan watched the woman sit down and pick up the drink ordered in her stead. He felt like he was going mad, like he had seen a ghost. But the longer he took in her face, the more he was sure. Her eyes were grey and steady. She was pale but still muscular. Her stride was quick and confident, as if she were on a mission.

“Well anyways, I can take your orders now if you’re ready,” the waitress said. Jonathan slowly looked away from the woman, then gave his order. He tried to push any ridiculous thoughts out of his mind about karma and old grudges. He continued talking about the exhibit and sharing random facts about Tokyo and its history. As the chef arrived, he convinced himself that if she was going to do something, she would have done it by now. No matter what kind of coincidence brought them together, he prayed he could get through dinner without anything going wrong. Though in his heart, he knew there was no hope of finishing his meal.

Across the table, Nyoko watched Jonathan. She studied the way he ate. She took note of which side he chewed on, how he held his fork, and where his food was on his plate. All the while he tried to crack jokes, enjoy his meal and pretend she wasn’t there. But every time she coughed, sighed, checked her phone, or moved her chair, she caught him staring at her, waiting for her to make the first move. After a while, she decided that she was sick of her own game and that it was time to do what she’d come to accomplish.

  “Something over here you’re looking for?” Nyoko asked, loudly enough to steal everyone's attention. The whole table looked up at Jonathan. Except for Nyoko, who kept looking down at her food.

“I was just curious about what was on your plate,” The table turned to Nyoko. She pulled out a small mirror and started adjusting her hair.

“It’s chicken, beef, and rice. What's there to be curious about?”
“I don’t know, just seems… basic for someone who claims to be so cultured,” Nyoko responded.

“Basic?” Jonathan leaned forward in his seat.

“Yeah, it’s a basic ass meal,” Jonathan dropped his fork onto his plate.

“Ok asshole, what if I called your food basic?”

“If you called my plate basic it would just be a damn lie. I mean I have fried rice, grilled vegetables, and some pork. This is a nice mix. And lower your voice, why do you have to be so dramatic?” she replied. Jonathan slammed his fist on the table.

“Goddammit Nyoko, what do you want!”

“I just wanna know why someone would go to one of the nicest restaurants in the region and order the most boring things on the menu. I mean c'mon, chicken AND chicken fried rice? You could at least pretend to be a bit more cultured,” Jonathan stood up and threw back his chair.

“Well, Nyoko. Maybe I just like chicken and steak, maybe I’ve tried everything else and this is just what I like. Maybe I’m fucking allergic to everything else. Maybe I…” Jonathan stopped and looked behind him at the chair lying on the floor, then back at Nyoko. She had put her mirror away and was now leaning back in her seat, her legs crossed and hand on her chin, waiting to see how he would make an ass of himself next.

“Maybe you just came to rile me up. That's what it is, you just like pissing me off?”

“Oh please, you’re the one boiling your blood,” Nyoko drew a folding fan from her pocket and threw it out. She fanned herself rapidly while giving him a sly, triumphant smile.

“And that, you get off one half-assed quip, then start fanning yourself, or twirling your hair, or something else stupid because you think it looks cool,”

“We are sitting in a building with multiple open grills, of course I’m fanning myself!” Everyone in earshot turned back to Jonathan. He looked around the room at all the grills, then back down at Vanessa.

“It is kinda hot in here babe,” she told him. She grabbed his hand and motioned for him to sit down.

“Alright, I um. I guess I’ll sit down then. S-sorry everyone,” Jonathan picked up his chair and sat back down. The chef continued to give the table their food, confused as to whether the scene was staged or not. The men with Nyoko let her handle her business as she ate.

“What the fuck was that?” Vanessa asked quietly. She tried to keep calm, but she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. She’s an old friend. We fell out back in Japan and I… I know I said nothing would happen tonight but she-” From across the room, a knife flew through the air and went through Jonathan’s plate, shattering it on impact. Everyone it had narrowly missed looked over, and saw a chef standing at his station staring back at Jonathan.

“What the…” he snapped back toward Nyoko. She was charging across the table, carrying her chair behind her.

“Oh shit,” Jonathan stuck his feet in the chair and fell backward onto the floor. Nyoko spun around and threw the seat with a heave. It barely missed him before it broke against the wall.

“Dammit!” Jonathan rolled away from his seat and ran toward the exit. Nyoko ran back to the edge of the table and flipped off, landing right in front of him.

“Like hell, you’re walking away from me,” she said.

“You’d rather get your ass kicked than let me eat?” Nyoko punched him square in the nose, then shook her hand off. He stumbled backward.

“Childish,” Jonathan grunted. He winced in pain as he held his nose.

“Can you blame me, that honker of yours is such an easy target,” Nyoko tried kicking him, but Jonathan caught her foot and threw her onto the floor.

“You’re gonna make me draw this out aren’t you?” she snarled.

“I’m gonna make you leave me the fuck alone,” Nyoko scoffed at him and jumped back up. Jonathan squared up, ready to get back to dinner. Nyoko smirked while she dusted off her stylish white pants. He went forward to strike her, forgetting the crowd of eyes on them. She sidestepped his punch and kicked him in the back, sending him flying toward the koi pond. As he hit the railing, it started to bend. Jonathan turned around to punch again, only to be met with another flying object. This time, a kunai from Nyoko’s collection. They were sharp to the touch and designed to be aerodynamic, making them perfect for killing at a distance. Inches from his face, Jonathan caught the knife, his arm moving without hesitation. Nyoko stopped her assault, confused by how she thwarted him. She threw another kunai, which Jonathan also caught.
“Huh, you’re still as spring as you were before,” Nyoko threw two more kunai. Jonathan dropped the knives he was holding and caught the next two.

“Maybe you’re slower than you remember,” He threw a kunai back and missed her by a hair. She looked back at the blade, which had stuck itself in a table across the room.

“Look I’ll kick your ass if that’s what you want, but can we take this outside at least?” Jonathan asked. Unconsciously, he readied his right hand to grab her next knife and the left to throw one. While Jonathan braced himself for her next attack, Nyoko’s eyes dipped down to the koi pond.

“And let you throw snow in my eyes again? Yeah, sure,” Nyoko launched another two kunai. Jonathan threw his own and caught one knife. But as he motioned for the other, it grazed his arm. Vanessa leaped up then, wanting to help. But without a plan, she sank back into her chair with concern and shame.

“Shit!” he yelled. He stumbled back, making the pond's rail bend further. Nyoko walked toward him slowly, chuckling as she watched him struggle.

“You remember that night on the boardwalk? We fought on the beach for hours under the moonlight. You looked just as pathetic then,”

“Nyoko look, we…” Jonathan struggled to keep his grip, ”I’ve moved on. I have a life now. I have a career and a wife, it’s over. We don’t have to do this anymore,”

“Oh shut the hell up Jonathan. You only ever wanted to make peace when you knew I was winning,” She put her knives back in her pocket, and stopped a few steps in front of him. He stopped leaning on the rail and traced his wound. The cut stung but it wasn’t deep enough to be a concern.

“For a changed man, your reflexes sure are sharp. So either your hands are still stained red, or…” Nyoko raised her hand in the air. From their table, one of the men stood up and brought a sheathed katana from under the table. He threw it to her, and she caught it with one hand.

“Leave us,” she commanded. The men piled their food into styrofoam trays and walked out of the restaurant without a word.

“Oh, how the hell did you even get that in here man,” Jonathan said, tired of her shit already. Nyoko backed up while Jonathan rushed to form a plan.

“You know, I was hoping we could have one last good duel before I killed you. Though, I suppose beggars can’t be choosers,” In one swift motion Nyoko drew the sword and held it out in front of her. She threw the sheathe back to the table, thinking her sword wouldn’t be long without it. She took a deep breath in and raised the blade above her head. 

“Nyoko don’t!” she brought the blade down without warning. It looked beautiful as it moved through the air, its polished blade shining under the soft lantern light. Its curve was slight, and its edge was fine. The blade was so perfect, that Nyoko could have parted clouds and cut God if she wished. As the sword came down toward his face, Jonathan knew for certain that she had come to do more than just piss him off.

Before the sword landed, Jonathan sidestepped her attack. Her sword split the railing, giving him the perfect opening. While she was still processing what happened, he grabbed her wrist and threw her at the rail, straight toward the pond. She reached out and caught the edge of the enclosure before she fell into the water.

“Vanessa, here!” Jonathan threw the car keys at Vanessa. They hit the table with a soft metallic rattle. He ran from the pond, scrambling to find something to defend himself with. She sat in disbelief, not budging as she stared at Nyoko.

“Babe don’t worry about it, just go!” She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t figure out which of her thousand questions to ask first. As Jonathan scanned the restaurant, Vanessa forced herself to pick up the keys. 

“It’s like you haven’t aged a day. You’re still quick, calculating. You’re still you,” Nyoko came up from the floor, and started stomping toward Jonathan.

“What are you on about now?” Jonathan’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something blunt. Behind Nyoko, Vanessa took a knife and crept toward her. 

“I know for a fact you haven’t been working here. If you had I would’ve known ages ago. And no one else has been hunting you, because if I had competition they’d be somewhere bled and buried. There’s only one answer that makes sense,” Nyoko pointed her sword at Jonathan.

“You’ve been waiting for me, John,”

“You’re obsessed. Nothing I’ve done in the past ten years has had anything to do with you. Why are you here anyway, finally cut daddy’s leash?” Jonathan leaped back to dodge Nyoko’s swing. His movement was swift and graceful for a man of his frame.

“Oh please, if anything you’re obsessed with me. I’ve been inside your office, I’ve seen your journals. Some of the stuff you wrote about me was honestly flattering,” Jonathan stopped where he was, trying to process what she’d said.

“You… you didn’t,” he whispered.

“Oh no I did. A few times actually. Who do you think burned all your chopsticks and cracked your Rush Hour DVD?”

“You bitch, I haven’t used sticks… oh God,”

“Three weeks and four days. Bet you’ve been missing Chris Tucker too huh,” Before he could express his rage, Jonathan looked past Nyoko as Vanessa came behind her. She noticed his attention shift and looked over her shoulder.

“I’d listen to your husband if I were you. That butter knife couldn’t even pierce a notebook,” Vanessa froze in place and looked down at the cutlery.

“Don’t threaten my wife dammit!” Vanessa gave Jonathan a pained look before dropping the knife and running toward the door.

“You always did like girls with more beauty than brains. It’s a damn shame she has neither,”

“Fuck you Nyoko. You have always been bitter and jealous,” Jonathan started backing up toward a table with stacks of small bowls sitting on its edge.

“What do I have to be jealous of? You can barely throw a kunai straight and your wife has more in common with a pig than a human,” 

“Oh give me a fucking break. I know you’re still mad about the record,” The people eating watched with anticipation as Jonathan picked up a rice bowl. They all kept eating their food, thinking this was all some elaborate dinner theater.

“Yeah because you hate Summer Farewells, so you smashed my vinyl and my turntable and refused to replace either one like the cheap bastard you are!”

“You come from a family of millionaires, you had the yen to replace it!” Nyoko scoffed at him. Even if she did get a new one a week later, he was still a cheap bastard.

“And for the record, I don’t hate Summer Farewells. I mean half the songs are bland, slow, and uninspired but-” Jonathan leaped back again, barely missing Nyoko’s blade. Before she could try it again, he picked up a rice bowl and threw it at her. It hit her square in the face and shattered. While she was stunned, he picked up all the bowls and started backing up faster. He continued throwing them at her, trying to put some distance between them. Jonathan figured if he got the chance, he could slip out the back and get away on foot.

“You throw like a girl,” Before the next bowl could hit Nyoko, she shattered it with her sword, sending shards of glass through the air.

“And you swing like a dumbass,” Jonathan kept hurling bowls at her, most of which she broke before they could do any damage.

“Put the damn bowls down and fight me!” Nyoko swatted away another bowl with the flat of her sword. It hit a woman across from her in the shoulder, though she was too immersed to care.

“Fight me dammit! Fight me!” Nyoko was moving faster now, making wider cuts at Jonathan. He moved around the sword like water, barely keeping himself whole. Even in her anger, her technique was amazing, and her form was incredible, making it hard for Jonathan to survive without a weapon of his own. Out of bowls and ideas, he needed to do something to buy himself time. In one fluid motion, he strafed to the left and punched Nyoko in the face. 

“Childish,” she whispered. She stumbled back, holding her nose in her free hand. Jonathan ran away, looking around the restaurant for something else to defend with. 

“Come back here dammit!” Nyoko shook off the pain and ran back toward him. She was holding her sword behind her, ready to slice him in half.

Jonathan picked up an empty chair and hurled it toward Nyoko. It was inches away from her face when she brought her sword up and split the wood. The two halves hit the ground with a thud as he looked at her in terror. 

“C'mon think, think,” he muttered to himself. Jonathan looked around for something, anything to fight back with. As he searched the room, the katana hanging on the wall caught his eye again. It was sitting on a simple wooden mount, easy to grab and hopefully still sharpened. It looked like it would be balanced enough, and close enough to his size to get him through the fight.

“Oh don’t you even think about it,” Nyoko said. As he started moving toward the wall, Nyoko ran up behind him and kicked him in the back. He crashed into a table, knocking it over and falling to the floor. The couple sitting there got up and ran away. Jonathan looked at himself; his clothes were covered in rice and vegetables.

“I liked this shirt jackass,”

“Oh no, not your plain grey shirt. Where will you find another?” Nyoko came at him with a downward strike. He rolled out of the way, though the wind from the move made his heart jump. As she attacked again, he grabbed a chair by the leg and held it up in front of him. Her blade stuck in it, giving him a perfect opportunity. Jonathan pushed Nyoko back, sending her tumbling into one of the grills. The embarrassment only fueled her rage, making itself less and less controllable.

“You know, there's something to be said about your style too,” he remarked as he brushed the food off of him.

“Oh please, this one outfit is better than anything I’ve ever seen you wear,” she said as she pulled her blade from the chair. Jonathan backed up to another table.

“At least I don’t have a face full of glass,” Jonathan threw a plate at Nyoko, which she hit out of the air, and sent flying into the wall. As he tried to think of a new trick, Nyoko went to an empty table and kicked it toward him. As it slid across the floor, Jonathan jumped up and barely managed to land on it.

“Cut it out you bastard!” she came running again slashing at his legs. He jumped back and made another rocky landing on the next table. Jonathan leaped between the tables, landing on half-eaten meals and steaming bowls as Nyoko continued to hack and slash through the decor. She missed him by a hair every time, each missed swing burning away at her already short fuse. Once he was across the room, Jonathan flipped off the last table. As he landed on the ground, he was met with the tip of Nyoko’s katana. She was staring at his, steady, her eyes like voids of darkness. He looked, but there was no compassion to be found.

“Look Nyoko, let's just sit down. Whatever you want we can talk ab-” He moved back at the last second, and barely missed being gutted. Looking down, he found a wide gash in his shirt where his stomach was.

“You don’t have time for words anymore,” she said. As she closed in, he backed up toward the wall, the katana hanging just a foot above his head.

“I kept my patience, for many, many years. I tried with you, I really did,” Nyoko started pressing forward, her eyes locked onto him, making sure he didn’t try to pull anything else.

“Nyoko really, just take a seat and-” she didn’t let him get another word in before slashing at his chest. He held up his arms to defend himself and suffered a deep cut to the forearm. Jonathan stumbled back from the pain while he tried to hold in the blood.

“I knew the day I met you that you would be a pain in my ass. I told you that, didn't I?” She looked at her katana, delighted that it was stained red.

“You wouldn’t… you won’t kill me. Not here,”

“Maybe before I wouldn’t. But now,” she paused to laugh.

“I’m gonna gut you then watch you bleed.” Jonathan flailed around, desperate for an escape, but there was nothing left to use, nothing left to save him. 

“Look Nyoko, I’m… I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want? A long-winded apology, something sappy and lame,” Nyoko stepped a little closer, then stopped.

“As I said, words won’t help you anymore. For you to atone, I need to see you suffer,” As she stood over him, she imagined it would feel different. After so much time, she thought it would feel cleansing, watching him cower before her. But in her heart, she felt bitter. She could almost shed a tear for him as he struggled to find the words that would save him. If she didn’t hate him so much, she might let him crawl away.

But she did hate him. She truly did. Though why she had to remind herself now, she wasn’t sure.

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t even realize how bad you fucked me over?” Nyoko began, ignoring whatever remorse stirred in her heart.

“You were just a foreigner. Nobody expected much from you. Nobody wanted you around. But when you proved yourself, when it became evident how much skill you had, I became an afterthought. My biggest successes barely equated to your smallest victories. We both could have lived happy lives, but no. No, you had to force me from the spotlight. You had to outdo me all the time,” Nyoko’s grip on her sword tightened, and her veins pulsed against her skin. Her face was a light shade of red, and her hair was dripping with sweat.

Jonathan looked down at his arm. The cut wasn't deep enough to kill, but the small red pool on the floor was large enough to be concerning.

“Always the lucky one, always scraping by. You ruined me, you know that? I was an heiress, a warrior, and the favorite daughter. I could have had anything I desired. But you… you made me this, bitter bitch. This monster, consumed by desire,”

“Oh good, you are at least aware of what you are,” Jonathan let out a small laugh. Nyoko lunged forward and grabbed him by the throat, her sword raised above his head.

“You piece of shit! I have spent the best years of my youth trying to prove myself, to show that I was still worth keeping around. I’ve taken countless lives, I’ve worn myself down to the bone. And finally, I come to exact my revenge, to show you my pain. And all you can do is give me empty apologies and fucking laugh,” Nyoko spit in his face, then threw him at the wall. As he flew back, the shelf holding the katana made a quiet creak as it dipped ever so slightly. 

“I’m gonna make you pay for what you did.” Jonathan slid to the floor, too weak to try and stand. He widened his eyes, trying not to go into shock as he processed everything she had confessed. He looked into Nyoko’s eyes, searching for the light that used to fill her pupils. He tried to appeal to that side of her, to appease the person who would walk in the rain just to have ramen with him, and knock on his door with new DVDs to watch. He tried to ask her for forgiveness, but whoever he had befriended all those years ago, he could see now that she had died in his absence. And in wake of everything she had said, he couldn’t help but think he was the one who pulled the trigger. All Nyoko did was nail the coffin shut. 

Before he could conclude anything, he felt something hit his head. He flinched, thinking that Nyoko was done toying with him. But to his surprise, it wasn’t her blade that had struck him.

He looked down and saw a black saya lying in his lap. He picked it up slowly, not believing it was real at first. As he picked it up and felt the weight of the sword inside, he realized what this meant for the two of them. Nyoko looked up at the rack where the blade sat, and in her crazed state, laughed at the untightened screws.

“It looks like fortune continues to favor you. You must be God’s favorite snake,” she said with a smile. She knew him dying this easy was too good to be true. But even if she could kill him where he sat, she’d rather have a proper fight first. Jonathan used the sheathe to stand himself up, 

“So how about one last bought, for old times sake?” Nyoko adjusted her grip. She figured she could spare another five minutes to kick his ass. Besting him in proper combat would make her victory all the more satisfying. Jonathan pulled the katana and stood up straight. He ripped off a piece of his shirt and tied it around his arm. It would be enough to stop the bleeding, though it wouldn’t do much else.

Nyoko lunged forward, hoping to get the first blow, but was met with a swift parry. She faltered back and then tried again, crossing swords with Jonathan. As he pressed against her blade, he saw nothing but hatred on her face.

“You have no right to look at me like that,” she said, breaking away from him.

“Look at you like what?” Jonathan asked. She came down faster than before, yelling as the blade wooshed through the air. Instead of blocking, Jonathan made a quick sidestep to reposition himself. 

“Look at me like I’m less. Like I’m the villain,” Nyoko held her sword tighter as she waited for his next move.

“Well heroes don’t ruin other people's dinners,” her smirk let him know she had something pretentious to say.

“Heroes don’t stab their friends in the back either. See, that’s the difference between us Jonathan, I don’t play at being something better than I am,” He lunged forward, crossing swords with her again.

“I’m no villain, I’m just out for blood. And you’re no hero,” Nyoko broke away, then backed up. When Jonathan came to strike her, she sidestepped him, then grabbed the handle of his katana. In one swift motion, she flipped him over and threw him on his back.

“You’re just an asshole trying to stay alive,” Jonathan rolled away before Nyoko could stab him, and jumped back up on his feet. Before he could say anything, she was on him again, her fury unwavering.

Jonathan fell silent, letting his will to live override his need to be a wise ass. The idea behind samurai combat is necessity and finality; the fight should end as quickly as possible, with death coming certainly to one of the warriors. Though the opposite proved true with Jonathan and Nyoko. They drew out their duel, throwing each other around the restaurant and getting dangerously close to beheading and delimbing one another. Metal rang as Nyoko fought for her right to vengeance, and Jonathan fought for his claim to life. His hair had gone frizzy, and he was covered in sweat. He kept a death grip on his sword and tried his best to push down his anger and keep his focus. Meanwhile, Nyoko’s face was bright red, and her body was shaking with years of rage. She could smell their blood and sweat among all the scents of the restaurant, and it drove her crazy. She was rabid, like a dog tearing apart raw meat. She hadn’t felt this way in years, not since he had left. She’d cut down many who were worthy of her time, but she’d never had anyone match her. Not the way he does. 

“You look tired,” Nyoko said after a few minutes of battle. Jonathan didn’t respond. At this point, they had both drawn back from one another. The restaurant was torn in two, and all of the customers had cleared out.

“So quiet. What’s wrong? Has the clown run out of jokes? No more coins in my ear, no more ribbons to pull out your sleeve?” Nyoko remarked.

“No, but I still have a sword for you to swallow,” she smiled. There was something rewarding about pushing his buttons. His compulsion toward comedy, his need to one-up her, his struggle to hold together, it amused her.

“I think it’s funny how after all this time, you still can’t just come out and say it,” she commented.

“Say what?” In his exhaustion, Jonathan figured if he let her monologue again he would have a chance to rest.

“That you hate me,” Nyoko pulled up a chair and sat down. She figured if she got him to monologue she’d have a chance to rest.

“Nyoko… you know that’s not true. Right?”

“Are you kidding me? We are trying to kill each other right now. We have been for years,”

“Well yeah, but I don’t hate you. I never did. I thought you knew that” Nyoko stared at him, unable to even process what he was saying.

“Wh- do you think I’m stupid or something?” 

“Dammit, do you like being hated or something? I’m telling you I don't ha-” Jonathan dove out of the way before her chair could hit him.

“Liar!” Nyoko rushed toward him with her sword, making cuts faster than Jonathan could read them. She swung down, cutting his knee and throwing off his focus.

“Our final duel and you can’t even deliver the killing blow,” She kicked him down, leaving him wincing on the floor. Nyoko threw her katana to the side and grabbed a sharp knife on one of the tables. As she bent down over him, she put her knee on her chest and started choking him with her left hand.

“You deserve this. We both know you do,” she said.

“Only when Vanessa does it,” Nyoko made a sound of disgust
“You still think you’re a hot shot, don’t you? I mean somehow you still think you’re winning here,” Jonathan just lay there, unable to disagree with her.

“Before I cut you open, tell me. What pushed you to cross me? What convinced you to ruin my life? What makes it so that you feel so high and mighty all the time?”

“Nyoko I don’t… I didn’t…”

“Answer me! ” she shouted. She took some of the pressure off his neck to let him talk.

“I never meant for all this, Nyoko. I was young, and I was only looking out for myself and I’m… I’m sorry. I really am. You were my best friend, and I’m sorry I let my self-interest get in the way of what we had,” The two locked eyes for a brief moment. For the first time that night, Jonathan felt truly scared. Dying would be quick and altogether painless. But facing his past, reckoning with his karma, admitting that he ruined her life. It was horrifying. When he left Japan, he thought putting his life of crime and treachery behind him meant that the emotions would disappear with it. But all these years later, time had caught up with him. All of a sudden he felt cold and cruel. He looked up at Nyoko, tears spilling out of her eyes, and he wondered how she would finish him off. However it happened, he probably deserved it.

“Nyoko please, you have to listen to me. You’re more than this, we both are. You got me okay? You bested me, but now we have to find something else for ourselves. If we don’t w-” Jonathan stopped. He felt it pierce his chest, right above his stomach. He looked down and saw the sharp knife sticking out of him, her hand wrapped tight around the handle.

“You are nothing but a conniving asshole, and I won’t let you win me over with some bullshit story. Nothing you could say would excuse what you did. Nothing you say will ever make me forget,” she pushed the knife further in and cracked a smile as Jonathan cried out in pain.

“You thought you could hide back home, hide from fate,” Nyoko took her katana and stood up. She traced her finger along the blade, admiring its design once more.

“But the past is never where you think you left it, Jonathan. I’ve never forgotten what you did to me, I’ve been readying myself, waiting for the chance to make you suffer like you made me suffer. And now that it’s here,” Nyoko took a deep breath.

“It has been sweet.”

“For what it's worth, it was nice seeing you again,”

“Nyoko wait!”

She raised her sword above her head and looked down at Jonathan with vile intent. Without hesitation, she swung down with fury. But before she could hit him…

“W-what the fuck!” Nyoko looked down in awe. Jonathan had ripped the knife from his chest and blocked her blow in one swift motion. It was a risky move; the shock could have easily kept him from pulling it off, and he could’ve started gushing blood in seconds. With a great effort, Jonathan found the open wound and slid the knife back in, His screams only gave a light impression of the kind of pain he was experiencing.

Jonathan swept her legs and sent Nyoko crashing into the floor.

“Stop making me do this!” he used the nearest table to stand himself up, ad started limping his way toward the back door.

“You won’t get away from me dammit! Not this time!” she yelled after him.

Jonathan made his way to the back and burst through the doors, finding himself in the kitchen. The staff had left halfway-plated meals on the counter and raw meat sitting on carts. Jonathan pushed past scattered carts and trays and hobbled toward the exit as he tried to make something out of the night's events. He knew he should leave, and get as far away from Nyoko as possible. Or kill her now, and be done with this mess. But part of him wanted to stay. Something in him wanted to stand there, and let her come for him. He thought maybe she deserved her revenge, and that he didn’t deserve his life. Not if it cost hers. He could remember a happier Nyoko, with a broader smile, and brighter eyes. If getting her back meant letting himself die, then…

“Vanessa. I gotta call Vanessa,” he whispered to himself. Maybe before he could have let himself go. But now he had a true life, people depended on him. Regardless of their relationship, that couldn’t be ignored. He took his phone out, tapping on cracks as he dialed. The phone rang and rang, each buzz more loud and mocking than the last. 

“C'mon, now is not the time for the silent treatment,” He was halfway through the kitchen when he heard the doors swing open behind him. Nyoko stood in the doorway, watching Jonathan limp away like a wounded deer.

“Phoning a friend? That’s not fair,” Nyoko threw one of her kunai and threw it at his hand. The blade went straight through the screen and sent the phone flying to the ground.

“I’m not going to do this Nyoko!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m sorry buddy but you have to. The debts you owe me are long overdue-”

“And you’re here to collect yeah I’ve heard it a thousand times,” Jonathan turned around to face her. Not only was she carrying her sword, but she also had the one he was using as well.

“I”m not gonna stay here Nyoko,” he told her. 

“Because you know you’ll lose?”

“Because you’re obsessed. And I’m not feeding into it. I’ve moved on, and you can too,” Jonathan turned back toward the exit, determined to leave before he had another stupid idea.

“I can’t move on Jonathan! You robbed me of that!” Nyoko began pushing toward him.

“My life has been hell, a prison of revenge and jealousy, a prison of your design! I want to be free dammit! I need to be free!”

He moved as fast as he could toward the exit. She inched closer and closer, her veins throbbing and her mouth foaming as she clenched both swords. Before Nyoko could stop him, Jonathan burst through the door and ran right into the cold outside. 

It was snowing hard. The parking lot had been completely covered in white, with the few remaining cars buried. Jonathan was usually one for the cold, but the bite of the air was then nothing but a hurdle. Another force of nature teasing him, trying to cripple and destroy him. He tried his hardest to push against the weather, but he didn’t get far before falling to his knees.

Jonathan looked down at his chest, the pain writhing throughout him.

“Godammit Nyoko. God dammit,” Jonathan's heart sank as he heard the crunches in the snow behind him. He stood shakily and turned around to meet her.

“You won’t stop. Will you?” he asked her.

The dead look on her face said it all. She threw his sword down on the ground. It sank into the snow, with the weight of metal and purpose.

“Before we do this,” Jonathan bent down and picked up the katana, “know that I tried everything else.” 

He stood up as straight as possible, then took up a defensive stance. Nyoko held her sword with both hands, and raised it diagonally over her head, widening her stance for a great strike. They both had killed many people before, the same way a hunter may have killed much prey. To each other, they were an elusive deer, the one that got away. That night in the snow, one of them would rid the Earth of the other, and one of them would have to bear the burden of slaying the other. Which was the worse fate, neither could say.

Nyoko swung at him, expecting Jonathan to make a move. He stayed where he was, knowing better than to use precious energy so soon.

“C'mon dammit do something,” she mumbled as he blocked every attack she threw at him. As they scattered the snow beneath their feet, Nyoko swung for Jonathan's neck. He ducked, then kicked her back to gain control.

“Amazing how you keep your edge with that knife stuck in you,” she remarked, holding onto her control in effect.

“Yeah, let's see if you can do the same,” Jonathan came back toward her with a thoughtful fury. She smiled as their swords collided and the sound of metal rang in her ears. She could feel the wrath in his strikes, and the anger in his eyes excited her. Moving her feet around in the snow, fighting for her life, it brought her back to their time in Tokyo, dueling in empty streets and dark alleys, rooftops, and abandoned buildings. Places only they knew, and they’d remember. Thinking back before used to piss her off, but thinking about falling to the pavement and kicking him through windows made her feel… fuzzy. Almost nostalgic.

Their fight went on, despite the state of them both. Jonathan didn’t drop his guard for a second, knowing Nyoko would be quick to exploit any weakness. They cut at each other with rage and spite, though there was still strategy in every swing. The cold shook their bones and stung their wounds. The only warmth came from their blood, which ran down their arms and across their chests. It would’ve been easy to be warm, to drop their weapons, and give up their grievances. They could go inside, make soup, and talk while their cuts bonded and their bodies relaxed.

“You should’ve talked to me,” Jonathan muttered through chattering teeth, “we should’ve just talked. Now look at us.” Nyoko saw his lips move, but between the wind and his chattering, she could barely understand him. She just stared, her chest rising and falling as she thought up her next approach. Jonathan could see her heaving and struggling to breathe. Every cloud of air was life escaping her lungs.

“Someone looks tired,” she remarked, a desperate attempt to push herself forward. 

“Yeah, someone does,” Jonathan rebutted. Then, after a brief pause, said, “Are you ok, you wanna take a break?”

“You couldn’t be serious,” Jonathan shook his head, then came rushing back into the fight. She didn’t waste time parrying his attempt at a strike. Nyoko giggled as he nearly lost his footing in the snow. He tried again to attack her, this time vertically. She blocked his first swing and kicked him down as he went for a second.

“Ha. Silly caucasian girl likes to play with samurai swords,” Nyoko said mockingly.

“You may not be able to fight like a samurai,” she told him as she pointed her blade at his face, ”but you can at least die like a samurai.” Jonathan stood up, sword still in hand, and held the blade up. His face was blank, but in his head, he still had fond memories of watching Kill Bill with Nyoko over and over, quoting every line and debating The Bride’s strategy. He still remembered how cramped his apartment used to be, but even if they had to sit shoulder to shoulder, he loved the time they spent together.

“Attack me… with everything you have,” he quoted back. Nyoko looked down to hide her smile. She couldn’t help but think back to those long nights in his small apartment and feel… reassured.

What ensued was the bloody end to their duel. The snow came down hard on Nyoko, her hair and clothes collecting it all. Every snowflake was another poke at her side, irritating her to death almost completely on their own. The weather was not unlike her conscience, which tugged on her mind, suggesting that maybe her sword would do better in its sheath. But the damage had already been done, and there was nothing left to do now but kill him.

“Or die” her thoughts interjected.

You could die, alone in the cold, like a mangy bitch. You’d be no better than a stray cat; feral, forgotten, and likely replaced. 

It’d be a terrible end, but fitting for the life she had lived.

If that’s so, then why are you here?

After a moment she concluded that it was to prove a point. Though, that didn’t feel like enough. Was it worth the years of her life spent in bitter anger, or the life of her best friend? Would she be better off at home, accepting her place, or making a life for herself? If Jonathan died here in this desolate parking lot, would she truly be happy? These were ideas she wished she could still sit down and ponder, but Nyoko had no time for words anymore. Her rampage had left her with nothing to return to, and nothing to consider. So as she tightened her weakening grip, she shed a single tear. Even before Jonathan cut her to size and pierced her stomach, she knew she was dead.

It happened so suddenly, that neither of them realized it at first. They were locked in combat, their attacks getting weaker and less frequent. A duel became a slow match, where either swing or jab could have ended their feud once and for all. Nyoko swung for his head, her eyes bloodshot, and her pale skin stained red and orange. She may have been resilient, but after such a long duel, and having the elements beat down on her, it wasn’t a shock she was starting to go down. Jonathan ducked, faring better against the weather, but having lost much more blood. Nyoko faltered, long enough for Jonathan to return with an attack. He drew back, preparing a significant strike. He slashed first, across her body, causing a long cut. Then he drew back and lunged forward with the blade.

The sword drove into her abdomen, splitting her intestines and passing through her. Nyoko lurched forward, her eyes popping out as she realized what had happened. Without a word, she fell to her knees. She could already feel her racing heart begin to stop, its rhythm thinning out as its performance ended. She looked down at the blade and found it funny that a piece of decoration would be her demise. She began to laugh a small chuckle. The laugh quickly turned into a gag, and after a heave, she threw up blood into the pure, innocent snow.

Jonathan could only stand there in horror, and listen as she spoke.

“I remember… the last time we went out together. It was late, but... we had nothing better to do but walk around in the rain. You wanted to stop for… for some of those pancakes you like. The fluffy ones. I just wanted to get dry…” Nyoko’s tears rolled from her eyes, sliding off her cheek and silently hitting the snow.

“We got coffee too. I always said you used too much milk. And then you would put in a little kiss of chocolate, and… and sprinkle in cinnamon, on top of creamer and everything. I always said that you… that you”

“Were a sugar-addicted American. In that same stern, playful tone. Every time,” Jonathan gave a small laugh. He looked away for a moment, afraid he was going to tear up too. But then slowly, he looked back at her. He didn’t have to hide his sadness, she wasn’t his enemy.

“I was reading Nana, you were talking about some girl you met the other night. Before we… left I told you I was… I was,” Jonathan caught her before she hit the snow. She was cold in his arms. Not just on the surface, but inside as well. She wasn’t freezing, she was cold.

“I said I didn’t know if I could win my next fight. I didn’t know and I… I was so nervous. But you said-” Nyoko slipped out of his arms, and fell to the ground. Jonathan quickly knelt and lifted what was left of her off the ground.

“Was it true Jonathan? Are we… are we still friends?” her mind was already starting to go. He was beginning to sob as the snow turned red and the life left her eyes. He nodded yes, giving them both a bit of comfort.

“I had fun… John,”

“I had fun too, Nyoko. I had fun too,” She lived long enough to smile one last time. But it was only a moment later, that she had closed her eyes and finally let herself rest. As she went limp, Jonathan took her in his arms and stood up. He walked through the snow, his feet numb and his eyes sore, and took her somewhere she could be at peace. Later that night he buried Nyoko, along with her blade and the one he struck her down with. He went on living, loving, and working. His life became normal and more empty in a way. Though for all his success and prosperity, he could never forget how her eyes faded as she died. He’d always remember the color of the snow, the hard work of digging, the sweat that lined his brow, and the tears he shed as he left her behind. Jonathan would always remember the pain of having killed his best friend. And with that darkness in his heart, he’d never live another day happily again.