The flight was available. Actually, Stone had to make it available. He didn't kill anyone and take their place. Rather, he paid someone to take another flight. He bought their ticket. It cost him enough. He would have paid more if he had had to.
As Michael Stone walked from the airport terminal in Tokyo to a waiting rental car, a weight began to press down upon him. A vampire, or vampires, was on its way to kill his master. And somewhere, on some part of this Earth, Anita, accompanied by his father and Yuri Pavelovich, was running for her life from them. Them. The Others. The ones that had betrayed them all.
Stone now knew Nera was part of it. She even seemed to be in charge of it, judging from the conversation he overheard in Shultz's office. The Nubian vampire was powerful, Michael knew, as she was one of the oldest. The older they were, the more powerful they were. But, like most things that had great power, they seldom saw past their own self-image. That had been the deciding factor when Michael cut Akuma's head from his body. He hoped it would be the deciding factor when he cut Nera's head from hers as well.
Of course, if Nera was part of this conspiracy, then it meant Thomas Smith and Robert McKay were as well. Stone clenched his teeth in anger. He had spoken to these people, ate with them, allowed them into the secret chambers of The Organization. And the motherfuckers betrayed them all. And now, they sought to kill Anita. Because she carried his child. He heard Nera speak of the unborn child as an "abomination". Stone shook his head, muttering quietly to himself, "I'll show that bitch who the abomination is."
Anger, again. The emotion was as much a part of Michael Stone as any human being. However, it was one emotion he could not afford. Anger was the enemy of a warrior. A warrior studied ways to calm his mind, be at peace with himself, so that when he fought he could fight as if he was going to die. Michael took several deep breaths and calmed his mind. He focused on his task at hand. And that task became real to him as he drove his car into the mountains around Tokyo, seeking the old dirt path that lead to the dojo of Toshiro Osato.
---
Anita sat up in bed. She went to the window and pulled the wooden blinds up in her room, watching as the western sky settled into shades of pink and purple. She opened the wooden-slated door and walked into the living room of the motel suite. An old ceiling fan turned lazily overhead. The air was humid, and she noticed the window unit air conditioner was doing little to keep the heat at bay. Although she didn't perspire herself, she knew it was indeed hot in the room when she looked and saw John Stone sitting in a recliner, his shirt plastered to his skin with sweat.
Anita sat beside John on the sofa. The TV was on, and she noticed the local cable was showing "The Empire Strikes Back". The movie had just gotten to the scene where Han finds Luke in the arctic wastes of Hoth, and uses the hero's light saber to cut the belly of the fallen tauntaun to keep him warm.
"Good movie," she remarked.
John smiled and lifted a bottle of water to his mouth. "Yep," he said, "Michael loves these movies."
Anita's jaw clenched at the mention of her husband's name. She fought back a tear and struggled to keep her voice even. "Have you heard from him?"
John shook his head. "Yuri went out to send him a message. We don't dare use cell phones to contact him, because they are probably being monitored. At this point, we can't trust anyone."
Anita nodded. "I would know if he were hurt," she said.
John looked at her, his face turning serious. "And that's why you have to keep thoughts of him to yourself. If you reach out to him with your psychic powers, they could find him. They could find you." He took her by the hand. "That's why we don't tell you where we are."
The tear began to roll down her cheek. She placed her hand over her stomach, where inside her, Michael's child was growing. "I know," she said. "And thank you for all you have done for us."
"He's my son," John said. "And he can take care of himself. As I am sure you can, too. But, the one thing that is most important right now is my grandchild, be it a boy or a girl."
Anita smiled. "You will be a good grandfather," she said.
John smiled. Grandpa. Grand dad. Yeah, he liked Grand dad the best.
---
The dojo was dark and silent. Stone parked the car well away from the building and approached on foot. He stepped upon the porch surrounding the dojo, and slid the door open.
The interior of the dojo was quiet. A few lights on the posts along the side of the tatami mat were dimmed. It smelled of blood. Though dimly lighted, Stone could see the bodies of three fallen vampires. They lay in a rough circle, and in the circle's center, lying face down on the mat, was a sight Stone had not wanted to see.
Michael rushed to the side of his fallen master. The samurai sensei was covered in blood that stained his white kodachi shirt red. Michael turned him over. Osato's eyes fluttered open, and the old warrior reached a blood covered hand to Michael's own.
"You are late, Michael-san," the old man said.
Stone bowed his head, taking the old man's hand in his. "Forgive me, sensei. I –"
"It does not matter now," the old man said. "Things have been written already, long before you ever walked through the door."
Michael nodded. His master had accepted his fate. It was the way of the warrior.
"I ask one thing from you," the old man rasped. "I do not wish to die on my back, but as a samurai, with honor."
The tears welled up in Michael Stone's eyes. Honor was definitely with the old master this night. The man, well into his eighties, had killed three vampires before succumbing to his wounds.
"Hai, sensei," was all Stone could say in reply. He helped his master to sit up. The old man already had a wakizashi, the smaller blade of the samurai, in his belt. Stone helped the dying samurai unsheathe the polished blade. Stone left him for a second, as he walked to the side of the canvas mat and picked up Toshiro Osato's katana. When Michael returned to him, Osato had already positioned the tip of the wakizashi against his stomach.
Michael stood over him, the blade of his master's katana held over his head in preparation for the final, downward cut. Michael Stone turned his head as tears began to fall. He heard the old man grimace as he drove the wakizashi into his belly and cut across his abdomen. And then, in the final act of seppuku, Michael Stone cut off his teacher's head.
Stone walked to the set of sword stands on the far wall. He picked up an old rag used for cleaning and wiped the blood from Osato's katana. It was his katana, now. He held it for a moment, letting the tears come.
He heard the sound of clapping behind him. He spun. There, across the mat, in the shadows, was Thomas Smith. Stone knew he had not sensed the vampire within the dojo. The sight of his teacher on the mat, dying, had distracted him. Stone quietly berated himself for letting down his guard.
"Bravo," Smith said. "It was an impressive battle, with a fitting end. Don't you agree?"
Michael said nothing. He only eyed Smith hard. Stone was already playing Smith's death out in his mind.
