Sarah Snakearm's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Sarah set her cup on the tile and felt the hour start to run. Kevintor's feet stirred the water beside hers. The pool reflected the open screen and the sky past it. She had won the gate. She had won the dress. Now she had sixty minutes to stop being a name he would forget by morning. She did not have a plan. She had one thing in the pocket sewn inside the dress. She pulled it out before she could talk herself out of it. A small gold locket on a thin chain. Her thumb worked the catch. Inside was a faded photo of two children in a dojo yard, a boy and a girl, both missing front teeth, both holding the same wooden practice knife between them. "My brother," she said. "He died the year I made black belt. He gave me this the week before. I carry it to every fight." She set it on the tile between them. "I have never shown it to anyone." Kevintor picked it up. He looked at the photo for a long count. He did not speak. Past his shoulder, the open shutters framed the sun going down behind the ridges, the sky orange over the valley, the light warm on the white tile. Under that light her tattoos looked softer. So did his hands. "I lost to you on purpose the second time," she said. "At the dojo three valleys south. The first time you beat me clean. The second time I wanted to feel your hand on my arm again. I am telling you because I do not want this hour to be a lie." She kept her eyes on his. "I am not here to challenge you. I am here because you helped me up." He closed the locket. He set it back in her palm and folded her fingers around it. "Keep it," he said. "You came with the truth. Most people come with a story." He stood and walked to the small thatched bar at the pool's far end, pulled two short glasses from the shelf, and poured something clear from a green bottle. He came back. He sat closer than before. "I have to leave at the bell," he said. "Come back in seven days. Same gate. No throwing star. Just you." He touched his glass to hers. "That is not a fight invitation." Sarah drank. The hour was not finished, but the question was. She had not won his heart. She had bought a second door. Outside, the sun dropped below the ridge and the orange in the window went to red. The bell would ring soon. She slid the locket back into the pocket at her hip and let her shoulder rest against his while the light held.