Now that some time has passed since the blog tour (long enough that this content definitely earned it's 'exclusive' label) I thought I'd post it here in one place for everyone to enjoy on a permanent basis. Be warned though - if you haven't read The Name of the Blade trilogy? These scenes are going to be 100% spoilerific for you! So if you don't like to be spoiled run far away now and don't come back until you've read all the books!
Deleted
Scene #1 - Jackaru
*Spoilers!*
It had been hours since they arrived at the human
hospital.
At first Hikaru had been so ill and dizzy and
confused that the bright lights and awful smell barely even registered. She’d
been glad to collapse onto the little bank of seats – no matter how horribly
uncomfortable – next to Jack in the waiting room and bury her face in her
hands, to try to breathe through the lingering muscle cramps and the
overwhelming, burning sting of the various puncture wounds all over her body.
The King’s healing magic was strong; strong enough
to purge the poison from Hikaru’s system before it killed her or left her with
serious brain damage. And start the wounds closing up already, which was part
of why they burned so much. But nothing could entirely erase the side effects
of being pumped full of enough supernatural neurotoxin to give a god a
headache.
As the pain slowly passed off, Hikaru became more
and more aware of Mr and Mrs Yamato’s strained grey faces as they talked to the
doctors, scurried eagerly out of the room and then returned with dragging,
shuffling steps after too short visits to Mio in intensive care. Gradually he
gleaned the fact that doctors weren’t entirely sure why she was unconscious.
There was no blood loss, no brain injury that they could find, nothing to
treat. She just... wouldn’t wake up.
The news, when it came, that Shinobu was out of
surgery and doing well, was a huge relief for everyone. Especially when Hikaru
remembered the blood stained nightmare he had looked when the human healers
pushed his stretcher off the bridge. If they could fix him, surely Mio would be
all right too?
But another hour passed with no change in Mio’s
status, and the pall of doom descended inexorably over the small waiting room
again.
This
is all wrong, Hikaru thought distractedly. We won. Mio defeated the gods and saved the
world.
We won.
We
should be happy. We should be celebrating.
Mio
can’t ... Not after all this.
Humans were so bloody fragile.
Mrs Yamato looked up hopefully as a new doctor, a
cheerfully plump Asian man with kind eyes, came into the room. She nudged her
husband, who jerked out of an uneasy dose. After a short, whispered
conversation, all three headed out of the room. Mrs Yamato spared a moment to
offer a slightly shaky smile to Hikaru, Jack and Rachel as she went.
“Back in a moment, kids.”
Hikaru stared after her, stricken. So fragile – and
so kind.
“How are you doing, Furball?” Jack asked in a
hushed, careful tone that was entirely unlike her. “You look a little better
now.”
Hikaru risked a sideways glance in the other girl’s
direction. Now was definitely not the time to ask if Hikaru had hallucinated
that kiss while Jack held her limp body beside the river. Definitely not the
time.
“Did you really kiss me, or did I imagine it?” Dammit, Hikaru.
Jack’s eyes went wide and she shifted a little
uneasily, but she didn’t look away. “Um...”
On Jack’s other side, Rachel let out an
ostentatiously loud sigh. “Hey, why don’t you two head down to the cafeteria
and get us some new cups of tea? These ones are cold. And maybe some muffins or
something.”
Jack twisted around and even though she couldn’t see
the other girl’s face, Hikaru knew she was levelling a deadly glare at her
sister. “You could give a sledgehammer a run for its money.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,”
Rachel said, shaking her head. “For God’s sake, both of you, stop making googly
eyes and actually talk to each other! Before I lose it and strangle both of you.”
“But – Mio – ” Hikaru protested. “Mr and Mrs Yamato
– ”
“They don’t need you right this minute,” Rachel said
firmly but kindly. She lifted her arm and pointed at the door. “Go. Shoo. Now.”
Hikaru and Jack exchanged a resigned look for a
split second before they both remembered that they were being awkward with each
other and quickly looked away. Hikaru felt that unaccustomed heat in her cheeks
and leaped to her feet, trying not to wince as various injuries throbbed in
protest. “Fine. Tea and muffins, coming right up.”
Jack got up a little more slowly. “That’s a line I
honestly never expected to hear coming out of a Japanese fox spirit’s mouth.”
“I don’t see why,” Hikaru returned swiftly, trying
to get back into the rhythm of their old banter as they headed for the door.
“I’m as British as you are, you know.”
A tiny smile twitched at the corner of Jack’s mouth.
The door of the waiting room swung shut behind them. “Hence why both us hate
talking about our emotions so much, I suppose.”
Encouraged, Hikaru let her shoulder bump against
Jack’s gently. “Speak for yourself. The way I see it, I’ve already laid my
cards on the table. The emotional constipation is your problem.”
Jack stopped where she was, the smile leaving her
face as she pressed her lips together. “I...”
“Sorry, I didn’t – ” Hikaru back-peddled hastily,
feeling her stomach lurch.
“No. Don’t – you don’t have to be sorry for being
right.” She nodded, as if to herself. “You’re right.”
Her eyes met Hikaru’s fully for the first time. They
looked huge in her face, and Hikaru could see fear and uncertainty and a faint
edge of panic in them. And something more. Something soft, that yearned for a
connection in direct proportion to how much Jack feared it.
One of the first things that Hikaru had fallen for about
Jack was her strength, her absolute refusal to give up, her take-no-prisoners
attitude – but right now Hikaru felt as if she was being shown a whole
different Jack, a part of her that was just as integral to her personality, but
that lived deep down, hidden away most of the time because it was so precious
and vulnerable.
Given the chance, Hikaru knew she could wrap her
arms around Jack and spend the whole rest of her life just keeping that soft,
loving part of the other girl safe and protected, and never want anything else
in order to be happy.
The problem was... did Jack want that? Would she be
able to accept it, from Hikaru or anyone?
“You’re right,” Jack repeated, and like a light had
been switched on inside her, suddenly the smile was back, spreading slowly
across her face. She reached out, a little hesitantly. The tentative brush of
her fingers across Hikaru’s palm sent sparks of electricity shuddering through
the kitsune’s skin.
Hikaru quickly twitched her hand around and grasped Jack’s.
“So... are we... we’re doing this?” Hikaru asked,
worrying she was ruining the moment, but needing something, some kind of anchor
to attach all these feelings to.
Jack squeezed Hikaru’s hand, and her smile was a
grin now – a little giddy, a little reckless, and a lot happy.
She turned and started pulling Hikaru down the
corridor towards the lift, swinging their joined hands between them. “You bet
your fluffy backside we’re doing this, Furball. Come on. I’m going to buy you a
muffin.”
Deleted
Scene #2 - Destiny
“Hika-chan?
Hika-chan!”
Miyako’s
sickly sweet voice – and that sickening bloody nickname – sent Hikaru flailing
up from his comfortable position nestled into a pile of pillows on the floor of
the grand library. Spitting out a mouthful of hair, he nipped behind one of the
bookshelves and plastered himself to the warm packed-earth wall, his
grandfather’s copy of Alice’s Adventures
in Wonderland still clutched in his hand.
“Hika-chan!”
A slight edge of annoyance cracked the edges of Miyako’s voice now. He could hear
her coming closer, but... aha! She hesitated before stepping into the stacks.
Hikaru
could picture her uneasy expression. There were a lot of books here, and a lot
of them were old. Old and magical. Not everyone who wandered into the stacks
came out exactly the same way that they went in. Especially the ones who were
chasing after Hikaru. He patted the roughly carved bookcase next to him and
felt a gentle vibration travel into his fingers. The library’s version of a
purr. They were old friends.
“I
know you’re in here. Hiro-san told me he saw you. Come out at once.”
Not in a million years, o minion of
evil. Not in .A. Million. Years.
“Your
aunt wants you!” She snapped. As if that settled it. Which it did. Because there
was noooo way Hikaru was delivering himself up for one of Midori’s lectures
voluntarily.
“She
wants you now! She’s not going to be pleased if you keep her waiting!”
Midori
was never pleased anyway. It was totally, utterly, literally, impossible to please her. Hikaru had tried non-stop for
the first fifteen years of his life and it brought nothing but exhaustion and
misery. Giving up had been a relief. These days when it came to his
great-great-great-great (and so on for a few more generations) aunt, he found
that the best – in fact the only – workable strategy was avoidance. If she
couldn’t find him, she couldn’t suck the guts out of him and then use his finger-bones
to pick her teeth. Simple.
There
was a long pause.
“Fine,”
Miyako said finally. “I’m going to go back and tell her that you hid from me
and refused to come out.”
Rather than admit you refused to come in
and look for me. Safely
hidden, Hikaru rolled his eyes. Midori would see through that lie in less time
than it took Miyako’s whiskers to twitch. It wouldn’t make Midori any less
furious with Hikaru, of course – but she would probably singe her minion’s
tail, too, to teach her a lesson. Miyako really was too stupid to serve one of
the most ancient and powerful Kitsune in the Kingdom. Only Midori prized the
ability to suck up more than intelligence, talent or a remotely attractive
personality.
“Eugh,
you think you’re so special, but you’re not, Hikaru-san!” He heard the slap as
she stamped one of her feet. “You’re nothing but a stupid spoiled brat! No
wonder everyone’s so disappointed in you!”
Apparently
that was her last gambit. Her feet scuffed again as she whirled around and
stomped out of the library. Hikaru let out a sigh that was a mixture of relief
and weariness. She really was very dim if she thought that insult would force
him out of hiding. He’d been resigned to his position as the biggest
disappointment in the Kingdom for about half a decade now – the scar tissue was
thick enough that it was almost numb.
He
looked down at his book, brushing his thumb gently over the tooled leather
cover. How amazing it must be, to be mortal, human – to have magic happen to
you instead of being expected to generate your own.
Not
to mention that a human’s cranky elderly relatives eventually had to die off
and leave them alone. A Kitsune’s cranky elderly relatives just kept on getting
more elderly and more cranky until you wished you could die off yourself
instead.
And
humans got to have friends. Real friends their own age, who hung around with
them just because they liked them, not because they wanted to get into the good
graces of a potential future ruler, or that potential future ruler’s
great-great-great (and so on for a few more generations) grandparent, who
happened to be the current King.
Friends
who expected nothing from you.
Hikaru
had given up on that particular dream a long time ago.
He
carefully re-shelved his book, suddenly no longer in the mood for Alice’s
silly, cosy adventures. Whatever had set Midori off this time, she wasn’t
likely to let go of it until she’d had a chance to inflict her usual brand of
passive-aggression, snide insinuation and guilt on her favourite victim, or
until something else came along to draw her ire. It would probably be best if
Hikaru made himself scarce.
Hmmm.
He hadn’t visited the human realm for a while – wasn’t it nearly midwinter
solstice up there? They had that festival, Christmas, like in the Chronicles of
Narnia, with the presents and the parties and the pretty twinkly lights.
Time for an excursion, he decided. If
he used the almost forgotten rupture that opened near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, he
probably wouldn’t have to meet a single other person on the way out – and he
could stop in at Starbucks before he went window shopping, maybe crash a party
somewhere... His mood brightened at the thought of hot chocolate and whipped
cream...
With
the ease of long practise, Hikaru managed to sneak out of the library
unnoticed. He was half a second from activating the unpopular rupture hidden in
a damp, overgrown corner of the den when the King’s disembodied voice suddenly
roared to life in the air, shaking the soft mossy walls of the little chamber.
“A
favour has been called upon! Shinobu, helper of foxes, who five centuries ago
in the old country freed me from a snare and saved my paw, has requsted our aid
– and the Kitsune Kingdom shall answer! Who is closest – who – ah. Hikaru.”
“What?
Me?” Hikaru yelped as he felt his
grandfather’s attention, and the ancient ceremonial magic, focus on him.
“Yes,
child, you,” the King’s voice rumbled, amused.
The
spell of embodiment crashed down over Hikaru, making his vision fizz, his ears
pop, and his knees tremble. His ordinary clothes – jeans, a T-shirt and a
hoodie – vanished in a whirl of light, replaced by a shining white kimono. The
weight of the King’s authority, and of the collective power of all the Kitsune
in Great Britain, settled over his shoulders like a yoke that pressed him down
and bore him up at the same time.
“Quickly
now,” the King ordered. In front of Hikaru, the rupture flared with brilliant
copper light as the entrance into the mortal realm activated. “It sounds quite
urgent. You represent us all today, Hikaru. Make sure that you act as my
descendent should.”
“Yes,
grandfather,” Hikaru said, resigned. Well,
at least it’s a change, I suppose. It probably won’t take long – and there’s
nothing stopping me from getting a Starbucks once I’ve finished...
Squaring
his shoulders, he stepped into the shining light of the rupture.
Deleted Scene #3 - Daisho
*Spoilers*
“Please,
Mio-dono,” Shin-chan pleaded, his hands outstretched so that his bony wrists
poked out of the sleeves of his kendo-gi. His eyes were wide and beautiful, and
for a moment I felt my anger waver. That would not do. He must learn.
Pointedly,
I averted my gaze and fixed it on the swaying green and yellow branches of the
willow tree beneath which I sat. The wind stirred overhead, and the leaves
parted to reveal a glimpse of the garden beyond, where my mother, her head
shielded with a painted pink parasol, walked with my father, arm in arm. The
long, low shape of the house drowsed behind them, its straw roof turned bronze
and gold by the sun.
The
leaves swept together again and hid everything with their gently whispering
fronds. I sighed a little. What a waste of a beautiful morning.
“Mio-dono
– ”
“You
are forgiven. You may go,” I said coldly.
“I
am not forgiven,” he grumbled, exasperated. “It is as plain as the freckles on
your nose that you are still angry. Only tell me what I have done! How can I
make amends if you will not tell me?”
“How
dare – I do not have freckles!”
He
gave a little choke of laughter. Normally I adored that sound, and would go out
of my way to provoke it whenever I could. At this moment it made me more
furious than ever, and I sucked in an angry gulp of breath, shaking my head
sharply, once. “It is of no consequence.”
“Clearly
it is of great consequence or we should not be out here,” Shin-chan said
stubbornly.
“I
did not ask you to follow me.”
“No.
You only took a blow from my practise blade that would have stunned an ox, fell
down at my feet and would not answer me for the longest three seconds of my
life, and then laughed as if you had taken leave of your senses. And then you
stalked off and hid under the willow tree. Everyone and their deaf uncle knows
that you only sit under the willow tree to sulk. I have already said that I was
sorry for knocking you down – ”
“Ack!”
I snatched up my practise blade from the mossy ground and flung it at him,
unable to stand it a moment longer. “That!” I cried, as he dodged the wooden
sword, and it clattered onto the white stone path behind him. “That is why I am
angry!”
“I
am sorry – ”
“NO!”
I almost howled the word and forced myself to take a deep breath before I went
on. “I do not want you to apologise for hitting me. We were practising. We were
sparring. The entire point of sparring with wooden swords is to try to hit each
other. It was a good hit! An excellent hit! I laughed because I was happy and
proud of you. And then – then – you ruined everything.”
“What?
How?” he sputtered.
“You
apologised,” I sneered.
“But
– you were hurt – ”
“I
am not hurt. Do you think a little tap like that could injure me? I have
trained by your side every day for the last four years, and my father trained
me alone before that. I am your equal, Shinobu. I have hit you a dozen times!
You have never hit me because I was
better than you. Today, you finally defeated me and instead of being proud you
were sorry because you thought I was hurt. As if I was some fragile flower,
some easily bruised hot house peony whose petals could be crushed by a hit with
the flat of a wooden blade. I am Onna-Bugeisha! We are daisho! The short blade
and the long – two halves of one whole. How could you show me such disrespect?”
For
the first time since he had followed me out of the dojo, stuttering apologies
and pleas for forgiveness, Shinobu hesitated. He opened his mouth, closed it,
then seemed to slump in place. His narrow, pointy shoulders poked up like wings
as he slowly bowed to me, pressing his hands together above his head.
“You
are right, Mio-dono. I see it. You are my equal, and I should have treated you
as such. I apologise.”
I let a long, shallow breath escape me. My
anger and outrage flowed with it, leaving me empty, faintly trembling. But I
must not allow him to see that – he would take it as weakness. Boys were such
simple creatures. I hid my hands in the sleeves of my kendo-gi and bowed back
courteously. “Your apology is accepted.”
Shinobu
straightened, and his head tilted to one side thoughtfully. “So. In short, our
argument today was because you... wished me to apologise. For apologising.”
I
narrowed my eyes at him. “Correct. What of it?”
He
shook his head. “Oh, nothing. Only I think I know now what your father meant
when he said, when I came to live with you all, that I was sure to have an
interesting life.”
“Really,”
I drawled. “Interesting, you say? Hand me my practice sword, Shin-chan.”
He
ducked back agilely and picked up the shinai, holding it bchind his back. “No.
I do not think that would be a good idea.”
“Give
it to me. I’m going to show you what ‘interesting’ looks like.”
“What
does it look like?”
“Like
my sword hitting you squarely in the gut.”
“Then
I definitely shall keep hold of this for the moment.” Slowly, he began to back
away.
I
brushed through the willow leaves, holding out my hand commandingly. “Give. Me.
My. Sword.”
Grinning,
he shook his head, then turned and bolted in the direction of the house.
“Come
back!” I shrieked, flying after him. “Come back here right now, you – you
coward! Are you afraid of a fair fight?”
“Terrified,
Mio-dono!” He yelled back at me over his shoulder, waving my wooden sword above
his head. “Absolutely terrified!”
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