I am Clara

I Fight a Ninja and my Best Friend

I wasn't attacked the moment I stepped foot outside. I took that as a good sign. Until now my luck was slightly less shitty than usual. Not waiting for my luck to run out, I walked towards the cool kids not so secret hangout spot. Crawling awkwardly, as I held onto to both my crutches and sword, I prayed no students would be looking out the classroom windows.

     I grabbed the wooden ladder behind the sport shed and somehow managed to make it on the school's roof top. The building was only one story high, but still the height gave me an advantage, I could see miles into the horizon. I circled the rooftop, searching the property for my potential future murderer. After five minutes of pacing the same strip, I finally saw something emerge from the woods. I really hadn't angered the Sphere. I crouched the moment I saw them, army crawling as I attempted to find something to throw their way. This is exactly why a gun would be more efficient than the fifty-pound sword. Not that I would shoot to kill, but a bullet to the arm or leg would render the person useless in a much more efficient way than the tennis racket currently in my hand. Nevertheless, I couldn't change the fact that Mimpi's people were stupid. The racket would have to do. I was no athlete, my aim was horrible, but by some miraculous, unnatural force, the racket hurdled straight towards the person's head. Weapon slipping from their grip, they fell face first onto the dry soccer field. Though I was far away, it was easy to tell that the body had gone completely limp. How was it even possible to be knocked out by a two-pound piece of stick? I looked down at my hand in astonishment.

     The Sphere was useful? It had made my job easier... too easy. I called bullshit. I couldn't have gotten that lucky.

     That question was answered harshly. The moment I began to stand, I was hit behind the head with the blue racket matching the one I had just thrown. I uncapped my sword, but before I could turn, I was hit again, this time in the stomach. The blade slipped from my fingers. Catching myself with my right hand, I saved myself from completely rolling off the roof. Three fingers baring my entire weight, I quickly raised my hand forward for support. Swinging my legs from side to side, as I attempted to gain momentum to pull myself back up, I suddenly froze. My eyes met those of a black suit, holding my blade might I add, only mere feet in front of me. Grey eyes peered down on me, accompanied by two long braids.

     One more step, and they wouldn't hesitate to chop my hands off. Sneaking a glance at the distance between myself and the ground below, I winced. With a breath of courage, I stuck my tongue out and let go of the stone-grey brick. Though I was prepared for the fall, it did not make it any less painful. Spitting dirt, I managed to compose myself and crawled towards the tiny sport shed. I didn't need to look back to know that the sword stealing ninja was following me. Seconds after I locked the door, shoving extra desks in front of it, the doorknob began to shake violently. And once again, I've trapped myself. When's the Sphere going to inject some sense into me? It seemed to be what I lacked most these days.

     This ninja was about my size but by the way they were ramming into that door, I'd have guess a rhino had escaped the zoo. Already, they broke through the doors lock; the desks now the only thing in their way. Though it had nearly amputated half of my foot a few weeks ago, I was furious that they were holding MY sword. I'm not sure when I had become so possessive of it, but that was my blade. The idea of another person holding it in their hands, triggered an uncharacteristic type of rage.

     Again, I was reminded that my level of intelligence and combat planning is nowhere near that of one of a competent warrior. Rather than plan my next move, I stood still while Kundanskie's minion removed every obstacle between us.

     "Any chance you'd give me my sword back?" I asked, final stepping away. I would need to regain possession of my one chance at survival. Despite not understanding a word spoken, it was clear by the intensity of their growl that there was no intention of returning my blade.