Scarlett nodded. “So Stan, you and Zoro-me will train for your infiltration, while Julien and I prepare the tools you’ll need to make it happen. I think we should be good to go by Monday.”

  “Am I going to be ready for some actual ninja infiltration by next week?” Stan asked dubiously.

  Zoro-me gave a firm nod.

  “If you say so . . .”

  After the meeting, Stan and Zoro-me walked to the dojo for another few hours of intensive training. Zoro-me started the session by drilling basic punches and kicks, making sure Stan’s form was correct. He was getting the hang of that a little bit. There were lots of details about his own body positioning that he hadn’t even thought about at first. But after getting smacked a bunch of times, he was much more aware of those things, and it was starting to become muscle memory.

  But then they did an exercise where Stan and Zoro-me faced each other, their hands in front of them, palms pressed against the other person’s. The goal was to push their opponent off-balance. It sounded easy.

  It wasn’t. When Stan tried to shove Zoro-me, his friend anticipated the move and stepped back at the last second so Stan fell forward. Every single time. He tried to do it extra fast. He tried to take Zoro-me by surprise. It never worked. And if he tried to go on the defensive, Zoro-me invariably caught him off guard.

  As he was picking himself up off the mat for probably the hundredth time, he noticed that Yawarakai was watching them.

  “I really suck at this, don’t I?”

  The old man beamed with his usual kindergarten-teacher demeanor. “Of course you do. You are just a novice, after all. Ichi No Zoro-me-kun has been training since he was eight years old.”

  “But do you think I have a chance?” Stan asked plaintively. “Do I have, like, any natural ability at all?”

  Yawarakai considered that a moment. “Natural ability? No, none to speak of.”

  Stan winced. Apparently, despite his name, the Soft Master could be pretty harsh.

  “But,” continued Yawarakai, “that is not the most important thing. In fact, natural ability can be a liability, because it does not encourage diligence and discipline. Someone with a great deal of natural ability can quickly become complacent. Perhaps even arrogant.”

  “What is the most important thing, then?” asked Stan.

  “Purpose,” said Yawarakai.

  “Purpose?” asked Stan. “I’m not sure I have that either.”

  “No?” Yawarakai’s eyebrows rose. “Then what was it you were doing during all those fights at your last school in Chicago? Was it merely sport for you?”

  “Of course not!” said Stan. “I don’t enjoy fighting. But kids were getting picked on. What was I going to do—let it happen?”

  Yawarakai nodded. “Is there a greater purpose than helping those in need?”

  Stan felt something stir inside him. Pride, maybe? A new way of looking at things? In fact, it was the exact opposite of what those two cops had told him after his father’s murder.

  “It seems you already know the answer.” Yawarakai turned and began walking toward the back rooms. “You’ll stay for dinner, of course, Stan-kun.”

  “Oh, uh thanks, Sensei.” Stan’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, how did you know I used to get into fights all the time at my old school?”

  Yawarakai looked over his shoulder. “Did you really think we would let you befriend our treasured nephew without looking into your background? We are shinobi, after all.”

  “Oh.” Stan wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t liked what they found, then he decided he didn’t want to know.

  Zoro-me tapped him on the shoulder and gestured that they should continue training.

  As they began once again, at least now Stan felt a little less despairing. He might not have talent, but he had purpose. That was probably why Yawarakai had spoken to him. When Stan thought about it, he was actually being taught by three ninjas, rather than just one. There might be a lot of terrible things going on in Springfield, but at least this one thing was pretty amazing.

  CHAPTER

  19

  A REAL CUTTING-EDGE TOWN

  After his training session and dinner, Stan trudged home, exhausted but happy. Yawarakai was right. Helping people wasn’t stupid. It was awesome.

  “You seem cheerful,” observed his mother when he arrived. “Another night at the dojo?”

  “Yeah.”

  He plopped down on the couch. It had barely fit in their old apartment but now looked ridiculously small in their big new house. He wondered if his mom still planned to go furniture shopping that weekend, but before he got around to asking, she spoke first.

  “I am really proud of you, Stanisław. Making friends, joining a school club, and now this new passion for martial arts. It is a great way to channel all that rowdy energy you have, my little Clash. I told you that Springfield would be good for us.”

  He smiled tiredly. “You did say that, Mom.”

  “Well, I will not rub it in anymore.”

  “Promise?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “I guess you like it here?” he asked tentatively. “You know, at work?”

  She looked at him like he was crazy. “Is that a joke? I am working at the headquarters of the most advanced science and technology company in the world. No other employer could give us the level of funding and resources that DeCobray provides.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He realized this could be his chance to figure out what was really going on at DeCobray and just how much his mom knew. “So . . . what is it you do there, anyway?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “After all these years, you are suddenly interested in what I do?”

  He shrugged. “Just curious. Is it, like, top secret or something?”

  “We do have to sign non-disclosure agreements,” she said. “After all, we cannot have cutting-edge DeCobray technology leaking to the media before it is ready to be announced.”

  “Cutting-edge tech, huh? Even more than the Lyres?”

  “Oh sure.”

  “Like what?”

  She came over and sat down next to him. “Well, I am not supposed to say, but since you are finally interested, I will tell you a little. DeCobray is developing all kinds of interesting technologies. Gene therapy, advanced robotics, AI, neurological reframing—”

  “Neuro-what?” Stan asked, maybe a little too sharply.

  “That is the project I have been working on, actually. Did you know that nearly one in five Americans live with a mental illness?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  She nodded. “It is true. And for decades, mental health treatments have relied on medication that often has troubling side effects. The way the Lyre device works, it bypasses your eyes and ears, and communicates directly with the occipital and temporal lobes of your brain, which process sight and sound, respectively.”

  “Using brain wave entrainment and cranial electrical stimulation?” asked Stan, remembering what Anastasia had told him on the first day of school.

  She looked pleased. “Correct. But did you know that the temporal lobe also affects your emotions? So imagine if we could use something like a Lyre device to treat depression, bipolar disorder, perhaps even schizophrenia, all without any side effects.”

  That sounded exactly like what Zartan had been doing to Stan’s classmates, except not to help them.

  “That would be pretty amazing . . .” he said carefully.

  “It would indeed,” she said, getting increasingly excited. “And we are so close! Very soon, I think DeCobray will be able to begin clinical trials. Can you imagine how many lives it would save, Stanisław?”

  “I guess,” said Stan. “But, like, if the Lyre can affect our emotions, couldn’t it also be used to mess up people who didn’t have mental health issues?”

  She frowned thoughtfully, as though she’d never considered the idea. “I suppose it could be reprogrammed for that purpose. But who would do such a terrible thing?”

  “Yeah . . .” Memories of Connor and the other poor kids down in the mad science lab flashed through his head. “How could anyone be that evil?”

  He wanted to tell his mother that this thing she was so proud of was being twisted by people like Zartan. But he hadn’t seen her this excited about anything in a long time. Not since before his father died. And anyway, he had no proof, or even any witnesses. She’d never believe him.

  CHAPTER

  20

  A REAL PRESENT TOWN

  Stan thought his luck was holding when he didn’t see Anastasia at the front door for the second day in a row. But the moment he entered the school, she was there.

  “Ah, good. I see you remembered to put your Lyre device on after you showered this morning, Stanisław,” she said by way of hello, which he thought was messed up on a couple of levels.

  “Oh, yeah.” He faked a smile as he tapped one of his earbuds. “You know I love this thing.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” she said. “Because I have been thinking of recommending you for a special pilot program to test out new features.”

  He thought about the mood-controlling functions his mother had been talking about. “Oh, wow, that would be . . . neat.”

  “It would be a great privilege,” she agreed. “But before we get into all that, what feedback do you have for me on the Magica and Sciffy filters?”

  Of course, he hadn’t tried out either of them. He was normally the sort of student who always did his homework, so he had no ready excuses to give her.

  “Uh . . .”

  “Hey, Stan!”

  Relief flooded through Stan at the sound of Julien’s voice.

  “There you are, Julien!” He smiled as his friend entered the school. “I wanted to talk to you about that project we’re working on.”

  “What a coincidence, me too!” said Julien. “Oh, hey, Baroness. How you been?”

  Anastasia gave him a tight smile. “Just fine, Julien. And you?”

  “Lovin’ those new filters,” Julien said enthusiastically. “I’m kind of partial to the Sciffy one. I got a soft spot for weird-looking alien dudes.”

  Stan was impressed at how cool Julien was acting. Maybe paranoia was making them all better liars. That was kind of a depressing thought.

  “How fascinating,” Anastasia said in a way that suggested she didn’t find it interesting in the slightest. “But this is perfect timing, Julien. I was just telling Stanisław about our new pilot program. And since you’re so passionate about technology, I thought—”

  “That is a great idea, Baroness,” Stan said with feigned enthusiasm. “Can’t wait to talk to you about it more later. But we really do have to work out this project presentation before class starts.”

  Her temple twitched in annoyance. “Very well. Until next time, then.”

  “You bet!” Julien said, then the two hurried down the hall.

  Once they were out of earshot, Stan murmured, “We really do need to talk.”

  “It’s going to have to wait until we get to the clubhouse,” said Julien.

  Stan nodded. They were both wearing their Lyre devices, after all, and with Anastasia acting so suspicious, it was even more likely that someone was monitoring what they said.

  Waiting until the end of the school day to deliver his new intel on the Lyre tech was tough, but Stan had learned some breathing techniques at the dojo that kept his anxiety from getting too out of control. Still, it was a huge relief when he could finally yank off his Lyre device and shove it into his shield bag, then hurry across the field to their clubhouse.

  As fast as he got there, Scarlett and Zoro-me were still waiting for him. He had no idea how they both got there so quickly every day. Julien showed up shortly after.

  “I think I know what Zartan was doing with those experiments,” he told them.

  He then recounted everything his mom had said the night before, watching their faces crease further and further with worry.

  “Man, these Lyres are even more invasive than I thought,” said Julien.

  “Yeah, on my first day, Baroness claimed they didn’t connect to your brain,” said Stan. “I guess that was a big old lie.”

  “She was down there helping out Zartan and Michel,” said Julien. “So she has to been in on all this stuff, right?”

  “We should assume so,” said Scarlett.

  “But what is it for?” asked Stan. “Why make something that can make you super sad or super violent?”

  “I can think of all kinds of reasons,” she said. “They could use it subtly to influence people’s opinions. Make them want to buy a certain product or vote for a certain politician. That kind of thing. Or they could use it more overtly and just turn a crowd of regular people into a homicidal mob.”

  Julien shivered. “Could you imagine something like that falling into the hands of a terrorist organization?”

  “For all we know,” said Scarlett, “this Cobra is a terrorist organization.”

  “We still don’t even know if Cobra and DeCobray are the same thing, though,” said Stan. “Having similar names isn’t exactly proof.”

  “True,” agreed Scarlett. “All we know for certain is that the principal of our school is somehow connected to both of them.”

  They stared at each other in silence for a moment as that reality settled in.

  “So . . . what do we do?” Stan asked finally.

  Scarlett chewed her lip, her brow furrowed. Finally she said, “I have to talk to someone about this.”

  “Who?” asked Stan.

  “Sorry, I can’t tell you. Yet. Please just trust me for now.”

  “I guess we’ve come this far,” said Julien.

  “Yeah, OK,” said Stan. “But you will tell us eventually?”

  She nodded. “Hopefully in a few days. In the meantime, Stan and Zoro-me, take the weekend to train as hard as you can.”

  “We will,” promised Stan.

  She nodded. “And Julien . . .”

  “Yeah, I know what I need to do,” he said.

  She smiled gratefully. “Thanks, you guys. I’ll check in with you all tomorrow, OK?”

  After that, all Stan could really do was throw himself totally into his training.

  It seemed that part of Zoro-me’s training as a shinobi was to take on his own pupil. So while Zoro-me trained Stan, Hādo and Yawarakai trained Zoro-me on how to train. That was why they’d been so involved in Stan’s lessons.

  Tommy came by now and then to watch his progress. He didn’t say much, but at least he didn’t make fun of Stan’s efforts. Scarlett showed up on Saturday as promised. She watched them train for a little while and joined them for Yawarakai’s homemade dorayaki when they took a lunch break. After they ate, she and Tommy went off to a corner to talk quietly. Whatever they talked about, it seemed to make them both mad. They didn’t shout or anything obvious like that. But Scarlett’s face was almost as red as her hair when she stormed out after, and Tommy left a short time later with none of his usual swagger.

  Stan wondered what Tommy did with his time. He was clearly aware of the bad things going on in Springfield, but he didn’t seem to have any interest in helping the Joes make it right. Of course, more and more, Stan also wondered what Uncle Hādo, aka the Hard Master, and Uncle Yawarakai, aka the Soft Master, were really doing in Springfield. Especially since their dojo didn’t seem to ever offer any actual martial arts classes to the public.

  On Sunday, Scarlett came by again, which was a little embarrassing because she was there to witness just how terrible Stan was at the pushing “game.”

  “Terrible!” declared Hādo when Stan was shoved to the ground for the millionth time.

  Stan sat up, his hip and hands throbbing with pain. The tatami mats offered some cushion, but not a lot. He drew his feet in, sighed, and put his head on his knees.

  Scarlett cleared her throat. “With the greatest respect, Hādo-sensei, may I make a small request?”

  He turned to her, a thick gray eyebrow raised. “Oh? Very well. Go ahead, Shana-chan. What would you ask?”

  “Perhaps just a nudge in the right direction? As a favor to me?”

  He frowned at her. “You should not get in the habit of babying him.”

  “I won’t,” she promised.

  “Very well.” He turned back to Stan. “You need to pay attention.”

  Stan knew better than to directly contradict the Hard Master, so instead he phrased it as a question. “I’m not paying attention?”

  “You look toward the future.”

  “The future?” asked Stan. “I don’t understand.”

  “You try to anticipate your sensei’s actions.”

  “I shouldn’t do that?”

  Hādo shook his head. “Whether you try to look forward a day, or an hour, or five minutes, or two seconds, it is pointless. Are you a fortune-teller? How could you possibly know what he will do?”

  “Well sure, but—”

  Hādo’s eyes hardened, and Stan stopped, realizing he was about to contradict him. He thought for a moment on how best to express his thoughts.

  “How am I to avoid being pushed over if I can’t anticipate his moves?”

  Now Hādo nodded, looking a tiny bit pleased. “When you face your sensei, you continually ask yourself the wrong question. Do not ask ‘what if.’ Instead ask ‘what is.’”

  “What is . . .” Stan mulled that over. “So you mean—”

  “Enough talk,” snapped Hādo. “Begin again.”

  Stan and Zoro-me once again stood face-to-face, palms pressed against their opponent’s.

  What is . . .

  Not what Zoro-me might do, but what he was doing in the present moment. Asking that question, over and over, each moment. What is he doing now? And now? And now?

  It took Stan a surprising amount of focus to stop himself from guessing, anticipating, and assuming and only look at what was there. To see Zoro-me stand there and to think of nothing else. To see his foot tilt slightly.

  Instinctively, he leapt back, and Zoro-me fell forward.

  “Oh ho!” said Hādo, actually looking impressed. “You finally end the battle within yourself.”

  “Battle?” asked Stan as he helped Zoro-me back up.

 

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