It fit as if it had been tailored for her and Shizu had no doubt that was, indeed, the case. She spent a few minutes clearing her head and preparing for what was to come before stepping through the door into the dojo proper.

In the middle of the room, Sensei waited, kneeling on a mat in front of a traditional Japanese tea set. He wore a black silk kimono the same color as his hair, which was loose around his face. It made him look younger, less harsh.

Behind him, on a wooden rack, was a sword in a wooden scabbard.

Shizu’s curiosity burned at the sight of the weapon, but she knew better than to ask about the sword. It wasn’t the way these things were done. She would remain quiet until Sensei mentioned it or until she was given permission to speak freely.

She crossed the floor on bare feet and settled down lotus style next to the tea set. As she reached out to begin the tea service, Sensei shook his head, indicating that she should leave the service alone.

When she sat back, he shocked her by preparing the tea himself, something he had never done in front of her before. First, he added hot water to the delicate porcelain cups and then added some green tea leaves. Next, he whisked the mixture together to produce a foamy green tea. Turning the cup to face her, Sensei bowed low and offered her the first taste. She took it, then offered it back to him, as was traditional, but he declined, indicating she should drink. Once she had, he repeated the process, taking a sip for himself before putting the cup down on the table.

They passed another moment in silence, and then Sensei spoke.

“You have done well, Shizu. I am proud of your accomplishments.”

It was high praise for her and she sat a little taller before him, honored to have him think so highly of her.

“Now at last, we come to the reason for all you have done over the past several years. I have a specific mission for you, a mission I am now convinced you can carry out successfully.”

Shizu bowed her head. “Whatever you wish, Sensei.”

He was smiling when she looked up again. “You have always been faithful, Shizu, and I admire you for that. Such dedication is a rare and powerful thing. Because you have been so devoted, so unflinching in all that you have done for me, today I want to return that dedication. I have a gift for you, a gift fitting for one known as the Dragon.”

Sensei stood and turned to the sword rack behind him. He bowed low, then picked up the scabbard in both hands and returned to his former position, the sword resting across his knees.

“Like you, this sword was crafted for a purpose. The artisan who fashioned it poured everything he had into its creation. He gave it a destiny and then turned it loose in the world to carry out its ends. So it is fitting that on this day, when you, too, are turned loose to carry out your mission, you should receive a gift of equal value.”

To Shizu’s shock and surprise, Sensei bowed once, short and sharp, and then handed her the sword.

She cradled it lovingly in her hands, not trusting herself to speak. Holding the scabbard in one hand and grasping the hilt in the other, she drew the sword out slightly, revealing about four or five inches of the blade.

The katanawas old; she could tell just by looking at it. The blade was too sharp, the etching too exquisite, for it to have been made in the modern era. Toshiro had taught her to recognize the old blades, those actually fashioned during the samurai period itself, and she had no doubt that this one originated from that time frame.

Just beneath the hilt, a dragon had been etched lovingly into the blade’s surface. It was lunging forward, its front claws reaching toward the pointed end of the blade, smoke pouring from its mouth and between its whiskers.

“It hungers, Shizu. Hungers for death and destruction and misery, hungers for everything its creator wished upon his enemies.”

That last was said quietly, almost reverently, and she wondered for a moment if there were hidden meanings behind the words.

“It is the sword carried by your predecessor, the original Dragon. Now it is yours.”

Shizu stared at the blade in her hands and vowed to do the gift justice. She would be better than the original Dragon; she would make the legend live as it never had before.

Sensei gently took the weapon from her, sliding the blade back into the scabbard and returning the sword to the rack behind him.

“It is there for you when you need it,” he told her.

He moved to stand before her again, his gaze capturing her own.

“I have one more gift for you,” he said.

Stepping in close, he bent his head and kissed her passionately on the lips.

For a moment she froze in shock and then the hunger and passion she had been hiding inside for years exploded. She clung to him, losing herself in his touch and his taste and his very closeness. Her love for him knew no bounds and she had prayed for years that this day would come, but had never actually believed that it would.

His hands found the ties of her kimono and deftly released them, sliding the garment off her shoulders to let it pool on the floor at her feet. His lips traced their way down her neck and Shizu nearly screamed in delight.

Sensei took her on the floor of the dojo and every move of his body upon hers cemented her allegiance to him. When he was finished he left her alone. He had won her over, heart, mind and soul. She would do whatever he asked, whenever he asked, without hesitation or doubt.

WHEN HE SUMMONED HER to his study a few hours later, he gave no indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened between them.

Recognizing what she thought was his need for discretion, Shizu did not refer to it, either.

It would be their secret.

Sensei handed her a file folder. Inside was a color photo of a stunningly beautiful woman with chestnut hair and amber-green eyes. A name had been printed across the bottom of the photograph.

“That woman carries a certain sword that I wish to possess. I want you to get that sword for me,” Sensei said.

Shizu nodded. “She’ll be dead before the week is out,” she replied, displaying a sense of newfound confidence that was as surprising to her as it was to her master.

“No!” he said sharply, and then calmed himself. To Shizu it seemed as if he was embarrassed at having shown even that little emotion.

“No,” he repeated, this time in a calmer tone. “She is not to come to any harm, nor can the sword be taken from her by force. It must be given of her own free will. Anything less and my plans will be ruined. Do you understand?”

Shizu hid the confusion she was feeling and simply nodded. She had been trained to kill, to eliminate her enemies as ruthlessly and as quickly as possible. The woman had something Sensei wanted and she was not allowed to use the one skill she could most easily bring to bear on the problem? Was this another test?

Sensei saw her confusion. “The sword is an item of considerable power, but that power is only available if its current bearer still lives and if the sword has been given freely, rather than taken under duress. She must remain alive,” he explained.

“Hai!”Shizu said, bowing to show her complete agreement.

Sensei pointed at some materials in a file folder. “Everything you need is in here—habits, locations, even her travel schedule for the next several weeks. An account has been opened for your use—the access codes are in the folder, as well. Once you have the sword, reach me through the usual channels.”

He moved out from behind the desk and Shizu understood that her audience was over. It was time for her to leave.

“I will await word that you have succeeded,” he said, “as I have no doubt that you will do so. Good hunting.”

Later, in her own room, Shizu stared at the photograph, studying the woman. Her gaze drifted to the name at the bottom of the image.