Jin sat down.
He didn't lunge. He didn't raise the katana. He just lowered himself to the floor of the wrecked corridor, right there in the dust and the broken concrete, and crossed his legs like he was settling in at a picnic.
Yuna stared at him.
The blue ball she'd been tossing came down and bounced off her palm, and she had to snatch at it to keep it from rolling away.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Sitting," Jin said.
"Why?"
"Because I'm tired." He laid the katana down on the floor beside him, flat, the hilt toward his knee, and folded his hands in his lap. "And because you're right. I can't kill you without maybe killing myself. So I'm not going to try." He nodded at the floor in front of him. "Sit."
Yuna's smile went stiff.
"No," she said. "I'm not stupid. This is a trick."
"It's not a trick."
"It is. You're going to wait until I sit down and then you're going to grab your sword and..."
