Senses

The blindfold was tight. Very tight. In the back, it pulled on Ryu
Hayabusa's hair. He waited for his attacker. His steel-gray eyes were wide open,
meeting nothing but solid blackness.

But Ryu Hayabusa saw everything. Not with his eyes. They were only one sense, one of six. And if you
only trusted one sense, you were dead.

Ryu heard a flutter above him. Instantly he knew what is was: A red-winged blackbird. Leaving a Japanese red maple tree. Flying south-southwest. His ears told him that. The smell of the bark. The slight shifting of the
breeze against his skin.

No ordinary person could put all this information together without
seeing. To a Ninja, it was a way of life.

He took three steps and stopped. His opponent was coming.
Ryu's body loosened, relaxed. That was the Ninja way. Let the other
attack first; use his energy against him.

Footsteps. From the left.
Height. About six feet one, five inches taller than Ryu.
The punch. From the right, about chest high.
Whooosh.

Ryu stepped aside — his yoko-aruki step was perfect.
The punch sailed past. Then another followed.
Instantly Ryu's right hand shot out. He made contact, hitting the
outside of his attacker's arm.

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