by J D Astra
Her gaze flickered up to me from her bowl. She didn’t nod, nor did she smile or even grunt acknowledgement. Her attention returned to her food, and she continued eating.
The snakes of worry coiled around my stomach and squeezed. This was not a good start to a day I was already not looking forward to.
“Hey, Hana,” Cho said as he joined us. She at least gave him a nod before returning to suck down her food.
I stuffed a slimy chunk of spicy eel-kip in my mouth to wash out the sour flavor her mistreatment left at the back of my throat. That only seemed to make things worse for the tension in my stomach, but I didn’t care. I swallowed bite after bite with indignance until Hana stood, her bowl empty.
She turned away without a goodbye or anything, and Cho looked at me, concern etched in the creases of his forehead. “What’s going on?”
I was chewing a much-too-large mouthful of nasty eel when Mae responded. “She’s rightfully upset about how Jiyong treated her last night.”
I swallowed the half-chewed food in a rush. “Rightfully? She dislocated my arm, and she gets to be mad? And I apologized for what I said, why wasn’t that enough?”
Yuri sidled up beside me with a tsk, tsk, tsk, but I never took my eyes off the retreating Hana. “You just don’t get girls, do you, Jiyong?” Yuri asked with a pained sigh.
Cho groaned. “What’s there to get? Jiyong should be mad at her, not the other way around.”
Yuri rolled her eyes and her whole head followed, rolling around her neck. “Outer-city boys are just as dumb as inner-city ones.”
“Wait a minute,” I said as I turned to Yuri. “What do you know about this?”
She balked. “You think Hana and I don’t talk?”
“But I thought you guys weren’t friends?” I asked, recalling how Yuri said that Hana acted “above her” in Primary school.
She blinked hard with a plastic grin. “Boys are so stupid.”
“Now, now, Yuri, they’re just smart in other ways,” Mae whispered with a giggle that set my teeth on edge.
I looked back to the main entrance and watched Hana disappear out to the terrace. Manners be damned, I tilted my rice bowl to my mouth and scraped everything in, then jumped to my feet. I was going to get to the bottom of this if I had to squeeze it out of her like li munje from my core.
Chapter 27
I DROPPED MY DISHES at the return station and kept a fast pace to the main entrance. Why were Yuri and Mae calling me stupid? What had I done to Hana that was so bad? A fiery storm of resentful heat swirled in my gut at the questions running through my mind.
I marched around the corner to the front doors when I heard a girl shout in anger, “Jun!”
My pace quickened, and I jogged out to the steps of the main pagoda. Hana was stopped halfway down the stairs staring down at a girl with long, rose-pink hair. I’d seen her in class and knew she was a first-year, but wasn’t sure who she was. The girl was surrounded by a posse of similarly angry looking first-years, all with hands on hips or arms crossed.
“What do you want, Lyjin?” Hana pulled back her shoulders and made herself larger. The tone of her voice was that of being threatened. I took a few steps down. It didn’t matter if she was angry at me, I was going to stand behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder, but her expression was unreadable. I kept my focus on the students backing Lyjin. Their hands and eyes fidgeted at the sight of me. I didn’t need to use ry to see they were nervous; it was as clear in their body language as if they’d said it.
Lyjin stepped forward. “Your enterprise has taken another block of the upper south from my family. How is it that you can move into a new market so fast and cheap? Pah-mi jungmaha on the side?”
Hana’s hands balled into fists, and the posse chuckled. What Lyjin had said didn’t make sense to me in context, but I knew based on Hana’s reaction that dancing with hogs meant something terrible.
Hana’s voice shook as she growled the words, “How dare you!”
Lyjin gasped, her eyes bulging in feigned pity. “Did I hurt your feelings? You know what hurts my feelings? When my parents have to leverage my inheritance—my home—just to keep up with yours.”
“Maybe you should be more concerned with how you’ll run your inheritance if your parents can’t figure it out,” Hana snapped, and Lyjin’s lip curled back in a snarl.
“Duel me,” Lyjin snarled through clenched teeth.
Hana laughed once. “You think you can keep up with me? Fine. Jiyong, find an instructor.”
I turned back to the main pagoda and was able to grab a passing third-year teacher, and a bored-looking Sung-ki.” Another duel with Shin-soo, Jiyong?”
Something rude flared through my mind, but then I remembered my place as a student. “No, it’s for Hana and Lyjin.”
His brow furrowed, and he followed me out to the courtyard. Hana and Lyjin had already squared off, each girl looking ready to explode out of her skin.
The third-year teacher approached them. “What are your selections?”
“Ry,” Hana said, her eyes never leaving Lyjin.
The rosy-haired girl leered. “Zo.”
Hana held her breath. She swallowed hard and looked at me with wide, amethyst eyes. What was going through her mind? Was she worried? She was a Zo expert who regularly beat me. She had nothing to worry about.
I hardened my expression and nodded.
“And the third?” the teacher asked, looking back at us. I knew Hana’s en was only okay, and her ma was barely passable, but her li—like Cho—was quite good.
“Li!” I shouted.
The other students gave their votes for ma, and the instructor nodded. “It will be ma. Ma first for the audience, then ry from the defender, last, zo from the initiator. Your first challenge will be...” she scrolled through the list made of light in the palm of her hand with a flicking gesture. “Machina repair.”
Hana was lucky it hadn’t been something harder. Sung-ki nodded and returned to the pagoda. A few, tense moments later, he emerged with two blocky machina about the size of a rice bowl. He handed one to each girl.
“They have both been maimed in the same way. Repair the damage and activate the device to win the challenge.” He stepped away, and we circled up around the dueling pair.
Hana took a deep breath and settled her gaze on the object in her hands.
“Begin!” the instructor shouted, and Hana’s eyes snapped shut. I watched her shoulders rise and fall rhythmically as she cycled ma, but she was cycling too slow. Her breaths were deep and full, like what was needed for zo cycling. Ma required quick, fast energy-snatching breaths for continuous bursts. Making one big lump of zo was fine for the explosive power needed to land or take a single hit, but ma repair needed a constant, steady stream.
There was nothing I could do but watch as her brow knitted together in frustration. Her opponent wasn’t doing much better it seemed, but there’d be no way to tell who had this one until the device activated.
After a few minutes of anxious silence, a smile curved up the edge of Lyjin’s face. Not five seconds later, a light projected from the top of her device. The word, “Winner” appeared in gold, and she grinned as she opened her eyes.
“Kore Lyjin wins the first round,” the third-year instructor declared, and Hana’s fist closed around her unlit device. She handed it back to Sung-ki delicately.
“Next round, ry—”
“If I may ask,” Lyjin interrupted the instructor and he nodded to her. “If Hana and I could agree to a dazzle dance as our ry trial, would you accept it in the stead of what’s scheduled?”
“I don’t see why not. Hana, would you agree?” the instructor asked.
She grinned the way a predator smiles at its prey. “Yes.”
“Then so it shall be your second task. Hana, you lost. You may pick who goes first.” The instructor nodded to her.
“Lyjin will go first,” she said, her smile fading to a smirk of confidence. She was sizing
up her rival and wanted to see just how hard she needed to push herself. It was a clever move. If Lyjin were smart, she wouldn’t hold anything back. That was the point of being a Bastion: Give it everything you had.
“You will have one minute to prepare. Begin.”
Lyjin instantly started a cyclic breathing, but it was too fast. She wasn’t pulling the air deep into her lungs and grabbing a larger swath of energy from around her. The shallow breathing was a good tactic for small, quick bursts, but she was trying to fill her reservoir for a sustained performance or a fantastic finish.
The instructors pushed the ring of students outward. The group took a few steps back, and I moved with them, trying not to lose my front row spot. Word had spread into the dining hall that there was a duel out front, and it seemed every first year was pouring down the steps to see the action.
My heart hammered with excitement. I hadn’t seen many dazzle dances in my life. Sometimes, my mother would dance for the family after dinner—memories I cherished since they were no longer possible. I saw her face in my mind’s eye as she twirled and twirled, a bright smile gracing her young face. Butterflies of every color flittered up from her twisting feet and curls of luminous vines snaked down her arms. Blossoms of all kinds sprouted from the vines, and the butterflies landed gently on their edges.
“Time is up, begin!” the instructor yelled, and my daydream ended.
Lyjin began with a swift leap, and glowing blue splashed up where her foot came down. The water made of ry light trickled upwards, losing momentum as it floated away from her. She turned slowly, admiring the droplets as they went. She closed her eyes and moved like soft water, her arms drifting out like a wave carried it. As she danced, the droplets danced with her.
She swayed, her wrists twisting with fluid grace. The drops misted as tiny crystals formed at the edges. Her swaying intensified to waving, and the ice began to swirl around the circle. Her waving turned to whipping herself about. The hardened drops swirled around the gathered students like a maelstrom of hail.
My pulse quickened, and I flinched as a globe of ice flew toward my head, then shot through it harmlessly, leaving only a chilled echo on my skin. I looked to Hana, but she didn’t seem dumfounded like me. She was cold, judging her rival’s every move.
Lyjin ceased her spinning with a sudden herk-jerk and arched her back. She threw her arms out to the side as if she were being drawn and quartered. Her face contorted in agony, and the ice hung still in the air. I thought for a moment she had overexerted herself, but then the hail began to tremble, all of the spheres vibrating in time as Lyjin shook.
The globes dropped to the ground all at once, shattering in brilliant rainbows of glassy ice. Lyjin dropped to her knees and leaned forward. She held her head in her hands as misty white lifted around her in wispy tendrils. They wrapped around her legs, arms, back, and neck.
Lyjin shivered as the strands constricted. Then she dropped all the way to the ground in a puff of white that dissipated over a few seconds. I sucked in a breath for the first time in what felt like minutes.
I looked to Hana with my mouth agape. How could she top that? Lyjin’s acting was impeccable, the ry so believable, the story incredible. She had obviously rehearsed this, possibly for years.
Lyjin stood, and the crowd erupted in cheers and claps. She took a quick bow, then gestured to Hana in a taunting manner. My heart pounded in my chest as Hana stepped into the ring. The other benefit of going second was that she’d had the duration of Lyjin’s performance to cycle ry. I hadn’t even paid attention to Hana’s breathing, but I hoped it had been deep.
“Begin,” the instructor declared.
Hana threw her arms outward with a snap, and purple exploded from her hands. The entire crowd gasped as the light blasted past us, encompassing us in a dome of nebulous orchid, lilac, and violet. My eyes wandered over the light around us, but I didn’t see a gap in the glimmer. The colors coalesced and swirled together, pulsing as if it were alive. A thrumming sensation vibrated over my skin in time with the pulses, eliciting goosebumps on my arms.
I looked back down to Hana, and my heart stopped in my chest. It was as if everyone else in the world disappeared as her eyes locked on me. She stomped, and the action sent a shockwave through my body.
She stomped again as she flourished her hands, and massive golden-white fans spread out from her splayed fingers. Her body moved like smoke as she flowed, twirled, and bowed herself down.
“This is a tale of the world.” Her lyrical voice rang through the enclosed space like a herald. She was powerful, and I felt her words to my core.
Her face softened, and she blinked long. “First, there was Jigu. The Mother. The Healer. The nurturer of all life.” Her fans dimmed as she put her hands to her heart.
Then her fan-hands darkened, and black claws grew from her fingertips. “But she was also the Witch.” Hana raked her hands through the air, and fire swelled around her. “She burned the forests and swelled the seas. She raged the storms down upon our people that sought to destroy the very creatures she promised to protect.” Hana swirled her hands, the fans returning to their lighter color as her claws retracted. A globe of blue, green, and white took shape next to her as she sculpted the air.
“Then,” she boomed and threw her arms up. Her fans shook and trembled as she lowered them back to the globe. “Man created machina to tame the Witch.”
It was as if a mirror sword sliced through the center of Hana. The two halves broke away from each other with a violent shove. The left Hana was donned in a blue and white silken hanbok, while the right Hana was layered in red and black plates of armor with a golden trimmed helmet. They circled one another, their hands raised to prepare for combat.
A drumbeat came from each of their steady, aligned footfalls. The Machina-human Hana surged at the representation of Jigu, who dodged the blow, sidestepping and smiling. Jigu Hana was older, wiser, and stood with an air of confidence. Machina Hana was young and brash, throwing herself clumsily at Jigu once more.
They danced back and forth, Machina’s strikes growing more precise and careful. Jigu parried, blocked, slipped away, and landed a hard hit to Machina’s back. The red armor-clad Hana dropped to the ground on her hands and knees, and the drumbeats intensified, responding to my rapid heartbeat.
As they fought, smoke erupted all over the glowing globe, coating the fluffy white clouds with poisonous black. Jigu panicked and became defensive, blocking Machina’s focused strikes with wild gestures. Jigu’s brow creased with fear, and she stumbled as she stepped back. Machina pressed her advantage, landing a heavy blow to Jigu’s chest that sent her reeling.
A glowing golden sword appeared at Machina’s side, and she drew it slowly with a smile of madness. She raised the sword high overhead as the black cloud around the planet hanging beside them swelled.
Just as Machina sliced through the air, Jigu raised a glowing blue hand. A wave of dark sea water crashed down through the dome of purple and smashed into Machina, throwing the sword from her hands. I moved to grab Hana from the flooding monsoon, but a hand caught my arm.
Sung-ki was beside me and held me still. Suddenly the rest of the students appeared around the violet throbbing dome, their entranced faces locked on the two battling Hanas. Several of them had hands out, ready to help as I had been, but they stopped themselves. I swallowed hard and returned my focus to her story.
The typhoon floods swirled Machina around and around until the water trickled out past our feet. The chill of icy sea water on my toes sent shivers up my legs to my spine. Machina shook as she rose from the ground and a new weapon materialized from thin air strapped to her back.
The long barrel of the gun pulsed with red hot fury as Machina pulled it into her grip. Her armor shifted from thick, ancient plates to something smooth and body hugging. The red and black shimmered with deadly intent, and she took aim at Jigu’s heart. The boom of the gun shook me to the core, and red splashes covered Jigu’s silken hanbok.
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Jigu fell back, holding her chest and gasping for air as the planet beside her erupted in red explosions. Jigu panted heavily, and the purple dome darkened from lavender swirls to plum, and then a putrid gray. Machina clutched at her throat and dropped to her knees, the weapon falling from her hands.
Jigu rose from the ground on a throne made of crystal as the ground burst in flames. Machina writhed, her mouth open in a silent scream, as the drumbeat vibrated my chest. The globe swirled with red fire, wiping the smoke from the sky, but leaving the green, lush earth blackened.
The drumbeat crescendoed, then everything was silent as Machina became still. Jigu sat, damaged but proud, on her elevated throne. She was victorious. The dome around us darkened to black, intensifying the color of the dancing flames as they dimmed to nothing but embers.
Pinpricks of light sparkled above in flickering stars. The dark crystal throne descended. Ash spread from Jigu’s lips, across her face and down her neck. She held her chest as she pitched forward and dropped to the ground, a blackened statue.
Silvery spotlights shone down on Jigu and Machina from the moon above, and I held my breath in wonder. Golden snake-dragons danced their way through the glow like salmon through a stream. The spirits of Machina and Jigu lifted, leaving the burned and ashen bodies on the ground.
The snake-dragons pulled the spirits together, and a new Hana-being emerged whole. She was dressed in a silk hanbok of green and blue, plated with wicked sharp armor of black, red, and gold. She put her hands together, and the symbols of Mun-Jayu flared to life around her body.
In one swift movement, she clapped her hands and the black dome collapsed in a rush, leaving Hana—Bastion-dobok wearing Hana—standing at the center of the circle of students. I snapped my jaw shut and applauded until my hands hurt. The students surged forward, cheering with exuberance.
Hana was panting, sweat rolling down her neck to her flushed chest, but a joyous grin—just like my mother’s—graced her face. Butterflies burst from my feet and exploded in my stomach.