Author's Note: New chapter for the middle of the week! We'll be exploring a bit more of the village now and get some action (not a lot, 'cause I'm not that good at action scenes, and this isn't even an action story). This chapter's song is "YUMIKURABE" which loosely translates to "Archery Competition." There isn't any archery in this chapter, so I just took the competition part of the name. Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 7
Competition
The next two months are full of learning and practice — whether it's with the sword or the word. Since Shin-Ah can read most everything now, I'm saddened by the village's measly library. We've never had the money or resources to spend on increasing our book stock — not to mention we're in such an isolated place — so academics has always been a low priority. I, on the other hand, have much improved on the art of sword fighting, if I do say so myself. While I still can't rival Shin-Ah, I can at least hold my own.
The warm, long days of the spring and summer are growing to a close and the daylight is receding earlier and earlier. On the last day of summer, the village always celebrates by having the biggest festival of the year at the base of the mountain. There're games for the children, baking and crafts contests for the women, and, of course, fighting competitions for the men. Feasts and dancing and partying till dawn. It's a time everyone anticipates.
I, too, for the first time in my life since Mother died, am looking forward to it. Because I am planning to invite the village's very own Seiryuu to come with me.
"Shin-Ah!" I call, announcing myself before striding into his cave.
I find him leaning against the wall, Ao in his lap. When he sees me, he glances up, a question on his lips; it's unusual for me to be here in the daytime.
"I'm here to ask you to come with me," I say. "To the festival today."
Silence. Ao starts to nibble at his fingers.
I try for a softer approach, realizing that I'd pretty much commanded him to come. "I mean . . . I'd like for you to come with me to the festival today. Would you . . . would you like to?"
"You . . . want me to go to the festival with you?"
He sounds completely bewildered.
I nod and move closer to him, crouching down to tickle under Ao's chin. "Yes," I say. "That's what I want." I smile at Ao, and then up at Shin-Ah. "You've watched it before, haven't you? I'm sure you can see it, with your eyes. But . . . it's not as fun that way. Come with me. See it up close."
His head tilts to the side and the bells ring. "But . . . the people . . . they won't like me being there."
"It's okay," I say. "They don't have to know you're there. The area is surrounded by trees so we can stay off at the edge. Maybe sneak in and grab some snacks. It'll be great. And if they do see you . . ." I shrug. "They should know you're not going to hurt them. They should already know that."
Ao continues chewing on his fingers.
"So, what do you think?" I ask him. I stare into his eyes — or at least where the eyes are on his mask.
His chest heaves. Up and down. "All right," he says finally.
I grin. "Great." I rise up and offer him a hand. He grasps it and a rush of heat runs through me. "This will be so much fun, I promise."
At my own wide smile, I see the corners of his lips turn up.
The festival is already in full swing when we arrive. Thanks to Shin-Ah's abilities, we'd managed to stay out of people's sight as we made our way down the mountain, hiding in the curves of the pathway and darting behind boulders and trees whenever he saw someone turn our way. I know my plan isn't solid, but what I said to him was true. It shouldn't matter if they see him.
What I want today is to be with him and to have fun.
That's all.
The celebration that's been days in the making looks wonderful. Although the village is fairly small, we still can have a respectable party when we put our minds to it. The area we set aside for the festival is split into three different sections: the one on the right for games and contests, marked by colorful stands and plenty of shouting; the one in the center for food and socializing, already crammed with a wide, mismatched assortment of tables and chairs; and the one on the left for the sparring and other such competitions. People mill around all three, laughing and cheering their loved ones on. Children run through the crowds, carrying (and spilling) food all around. Some men on the fighting stage are already warming up, swinging their swords from side to side and trying to look intimidating.
The smell of meat roasting, fresh-baked bread, and spices rises into the air, mixing with the clean scent of the outside. I breathe in deeply. "I'm going to get some food," I say to Shin-Ah as we hover near a copse of trees, the hum and excitement of the day fueling our tense, nervous bodies. "Do you want some?"
He nods and I suspect that his eyes are wide right now, taking in the sight before him.
It really is different close up.
When I enter the thick crowd of people, I immediately feel like I've been swallowed up. I squeeze my way through, pushing politely, and eventually find a table packed full of delicacies that start my mouth watering. I load a plate full of the food (it would be suspicious if I got two plates), but as I'm about to head back, I bump into none other than Ki-Gun.
"Ae-Sun!" he cries out over the loud buzzing of the people. "You're late! I thought maybe you were gonna skip out." He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close and away from the mass of people, parting through them easily.
"Come now," I say, my voice as light and friendly as I can make it. "We all know it's nearly sacrilegious to skive out on today."
He laughs. "Too right you are." He glances down at my plate, at the abundant amounts piled high. "A little hungry, are we?"
I glance down as well and feel my face flush. "I didn't eat anything for breakfast," I say, which is true enough. I'd been too excited for today. For Shin-Ah, at least.
He laughs again and squeezes my shoulder. "Well, it is a special day. As long as you don't always eat like this, I don't care. But we have enough food for today, I think."
I cast my gaze over to where I'd left Shin-Ah and hope that Ki-Gun will start talking to someone else soon.
"I'm going to enter the sword fighting competition," he says as he twirls a piece of my hair between his fingers. "Will you come watch me?"
"Sure," I say — anything to get him to leave.
It works. "Great!" he says, grinning broadly. "I'll see you later, Ae-Sun."
I don't even bother to say good-bye, but as soon as he's gone, turn to leave and head back to find Shin-Ah.
"Sorry," I say, when I find him crouched behind a tree, watching the village enjoy the festival. "I got caught up. Here's the food."
I sit down beside him on the soft ground and lean my back against the gnarled tree. Holding the plate between us, I separate out our portions, giving him most of it. He seems to notice what I'm doing, though, and moves some of the food back over to my side.
I smile, touched. "You need it more than I do," I say. "I'm not that hungry." Just then, my stomach growls.
He gives me a look.
"Fine," I say. For a few moments, the two of us eat (Ao occasionally rubbing against one of our hands for a bite). I notice that both of us are a little careful to not let our fingers touch. It's hard, though, having to share the same plate, and more often than not, our fingers will brush. Each time, a shiver will run through me.
For the next hour or two, we wander around the edges of the party, running into the trees and merging with the shadows every time someone turns our way. We observe all the little contests and competitions. We eat more food. We talk some. Simply put, it's fun. All the while, though, I seem to be more and more aware of his presence beside me. A whole day with him, a time when we're not practicing words or swords . . . it's unusual.
I want more. I crave it.
As we round the outskirts once again, I stumble into a ditch, and Shin-Ah grabs me, his warm fingers wrapping around my bare arm, pulling me upright before I can fall completely. I freeze, my heart speeding and my skin burning and something deep, deep inside of me . . .
My pulse slows.
What . . . is this?
No . . . I know what it is. For the last two months, I've been ignoring it. The small thread of tension that carved its way into our once-comfortable relationship. That made it . . . different. It was because of that one night, the night I'd asked him to dance. I'd been too forward, I think.
But no . . . was it even then? Maybe it was when he rescued me from the earthquake. When I first started spending time with him. When I made him his white wolf pelt and when he chose his name.
Or perhaps . . . it was the very first time I saw his eyes. That time, so many years ago, when he saved the whole village. Put his own life on the line, but was only punished for it. And all I could think was, How beautiful. How beautiful those eyes are. I want to see them again. Please, let me see them again.
And I did.
Is that it?
I don't know.
Maybe it is all these things. Maybe it is more. Maybe . . .
A horn sounds in the distance and I straighten, trying to recompose myself. "Oh, that's for the sword fighting competition," I say. "Do you want to go watch?" It's a bad attempt to distract myself, but I'll take anything right now.
He nods in agreement and we head to the area reserved for the competitions. The fighting stage is wooden, large and sturdy, with steps on either side. Luckily for us, two sides of it are surrounded by trees which provide ample shade against the afternoon heat of the day.
We take refuge behind the trees, but being so far away from the stage, it's hard to get a good view.
"You should . . . go up farther," Shin-Ah finally says. "I can see fine. I can stay here."
I glance at him. "No, I can stay here, too."
"No, I want you to be able to see it," he insists. "You should see other people's fighting styles, too."
I nod, seeing his point. "All right," I say.
And maybe, just maybe, I want to get a little distance to clear my head.
I look back at him once more before I leave the trees and go deeper within the crowd to try and find a spot that I can see from better. Shouldering my way through the hordes of people, who all seem to have come to watch the fights (undoubtedly one of the highlights of the festival), I manage to finally get near the front.
"Hello, everyone!" shouts the announcer, Bon-Hwa, a man in his late-twenties with a small stature but a booming, extravagant voice. "Welcome to today's esteemed sword fighting competition. I won't bore you with any of the rules because I know we all just want to see the fight!" There are a few scattered laughs. "Our first opponents are Kwan and Chul-Seok!"
The crowd cheers and jostles around me.
The two men mount the stage, heavy swords in hand, grinning at each other and raising their free arms to wave at people in the crowd. Kwan is known for his muscled body and powerful blows, but Chul-Seok has a steady endurance and strong will. I eye how they carry their swords, noticing their posture and stances, remembering everything Shin-Ah's told me.
Bon-Hwa calls the start and the two men rush at each other with no hesitation, their feet thudding on the ground and shaking the stage. Their blades whip out before them and my breath catches. Neither of them are nearly as fast as Shin-Ah is. In fact, compared to his elegant blows, their styles seem clunky and slow.
Loud clangs ring through the air as they fight. The swords push and pull at each other, the steel glancing off at odd angles as each man attacks the other. Their swings are awkward, too focused on might rather than technique. I chew the inside of my cheek and lean forward more to get a better view.
Kwan charges forward at Chul-Seok, who is too slow, taking the brunt of it with his body and bringing his sword up only at the last moment. He grunts loudly, but then starts to actually push Kwan backwards with pure brute force. The crowd oohs and ahhs at Chul-Seok's strength. They seem to be stuck at an impasse — each one straining, blades quivering, sweat pouring down their bodies — but only for a moment before Kwan swings his blade back, fast, and in the momentum, brings it crashing down onto Chul-Seok who is once again too slow. This time, however, he is unable to block it. He crashes down to the ground with a grunt.
The crowd erupts into cheers for Kwan.
"We have a winner, everybody!" Bon-Hwa shouts. "Kwan, everybody, Kwan!"
I clap politely, but even just a few months training with Shin-Ah taught me to notice the flaws in the fight. Both men relied way too much on their strength and had no real defense. In a real battle, they wouldn't last a second.
"All right, who volunteers to fight Kwan next?" Bon-Hwa roars, clearly in his element. Standing next to the giant Kwan, he looks like a midget.
I glance around, wondering when Ki-Gun will step up, but several bouts later, Kwan remains undefeated, and Ki-Gun has yet to make an appearance.
"Can anyone defeat him?" Bon-Hwa challenges. His eyes are lit with passion and daring.
"I'll try," says a voice, and I immediately recognize its cockiness, its arrogance, and smooth confidence.
The crowd turns and I hear several girls my age start cheering, their screams high-pitched and squealing Ki-Gun's name.
Ki-Gun is very popular and known to be good with the sword since he was a little boy, rumored to be a sort of prodigy in our village. Ever since he first tried teaching me, though, I haven't seen him fight, so I suppose today I'll get find out if he's as good as people seem to think he is.
Ki-Gun steps onto the stage and draws out his sword. I can immediately tell that he's more at ease with it than most of the men who've previously fought. His stance is easy and relaxed — almost careless — but if you look closely, you can tell that his fingering and placement on his sword's hilt is just right and that his balance is even as well. I lean forward, interested. At that moment, he turns his head slightly and catches sight of me. He shoots a grin at me and I attempt to arrange my face into a scowl. He mouths, Watch me, and turns his attention back to Kwan.
Bon-Hwa yells at them to begin and Kwan dashes forward immediately, like he'd done with all his previous matches. Ki-Gun steps aside, not even bothering to lift his sword, and Kwan stumbles, surprised. His momentum carrying him too far, he almost runs off the stage, but catches himself in time. With him distracted, Ki-Gun swipes the blunt end of his sword down at Kwan's back, and Kwan cries out as it thuds against his skin, bruising it for sure. When he turns, a growl forming deep in his throat, Ki-Gun leaps back before sprinting forward at him, his sword raised above his head. Kwan moves to block it, but Ki-Gun is too quick for him, and at the last moment, changes the direction of his attack, and directs his blow to Kwan's leg.
Kwan howls as a thin cut appears on his leg. He collapses and blood stains the stage, darkening the wood.
"We have a winner!" Bon-Hwa shouts and the crowd erupts around us, louder and more energized for Ki-Gun than they'd been for any of the other rounds.
I lean back, realizing I'd been tense with fascination. Ki-Gun is good: quick, calculating, and effective. That's . . . surprising.
The fights continue. A few more less-experienced fighters come on, and Ki-Gun easily defeats them. Then some warriors who actually know what they're doing come to challenge Ki-Gun, such as one of the village's most seasoned soldiers, Seung.
By this time, I can tell Ki-Gun is getting tired. Sweat is pouring down his face and his movements are slowing, but even so, a sort of fervor surrounds him and each fight seems to energize him as much as it tires him, if that's possible. Even though Seung puts up a good fight, he still loses to Ki-Gun's blade in the end.
After Seung congratulates him (he was Ki-Gun's master, after all) and leaves, Ki-Gun rests the pointed end of his blade against the stage and leans against it. His breathing is heavy, I notice. As if he can sense my gaze on him, he lifts his eyes to mine. In the dark pools of brown, I see ferocity and pride, the victory he feels, the invincibility. Ki-Gun smiles widely, pleased to have my attention, and I suddenly feel vulnerable, like he can see all the emotions written on my face as well.
I glance back to where I'd left Shin-Ah, and start. He's left the shadowy safety of the trees and can almost be clearly seen now. With his horned mask, the white wolf pelt, and just the general air about him, it's amazing that he hasn't already been spotted. I wonder if he, too, has been captivated by the fights and wasn't even aware that he'd moved forward.
Before I can decide if I should move back to him, which might cause more attention, or stay where I am, Ki-Gun says, his voice carrying over the crowd easily and confidently: "I'd like to challenge someone now."
I whip my gaze back to him.
In the competition, as a way to change things up, a fighter is allowed to challenge someone once they've won at least one round. A challenge is usually done when there are no more volunteers. Of course, the person who is challenged is allowed to refuse, but it's dishonorable, even more so than if they accept and lose.
It's unusual for Ki-Gun to challenge someone. All the good fighters have already fought and he'd only want to fight someone worthy of his own talent, someone who would make him look good when he beat them. Who on earth . . .
My heart pounds as I realize who exactly he's going to pick.
"Seiryuu, I challenge you to a duel between swords!"
A/N: CLIFFHANGER! Don't you love 'em. I'll try and upload soon because of the awesome (er, awful, I mean - awesome for me, 'cause as an author, I love cliffhangers, awful, I suppose for you guys - don't worry, I understand, I'm a reader, too) cliffhanger. The next chapter is the super, super long , though - the longest in the whole story. A whole lot of development goes on and you get a nice little scene. *cough cough* So it should at least be worth a few days' wait. Hopefully.
Anyway, THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND REVIEWING AND FOLLOWING AND FAVORITING! No, seriously, you all are amazing. I'm not quite sure I've ever gotten quite a response, and it makes my day every time I see one of you has followed/favorited/reviewed/whatevered. I mean, this is why I write, of course. I know some people write just for themselves, but I've always wanted to write more for other people - or maybe it's kind of for me, too, since I enjoy the feeling I get from others enjoying my work. I don't know. I'll stop rambling now.
Thanks again! I'll update sooner than I have been, I promise. (Because of that ending . . .)
~ J. Dom