by J D Astra
“This is a time of quiet, stillness, and becoming one with your conscious and subconscious,” I said as I tucked my legs under me.
“The subconscious?” Ko-nah asked incredulously.
I nodded. “Learning to calm your mind is key to thinking clearly. Clear thoughts produce stronger spells and swifter action.”
Ko-nah came into the same cross-legged position. “What now?” he asked.
“Close your eyes. Breathe in through your nose, and out whichever way is most comfortable. Then focus on removing all the thoughts from your head,” I said slowly and deliberately. Slowing down was the first step in entering a meditative state.
“How do I remove a thought?” Ko-nah asked with a whine.
“Lots of practice,” Yuri said, exasperated.
“Well, when will I be good at it?” He interrupted the peace again.
Hana breathed deeply. “When you have practiced long enough. Now, be silent.”
Ko-nah harrumphed. “For how long?”
Blessed Jigu, give me the strength not to strangle him. I held my eyes shut tighter and replied, “Until the sun rises.”
Ko-nah sighed deeply, then fell silent.
Until he shifted his feet, crunching dry leaves under his shoes.
Then he cleared his throat.
And then he started humming.
I opened my eyes to see a tiny little smirk on his lips. Having five younger siblings had taught me a lot about patience, but this boy was trying mine.
“Ko-nah,” I said forcefully, and he jumped with a start.
“What is it?” he asked, feigning bewilderment.
I calmed my nerves and said more gently, “You were humming.”
He blinked a few times and looked at the others, all of them still in their meditative pose. He chuckled, then said, “Must’ve been my subconscious. I’ll try harder.”
“Thank you,” I said with a bow, then closed my eyes.
The rest of the session went about as well as could be expected. I was able to tune out some of his movements and throat clearing—except for a loud whistling sniffle—but despite that, I was even less refreshed than when I’d started the day.
We stuck by Ko-nah’s side through Zo Strengthening II and pulled him along when necessary. It seemed like he hadn’t spent a single day in his life exercising, and his track time was pathetic. Cho and I didn’t break a sweat as we ran the ten kilometers that started our morning activity.
We could see he wasn’t pushing himself as hard, or even half as hard, as we knew he could. He kept complaining about his feet hurting or his muscles aching, but he hadn’t broken a sweat either. I wondered how he’d made it through his first year.
Zo Strengthening II would lean on many of the teachings from Martial Competency, which Li-Zigi said was the foundation from which we would build the unique style of Bastion hand-to-hand combat. Zo Strengthening II wasn’t only for the muscles—and muscle memory—required for the form, but we would learn how to infuse zo and other munje into our attacks, making them significantly more powerful.
We started with dan-jun, a breathing exercise that would force our zo munje to expand into every part of our body and infuse the tissue for easier, more integrated access. The downside was zo pollution so serious that a cleansing cycle was needed soon after combat, or the user would have to face repercussions like muscle spasms and numbness.
Of course, the more adept the zo user, the less of an issue pollution would be, but Li-Zigi let us know exactly where we stood on the spectrum: the bottom. We would need to cycle after every use or risk serious pain and discomfort for days.
Tae-do and Shin-soo watched the three of us from across the yard—hopefully thinking that Ko-nah was gaining our trust and learning our secrets. I didn’t know what Tae-do would do if he learned I was in on the deal, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. If he figured it out before I’d actually earned Ko-nah’s trust, it could be really bad for Mae. If he figured it out after... it could have significant backlash for Ko-nah.
Backlash I’d be responsible for.
“That’s not true, Jiyong,” Mae interrupted my thoughts. “Tae-do would be responsible for whatever he did to Ko-nah.”
I tried to believe her words were true, but guilt poisoned my gut. We would just have to make sure Tae-do didn’t find out. We finished our cleansing activity, in which we learned the dangers of reusing infused munje. Normally used munje could be recycled to nearly one-hundred percent, but it was dangerous to reuse the munje that had been activated with dan-jun, and the resulting spells would be unstable or even deadly.
It made sense to me now why we had learned both methods the first year, though I had significantly underused my cleansing ability in favor of munje recycling. Anything to help keep my hunger at bay while working a difficult project at the Rabid Rabbit.
Li-Zigi’s voice was strained by the end of class from how often she was yelling in our direction. Ko-nah always put on a burst of speed or tried a little harder when the instructor called him out, but as soon as her eyes were somewhere else, he was back to dragging his feet.
Ry Glimmers I was next for me, but Ko-nah was off to En Manipulation II with Cho. I pinned Cho with a wordless glare that communicated everything I couldn’t say out loud. Cho gave a gentle dip of his head to me as we parted ways in the hall.
I was on my way to meet Hana and Yuri when a familiar, unfriendly hand came down on my shoulder. I turned to see Shin-soo—alone.
“Can we talk?” he asked through gritted teeth, his forehead wrinkled in an angry scowl.
There was something about the urgency in his tone that made me agree. I followed and he moved from the main hall out to the garden. Birds chirped with plucky delight as they pecked gently at their feeders—designed to keep them off our berries, of course.
Shin-soo came to a stop under a tall persimmon tree. He flicked his wrist and a lavender bubble burst out from his palm, enveloping us in an almost invisible quiet. The birds’ chirps dimmed to a low twittering, and the babble of students became like a rush of water. It was tranquil compared to the constant whining I’d undergone for the previous two hours.
“What is it?” I asked when he said nothing.
“You don’t mess with the Wong family,” he said, gravity in his voice.
What in Mun-Jayu could make Shin-soo scared like this? And why would he come to me? This could be another trick from Tae-do, but something told me Shin-soo wasn’t faking the fear.
I scowled. “Why? What can they do?”
He shook his head. “They’ll take everything from you.”
Now it made sense. Tae-do was the “top bad boy” in school, and Shin-soo was jealous. He wasn’t afraid so much as he was ashamed. But I didn’t understand what telling me was going to do... make me go after Tae-do and put Shin-soo back on top?
“What’s this about?” I asked with less patience.
Shin-soo’s jaw flexed. He frowned as if in pain and dropped his head. “Whatever. If you’re going to be an asshole about it, then it’s not my business.”
He snapped his hand shut, and the ry bubble collapsed in around us. Sound battered my ears. The blood rushed to my head, and I blinked away the disorientation as I watched Shin-soo storm off, his fists clenched at his side.
‘What was that about?’ I asked Mae.
“He seemed genuinely concerned. Or at least, as genuine as Shin-soo can get. I don’t think he’s up to anything—this time.”
The warning gong for class rang, and I jogged back into the main pagoda. Shin-soo had been the top bully last year in his group, but Tae-do had performed a coup over the summer. It could all be about the power grab, but Shin-soo did seem truly scared. Perhaps he’d gotten better at lying over the summer, too?
Tae-do wasn’t weak, and his sheer size made him intimidating, but there was something else about him that made me nervous. It wasn’t just the dominating behavior, the huge muscles, or the powerful family. It was the wild look in his eyes.
/> Tae-do was dangerous.
Chapter 11
I NAVIGATED KO-NAH through the most nutrient rich foods at lunch. He complained at nearly every selection, and I wondered if he was deliberately trying to upset me. Maybe he thought there was some secret I was withholding, and if he annoyed me enough, I would reveal it. He was going to be disappointed to discover there was no trick—other than Mae’s expert guidance, and I was already giving him that.
Munje Recycling II was a refresher from the end of last year, but Woong-ji promised we would launch into more advanced techniques soon. Techniques like filtering out the normally used munje from the dangerous-to-recycle infused zo munje. This would be critically helpful in not losing the recyclable munje any time we used infused zo.
We had yet to learn how to discern the different types of recyclable munje; it was just all used munje flowing back to the core for us. With Woong-ji’s training, we’d easily be able to identify each munje from the other, whether or not it had been infused, and sometimes even what spell it had been used for. This would help us to craft stronger spells with the recycled components.
Munje recycling was looked down on by other students—namely zo users—but this class showed me how powerful it would be in later years. I could keep Tuko running on half the necessary ma if I was continually recycling his waste. Now if only Woong-ji would teach me that trick she used in our big battle last year to call back the munje from the battlefield.
Finally, we made it to the class I was excited for: Ma Design and Repair I. We were made to wait outside until the final bell rang, then the door sprung open on a mechanical hinge.
“Come in!” came a weathered but jovial voice as golden ma munje retreated from the door.
I turned the corner to see a massive two-story room lined with long metalwork desks like I had back at the Rabid Rabbit. There was a small box of tools on each desk along with a sheaf of scrap parchment and an uncomfortable looking metal stool. Hanging above the desks were huge machina contraptions for which I didn’t know any of the purposes.
The second floor of the room was lined with shelves upon shelves of raw materials, none of them under lock and key. No wonder the room always stayed shut. This was a treasure-trove!
The instructor was a willowy man, with a white beard braided down to his mid chest, and not a single hair to be spoken for on top of his head. His white brows were bushy with hints of black, and obscured golden eyes. He wore a black robe trimmed in silver and gold, with pins of machina gears down his front like Woong-ji had.
“Take your seats, everyone,” he said with a gleam in his eye.
I eagerly made my way to the seat at the front center. Hana took the desk to my left, and Cho, my right. Yuri scooted in at the desk behind me, and Ko-nah chose a seat at the very back. I groaned. It wasn’t my problem if his ma munje didn’t improve. Tae-do wasn’t interested in it anyway.
But if it didn’t, Ko-nah might not pass...
I sighed and grabbed my bag, then headed to the back of the room next to Ko-nah. If I didn’t invest in his success, he wouldn’t come to trust me. And I did truly want him to do well. I wanted to see him overcome his demons and be able to stand tall, proud of himself.
“You gonna babysit me?” Ko-nah remarked as he sat back on his stool. He crossed his arms and eyed me with annoyance.
“Tae-do might not be interested in learning my ma secrets, but you’ll need them to pass,” I said as I leaned back like him.
Ko-nah rolled his eyes. “Right. You can drop the act. I know you all hate me.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” I whispered angrily, and he flinched.
The instructor helped everyone to settle in, then took to his slightly raised podium at the front of the class and took a deep breath, smiling. He clapped his hands together and golden munje exploded through the room. The machines above us came alive with color, sound, and movement.
Some blared harsh noises like a cawing raycrow, but ten times louder. Other blinked in attractive blues, pinks, and greens as numbers dashed across their surfaces. Some gyrated in circles on their suspended wire as they played a tune.
With another clap, the gold munje rushed back into the instructor, and the class came alive with excited murmurs of bewilderment.
“Wow,” I whispered. I looked up to the bald man with wonderment. He was definitely going to teach me something new.
“My name is Pa-ne,” the instructor said, beaming out at us.
“More like noi-ne, am I right?” Ko-nah said with a chuckle. I shot him a glare, and he backed off with a downtrodden expression.
It was no wonder he was failing. Having little respect for the instructor was an easy way to write off their valuable information. Raising Ko-nah’s scores was going to be more difficult than I’d anticipated.
“This is Ma Design and Repair I, so we’re going to learn the basics of fixing and augmenting machines,” Pa-ne said, and my heart sank. The basics? That wasn’t going to be enough for me. Well, I’d have to show him how adept I was and try to get a private session for more advanced methods.
“Some of you may be thinking, I already know the basics,” Pa-ne said with a broad grin as he looked to me.
Tungpah.
The instructor’s face drooped, his brow furrowed. “You’re wrong. What you know is child’s play. In this room, you will learn the true methods of machina repair.”
Hope returned. How could I think Bastion would let me down? Every class had taught me something new, so far. Why would this be different?
First, we learned about the tools on our desk. Most of them I was familiar with: needle-nose plyers, tweezers, wrenches, gear oil, and a wire brush. There were two tools I’d never worked with. One was called a reamer, used for punching precise holes, and the other was much cooler.
It was called a yeol-ip, loosely translating to thermal blade. It was a tool most students wouldn’t be able to use yet since it required dual-munje, en and ma, to function, but I already had two bands and could easily create the required munje to activate the tool. I wanted to see what the hot en-and-ma-powered blade looked like, but refrained from turning it on. Given the size of the opening at the top and the short length of the handle, it was likely not to be that impressive.
Pa-ne went on to describe the common methods taught in Primary or on the job, but said that none of them was to the same level of superiority as the one he would teach—
In the next class.
He droned on and on for so long that the gong to release us rang out before he even got to the point. I withheld my grimace as I made my way to the front of the class. Since I was at the back, most of the students had left by the time I reached Pa-ne.
“Master, if I may?” I asked the instructor.
“Ah yes, Mr. Second Thoughts About Sitting in the Front! What can I do for you?”
I laughed off the joke nervously and went on. “I wanted to let you know how excited I am for this class. I’ve been working on machina all my life—”
“Yes of course you have, and I bet completely backwards!” He guffawed. “I’ll have you and the others on the right path in no time at all.”
I nodded and said with defeat, “Yes, Master.” I bowed and walked from the room, my spirits low once again.
“Well,” Mae chimed in, “if you have been doing it all wrong, that means you’ll have a lot to learn.”
I bobbed my head as I walked toward the dining hall. She was right, but I was still disappointed. I was hoping to have learned the secret to unlock Mae’s second device so we could get to analyzing my mother’s data. The faster we could manage that, the faster we’d have a cure.
“Jiyong,” Mae said gravely, and I stopped in my tracks. “Even if you were to fix the processing piece tonight, and it functioned perfectly, I might not be able to find a cure in time.”
Hana caught my eye at the end of the buffet line, and I moved to join her as I chewed my cheek. Mae was right again, and I couldn’t keep placing all thi
s responsibility on her. She wasn’t a miracle worker, though she was as close to one as I’d ever met.
“I’ll do my best, but I wanted to—”
‘Manage my expectations. I know, Mae. It’s good. I need to keep the reality of all the possibilities in mind.’
“How are you?” Hana asked, touching my arm kindly.
I smiled past my distress. “Ma Repair and Design is not as impressive as I was hoping.”
“It was the first class,” she said with a giggle that brightened my mood.
I nodded. “That’s true.”
“Now, what’s really wrong?” she asked as she let me cut in front of her.
“Thinking about my mother,” I said, revealing everything to her, and hopefully very little to everyone else within earshot.
She placed a warm hand on my back and sent a wave of tingling zo munje down my spine. A shiver crawled up to my neck, and the tension in my shoulders released. She was getting good at that.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, her voice flowing with kindness and comfort.
I let my mind wander from the problems at hand as I thought of Pa-ne’s words. If I’d been using ma wrong my whole life, why had Woong-ji allowed me to work on the bots at her shop? I mindlessly filled my tray with kimchi, hot vegetable soup, and fish dumplings. I played the thoughts over and over, trying to make sense of them, until Cho nudged me as he arrived at the table.
“Where’s Ko-nah?” he asked and flopped down on the pillow next to me.
I blinked as I realized it was just the four of us at the table, then looked around the room. Both Ko-nah and Il-sung were sitting with Tae-do, Shin-soo, and another one of the goons. Il-sung looked to be in distress, keeping his hands on his food, and his bowl close to his mouth. His brow was furrowed, and he hardly looked up. It appeared that the goon I didn’t know had a hand on his shoulder, but it was hard to tell from my vantage.
Ko-nah was sitting next to Tae-do with his back to me. They were leaned in close together, obviously talking. I wondered if Ko-nah was delivering an accurate report of how today went or if he was already spilling his guts about how we knew what he was doing? Maybe he’d gotten sick of all the hard work and decided to tell Tae-do whatever he knew about Mae?
