by J D Astra
The old woman’s voice chuckled through the speaker. “So curious! We love having engaged exchange students. You will learn more at Moon Shadow. We’re nearly there.”
Yuri’s shoulder slumped, and she mumbled something I couldn’t hear over the whine of the train. I turned my attention back to the window as we reached a clear dividing line in the kingdom.
Colorful pagodas made of wood and stone dotted the landscape, and the hyper advanced technology was sparse. It looked much more like Busa-nan here with the shorter buildings and train activity localized on the streets.
A tall black and silver pagoda came into view: Moon Shadow. Not far to the east was Yamato Corp, which stood apart from everything else. Wafts of black smoke rose from two thick exhaust ports on top of the concrete building. It was square, utilitarian, and massive. A second, much more visually pleasing building made of prismatic glass and metal sat not far off. That was where Dokun conducted his business.
The train slowed gradually, and we dipped under the tree line, obscuring the landscape from view. Mae had helped me measure the distance to that glass building from the top of the school pagoda and fed me the answer: fifteen kilometers away. It would be my farthest remote operating distance yet—if we could get something running in time.
That frame had taken me most of the summer to construct, and making another one like it with fewer resources and less privacy would be near impossible. We had to get the original frame back from customs somehow.
We arrived at a train landing site that appeared to be designated specifically for a little cart like this. The landing zone was well segregated, with tall walls blocking the city streets from view. We disembarked to a platoon of Enjiho greeting us with shallow bows.
“Welcome to Sonma, a district of Kokyu!” the front Enjiho said in a deep voice. There were was a single blue stripe on its shoulder next to a silver star. Perhaps a ranking designation?
“Seems apt. I’ll catalogue this,” Mae whispered, and I felt her pushing the data through my mind. We were going to have to work on a solution to our limited capacity for storing information, especially since my brain was prone to dropping data no matter how much it was reinforced, so said Mae.
“You could always get another device installed in your chest,” she whispered sarcastically.
I refrained from raising a brow in surprise. ‘That’s not a bad idea, actually. But what if we made one from my ma munje?’
“Well, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be staying here...” She broke off.
‘I didn’t want this for either of us, but it seems we should plan for more long-term living situation.’
“I’m sorry, Jiyong,” she whispered remorsefully.
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’ve made my life better in so many ways.’
“But made it worse in other very important ways.”
I looked to Hana. Her bright eyes were filled with excitement, and her whole face glowed with happiness. It could’ve been fake, but I’d seen her lies and her truths enough times to know the difference.
‘There will be time for us later. We have more important things to focus on right now.’
The Enjiho led us from the platform and into the transportation building. The next group of passengers passed us out onto the platform, and I smiled at the sight of a little girl—younger than Minjee—as she skipped and jumped along with her little stuffed badgermouse. I looked forward toward the door when another passenger caught my attention. A man with a colorful reflective visor over his eyes and a cocky smirk on his lips. He nodded at me as we passed, and I scowled.
‘What was that?’
“Kokyu is a strange new land... Maybe he was hitting on you?”
Beyond the entry gate to the platform was a huge hall teeming with people who were undergoing a similar inspection as those who’d come in at the harbor. One woman argued with an Enjiho about a bag of apples not being permitted, so it seemed commonplace, then, to have things confiscated. The frame might still be safe.
There was an express lane for those departing the orderly transportation center, and we found ourselves back on the streets quickly. The whole trip had been perhaps fifteen minutes, and I marveled at their technology.
The Enjiho escorted us down the busy street that was packed to bursting with activity. Loaded carts boasted the best bowl of ramen on the go, while others shouted about their coldest ice cream. Motorbikes were commonplace; almost half of the people on the street were riding one, but no one drove much faster than running speed. Most everyone else walked, and fewer still were grouped together in large, carriage-like machina that traveled a few paces faster than walking.
The lead Enjiho stopped when we were all gathered on the streets. “The school is not much farther. We will walk from here—”
A boom so loud it popped my ears blasted through the air. I turned to see one of the trains from the station we’d just departed falling out of the sky from hundreds of meters in the air. Flames licked up its sides and screams burst from the broken windows. It appeared to still be partially operational, slowing its decent, but it wouldn’t be enough. They were all going to die.
Chapter 10
I CHARGED BACK INTO the train depot, heart pounding with adrenaline. Chaos ensued as the people in the station ran for cover. I vaulted one of the bars blocking the express lane to the platform and ran for the closing doors. Hana sprinted past me and pushed against the heavy metal and glass, shoving it open. I slid past her, followed by Yuri, Cho, and Shin-soo.
The train was spinning out of control, heading back down toward the landing pad with only a few hundred meters to do something about it. We had to dampen the impending blow and get that fire out.
I barked orders as the thoughts came to me. “Yuri, Cho—smother that fire. Shin-soo, Hana—en blocks from the wall and ground to slow the descent.”
I began the cyclical breathing to push energy through my bands and created a steady stream of single en munje. It wasn’t as strong, but it was fast enough to get the job done. I threw the munje into the retaining wall and thrust my arms high, building a quick barrier below the train.
It smashed through my barrier, but slowed noticeably—and tilted. Hana’s barrier was next, slowing the train further and tilting it back the other way. Shin-soo, Hana, and I created these blocks in quick succession while Cho and Yuri manipulated the air around the flames, starving them of fuel.
Before the train hit the ground, the front glass window shattered outward. A man perched on the edge of the window, then looked back to me. He wore a colorful visor and the same cocky smirk as before. He dipped his head to me, then—in a gravity-defying feat—leapt from the train. He cleared the platform retaining wall and disappeared from sight. The train smashed to the ground with a crunch, and the doors opened.
Six Enjiho rushed past us, and one stuck their hands out to prevent us from going any farther. “We will handle the wounded. Thank you for your service!” The machina bowed, then turned back to the train. The passengers disembarked, crying and wailing in pain. Some were burned, some had shrapnel sticking out of their arms, and others sported more minor injuries.
One Enjiho emerged from the train cradling a girl clutching a burned stuffed badgermouse. Her head lolled back, and her eyes were closed. The Enjiho knelt and transformed its legs into a small cot. It placed the little girl upon the table and opened the compartments on its chest. A woman with tears streaking her smoke-covered face stood over the child, her fists clenched.
Another round of six Enjiho came through the doors and surrounded us. “You’ll need to leave so we have room to work.”
They corralled us back to the doors where our instructors waited.
I looked between my friends, hands shaking, then turned back to one of the machina. “There was a man with a reflective visor over his eyes. He jumped out of the train and went that way,” I said and pointed over the barrier. I tried to recall other details. “He’s average height, short black hair, br
own and tan clothes...” I stammered, looking for more details in my hazy mind. It was all just fire, explosions, screaming, and blood.
“That’s enough for us to find him,” the Enjiho with a blue stripe said, stopping my description. It motioned another Enjiho with a single blue stripe closer. “Send two to find him.”
The leader turned back to me. “Good work, boy.”
My body jittered from the inside out. Woong-ji and Sung-ki led us back out to the street where the other Bastions waited. The Enjiho that’d been escorting us had run in to help, and we waited on the street for a replacement at their request.
Within a few minutes, a new patrol of Enjiho came running down the street. Four of them ran into the train depot, and the other two stayed with us. They brought the five of us to the front of the group.
“That was dangerous,” one of the Enjiho scolded me.
“We’re fine. Right?” I asked, looking to my friends. They were just as shaken, but we were all okay.
“Well, it seems you’ll be getting Sonma’s Heroic Citizen award this week for your deeds—though very reckless,” the Enjiho scolded again like a mother. She must’ve been, because her tone matched my own mother’s perfectly. Proud, but angry.
One Bastion couldn’t help herself from asking, “What happened? Was it a train malfunction?”
The Enjiho stood upright. “We’re still assessing the situation, but the trains are very safe. It’s unlikely this was simply a malfunction.”
The other students murmured in Busaneo words like “terrorists,” and “murderers.”
The Enjiho went on, its voice a little louder to overcome the noise on the busy street. “We need to get you to your school now. The people on the train, though hurt, all seem to be alive and will survive.”
Hana looped her trembling arm in mine as we walked. She smiled up at me. “We saved people today.”
“We did.” I smiled back and took a deep breath.
The image of the man and his cocky smile played again in my mind, and I gritted my teeth. I knew it wasn’t our mission, but I wanted to discover who he was and put an end to his ability to prowl the streets.
Within a few minutes, we were away from the main thoroughfare and winding our way up through less crowded back streets. We reached the turnoff for our new home away from home, and I was surprised to see the road was not paved but gravel and dirt. It curved like a hiking trail through tall trees up to the top of the hill where the massive black and silver pagoda sat.
A woman in a black robe trimmed in silver appeared on the path from behind a tree. She walked with unspeakable grace, as if she were floating on the air. Her thick black hair was twisted and pinned on top of her head by two silver pins with dangling moon charms.
Her face adopted a slight smile as she came to stop at the wrought iron gate. She flourished her hands and drew a sharp, straight line through the gate. Ma munje zipped out from the tip of her fingers and lit up the gate with gold. A second later, the gate parted, and the older woman joined us on the other side.
“Dearest Bastion students,” she addressed us in our native tongue. Her voice was gentle, but powerful with presence.
“I am Grandmaster Ishikawa, Ena. We were so saddened to hear of the news last year. That our own citizens could commit such crimes against you was horrifying. We are proud of your strength and perseverance, and your willingness to forgive. We welcome you to Moon Shadow with open hearts and minds. Please, learn as much as you can.”
The older woman, Ena, bowed. I hadn’t been able to determine how old she was, perhaps somewhere between late forties and early sixties. Her hair bore no strands of silver like Woong-ji’s, but her eyes and the skin around her lips showed a life of many smiles.
“Thank you for receiving us,” I said, delayed from the other Bastion students. There had been so many formalities we’d had to learn, like the unified responses and table courtesy. After everything that had happened at the train station, I was surprised the others had remembered at all; I certainly hadn’t.
“Please, welcome in,” she gestured for us to follow her. Woong-ji and Sung-ki lead the two columns of students up through the winding path, and the Enjiho left us at the gate, watching motionlessly. The machina, which had once had personality and humanity, had become cold sentry drones. They weren’t disabled—that much I could tell from seeing their blinking lights and hearing the whir of their internal workings—but they seemed to be in some kind of standby mode.
I flicked a bit of ma into one as we passed, and Mae confirmed my assumption. It was operating on low power, observation only, with all the joints locked in place. I hadn’t been careful with the intrusion and didn’t want to be detected by Dokun, so I let the rest of my ma dissolve into their systems.
The trees parted when we arrived at the crest of the hill and stood before the massive school. Its true size had been distorted from the base of the hill, but now I saw it for what it truly was: a fifteen-level monstrosity of a pagoda. The base of it was at least seventy meters across, and it had to be nearly double that in height. It cast a shadow so long I couldn’t see the end of it.
To the far right was a training yard for handheld weapons, and next to that, an archery range. Students of all ages in black skin-tight shirts and pants with flowing black and silver robes engaged with the weapons. The younger, less experienced students who looked to be fresh from Primary age listened and nodded as the older students talked them through the motions and weapons.
Everyone was a student, and almost everyone was a teacher. There were clearly designated instructors marching the yards helping where needed, but they largely listened, providing guidance. I imagined being required to teach the younger students and being at a loss for words at questions like, “What’s that weird machina on your chest?”
I knew the etiquette was different here, but I wondered how much that mattered when no instructors were watching. I knew all too well that just because something was a rule didn’t mean the students would follow it.
There was a large garden on the left side of the pagoda being worked by many students. I’d done my time in the gardens at Bastion, too. Before Sung-ki had helped unlock my li flow, the garden manager hadn’t allowed me to tend to growing schedules. I’d killed too many turnips.
Students ran to and from the pagoda with baskets of fresh produce. Grandmaster Ena led us in closer. “We will be having dinner soon. You’ll get an official tour from your rooming unit after that.”
The door to the pagoda was open wide, and the first floor was visible from the stairs. The center of the first floor had a thick glass spire running through it. A student drifted down on a fluttering air current and stepped out through a short archway she seemed to create with a flick of en munje.
The floors were dark, polished wood that shone with a clean brilliance. The walls were decorated with silver filigreed wallpaper between the paper doors. When the light hit the designs just right, they seemed to give off an opalescent glow.
“Please leave your belongings at the entrance and we will have them brought to your rooms.” Ena gestured to a pair of bin that were all clearly marked with our names.
We removed our shoes and bags, then stuffed them away. Ena led us down the extravagantly wide hall to the center of the room where the spire sat. Another student drifted down, flicking blue en at the wall of the tube. Wind rushed past as the narrow opening slid aside, allowing the boy passage.
Ena did not stop at the vertical tunnel but kept walking past it to another room. Herbal scents of freshly picked tea leaves, savory smells of hot meats, and sweet notes of some dessert drifted on the air. We turned and walked through a wide, open door to a noisy kitchen.
Steam whistled out of massive kettles, and stove fires flared. Students washed, chopped, fried, boiled, and seared their way through the fresh ingredients flowing in from the side door to the garden. Again there was an integration of younger and older students. The younger ones performed less dangerous and simpler tas
ks, like washing and peeling vegetables, plucking chicken feathers, or running retrieval errands for the older students.
Ena turned to us with a smile and gestured to the activities around us. “Munje is in everything. Our power comes from what we put in our body. This is one of the most powerful lessons we have to offer. You will cook, you will clean floors, you will manage the garden, repair weapons, furniture, and clothes. You will learn of the munje in all things, how to connect with it and command it.
“Bastion Academy has taught you the tools of war. Moon Shadow will teach you the tools for life.
“Shall we eat?” she asked, grinning. Without waiting for a response, she led us through the kitchen to the other end. Another wide door lead into a dining hall not unlike the one at Bastion.
Students were running to and from loaded carts full of utensils, bowls, heavy trays of food, and delicious assortments of fresh fruit. A short boy with long hair turned to grab the last item on the cart when his eyes met mine.
A flicker of rage bloomed in my chest as I focused on him. That despicable face of false innocence and abject treachery.
Ko-nah, you sangomnyon. You’re dead.
Chapter 11
MY JAW HURT AS I KEPT my silence, burning a wordless wound into Ko-nah’s bony head. I imagined grabbing him by those sleek black robes and throwing him from the top of the pagoda. Or maybe I could dangle him over the bay and allow the razorfins to take little nibbles from him.
“Jiyong, calm down,” Mae whispered.
I relaxed my jaw and wiped my face clean of expression, then looked away from the traitor. My spine prickled with goosebumps as Ko-nah tried to infiltrate my mind. His ry was musky in scent, almost animalistic, and uncomfortably warm.
With a single breath I cycled a layer of ryzo munje and wrapped my mind more tightly. His munje poked and prodded at the barrier like a hungry fox at a henhouse. I shot him one more sidelong glare with a smirk. Not getting in here.
