by Henry Lien
“Unauthorized hairstyle!” barks Suki at her. “There are only three authorized hairstyles now! Small bowl, medium bowl, and large bowl!” She turns to the two other Sensei Madame Yao copies and says, “Liberate their hair!”
Her girls approach Forever Action Beauty Girls. They perform flying saw forward flips and slash down in spirals of steel, severing the braids binding the battleband together. The battleband members all scream and then stand around, doing nothing to fight back! They were never about the wu liu; they were always all about the hair.
I don’t particularly like Forever Action Beauty Girls, but I like what Suki just did to them even less. “What do you think you’re doing, you scorpion?” I shout at Suki. “Just because you can’t pretend to be a princess anymore, you dress up as some sort of nightmare soldier with a hair helmet? You’re pathetic.”
She skates over to me.
“I,” she says, placing a fist across the heart, “as captain of the Pink Army, am authorized to correct all evidence of insufficient zeal for the national defense and of uselessness in the counter-offensive to liberate the mainland!”
“Authorized by whom?”
“New Deitsu Pearlworks Company.”
“What right do they have to—”
“New Deitsu is the Savior of the State! The only protector of the beautiful nation of Pearl! And we are its Pink Army, for we shall mix the white of the pearl with the red of the blood of all enemies of Pearl. And you are an enemy of Pearl.”
“And you are the captain of a battleband called Last-Place Losers on Skates!” I shout back.
“Beloved Chairman authorized our name change when we joined the Great Cause.”
“Changing your name’s not going to make your performance any better.”
“No,” says Suki, dropping the proclamation tone and falling back into that purr that I know so well. She whispers to me, “We’ve got something else lined up for that. You’d better start packing now for your voyage home to Shin.” She turns from me so fast that her severe hair spins out like a skirt.
I say to her back, “I suppose you think you got in some chilling last word.”
She skates back to me and says, “I suppose you think that’s some sort of spirited retort to keep me from having the last word. Well, I’m going to have the last word, Chen Peasprout.”
She turns in a huff again and skates away.
“No, you’re not,” I say.
She skates back to me and says, “Yes, I am!” And she whips away from me and skates off.
“No, you’re not.”
She spins back and hisses, “Yes. I. Am!” She turns again from me and skates away.
“No, you’re—”
“Peasprout, stop,” says Hisashi, laughing. “It’s cruel to tease babies.”
* * *
Eight days before the Second Annexation, my battleband and I are still arguing about everything, including:
1. Whether we should create custom matching uniforms (of course we should, every good army understands the importance of presentation);
2. Whether the uniforms’ theme should reflect the name of our battleband (nobody is going to want to dress as a nobody or a fire-chicken);
3. Whether we should wear face paint to look like ogres (I can’t believe we’re even discussing this, does Hisashi take anything seriously?); and
4. Whether Cricket should be allowed to frost his bangs with kelp vinegar (he says it’s to defy Suki’s haircut protocol, but that’s a lie. He hasn’t stopped talking about frosting his bangs since Dappled Lion Dao of the Battle-Kite Sparkle-Pilots with his silly bleached hair said “bwei bai” to him one day after an architecture exercise).
We finally put it to a vote of all five battleband members. The votes come out thus:
1. No to custom uniforms;
2. No to theme;
3. No to face paint (thank the Heavenly August Personage of Jade); and
4. Yes to Cricket frosting bangs (ten thousand years of stomach gas).
What we argue about the most in the final few days before the Annexation is Yinmei’s role.
“I’m sorry, Yinmei, this is completely unacceptable,” says Doi. “Your injury was too serious for you to be ready to participate. You wrote the drumsongs for us. That’s contribution enough. You’re not strong enough to take part in the Annexation itself.”
Doi turns to me. “You can’t allow this, Peasprout.”
Yinmei opens her mouth to speak, but Hisashi cuts her off.
“Don’t worry, Wing Girl. Yinmei knows how to make an accurate assessment of whether she’s up to it.”
I say, “Yinmei, what’s your decision? And no heroics.”
“I am strong enough to play a drumblade,” she answers. “And I should be the unskated battleband member whom our opponents will have to try to capture. I cannot use skates anyway, so it is logical that I take this role.”
“I don’t like this,” says Doi.
“I think she’ll be safe,” says Cricket. “The drumblades aren’t about strength; they’re about musical precision. No one’s better at that than Yinmei.”
“I still don’t like this,” says Doi, crossing her arms. “I’m going to be sick with worry.”
A smile spreads over Yinmei’s face at hearing this. Why is she smiling? Then I understand. She’s smiling because she’s never had someone care about her enough to worry. I’m starting to think now that I’ve been misreading her smiles all year long.
I look over at Hisashi. Would he worry about me in the same way? Nothing seems to worry him. He’s warm to me. But he’s warm to everyone. Who cares? I don’t want to be hurt again like last year. I don’t want to open my heart again only to have—
“Peasprout, what’s wrong?” asks Hisashi.
“Nothing,” I answer. “Why?”
“You just looked so sad for a moment. I was worried.”
I look at him. Then I look at Yinmei, smiling a little, and seeing everything.
And I smile.
* * *
The night before the Second Annexation, the five of us gather after evenmeal to meditate together at the Courtyard of Supreme Placidness. Our Chi harmonization exercises are interrupted by a voice.
“Good luck at the Second Annexation tomorrow, little bird.”
We all snap our attention to see the Chairman at the gate to the courtyard, softly slapping a folded fan in his palm. Even Hisashi tenses. Whatever special status Hisashi had in their father’s eyes disappeared when he defied him and brought Doi to the sanctuary hearing to accuse him of treason.
“I’ve got friends,” I say, looking at my battleband. “I don’t need luck.”
“You’ll be singing a different song when you see the three battlebands I’ve selected as your opponents tomorrow.”
“Three?” cries Doi. “You can’t do that. It’s supposed to be one-on—”
“Quiet, you ungrateful girl. Accusing your own father of treason. I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
“Father,” jumps in Hisashi, “please don’t—”
The Chairman turns on Hisashi and points the folded fan at him. “And you brought them to the sanctuary hearing! When I specifically told you not to. What did I do to deserve such children?”
I snap at the Chairman. “We’re not afraid of three battlebands. Make it even more. It’s just more points for us.”
“Peep peep peep,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his robe and pulling out a small object. “What is this, little bird?” We all squint in the lantern light at it.
Heavenly August Personage of Jade. It’s the ring woven from Captain Cao’s mole hairs.
“Give that to me!” I say, skating toward him.
“Back!” he warns, lifting it to his mouth. “Or I’ll swallow it. I swear I will.”
I skid to a stop. What a childish, petty man!
“What is this little ring?” he says, picking at it with the long nail of his little finger. “Some sh
iny thing this bird managed to pluck from a Shinian soldier? I don’t know exactly what this is, but I think from your reaction that it’s what’s keeping the Shinian soldiers from making another attempt, isn’t it? That’s why Wu Yinmei implored us after the attempted abduction to send a letter orb to the Shinian ships. That’s why you kept this little ring under your pillow. You’ve never kept anything under your pillow before.”
Before. So this is not the first time he’s gone into my room.
“That’s the only thing keeping Pearl safe!” I plead.
“Oh, no, I think it’s the only thing keeping you safe. I think they made it very clear that all they want is you.”
“You don’t understand what you’re—”
And then several things happen at once. Doi is lunging for the ring, and Hisashi is holding her back, and the Chairman is popping the ring into his mouth.
I watch in disgust and see the Chairman’s throat working as he swallows the ring of Captain Cao’s mole hairs.
He lets out a small belch. “I wish you a pleasant voyage home, little bird.”
He turns to depart and sees Cricket gaping up at him with wide eyes.
“And you,” he says to Cricket, “I never liked your face. Hopefully you’ll join your traitorous sister.”
As he leaves, he snaps his fan open in our direction for emphasis, like an actor from a bad street opera.
When he’s gone, all lucky of my battleband members begin talking at once. Words like “Don’t worry—” and “They’ll never find out—” and “We’ll find other mole hairs—” but I hold up my hands for silence.
“Thank you, but I don’t need your comfort,” I say to them. “I need your performance. We have to win the Second Annexation tomorrow. Not just to prove my value to Pearl. Not just to keep me from being deported. But to make that man choke on his words.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Something’s wrong.
It’s been nearly five minutes since Sensei Madame Yao called out “Nobody and the Fire-Chickens” to begin the Second Annexation.
We’ve been keeping our drumblades upright and humming in place by tapping out a gentle rhythm on the small front drums, ready to burst forward at the first sight of an enemy.
However, scanning to the southwest from my station at one corner of the Palace of the Eighteen Outstanding Pieties, I still see no opponents. The mists have all risen from the pearl since it’s the end of the ninth month, so I can see all the way to the edge of the Principal Island.
The thirteen senseis peer down at us from their viewing dais atop the Palace of the Eighteen Outstanding Pieties. The Chairman is smirking.
“Nothing from the southwest!” I yell.
“Nothing from the northwest!” replies Cricket.
“Falling asleep from boredom here in the northeast!” calls out Hisashi.
“Southeast quadrant still clear,” responds Doi.
Yinmei is stationed before the entrance of the Palace of the Eighteen Outstanding Pieties. She calls out, “Look! They do not come from those directions; they come from above!”
Nine bats glint in the sky. No, not bats. Boys.
“It’s the Battle-Kite Sparkle-Pilots!” cries Cricket.
Dressed in black kelp leather and strapped into kites of pearlsilk stretched on struts, the nine boys glide toward us in an arrowhead formation.
At their vanguard is Dappled Lion Dao, unmistakable even from this distance with his bleached-gold bangs whipping in the wind and the glinting silver studs in his outfit. He commands, “Deploy sparklebombs!”
The boys together launch their hand-cannons of bamboo trunk.
Nine balls as large as winter melons whistle toward us, trailing tails of shimmering flakes.
They explode all along the south face of the Palace of the Eighteen Outstanding Pieties, turning the air into a dazzle of fine pearlscales that flash sea-foam green with blushes of pink, distracting us with their shimmer and completely obscuring Yinmei.
“Yinmei, execute evasive short melody number three!” I yell, but I know from hearing the burst of beats that she has already drummed on the back drums and sped out of the cloud of sparkles.
I follow the sound of her powerful beats in lucky meter, which go round and round like an enraged ferret trying to bound its way out of a cage.
I dart out of the cloud of scales and catch sight of Yinmei racing ahead, in front of Eastern Heaven Dining Hall.
Above us, five battle-kites turn in unison and fly toward Yinmei. As they pass over the quadrangle, their pilots release a catch on their battle-kites and descend on lines to the pearl below. Their harnesses haul their kites on tethers in the air above them as they skate.
They chase hard after Yinmei’s drumblade, around and around in the quadrangle, attempting to yank her off. She executes a deft drumroll on the left set of drums, causing her drumblade to skid and take a sideswipe at the boys. However, each time she tries to knock one of the boys off his skates, he simply punches a plate on the chest of his harness to activate his tether. The tether spools in, and he’s hoisted up out of harm’s way by his battle-kite, only to drop back down to pursue Yinmei again when it’s safe.
Doi and I reach the quadrangle, and together, we pound a three-layer rhythm on the middle drums. Then we thunder down together on the back drums.
Our drumblades leap into the courtyard above the boys’ heads, with the bottom of our blades slicing sideways toward the tethers connecting them to their battle-kites, like a pair of great scissors.
“Retract!” shouts Dappled Lion Dao. The boys punch their fists against the plates in their harnesses and fly up along the tethers to their battle-kites with a high singing zip just in time to miss our shearing blades.
“Yinmei, go!” cry Doi and I together.
Yinmei pounds out a rhythm of power and delicacy and goes whipping around the southeast corner of Eastern Heaven Dining Hall tightly.
We take the northern route around the hall and meet her at the seaward side of the Courtyard of Supreme Placidness.
The three of us speed toward the canal separating us from the dormitories. We punch our back drums and leap over the canal like three dolphins breaching in unison.
We tear through the central path dividing the girls’ dormitory from the boys’, come out the other side, and pop over the canal leading to the Hall of the Eight Precious Virtues, where Cricket and Hisashi await us.
We scrape to a hard stop at the base of the hall to discuss our next plan of attack. The central waterfall cascading down its surface meets the canal in a roar of churning that masks the sound of our voices.
We are all heaving and sweating from the exertion and welcome this moment to catch our breaths. It feels like someone poured vinegar into the muscles of my arms and shoulders, and we’ve only just started.
“We have to separate them from their battle-kites,” I say.
“Let’s lure them into the Garden of Whispering Arches,” says Cricket. “They can’t follow us under the arches with their kites, because the strings will get tangled.”
“Yes!” I beam at Cricket. “Full speed across Divinity’s Lap to the garden.”
I pound on the back drums to kick my drumblade over the canal. I bounce twice and then my driving double rhythm on the middle and back drums sends me racing across Divinity’s Lap with the rest of my battleband in formation behind me, like mist trailing behind a flying spear.
As I reach the towering statue of the Enlightened One, I see something grotesque has happened to her. It looks like she’s standing, not sitting, and that she’s covered in human bodies.
I quickly play a sharp roll of beats to stop myself from sliding forward, but I mistime them and my drumblade spins in two full circles before I’m able to come to a full halt.
My battleband mates execute better skids to stop behind me. We take a longer look at the transformed figure of the statue of the Enlightened One.
It moves.
I realize
we aren’t looking at the statue, but something in front of it.
Before us is a complex formation of maybe fifty girls, girls standing upon girls, rising five stories high.
They’re locked together and stacked on top of one another to form the legs, arms, and body of a giant figure. The enormous figure’s skate blades are composed of two giant gondola blades.
Atop the formation stands one girl holding reins, limning the shape of a head.
Etsuko.
So this is her battleband, Radiant Thousand-Story Very Tall Goddess.
“Advance!” commands Etsuko.
The twelve girls composing the right leg curl and contract to operate the armature around them. The leg lifts and sets down one great skate.
All five of us speed our drumblades in different directions, frantically attempting to escape the rampaging goddess.
A shadow crosses my path, and I bang hard on my left drums to swerve just in time as the goddess’s right skate comes stamping beside me.
Two of her arms swipe down at me, the girls at each end stretching their arms out to talons. I slam down on my right drums so I slide sideways under their grasp.
I pull up my drumblade short, just in time to miss a third goddess arm slamming down. The girl forming the talons lands upside down on the pearl in front of me, close enough for me to hear the breath of her exertion.
“Where’s Yinmei?” I cry out, but I’m the only one of my battleband left on Divinity’s Lap.
I deploy the six-drum martial power anthem that Yinmei wrote for quick escape. It’s extremely forceful but difficult to steer and shuts down all jumping ability until its last vibration clears from the drums. I explode toward the western edge of Divinity’s Lap in a wild wobble.
The speed is so great that my sweat is sheared right off my face. I try to aim for the bridge, since I won’t be able to leap over the canal. My drumblade is veering too hard to the left, but I’m so tired that I don’t have the strength to do the course-correction drumroll song that Yinmei taught us. In order to urge my drumblade to the right in time, so that I don’t miss the bridge and go diving into the canal, I stand up on top of my seat, crawl to the edge of my drum kit on the right, and hang out one arm and one leg, so far that my braids brush against the pearl below.
