Bastion 2 - Chapter 33

We made it back to Bastion with minutes to spare before the first class, Zo Strengthening II. Cho had packed a portion of breakfast that we hurriedly scarfed down before making it out to the training field.

My stomach turned uneasily as we ran our laps. The muscles in my legs burned as I struggled to cultivate zo on my uncomfortable full gut. My breathing became shallow as I fought the sickness growing in me. The horrible vision of Tuko’s destruction played on repeat as I battled the pain and nausea, which only served to intensify my discomfort.

I could’ve jumped him into the bay—but they would’ve fished him off the bottom. If I’d put more ma in him from the start, maybe he could’ve made it out with us. I could’ve carried him, at least a little ways before he started dragging me down. But then he wouldn’t have served as the distraction we needed to escape.

Still, it felt like there were a million things I could’ve done to save him, but I chose to run and leave him behind.

“Stop with the hindsight!” Mae chided with frustration, then her voice softened. “You chose the option that ensured Hana’s and your safety.”

I looked to Hana as we moved through the morning routine. She wasn’t glowing how she usually did with physical activity. Her punches were effortless, and sloppy. Her eyes met mine and she frowned in sympathy, then tried to smile.

I looked away. ‘You’re right. I know you are.’

“I don’t get to hear that one too often anymore. Thank you,” Mae said with her sarcastic levity, but it passed straight through me like I was a ghost.

I finished the morning routine on the verge of vomiting, which elicited several angry scoldings from the instructor for my less than stellar performance. It didn’t matter. I did good enough for today.

Hana sat with me during Ry Glimmers, casting butterflies and flowers that danced around me. I did my best to smile, but we both knew I was faking it. I was never a very good liar. The class dragged on painfully as the instructor called Hana out for her disruptions.

The class laughed at some comment I didn’t hear, and Hana’s cheeks reddened. Her embarrassed expression was the tipping point and I jumped to my feet, fists clenched. The instructors eyes went wide with fear. The class quieted to hushed accusations as my vision blurred.

“I don’t feel well. I need to go to the infirmary,” I said as I walked to the door without waiting.

Sen said something behind me, but I kept walking and she didn’t give chase. My eyes burned with unshed tears as I marched to who knew where. My head pounded and my face was hot. Tightness in my chest kept me from breathing as I realized another terrible what if.

What if I had to choose between Hana’s safety, or my mother’s survival? I had unconsciously known the right sacrifice to make between Hana and Tuko, but how could I choose between two people I loved?

“Jiyong?” Min-hwan’s voice cut through my blurred trance and I looked up to see I was standing at his door.

Hot tears burned my eyes and my jaw ached from clenching my teeth. Min-hwan pulled me into his office and closed the door as I collapsed to the floor. It was as if the band around my chest snapped, and my emotion was free. I sucked down a deep breath for the first time and fell onto my hands. Feeling drained away like I’d been splashed with cold water and washed the emotion off.

After a few breaths, I was calm. My pulse returned to normal, and the pounding in my skull ended. I sat back and looked up. Min-hwan’s brow was furrowed and there was a faint purple glow around his body that seemed to create a tunnel to mine. I lifted my hands and inspected the ry bubble only a centimeter away from my skin.

“What’s this?” I asked, emotionless.

He turned for his desk and the bubble pulled like canvas over a wood frame. “It’s a siphon. I’m holding your feelings for you, so you can calmly explain what has caused you this much pain.”

He gestured for me to sit and I complied.

“Woong-ji hasn’t told you yet because I asked her to wait. Don’t punish her,” I said, not feeling worry, but understanding the consequences of what I was about to say.

Min-hwan raised an eyebrow. “I trust my instructors to keep me informed of the things I need to know, and when I need to know them. If she withheld anything, it was because she believed it was within her control to mitigate. Though, I’m now concerned that she has not succeed.”

I nodded, then explained everything.The lunch hour came in the middle of my depiction of the events, and so Min-hwan had the kitchen staff bring us something. I was grateful to eat slowly, calmly, and not upset my stomach further. I needed the energy.

As I talked, emotion returned in a manageable trickle. I was angry about Tuko, upset with myself, and worried about the future. I was scared that the Wongs had some involvement in the drug situation in the capital. I was desperate for a solution for my mother.

I processed the feelings and thoughts together as I talked, and by the end of it, felt just as hopeless, but less upset. The aura around us had faded away, and I knew that throughout the conversation, Min-hwan had been releasing my feelings back to me with masterful control.

Min-hwan hummed thoughtfully as my story ended. “Thank you for coming forward. I will deliberate with Woong-ji on the next step, as well as other trusted staff members.”

He came around the desk and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re never alone. Don’t forget that.”

My throat tightened as I nodded and stood before him. “Thank you, Grandmaster.”

“He’s right in more ways than one,” Mae whispered to me as her kind, glowing face appeared in my vision. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head. I was exhausted, worse than any Zo Strengtheningclass had ever done.

The warning gong rang, and I took a deep breath. Just two more classes and then I could rest. Min-hwan guided me to the door. Worried, amethyst eyes greeted me on the other side and Hana reached out for me. Cho and Yuri were there, too.

“Take care of each other,” Min-hwan said kindly as he shut the door behind me.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Cho asked, gripping my shoulder as we walked down the hall.

I patted his back reassuringly. “I’m just tired. I had a lot on my mind, and it all needed to come out.”

“You look like you were crying,” Yuri commented in her blunt-but-not-harsh way.

I chuckled. “We all need to cry now and then. I’m better now, thanks to Min-hwan.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never seen you cry…” Cho trailed off.

“It’s nothing we can’t all handle together,” I said with a grim smile. “I will need help building Tuko Two.”

“Oh,” Cho said, like a punch to the gut. He understood now.

The gong for class to begin rang out, and we ran the rest of the way. We were late, and Woong-ji punished me with more machina work that evening. It was glad for it. I could talk with her while I worked and explain what had happened at the docks.

I put forth my best effort for the rest of class, but couldn’t keep my mind from wandering. Woong-ji snapped me back to attention while she was discussing expended en recycling, threatening to expel me from class for the evening. I didn’t want to let her down, so I tried harder.

Still, my thoughts drifted back to the man in the fox mask, the shimmering liquid in the crate, and the made-up memory of Tuko’s brutal beating. What was the purpose of the signal, and why did my mother’s malware transmit one too?

“Out!” Woong-ji demanded, and I jumped with a start. She glared me down as she pointed to the door. The students turned on their pillows to look at me and my mind conjured a million excuses, but there was no point.

I bowed deeply, putting my forehead to the floor. “Yes, Master. My deepest apologies.”

I grabbed my coat and shoes as Woong-ji continued the lesson. I wandered close to Pa-ne’s room and flopped onto the floor, letting my legs spread out into the hall. I breathed deeply as I stared into the mural on the wall, focusing on the images it depicted.

It showed a woman from ancient times, dressed in shimmering blocky clothes—though we didn’t know much about what they wore in their time outside of what we found in the Ghosts. She held a device in her hand with a ry projection of a rocket ship. She pointed to the stars with her other hand, and a broad, hopeful smile lit her face.

“Looks like a shuttle launch,” Mae said as a glowing blue circle appeared in my vision over the stars. I scrutinized the spot more carefully to see the woman wasn’t pointing into nothing, but at a flame in the sky.

‘Did the ancient ones leave this planet?’ I asked.

Mae hummed. “I’m not sure what happened, but I know some humans survived whatever it was, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

Something moved far off in the corner of my vision and I scowled as I turned my head that way. There was nothing at all, and I squinted, as if I could pierce the air and reveal the movement.

“They’re there,” Mae said with suspicion. “I can sense their glimmer.”

I relaxed my posture and turned back to the mural. ‘Watch for me.’

“There’s one larger reflection glimmer that may be shielding two bodies, hard to tell. They’re on the move…”

I stood, twisting ry between my fingers as I silenced my steps. I shifted my breathing to keep a steady stream of munje flowing as I followed Mae’s visual cues. We wound through the halls past the dining room when Mae groaned.

“I lost them. Whoever is casting that ry is strong, and they detected my observation,” she said in frustration. “I’m only as good as you are, so if this is something we want to do in the future, we should work on getting stealthier.”

The gong to signal the end of class rang out and sighed. I looked around for a moment, casting little ry dispel bubbles in dark corners, but nothing revealed itself. With defeat, I moved forward to the next intersection that would take me out to the class hall, but stopped abruptly before bumping into another student—

Ko-nah.