BA3 - Chapter 31

Winter’s cold nipped at my cheeks as we walked the snow-dusted streets below Anbura. Though it was close to freezing, the citizens of Sonma were about, tending to their shops and selling the last of their fall harvests—though I could only hear them.

My vision was bright white interspersed with shadows of birds as they passed me. Some would stop to look, as if they could sense the cloud disturbance around TuTu_tk’s body. I clutched the final control module in my claws as I descended.

Nineteen days hadn’t been enough time to prepare for my plan, but with the help of my friends—and Ko-nah—we’d devised an even better, albeit similar plan. Though I wasn’t aligned with pieces of it, and had voiced my displeasure often, Mae reminded me that it was the right choice.

The next building came into view and I slowed my descent. I plopped down on the rooftop with a graceful gallop, then pulled in my chute. The broadcast antenna was right where Mae said it would be, just as the other five had been. I just hoped this would be enough coverage, and we’d have the strength to overcome whatever safety protocols Dokun had in place.

I skittered over to the tall metal spire and found the maintenance panel. With a little spark of blinding en, the lock melted away and allowed us entry.

Mae cleared her throat. “Remember, it’s the one with three vertical stripes leading into the left side.”

I groaned, remembering the almost incident from the first tower. ‘I’ve got it this time.’

“What is it?” Hana asked, tightening her grip on my arm.

“Just clearing my throat,” I said, smiling down at her.

I endured the double-vision for just a moment to look at her pretty face, then returned my focus to TuTu_tk’s sight. I severed the wire with three vertical lines on the left with one claw, then worked quickly to insert the device. Two more brilliant bursts of en later and the chip was secured between the severed ends of the wire.

“Very nicely done,” Mae commented with the mental equivalent of a pat on the back.

I checked the ma reserves and grimaced at the flashing twenty percent. This was going to be tight. I scampered to the edge and pulled the chute from its storage space. When it was taut above me from the blowing wind, we lifted off the rooftop like a kite being stolen in a storm.

Mae highlighted our location in the black and white vision of TuTu_tk and I aligned my body on an intercept trajectory. I twisted the locks on my legs to hold them in place. The lower ones were tight against my belly to create a small profile, and the chute legs created a gentle dome above me. So long as the wind didn’t drastically change direction, we’d just make it.

I disabled every unnecessary function, then turned my attention back to walking. I’d been letting Hana lead me for what felt like hours, and seeing the road again—and color—made me blink.

I moved my arm around her shoulder and nuzzled her hair. “All set.”

“I’m freezing!” she declared loudly. Then, hugging me closer, she whispered, “Enjiho following.”

A noodle shop was just ahead, and I pointed. “This will warm us up.”

We found a table just large enough for two near the front and ordered two bowls. I kept my gaze pointed at Hana’s pale face and watched the Enjiho march by in the periphery. With a thought, I regained my connection with TuTu_tk.

She was down to fifteen percent ma, even with all my conservation efforts, and still sixteen kilometers away. ‘My earlier assessment of tight may have been off.’ I thought to Mae, a hint of desperation sneaking into my words.

“Not sure what you expect me to do about it,” Mae said, her tone mimicking then sentiment of “I told you so.”

The steaming hot bowls of broth, noodles, and thinly sliced meat plopped down before us. I gave a hurried bow with thanks, then turned my attention back to the problem at hand. I pumped the last of the en munje out to warm the air in the chute, then watched our altitude climb. That would allow us to soar a little longer, but would it be far enough to make it?

“Not likely.” Mae replied, the superiority in her tone replaced with worry. “Maybe we should try to meet her halfway?”

Birds appeared just overhead, catching the same draft as me yet still going faster. I checked the position of their wings, then adjusted the chute to mimic that angle. That had a small effect, and the distance counter moved down to twelve kilometers. It still might not be enough.

“The noodles will get cold,” Hana said.

I gave her a smile. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”

“Something bad,” she asked before taking a delicate drink of broth.

“Maybe,” I said with a wince.

“Eat quickly, then.” She set aside her proper manners and dug into the soup.

I slurped up my noodles in huge bites, feeling a greedy sense of gluttony take over. It was incredibly good. Savory, umami, salty, rich, rustic, comforting, and so many other words came to mind. It brought back memories of my mother’s oxtail soup, though we rarely had noodles.

I stopped for a moment and watched Hana do the same. Her cheeks puffed out, full of food, and she looked up at me. With a blush she pulled her hand over her face to hide her mouth.

I smiled. “You’re beautiful.”

She swallowed everything with a huge gulp. “Even with my lips covered in broth and mouth full of food?”

“You couldn’t be ugly if you tried.”

Her eyebrow raised and she smirked as if accepting my challenge. Then, she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

I laughed. “Never mind, I was wrong.”

Her face snapped to a pouty scowl. “Eat your soup or I will.”

Mae flashed the ma levels in my vision over my food; just ten percent left and eight more kilometers to go. I stuffed the soup in my mouth much too quickly to enjoy, then paid the shop owner with a bow.

We stepped out onto the street and I turned us toward the city—toward TuTu_tk. Another pair of Bastion students passed us with a wave and I smiled. It had been very convenient that Sung-ki and Woong-ki had offered all the students a day to experience Sonma unescorted before the Welcoming of Winter. They’d made some such excuse as there would be special wares available before the festival, and wanted us to witness new crafting techniques.

Plausible, I thought, but everyone could sense something was awry. With my attempted abduction just weeks before, everyone at Anbura, not just the Bastion students, were weary of this. Woong-ji reminded everyone there were Enjiho patrolling the streets, where there’d been none patrolling the sea. One student chimed in with a, “Maybe there should be!” and everyone had laughed, nodding in agreement.

An uneasy fear had stuck with me from this morning. The Enjiho would be at the performance hall, and practically everywhere else in the city. What if they got to our broadcast devices before we could deliver the whole message?

“Unlikely. Much more likely they’ll disable the devices from a routing station before any Enjiho would interfere. Which is why we need to be at the most central station we can be,” Mae reminded me.

That was the part of the plan that Hana hated—but had conceded in the face of the alternative, which was suicide. Frustration muddled with anger in my stomach, and I pulled in a sharp breath to quell it.

“What?” Hana asked, worried for the fate of TuTu_tk.

“We’re a little behind schedule,” I said covertly and we picked up the pace.

Only five percent ma remained, with another four kilometers to go.

“Jigu, if you can bring TuTu_tk safely home to us, I’ll believe in you,” Mae whispered in my head like a prayer.

I smirked. ‘She doesn’t need you to believe in her to be real.’

“She doesn’t sound like a god at all, then,” Mae retorted.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Philosophical discussions for another time.’

Another bird flapped by, this one even closer, and I checked the red munje reserve. There was still a good twenty percent of that left. I looked at the bird curiously. I knew everything had some munje in it, but what might be in this bird?

I reached out a let and tapped its wing, depositing a drop of red munje. The bird looked over it’s shoulder as it banked away from me. A stream of blue, en munje flowed into TuTu_tk from the bird and I smiled.

‘Ask and she will provide,’ I thought, reaching out and tapping every bird that passed by.

When my ry stores were full, and the ma nearly empty, I swelled my claw-tipped arms around my body just as I did to descend the TK_shoot in Anbura. My vision faded and I pulled the parachute taut in front of me with three legs, then spread the others out below me to ease my descent. I lined up with Mae’s calculation in my darkened eyes, and locked the legs steady.

“If this works…” Mae trailed off with a sigh.

‘You’ll have to believe in Jigu,’ I reminded her of her promise.

“Keep your eyes open for interesting birds,” I said to Hana and she looked up.

After another five tense moments, I felt the vestiges of my ma floating through the air. Using that gentle pull of munje, we adjusted our course to TuTu_tk. Hana spotted the fluttering of a failing ry shield before I did. Fortunately, the sky was so white it would be hard to see for anyone not specifically looking.

Poor TuTu_tk hit the roof of a nearby building and toppled over the side, landing in the alley with a crunch. I winced. That was probably a leg or two I’d have to fix tonight.

“Un-fujeken-believable,” Mae said, aghast.

‘What would Mother say about that language?’ I jabbed with a grin.

I jogged over to the downed bot, then squatted and pumped as much ma into her as I could. When she responded to my commands, I folded up the parachute and offered her my sleeve. This time, as her tiny, icy claws tapped over my skin, I did shiver.

Hana giggled. “You okay?”

“Cold,” I said, jaw clenched.

I shut my eyes tightly as I maneuvered TuTu_tk to my spine and laid her flat. The tucking of her claws into my skin was hardly a bother compared to the frigid metal pressing against the very base of my existence. My insides were freezing!

I took a trembling breath and forced a wave of zo down my back, heating everything to a barely tolerable level. We double-timed it back to Anbura. Mae whispered ever so often about the impossibility of such a deity as Jigu who could hear her wishes and respond to them.

There were Enjiho at the entrance to the hill—just a precaution Ena had said. We saluted them playfully as we passed, and one waved. We made idle chatter on the way up, smiling and keeping up our simple exchange student persona.

“Ready for tomorrow?” Ko-nah asked.

I jumped, turning back to see the shorter boy with a grim expression. I cocked my head to the side and furrowed my brow. That wasn’t the correct phrase.

“For the Welcoming of Winter,” he chuckled and patted my arm. I glared and he cleared his throat, embarrassed, and put his hand in his pocket.

“Yes, I’m ready,” Hana said. “I can’t wait to see the Silver Dragonfly students.”

“I heard their dance is the most difficult. It would be shameful for all of Busa-nan if they made any mistakes,” I said, looking at Ko-nah severely.

He nodded. “That may be, but they’re confident they’ll perform beautifully.”

Talking in riddles and code had been difficult the first week, but after several sleep draught sessions we’d worked out key words and phrases—though Ko-nah often strayed from them. I’d asked him if the girls were up to the challenge knowing the risks, and it sounded as if they were. But still, he’d left out a crucial detail.

“And Busa-nan’s honor if they fail?” I asked, prodding him on the second half of the question he hadn’t answered.

“It’s nothing to worry yourselves with.”

I sighed with relief and turned back to climb the hill. He’d secured their transport out of Kokyu. Coordinating everything through trickery language was the most unbearable part of the process.

“Even more than almost not getting TuTu_tk back?” Mae asked smugly.

‘Maybe equal discomfort—but we did get her back.’

“I can’t even with your luck,” she groaned.

When we got back to school, I was on kitchen duty with Yuri and Cho. We washed dishes from lunch and helped prepare dinner, using our code to discretely pass details between us the whole time. Cho and Sung-ki had finished creating the potions we needed, while Yuri and Woong-ji had run false trails through the hills to cover our escape.

The pieces were set. It was time to play a deadly game of Shōgi. Who’s king would be taken in the end?