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iii
Hak grunts in reply to Soo-Won’s chipper greeting as he situates himself beside him and starts to poke at the wrapper of his uneaten burger, picking the “Happy Hungry Bunch Burgers & Fries” sticker slapped hastily onto its top.
He silently observes Soo-Won interact with the students practically lining up for his attention at their table, prodding about the previous Japanese Literature lesson or the next Student Council agenda or whatever the heck he’s planning to eat for dinner tonight. Hak doesn’t care all that much to interject.
He does care enough, however, to note that Soo-Won’s thin smiles grow thinner and his jaws clench imperceptibly tighter at every annoying person hocked up on nerves and enthusiasm he dismisses with a “I’ll see you soon,” “Goodbye,” or, Hak’s personal favorite, “I apologize, but could this wait until I’m free?”
Soo-Won is never free.
Of course, once he arrives, the attention divides evenly amongst the two, but Hak likes to pretend he has the hearing of an 90-year-old with a failing cochlear implant. He does have to admit watching a person he’s never met before retreat back in embarrassment after calling out his name so familiarly only for him not to respond fills him with a distinct sadistic pleasure.
Luckily, Soo-Won doesn’t reprimand him for his manners because he’s probably just as fed up with all the people as Hak is. The only reason Soo-Won isn’t able to do the same is because he actually needs to uphold his golden reputation for the sake of his flawless Mr. Student Council President facade.
They rarely enter the cafeteria, though, so the scrutiny isn’t unfounded, just unwelcome. Hak’s zone of comfort only extends to the austere trees at the back of the baseball field or maybe even the rooftop whenever he skips class, and Soo-Won usually occupies the Student Council Room during any free period given.
If you ask him, Hak doesn’t even know when the blond boy even sleeps—or if the act is too mundane for someone of his position. For the two to gather together in the middle of such a populated area, it becomes an opportunity for everyone else that they can’t pass up.
The catalyst for this, the only real possible cause, can only be one person—because of all the things both Hak and Soo-Won are rigidly impervious to, Yona is definitely not one of them.
Before lunch began, Yona had insisted thoroughly that he and Soo-Won rendezvous at the exact place and time she commanded; to spend time together for once, she had said. Despite this, there is no peek of red hair in the near vicinity.
“President Soo-Won! About that report; I finished up the last of the addendum you needed but you’re required to fill out—”
“Keichuk,” said Soo-Won patiently, “I really must continue my meal with my friend here. I think letting him wait is quite rude, don’t you think?”
The second year secretary, Keichuk, purses his lips and nods before leaving them alone. He is the last of them for now, and once they get some semblance of privacy, Soo-Won sighs into the glass of water he lifts to drink.
“‘I really must continue my meal with my friend here’?” mocks Hak, halving his burger and shoving the second half at Soo-Won, who takes it appreciatively. “You don’t even have any food. Don’t you think lying so flagrantly in front of people is gonna get your ass whooped?”
Soo-Won silently chuckles as he peels the sticker Hak had loosened off the burger wrapper and rolls it into a little ball. Instead of answering the question, he segues, “Why do you think their mascot a squirrel if they sell burgers and fries?”
“What?” Spotting him creasing and unfolding the sticker, Hak rolls his eyes. “For the same reason you prefer ordering that huge bowl of wasabi every single time we go out to that sushi place, or when you continue piling up on Student Council work even though you’ve still got that internship at Mr. Il’s.”
Soo-Won beckons him for an answer with one look. Hak smirks.
“Insanity.”
In her crisp, brand new school uniform, Yona materializes before them moments later, slamming a tray filled to the brim with packets of bread and a school-bought lunch, still hot and exuding puffs of smoke. The force she exerts into the clamor causes Soo-Won’s glass of water to shake and spill some droplets onto the surface.
“Hello, Yona,” welcomes Soo-Won, his tone swimming with delight. The newly admitted first year just goes “Hi, Soo-Won!” without acknowledging Hak, which is a bit of a blow on his ego.
Because he—as a mature and developed third year—wants payback, Hak resorts kicking her shin beneath the table.
“Ow!” She winces, though he didn’t use much effort. “What was that for?”
“Where’s my ‘good afternoon, Hak-sama’?”
At this, she grins sweetly and exaggerates, “Good afternoon, Hak-chama!”
Soo-Won bursts in loud laughter, no reservations, and a group of nearby second years almost bulge out their eyes in shock.
The three of them should be a sight. Hak already feels dozens of eyes bludgeoning his back. If the other two sense anything, they hide it exceedingly well.
The crowds themselves are justified; not only is the rarely available President Soo-Won blessing everyone with his presence, but his pretty younger cousin—the one with the bright hair and the rich father—is here, giggling within their small group as well. Hak thinks they probably look unapproachable, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much about that.
“So, Yona,” Soo-Won begins conversely, finally taking a bite of his half of the burger. “Have you made any new friends?”
Due to certain circumstances (and how she begged and begged her father day after day), Yona transferred into their public high from her previous entitled private school as soon as she moved back from Tokyo this new semester. It had been a lifelong dream of hers to go to school with them since elementary.
The younger girl pauses gnawing on a slice of fried egg to answer in an excited manner. “Yeah! There’s this really nice boy in my class—his name is Yun. He’s very smart in lots of subjects and he’s a really good cook, too! He acts like a mother sometimes, but I don’t mind.”
Hak rose an eyebrow. “I don’t think any 15-year-old boy would like being compared to a mother.”
She shrugs, then her face lights up again. “You know the Japanese History teacher, Jae-Ha-sensei? He’s really good looking, isn’t he? All the girls in my grade think so.”
“Oh, the pervert,” recognizes Hak. “Yeah, don’t go near him. He’ll stalk you and pant a lot. He’s actually pretty fast for an old geezer.”
“Hak, he chased you down because you were skipping class,” Soo-Won points out. He thinks about it for a while. “Though, Gigan-sensei did end up scolding both of you for running in the hallways.”
“Well, he’s still not as bad as that annoying Disciplinary Committee Leader guy. God, he’s got a crazy right hook. Shouldn’t it be illegal for someone to do that to a fellow student?”
There’s another prolonged silence of the three of them working at their lunches. Soo-Won adds, “He’s quite the character. Though, I think he’s only ever so uptight whenever you’re near. When he’s with that blue haired second year boy, however…I hear Jae-Ha-sensei is also quite partial to him.”
“Blue haired second year boy?” inquires Yona, sipping from a juice box, heightening her image of naïveté. “Do you mean Shin-Ah-sempai? He’s very quiet. I saw him outside playing with a squirrel. He has nice eyes.”
“He’s okay,” Hak says begrudgingly.
“You aren’t having a hard time adjusting to your classes, Yona?” Soo-Won steers the conversation again, no longer playing at a role of concern, but actually living one. Hak wants to laugh at his affectation.
The rest of lunch goes slow and warrants peaceful commentary on the state of their school. They gossip about the affairs of the students; even about the happy, blond janitor who’s been serving at the school for years yet still looks their age—courting a sickly, brown-haired third year.
They talk about how they want to spend their summer, days together and days apart. They speak as if they’ll be together forever, and as far as they’re concerned, they will be.
They don’t conclude with promises that they’ll meet each other again at lunch the next day because they know Hak will be busy avoiding more people and Yona will be busy meeting new friends and Soo-Won will just be busy. They do, however, end lunch some waves, smiles, and, the best non-promise promise of them all:
“See you soon.”
ii
The six year old continues to trail after them, copying their quick motions in such concentration Soo-Won just has to stop walking.
“Hak,” he calls his best friend, already two steps ahead of him. “Hak, we shouldn’t just leave her!”
Hak, the most responsible nine-year-old Soo-Won knows—at least in their small village of Kouka, turns to him in confusion before his dirt-covered face turns sour. He says, “We gotta go back home to Grandpa and your mom before sundown, remember? We can’t take a baby with us!”
In reply to his comment, the little redheaded girl stomps her foot and nearly yells, “I’m not a baby!”
“Are too!” Hak snaps back.
She nearly growls. “Are not!”
Soo-Won bites his bottom lip.
Since he and Hak had been sent on an errand to the butcher’s to try to procure a medium, fleshy slab of cow in exchange for the two birds Hak had shot down hours earlier, the younger girl appeared from a corner and stuck to them like mud to shoes.
It wasn’t too strange an occurence—considering the scarcity in Kouka, many hungry eyes followed Hak and Soo-Won as they lifted around their portion of food in bulk. Soo-Won tightens his hold on the bread he was made to carry and watches the girl squirm awkwardly, cheeks pale and hands calloused, the hollow disease of poverty settling in her young body.
“Hak, stop it,” Soo-Won commands, his voice taut, imitating Grandfather Mundok when he would scold Hak for being too dishonest or mean or just because he could.
Only because it was him, Hak complies, but not without a disgruntled glare sent in his direction. Hak might come across as a difficult child, but he was Soo-Won’s beloved friend and even he knows the scathing looks and words are Hak’s defense against the cruelty of the world. Soo-Won has a few defenses of his own, but only few know about it familiarly.
Ignoring Hak’s hostility, Soo-Won slowly attends to the girl, her red hair a beacon of oddity. He rips off a portion of bread and hands it to the girl in amity.
At first, her eyes widen and all she does is stare at his outstretched hand. When she meets his eye, Soo-Won does his best to convey kindness in his face, and she lights up immediately, taking the bread in her pudgy hands and munching eagerly.
It doesn’t take long for her to finish it off, and her hands unintentionally form a grabbing movement. More. This is when Hak scoffs.
“Soo-Won, don’t give her too much. That’s for us! And she’s chubby as it is—”
“You’re the fat one!”
“Who said I was fat?!”
“You’re ugly, too!”
The pout on her face is so cute Soo-Won almost gathers her into a hug. He settles on patting her bright head, fingers brushing her soft locks. He quite likes her hair.
“I am Soo-Won. That boy there with the big mouth is Hak. What is your name?” he asks her, diverting the two’s frothy argument (“Who said I have a big mouth, pretty boy?!”).
She shuffles her feet, gaze shifting downwards. “I…don’t have a name. I forgot. Papa called me something when I was littler, but I forgot.”
Hak and Soo-Won exchange a glance.
Soo-Won has heard of instances like these before, of the countless children living deep into backdrops of society—orphans, thieves, and generally unloved. His heart widens for the girl before him, and he opens his mouth before his mind can keep up.
“Your hair,” he starts distractedly, “it’s a beautiful crimson. Yona…like the color of the dawning sky.
“…Yona?” She brings up a hand to examine the strands. “I like that…Yona. My name can be Yona. My name is Yona!”
Laughing, Soo-Won checks beside him to see Hak’s reaction, and to his surprise, Hak is smiling, too. Though, once he sees Soo-Won looking at him, he frowns right away.
“Well, that’s great and all,” says Hak, puffing his chest and swinging the bag of meat over his shoulder, “but we gotta go if we don’t want Gramps to yell at us all through dinner.”
He begins to saunter towards the road home, doing his best to use long strides as a show of derision. Then he looks back. “Oi! You guys coming or what? I’m not gonna go slow for you.”
Soo-Won grins when little Yona grabs onto the hem of his tunic, and they follow Hak’s shadow as it dances up and down from the setting sun.
i
This is how the Kingdom of Kouka recognizes their royalty:
The Kind Emperor who revived the kingdom and protected what was his, his kinder wife with a merciful streak, and the guard that would take the sky as a burden on his back for both.
This is how they will go down in history:
The 12th Sky Tribe Emperor of Kouka Kingdom, Emperor Soo-Won, son of Lord Yu-Hon and Mistress Yung-Hi, nephew of 11th Sky Tribe Emperor Il. His Majesty’s First Consort, Lady Yona, daughter of the previous Emperor Il. General Son Hak, 57th General of the Wind Tribe, Official King’s Guard to the Throne.
This is how they remember each other:
Soo-Won has a strong weakness for sponge cakes, the ones that come straight from the oven and are piping hot and can burn your fingers the moment you reach out to nab one. His favorite music comes from the flute, though he can’t play for his life, and he likes the fast kind of festival songs best.
He has a rugged brown robe he dirtied himself in his chambers that he uses to sneak down to the kitchens to the back stables, and then to the city outside the gates. He has a secret love for horse races that he hides very well. He is talented in many, many things—except for maybe making angels in the snow. His dimples were more pronounced when he was eleven.
He is relentlessly altruistic, but at times it seems his duty weighs heavier than his pleasures.
Soo-Won was born to be king.
Yona likes to leave Soo-Won and Hak little “gifts” around the castle which are actually bottles of alcohol wrapped in silk pink bows, in reference to the time both got blackout drunk in Soo-Won’s chambers and left her out of the fun because they had said it “wasn’t proper for a queen to do such things.”
Her favorite snack in public are those tiny western crumpets that comes in swirls and cream, but in the comfort of her own room, she practically lives off the same kind of steamed buns her father used to hide in the sleeve of his robes, tearing and ripping with her canines like a starved lion.
She has many admirers, from the baker’s boy to the healer-in-training, that she is not aware of, but Hak and Soo-Won are. She is sweetest to the wild animals that lurk out back the court garden, where the weeds overtake the stones and the birds are given no reason not to sing.
There are moments, the strangest moments, where she stares blankly and abruptly turns in a direction, as if someone had called her name. Later she explains the felt a tug at her heart, and only that.
Yona was born for something else entirely.
Hak chews on mint leaves when he is nervous, keeping his breath fresh and his jaw always working. He has grown up and stuck to his belief that nobles are to be hated along with their higher-than-thou dispositions, but the moment Soo-Won calls his name in an octave lower than usual or the instance Yona twirls her long red locks between her fingers in boredom, he realizes he’s a terrible hypocrite.
He may be the Finest Warrior in All the Land, Kouka Country’s Fearsome Thunder Beast, but the first thing he does every day when they gather in the common room is complain about how terribly exhausted he is, despite not having done anything at all. He drinks tea not because he likes it but because he has to.
At night, he dreams of white snakes and flying pirates and tribal masks and immortality and wonders what it means, or if it means anything at all.
Hak was born to serve.
This is what they will continue believing, from now on until forever:
Yona wakes them up at dawn, tugging at the crumpled bedsheets and ignoring their splayed limbs as she crawls over them with no consideration of her weight on their bodies.
Immediately, Soo-Won blinks awake and twinkles at her enthusiasm, pecking one of her rosy cheeks, but Hak hesitates to even open his eyes, bringing up a hand to pinch her side.
“Eep!” she says, smacking his palm away. She squeezes in-between them and grabs a pillow for herself. Soo-Won sits up in bed to give her more room and glances at the window, drapes already pulled back to welcome the early sunshine.
“When did you get up?” he inquires, bringing up the thin blankets to his lap and leaning his back on the wall.
“Half an hour ago,” comes the lighthearted reply. “You two are light sleepers, so I tried to sneak out of bed without waking you up.”
“Yet you do so now,” Hak grumbles, his face smothered underneath the covers. “What’s the difference between now and thirty minutes ago that you couldn’t have let us sleep in? You know the meeting kept on for hours last night, right?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I know. I’m sorry. But I have to show you something I found in Soo-Won’s offices!”
Hak’s looks up in curiosity, his bedhead now visibly distracting. Soo-Won sends a look over her head that he returns cautiously.
A bit amused, Soo-Won asks, “What is it?”
She produces a thin book, plainly covered, and touches its spine with grace.
“The legend of the dragons?” wonders Soo-Won, skimming over the front text. “I heard Emperor Il never let anyone read this book.”
“Oh, but he reread it to me every night when I was little! Maybe because I asked so much.” She opens the book and leafs through the yellowed pages. “This brings back so many memories.”
“I remember hearing it a few times over the years. There are multiple variations,” Soo-won commented breezily, leaning over her shoulder. His fingers toy with the ends of her hair—something he does absentmindedly. “I think my favorite used to be the Yellow Dragon. Stability sounds desirable in times like these.”
By this time, Hak has already switched to lying on his elbow to stare at Yona and Soo-Won as they read. He says, “I like the White Dragon. Super strength sounds cool.”
“It’s only in one hand,” interjects Soo-Won, having a bit of fun. “The Blue Dragon’s clear vision should come more useful. I feel as though the Green Dragon’s power suits Hak best.”
“Flight?” Hak counters, “That’s useless. I’ll stick to the strong arm.”
Yona doesn’t comment on their choices but adds, “I like the Red Dragon, Hiryuu.”
“That one doesn’t have powers,” points out Hak, slinging a leg over her torso, flattening her, and causing his toes to faintly graze Soo-Won’s.
“But he’s a good king!” cries Yona in defense. “He’s got these dragon gods and these dragon guardians and this entire kingdom in awe of him, and I think to have all of that he must have been an admirable person. I think any sort of ruler should model themselves after Hiryuu if they aim to be a good leader.”
Soo-Won laughs and Hak grins a bit, because it’s such a Yona answer that neither of them can form any sort of reasonable rebuttal.
“You hear that, Soo-Won? She prefers this Red Dragon guy over you as her Emperor,” Hak teases.
Yona is affronted. “Hak! Don’t joke about that!” She inclines her neck closer to Soo-Won’s, her hair tickling his thigh, and assures, “I love Soo-Won as Emperor. Soo-Won is very responsible and just. He’s like Hiryuu!”
At her praise, Soo-Won’s serene smile grows wide. “Yona, I do believe the only one in this room as magnificent as the Hiryuu in the legend is you.”
“Huh?” Her cheeks flush brightly.
Hak tacks on, “I agree. I mean, you’ve both got red hair.”
She blushes harder and turns her head away from their intent gazes, back to the pages in front of her. Then she closes the book and places it carefully back on the stand.
“I admire him, but I don’t think I want to be Hiryuu,” she contemplates, stealing Hak’s blanket and covering herself up to her neck. “I don’t want any dragon heroes and I don’t need a kingdom. If there’s anything I want or need, it’s you two. Only you. There’s no way, not in any other life, I would ever think differently.”
The dawning sky grows from a dark dead blue to a heavenly red, introducing a new day and a new beginning. Soo-Won dresses for his duties, Yona yawns in bed, and Hak debates what he’ll eat for breakfast.
This is what they will continue believing, from now on until forever: in new days, new beginnings, and every morning—a dawning sky.
nulla
Yona strips clear the rabbit she had killed an hour before and uses a knife to saw away at the layer of fat underneath connecting the fur. With practiced ease, she takes of the entire piece of unwanted skin. Later, she will bleed it out, nice and dry, and hand it to Yun for cooking.
She does not let anyone else do this for her, despite Kija’s valid protests, Yun’s wrinkled nose, and Hak’s wary looks. Jae-ha is never present during this process for a reason Yona can’t fathom and she once had to convince Shin-ah they were not supposed to eat the meat whole and raw, so Zeno is her constant companion during these small moments.
She is grateful he prays with her before she lifts her knife, holding her barely shaking hands and politely ignoring as she swallows the bile building up in her throat. He is her fail-safe.
“Done,” she exclaims, wiping her bloody hands onto her lap, staining her dress again. She’d wash them later tonight by the river. While she cleans up the mess she made around her from bleeding out the rabbit, Yona attempts to blow a stubborn flyaway strand of red away from her nose, refusing to utilize her dirty fingers and dyeing her already-blood-colored hair an even darker shade.
Zeno, beside her, notices her trouble and kindly swipes the loose hair behind her ear. In return, she smiles. He had been reorganizing their bags, fitting and folding things to properly fit all the supplies they had stocked up on that they had purchased at the last town they passed.
It came as a surprise to everyone that Zeno possessed such adept skill at the task, but Yona is learning to never be caught off guard at her dragons’ limitless abilities.
She calls out to Yun, at the other side of the camp readying the fire, and he comes to collect the skinned rabbit greedily.
“Thanks, Yona,” says the boy, taking the meat into his hands, uncaring of the mess she made. “You’re a big help.”
Yona titters. “Don’t be silly, Yun. You’re the one that has to cook it!”
Kija is putting up the tent with some struggle, the tarps falling around him like a moat of white cloth. Shin-ah and Jae-ha come back from collecting firewood the moment Hak trudges in from the opposite side, vigorously scratching behind his ear.
“My, my, Hak, is that a rash? You shouldn’t be so near our Yona, then,” cooed Jae-ha, dropping his share of sticks in front of the blazing campfire.
Yun’s attention snaps up from the rabbit on the burner. “Thunder Beast, you have a rash? If that’s the case, don’t come any closer to the food. You need to be quarantined. Zeno, I’ve got some itch cream in one of the bags we can slather on him.”
Zeno pounces through the bags immediately, as if it is a command he has to follow through, no questions asked. Ao, who had been perched on Shin-ah’s shoulder the entire evening, innocently does the same, getting lost in the clump of clothes and luggage.
Snorting, Hak replies, “No thanks, mother. I don’t need to be…slathered with anything. I just got bit by a bug.”
The rest of the tent collapses at the word bug, and then, from the pile of blankets and wooden stands, Kija rises covered in pieces of unfinished tent, quaking in fear.
Jae-ha upturns his nose at Hak in pseudo haughtiness. “Now look what you’ve caused.”
“Kija,” Yona calls in pity. “You don’t have to put it up alone. I can help once I wash my hands.”
The White Dragon jumps up at this. “No, Princess, I am capable of doing it myself! I swear to you!”
Like a storm, he busies himself with the tent and, this time, successfully begins to put up the supports. Shin-ah leaves to aid him, picking up the tarp and attempting to set up some sort of hut-like shelter..
“Ah, you don’t really need to…” Yona is distracted by Ao tugging at her sleeve, indicating something important. In her squirrel hands is an acorn the size of a human thumb, and Ao presents it as if it is a holy offering. Yona pets her amiably.
Sensing the hospitality in the air, Hak plunks opposite the fire and Jae-ha hovers over Yun kindling the cooking fire, smelling the slowly singing lean meat. They haven’t eaten a full meal since the night before because of all the traveling they needed to get done by today, and their desperation shows by the tensing at the smell of frying rabbit invading the forest air.
Yona feels an onslaught of guilt.
“Wow, Miss, this is a pretty one, isn’t it?” croons Zeno out of nowhere, and she zones in the moment he plucks out a miniature item from her bag. “Zeno wonders what it is. Is it the Miss’s?”
It is a wooden box small enough to fit Ao into, simply decorated and faintly colored—remnants of an age that does not exist anymore.
Her mouth turns parched at the sight but she answers, “Yes. It’s mine.”
“What’s in it?” queries Yun, half-distracted from cooking. He isn’t paying much attention either way, so he doesn’t see when Yona imperceptibly clenches her fists, still caked with drying blood. No one does, really, save for Hak, who keeps his eyes locked on her the moment the box is brought up into question. She disregards him.
“A gift.” On her own volition, she plows on, “You may open it, if you'd like.”
It is a test. A challenge for herself.
Zeno pauses slightly before he unlocks the measly latch and peers inside. He makes no sign of recognition nor surprise, but smiles gradually—a small smile, as if he had guessed what was inside all along and only confirmed his belief. Jae-ha appears behind Zeno at lightning speed, spotting something worthwhile of his attention. He tilts his head, examining the contents of the box.
In Zeno’s right hand lays something she hadn’t seen in months, something she hadn’t thought about in weeks. It gleamed a rich glow and the ceramic red flowers attached to the pins still shone, even after all this time.
Only one quick study is needed to guess the high price of such a hairpin, and the buyer must carefully chosen it, considering its value. Yet all that matters is that the accessory matches the scarlet of Yona’s hair.
Like the dawning sky, she thinks, despite her will power and despite building herself up to where she is now. She thinks it beyond her control and it nearly breaks her once again—just the thought of it.
Yona manages to stare at it for a full three seconds, then averts her eyes in ignominy.
“It’s very beautiful,” the Green Dragon remarks, a self-proclaimed connoisseur of gorgeous things. His gaze flickers momentarily to Yona, then inexplicably to Hak. “Why hasn’t our Yona dear ever worn this? I’m sure the sight would be stunning.”
“Seems to me like the Miss keeps it hidden away for a reason,” Zeno heeds.
Hak moves to stand and pats down his robes with purpose, attracting everyone’s awareness. “Princess, we should get you cleaned.”
Wordlessly, she nods, unmoving from her spot while Hak digs out a small ligneous bowl from the mess Zeno encouraged and pours water into it from a flask. He places it in front of her and takes her hands into his own, dipping them into the bowl.
The water is cold to the touch but Yona doesn’t flinch, not even when Hak scrubs her wrist a bit harder than he probably means to. He doesn’t meet her eyes the entire time, always facing downward.
She starts to speak again because she sees Zeno begin to put the supplies away and Jae-ha inch closer to Yun (in his own world), both noting her gloom, and she feels like she wants to prove something.
“It was a gift from someone I loved. That person no longer exists.”
I’m not sure if he ever did goes unsaid. Hak’s hold on her hands slacken, but he doesn’t let go. She is more than clean now.
“Zeno would like to ask something again, if the Miss is okay with it,” says Zeno, depositing the wooden box and what was inside gently back where he found it. She tells him it’s fine. He continues, “Zeno has just been curious these past few days and wanted to know what the Miss would’ve done if she didn’t have her dragons. Does the Miss really need us?”
His honesty and tactlessness earns a sharp glance from Jae-ha, and even Yun looks up in interest. Hak must have been battling with himself until this moment, because he finally releases her and offers a refreshing atmosphere of understanding.
Yona moves her hands from the bowl. The tips of her fingers are soft like prunes.
“I don’t need a kingdom or a throne, but I do need all of you. I told you all from the day we met I wanted you with me, as selfish as it may be. Without you, I would not have the power I need to protect the ones I love. Hak and Yun and Kija and Shin-ah and Jae-ha and Zeno—you are the ones I love. There’s no way, not in any other life, I would ever think differently.”
The moon tilts higher towards the stars, still weary from all the work pushing the sun out of the way, marking the end of a day and the end of an adventure. Yun serves the dinner with an iron tongue, Kija pulls out the bedspreads, Zeno sends a fervent prayer to the heavens, Shin-ah collects Ao from a muddy puddle, Jae-ha stares off into the distance, Hak finishes polishing his spear, and Yona just waits, not for anything in particular.
They ride on the faith that tomorrow, the moon will rise after the sun has set.
infinitus
“Hak—”
“You should call me ‘Hak-sempai’ now that you’re my underclassmen, you know.”
“Oh, Hak, don’t be like that. I won’t mind if Yona called me by my first name at school.”
“No, I guess it makes sense, even though saying ‘Hak-sempai’ is pretty weird. How about I just call Hak, ‘Hak-sempai’ and Soo-Won, ‘President Soo-Won’ when we see each other in school, but when we’re alone like this I’ll just call you like I usually do?”
“I see. Then it looks like we should get alone like this often then, isn’t that right, Hak-sempai?”
“Woah, President Soo-Won, that’s a good idea. No wonder you’re president!”
“…Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?”
“Your grandpa is really funny, Hak.”
“I guess. He hits me a lot though.”
“Yona, do you like steamed buns?”
“Steamed…buns?”
“My mother makes the best. I could ask if she could make some for you.”
“Yes, please! Steamed buns sounds good.”
"You haven’t even been told what it is yet, you know. How could you know how good it sounds?”
“Soo-Won! Hak is rude."
“I am not! Soo-Won, she’s being annoying again!"
“You two…what am I going to do with you?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Arg—Soo-Won! Don’t just appear out of nowhere like that!”
“I didn’t. I called your name a few times but... Hak, aren’t you supposed to be on my guard duty right now?”
“Hmph. I am. I just got distracted thinking about something."
“My wondrous good looks?”
“What? No!”
“…Yona’s wondrous good looks?”
“…No. Soo-Won, what do you want?”
“I was just concerned for your well being, is all. You’ve been in a slump all morning, which is odd, considering what we woke up to.”
“I think that’s it, actually. What Yona said, about only needing us…I know it’s something I should be happy about—“
“Deliriously.”
“—but I can’t see it that one-sidedly. Sometimes I feel as though we’re holding her back in some way. She’s never even been outside the capital. The world she knows right now is so small. I wish I could just pry it wider for her to see. To her, we’re her everything…I never thought saying those words would come out negatively.”
“I know. It burdens me to think you and I are barriers for her growth. Though, I must say it’s only my selfishness speaking once again—for now, we do as she wants. I may wish to do many things for her, as you do, but the only way for Yona’s world to truly change is if she initiates it herself. I’m sure that day won’t be far off.”
“…”
“You know, Hak, the truth of the matter is that I don’t deserve her. Or you. Don’t give me that look; I can dedicate all my life alleviating lives for the people in my kingdom, but there is nothing I can do to repay what you and Yona have given me. I do not know where to begin to start making myself worthy of either of you.”
“Well, good news is, neither do I—deserve you two, I mean.” A short bark of laughter. “Maybe in another universe?”
The sliver of a smile. “Yes. Maybe in another universe.”