Fine, I'll Do It
STARTS!!!!!!!! NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I sat under the prepared tent, watching the sports day begin. Until last year I had stood out there on that field myself, but this year and next year it was impossible.
Even though I wasn't competing, my body tensed for no good reason, so I did a few light stretches. It hadn't even been half a year of real exercise yet, but lately I felt like my stamina had improved a little.
Of course, even if my stamina had grown, I still couldn't beat Seol-hwa, who was bouncing excitedly beside me—but the important thing was that I was getting stronger than before.
When winter break arrived I planned to persuade Father and Mother to at least let me take walks around the neighborhood. While I fretted over how exactly I would talk them into it, Seol-hwa came up beside me and started stretching in the exact same pose.
Lately her pupils had begun turning more and more turquoise. When Mother snapped a Polaroid of the two of us stretching together and showed it to us, we really did look like sisters. More precisely, brother and sister—but still.
Seol-hwa snatched the photo Mother held out, bounced around in pure delight, then carefully tucked the precious thing into her bag.
I smiled faintly at the sight of her, then turned my head back toward the field. Spotting Ryu-yeong, taller than every other kid her age, was easy.
What bothered me was the strangely shaped machine covering her mouth, and the similar-colored devices clamped here and there along her arms and legs.
Using tools at a sports day wasn't forbidden, of course. But the sight of Ryu-yeong—who had once declared she would grow strong purely on her own power—now clad in those alien machines felt jarringly unfamiliar.
I went over to Father and asked whether she had looked like that the last time he saw her. He gave a bitter smile and said the pieces had started appearing one by one from mid-September.
Mid-September was roughly a month after Ryu-yeong and her mother had visited our house—about a month after I first met her.
I watched her with quiet worry. Borrowing the power of tools wasn't wrong in itself. What worried me was that the same Ryu-yeong who had once smiled so confidently and sworn she would never rely on tools was now so cornered, mentally and physically, that she had to strap them all over her body.
Our eyes seemed to meet for a second, but she hurriedly turned her head and moved somewhere I couldn't see. I tracked her until I was left staring at empty air, then lifted my gaze to the sky.
The clouds looked denser than before. Even if rain fell, the teachers' abilities would keep the sports day running without a hitch—yet those thick storm clouds gathering as if drawn toward the field felt strangely ominous.
I had no choice but to run. I couldn't face Harang looking like this—not now. I had sworn to become strong for him, but I still wasn't strong enough to protect him.
Standing in front of him with nothing but tools plastered all over me, when I hadn't actually become strong, was no better than strapping blades onto a snake's tail.
After our eyes met and I fled to the back of the school, I checked the condition of every device and did a few light stretches. I intended to take first place in every single event today.
Winning first wouldn't earn me the right to stand at Harang's side. But someone who couldn't even manage first place had no business being there at all.
When I lifted my head to stretch, thick dark clouds filled the sky. I had always hated dark clouds. Rain soaked clothes until they clung clammy and cold; the thunder that rattled the heavens and the lightning that reminded me of a certain someone—I disliked both. Today, though, those heavy clouds felt strangely welcome.
Was I secretly hoping, deep down, that torrential rain and lightning would cancel the whole sports day? I didn't know. All I knew was that the dark clouds felt different from usual.
"Hey, Kang Ryu-yeong."
A familiar voice stabbed into my ear like a spark. I turned with a stiff face and found Harang's older sister—Senior Han Seol-hee—standing there.
I gave her a small bow of greeting and tried to leave. Senior Seol-hee thoroughly disliked me for failing to protect Harang.
I didn't ask for forgiveness. As Mom had said, I hadn't taken responsibility for my own words. I had promised to protect him, yet I was the one who put him in danger and then failed to keep him safe.
The moment I moved to walk away, familiar lightning energy shot toward my shoulder. I twisted aside, then glared at her.
Where my shoulder had been a second earlier, a thin spear of pure lightning—no wire, nothing but raw voltage—sliced through the air and scattered into nothing.
Senior Seol-hee had clearly grown a lot stronger since our last spar before summer break. But I had trained myself half to death and now had the tools backing me up, so dodging wasn't hard.
"After the tournament today. I'm nominating you. Let's go at it once—with that weird robot look of yours."
I'd heard the rumors. Senior Seol-hee had been hunting down teachers, saying that since she was going to take first in the tournament anyway, she wanted to pick one person for a special exhibition match. The teachers tried to refuse, calling it unfair to the poor opponent, but she threatened to sit the entire tournament out if they said no, and they finally caved.
It made sense. The tournament was the school's chance to show outsiders just how prestigious even an elementary school could be. If the student who could rightfully be called the strongest in the whole place refused to compete, the administration would be in a real bind.
I met her eyes, gave a small nod, and answered.
"…Fine. I'll do it."
I hadn't beaten Senior Seol-hee even once since last summer break. But I needed to test, in real combat, how much I had grown—and how practical these tools actually were.
She turned away without another word, leaving only crackling electricity hanging in the air as she vanished. Apparently these dark-cloud skies weren't pleasing only to me.
I filled every tool with water to the brim and drew a deep breath. The water now packed inside my mask would, the moment I willed it, spray across my entire body and seal my nose and mouth underwater.
It hadn't blocked my breathing yet, but something already felt stifling.
The dark clouds filling the sky finally spat out raindrops, but the massive wind dome the teachers had raised blocked every falling droplet, and the sports day continued without pause.
It looked remarkably similar to the Air Dome magic that had existed in the other world, though with several people weaving it the seams weren't perfectly clean. Even so, the imperfections weren't enough to affect the events. From that point on, the sports day became little more than a one-sided showcase for Ryu-yeong and Unnie Seol-hee.
Unnie Seol-hee was already famous as last year's tournament champion, so seniors from other classes didn't even dare charge her. Ryu-yeong, meanwhile, seemed to have regressed to the days before she learned to win with strategy and technique alongside me—she simply charged the other classes alone and flattened everyone in her path.
Her own classmates just stood behind her, blankly watching while she dismantled the opposition, doing absolutely nothing.
The rest of the audience cheered her raw strength. To my eyes it was anything but satisfying. Fighting like that, Ryu-yeong wouldn't last long; she would inevitably collapse. No matter how strong someone is, alone the limits are clear. That is why comrades are necessary—and why strategy and technique matter.
I was watching her with faintly pitying eyes when Unnie Seol-hee, chewing on a fish-shaped bun beside me, clapped a palm over my eyes and told me not to look at anything bad.
Did she also sense that Ryu-yeong's current state was wrong? I gave a bitter smile and gently pulled her hand down.
"It's okay, Unnie Seol-hee. Ryu-yeong's a strong kid. She'll find the right path soon enough."
"…That doesn't matter. It's just bad."
Her sulky pout made me chuckle. Still holding her hand, I turned back to watch Ryu-yeong.
She was trudging toward her class's spot. Her classmates simply clustered together and trailed after her like a single mass. The picture they made looked less like comrades following a hero and more like ordinary citizens warily keeping their distance from a monster.
After lunch the tournament Unnie Seol-hee was entered in finally began. Before heading to the sparring ground she hugged me a little too tightly and asked me to cheer for her, then left.
I thought, of course—who else would I cheer for? But the real meaning hit me only after she took first place, accepted the MC's microphone for the winner's comments, and pointed straight at Ryu-yeong, telling her to come up onto the sparring ground.
Most of the audience erupted in cheers at the sudden challenge. I glanced around, half-expecting the teachers to intervene, but they merely stood there wearing the same bitter smiles. I tugged lightly on Mother's sleeve and asked whether someone shouldn't stop this. She only gave the same bitter smile and told me it was a fight between girls—I should just understand.
Ryu-yeong, as if she had known all along, simply loosened up a little and walked slowly onto the sparring ground. The two of them faced each other and seemed to exchange words, but the distance was too great and the thick raindrops hammering against the Air Dome drowned out any sound before it could reach us.
Please, I thought. Let Unnie Seol-hee and Ryu-yeong both finish this without serious injury—just enough, nothing more. Then I could dismiss those ominous clouds covering the sky as nothing but my own imagination and move on.