Pink Hair and a Sister's Wish
Dokgo Ryeong felt like she was about to lose her mind.
Even after the Bone and Body Reconstitution her red hair already made her look like some raving lunatic, yet she had been holding it together. Now, though, her hair had turned pink.
“What the fuck…. What kind of crazy shit is this?”
Watching the flustered Dokgo Ryeong, Wi Ilcheong spoke.
“… It seems I may have misdiagnosed the young lady’s condition.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Perhaps… the young lady does not have the Nine Yin Meridian Block.”
“What?”
Wi Ilcheong crossed his arms and sank into thought.
“… It appears the young lady has something similar to meridian blockage, yet different.”
“Then what is it?”
“… How would I know?”
“You little shit…!”
As Dokgo Ryeong erupted in curses, Eun Gwanyeong rose and wiggled her fingers coyly.
“Huh? What did I say about using bad words, hmm?”
“No… come on! This f….”
“What was that?”
“…”
Dokgo Ryeong began clawing at her own hair.
“Kyaaaaaaak!!!”
“P-please calm yourself, Young Lady Dokgo. There is a way…”
“What way?!”
“… South of Shandong, in Jiangsu, lies the Divine Doctor’s Valley.”
“Ah… those disciples of the ‘Divine Doctor’?”
“Yes. I have some connection with them as well, and since it lies on the road to Botamun, why not stop by and confirm the exact nature of the condition?”
“…”
Dokgo Ryeong was irritated by the sudden change in her body, yet she forced herself to endure it.
… Come to think of it, there was the Divine Doctor.
One of the few people Dokgo Jin had known was the Divine Doctor. If it was him, he might explain her present state and find a way to return her to a man’s body. Rather than traveling all the way to Tianzhu, perhaps she could discover a method to become male again without that journey?
The thought settled, and Dokgo Ryeong nodded.
“… Fine, let’s do that. It’s on the way anyway.”
“Yes. Then shall we share a meal now?”
“Meal my ass. You think I can swallow food right now?!”
“Oh! Are you getting angry right now~?”
“Kyaaaaaak!!!”
Every time Eun Gwanyeong opened her mouth, Dokgo Ryeong felt she would go mad from sheer frustration.
Fuck… I’m definitely going to wreck that bitch! Definitely!!
She feared that opening her mouth would invite a repeat of yesterday’s humiliation, yet staying silent wounded her pride. Remaining here any longer felt like it would bring her madness roaring back, so at last Dokgo Ryeong strode outside.
Watching her leave, Wi Ilcheong turned to Baekri Sohyeon.
“Haa… Young Lady Baekri. Please look after Young Lady Dokgo.”
“… Okay.”
As Baekri Sohyeon followed Dokgo Ryeong out, Wi Ilcheong lifted Eun Gwanyeong onto his lap and asked,
“So what exactly happened to make that Young Lady Dokgo so meek?”
“Hehehe…, so you see~…”
“Oh ho….”
Wi Ilcheong listened to every word of Eun Gwanyeong’s tale with keen interest, missing nothing.
“… Ryeong Mae.”
“What.”
“… Did something happen?”
“Nothing, fuck.”
“… There you go again. You didn’t use bad words in front of Gwanyeong…”
“Haa….”
Arriving at a quiet open lot, Dokgo Ryeong shook out her arm and drew the soft sword.
Clang.
“Let’s move our bodies a bit. I just want to swing a sword without thinking.”
“… Okay.”
Baekri Sohyeon faced her and drew her own blade.
“… Shall I yield the first move?”
“Heh… heheh….”
“… Huh?”
A hollow laugh escaped Dokgo Ryeong.
Ah… maybe I should just bite my tongue and die.
In the Murim, offering to yield the first move meant “I am stronger than you, so you attack first.” It was the sort of courtesy a senior who had learned martial arts earlier might show. Dokgo Ryeong was now a weak creature pitied even by a young woman like Baekri Sohyeon. Just last night she had been toyed with by Eun Gwanyeong. The only mercy was that these people bore her no malice. If she ever met those who did…
… I don’t see a way to survive.
Tang Clan Leader Dokjon. Moyong Clan Leader Geomjon. If she crossed paths with them, Dokgo Ryeong would already be dead before she could so much as twitch a finger.
Somehow, quickly… regain my power…
At that moment Baekri Sohyeon pulled her from her brooding.
“… Shall I go first, Ryeong Mae?”
“Ah… sorry. I was thinking of something else for a moment…”
“Okay….”
Dokgo Ryeong settled into stance, and Baekri Sohyeon charged.
“Haaht!”
Blocking the clean, unadorned strike, Dokgo Ryeong felt a flicker of admiration.
Not a single excess motion, perfectly upright. Ah….
Seeing herself still evaluating from on high drew a self-mocking smile.
Am I Dokgo Jin, or am I Dokgo Ryeong?
Was this body merely a temporary vessel, or a new flesh she would carry for the rest of her life? Even while appreciating Baekri Sohyeon’s swordsmanship, Dokgo Ryeong sank into thought.
… Am I a man, or a woman? If I can never return to being male?
She deflected a sharp thrust and swung her arm. Baekri Sohyeon sprang back, watching for an opening to press in again.
… Should I consider the strong Dokgo Jin already dead… Am I now the weak one?
The thought struck her, and suddenly something felt wrong.
“… Why aren’t you attacking, Dummy?”
“Rye… Ryeong Mae.”
“Huh?”
“… Why did you suddenly get so strong?”
“What?”
She stared at Baekri Sohyeon in disbelief until the other woman spoke again.
“… Your movements got really good?”
“Eh?”
“… Why can’t I land a single hit?”
“…”
Thinking back, even while her mind had wandered she had not allowed a single one of Baekri Sohyeon’s attacks to touch her.
“Yeah?”
“… Did something really happen, Ryeong Mae? Your hair color suddenly changed too…”
“… Hey, Dummy.”
“Sohyeon Unnie.”
“Whatever. Stand guard for a bit.”
“Hiiing…. Okay.”
As Baekri Sohyeon took position beside her, Dokgo Ryeong sat cross-legged on the ground. At the inn she had been too flustered to examine herself properly; now she could leisurely check her body’s condition.
… The minor meridians have come alive.
The major meridians remained blocked save for the Yang Heel Vessel, yet the lesser channels had revived. And most striking of all…
The Yin energy can circulate?
She could now move the Yin energy that had sat stubbornly in her lower dantian. During the spar just now she had, without thinking, drawn up internal power the way she always used to and fought with it.
… No. Why is this suddenly moving?
From the day she became a woman she had tried, every single day, to stir the Yin energies locked in her lower dantian, and every attempt had failed—until now, when the energy simply moved. Though she could circulate only through the single Yang Heel Vessel, the energy was so pure she could wield enough internal power to face ordinary first-rate warriors without difficulty.
Even more astonishing was the Yang energy.
… The Yin energy isn’t devouring the Yang energy?
The Yang energy seated in the Baihui point and the Yin energy resting in the Huiyin point no longer warred with each other. Before, the merest contact would send the Yin energy berserk, flooding the Baihui until she dared not circulate at all; now the two simply ignored one another. They still refused to fuse and continued to play separately, yet the balance between upper and lower dantian was something to celebrate.
… What a bizarre body I’ve become.
No internal energy filled the middle dantian, yet the upper dantian—said to open only after the Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown—was already open, while the lower dantian, supposedly too unstable to hold power, brimmed with pure Yin energy.
Dokgo Ryeong opened her eyes, rose, and tested her new achievement.
“… Ryeong Mae?”
“Stay back for a bit.”
“… Okay.”
She drew the soft sword and let it hang limp toward the ground.
“Hoo….”
She steadied her breath, honed her mind to a razor edge—
Whoosh.
She swung the blade.
Originally a saber art meant for a demon-slaying blade the size of an average adult woman, yet Dokgo Ryeong paid the difference no mind and unfolded the forms with the soft sword.
… It works!
Performing a saber art with a sword left many awkward gaps, yet of the ten forms she could still execute five.
“… What’s that? It doesn’t seem like a sword art…”
Baekri Sohyeon asked from the side. Dokgo Ryeong grinned.
“Saber of Asura Rakshasa.”
“Ah… the Mad Demon elder’s exclusive martial art?”
“Yeah. Hoo….”
After a single full sequence her body was soaked in sweat.
“I can use internal energy now.”
“You said the Yang Heel Vessel opened before?”
“… Not that. The internal energy gathered in the lower dantian moves as I will.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. So, Dummy, I have a request.”
“Huh?”
Dokgo Ryeong bowed her head to Baekri Sohyeon.
“Please teach me the Shoot the Sun Sword Art.”
“… Isn’t what you just did enough?”
“No.”
Even with internal energy she remained far too weak against those who hunted Dokgo Ryeong. Or rather, those who hunted her were simply that strong.
I will learn everything I can learn. If there is any method I can prepare, I will spare no means!
She had no intention of being satisfied merely with the ability to draw internal power. She wanted, somehow, to reclaim the martial arts of her prime. Moreover, after becoming a woman she had realized the Saber of Asura Rakshasa no longer suited this body. A saber art built around slashing had hard limits; she needed thrusting. She needed every possibility a sword could offer.
Dokgo Ryeong bowed once more.
“… Teach me the Shoot the Sun Sword Art. Just the forms that include thrusting are fine…”
“Okay, sure.”
“That easily?”
“I told you. I’d teach you.”
“…”
When she lifted her head, Baekri Sohyeon stood backlit by the sun, her expression hard to read. Yet Dokgo Ryeong could still see the warm smile on her lips.
“… Thank you.”
Feeling the bearing of a true adult from Baekri Sohyeon, Dokgo Ryeong offered a sincere fist salute. Martial arts were never easily obtained, nor casually taught to others.
Biinbujeon—do not transmit to the unworthy.
The maxim of the predecessors not to pass techniques to those lacking character rose unbidden in her mind.
“… Are you really all right teaching me that?”
“Huh? Why?”
“You know what I’ll do once I learn it.”
“Why are you like this, Ryeong Mae? You seem short on confidence today.”
Baekri Sohyeon stroked Dokgo Ryeong’s hair. Normally she would have shaken the hand off with a snarl about not treating her like a child, yet the affection in the touch held her still.
“… You said you’d smash the Murim?”
“…”
“You said you’d become the Mad Demon again, right?”
“Yeah. I will.”
“Then that’s fine.”
As if she had read Dokgo Ryeong’s thoughts, Baekri Sohyeon continued.
“Biinbujeon. It means don’t casually pass techniques to people who lack character. Have you heard it?”
“No way I haven’t.”
“But you know… there are a lot of people in the world who can’t keep that saying.”
“… Yeah.”
“But Ryeong Mae… I don’t think you’re that kind of person.”
Baekri Sohyeon took Dokgo Ryeong’s hand.
“I’ll teach you diligently.”
“… Thank you.”
Dokgo Ryeong’s chest ached. Just what was she, that they would place such trust in her?
“So you know…”
“Huh?”
“… Unnie.”
“…”
Ah, fuck.
She had forgotten about that.
“Call me Unnie from now on. Got it?”
“… Do I really have to?”
“In the Murim you can’t ignore seniority.”
“No… fuck….”
By seniority I’m higher than even your father rose to the tip of her tongue.
“Tsk. Ryeong Mae, is it okay to use such bad words to Unnie? No?”
“…”
Dokgo Ryeong’s body began to tremble. Seeing her face flush, Baekri Sohyeon felt a flicker of worry yet pressed on; she had no intention of yielding on this point.
“Try following. Un. Nie.”
“Un…. Kugh…!”
Dokgo Ryeong opened and closed her mouth again and again, clenching her teeth. Calling someone “Unnie” once was nothing. Since the woman was offering to teach her martial arts—and was no Tang Clan bastard—she had thought she could endure this much humiliation. Yet the moment she tried to speak, her tongue refused to move. Something deep inside Dokgo Ryeong fiercely rejected the word.
Then Baekri Sohyeon released her hand.
“… If you hate it that much, you don’t have to call it.”
“Huh…?”
When Baekri Sohyeon gave up so readily, Dokgo Ryeong’s face brightened—only to harden again at the sight of the other woman’s dejected expression.
“… You know, I’ve never once been called by name by people of the same sect.”
“Th… that so?”
A heavy topic had appeared out of nowhere; she tried to change the subject, but it was already too late. Baekri Sohyeon was slow-spoken, yet swift when it mattered.
“Always just the sect leader’s daughter…. Even my father never called me by name. And that so-called father wasn’t even my family…”
“I… I see. But now…”
“So I want a family. But…”
Baekri Sohyeon stroked her lower abdomen with a downcast face.
“… I can’t have Wi Oppa’s child.”
“…”
“So at least I wanted a little sister…. Whether sworn sisters or martial sisters…”
Only then did Dokgo Ryeong understand why Baekri Sohyeon clung so fiercely to that trivial form of address. And at the same time she felt she would go mad.
No, fuck…. Even so…! But… this fuck!!!
Her mind churned. “Just call her Unnie once, no big deal” and “But this is a bit much…” collided violently inside her head—until Baekri Sohyeon delivered the finishing blow. Grasping Dokgo Ryeong’s finger with slightly moist eyes, she whispered,
“… You don’t have to really think of me as family, so just once…”
“…”
Dokgo Ryeong finally gave in. When someone came this far, the one who refused was the true bastard.
In the end she exhaled roughly, face dyed scarlet, shoulders trembling as she fought down the shame, and forced her mouth open.
“U…”
“Sohyeon. With the name.”
“So… Sohyeon Un…”
“Huh?”
“… Sohyeon Unnie.”