The First
When Eunha was a child, she once saw someone burying grains of rice in the earth. It struck her as so strange that she asked why anyone would do such a thing.
"If you do this, the grains grow and come back as far more grain than you planted."
"And when is that?"
"In autumn."
"Why not just eat them now?"
Young Eunha tilted her head, and the adult—taking it for the ordinary puzzlement of a child who did not yet grasp the idea of later—only laughed and said,
"The joy of the harvest is greater than the joy of eating them now."
But that was not what Eunha had been wondering.
There was always grain somewhere under heaven. If their house had none, the neighbors did. If the neighbors had none, the next village did.
So why not simply eat that? Why bother saving what you could eat right now?
If they wouldn't give it, you took it. If they tried to stop you from taking it, you made sure they couldn't. So why?
She had believed she would never, in her whole life, understand the hearts of people who did things like that.
Then again, she had never been able to understand anyone else's heart either.
But in this moment—surrounded by brilliant lights and noise, holding Hoeyeon's hands tight in her own—
Eunha thought she understood that feeling, just a little.
So this is how you grew.
This big, this beautiful, this strong—this is how you grew.
Ah. Ahhh.
I want to taste it. The joy of the harvest.
"Disciple. Will you take up your sword?"
Eunha let go of Hoeyeon's hands and grinned, bright and open.
"Huh? Go on."
"Master…"
"Hm? What is it?"
Hoeyeon swallowed and steadied her breath.
"Not here."
"Why? Why, why, why?"
"There are too many people around. They'll get caught in it."
Looking into the hunger in Eunha's eyes, refusing the fight was impossible.
But at the very least, she had to keep innocent people from becoming casualties.
"Hm? Ahh, is that so?"
Eunha hummed, thinking hard.
"But no. Draw your sword. Before I cut down the ones standing on either side of you."
Eunha was smiling sweetly.
It was a threat made in full knowledge that Gayul and Arang were anything but ordinary to Hoeyeon.
Hoeyeon brought a trembling hand to the hilt of her sword.
"Must we truly do this?"
"Hey. This is what I've lived for."
"…Understood. Gayul, Arang—I'm counting on you."
"Yes, yes, that's it. Mm, krrrh—!!!"
Eunha thumped her sword against her shoulder.
"Shall we begin on three?"
"Whatever you like!"
Gayul and Arang exchanged a look with Hoeyeon and drew back to give them space.
"Three. Two."
Hoeyeon settled her breathing. Adjusted her grip on the sword.
"One."
It was something no one could have prepared for.
Something no one could have prepared for. Who would ever imagine that a dead demon would come back to life wanting to cross blades with Hoeyeon?
Gayul raised a vast hemispherical barrier centered on the space where master and disciple were locking swords—so that nothing inside could harm what lay beyond.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, boulders and gravel slammed into the barrier wall at cannon-shot speeds, and every time they did, Gayul clenched her teeth.
"How long can you hold it?"
"Ten minutes."
Even without the rampaging force inside, sustaining a barrier of this size alone for ten minutes was something only a vanishing few among the great masters of magic could manage.
And precisely because of that, she could not hold it that long. She could not afford to have her face known in connection with a disturbance like this.
"Stay still."
Arang stepped up behind Gayul, who had both hands pressed to the ground channeling her magic. Gayul felt the magic stir and move.
"I have veiled thy face and this one's own. Those within cannot reach us."
"Understood. My thanks."
"Think nothing of it. Magic of concealment and transformation is among the specialties of the Fox-kin."
The urgency that had been crushing Gayul's chest lightened at once, and she turned her attention to the fight inside. The moment a victor was decided, she meant to snatch Hoeyeon and run.
"…How lovely."
The words slipped from Arang, who had been watching as well.
"…Truly. I am of the same mind."
Gayul answered.
The beauty of the sword was this.
The beauty of the martial way was this.
As if to flaunt itself, to bare itself before the world, to carve itself into the eyes of those who watched, into their hearts, to set a fire burning there.
The battle between swordsman and swordsman was cold, glittering, and beautiful.
The heart is not remembered.
Language is not remembered. That was left behind.
The reason for fighting is not remembered. That was cut away.
There is me, and there is my sword, and there is the enemy, and there is the enemy's sword.
The very concept of an exchange—blades meeting, then parting—melted away. What met was what parted, and what parted was what met.
There are no words. Those melted and vanished along with the exchanges.
And yet something was conveyed.
Joy. In Eunha's eyes, Hoeyeon saw joy above all else.
Being able to fight someone of equal strength was making her glad.
Having what she herself had taught turned against her was a blazing pleasure.
Watching Hoeyeon—who had kept advancing even after her death—use techniques she had never seen before was a happiness that boiled over.
In Hoeyeon's eyes, Eunha saw gratitude.
You took me in.
There was no one left to fight. They were all gone. So I thought I'd try raising one. That was all.
But I needed someone to take me in. Because you were there, Master, I was able to grow like this.
What did I ever do for you? Besides teaching you the sword, I didn't do a single thing.
You held a wish for me. In this entire world, you alone wished something of me—and when I moved toward what you wished, you were glad.
Eunha laughed.
And that's supposed to be something?
Without that, I would have become a beggar, or a courtesan, or a bandit.
Hey. I'm not even human. Don't know why, but I was born not-human. You're going to thank something like that?
But to me, you were my master.
I just needed someone to fight. If there'd been a talented kid before I met you, I'd have grabbed that one instead.
Then why didn't you fight me?
You were still green, right up until I died. No point eating something half-ripe. Just ruins the palate.
You were always a terrible liar.
Heh, wha—
"—t!"
There was no telling from what moment the words had started coming out of their mouths. No way to know. They scattered between the countless exchanges of blade and blade that were melting away even in this single instant.
"If you truly never meant to fight me, then why did you keep teaching me until the very end!?"
"In case you awakened at the last second!"
"If you truly wanted nothing from me but a worthy rival, then why did you build a dojo and take other disciples!?"
"In case there was someone stronger than you!"
"Lies!"
"Is there anything you won't say to your master?"
"You say you're not human, and yet you still mean to be a master!?"
"—"
"Even if you weren't human—you were still my master! As a master, with a master's heart, you did a master's work!"
"—What are you even saying."
Hoeyeon was crying.
Swords flew, swords danced, and tears ran with them.
"Why is that one thing so hard for you to say!?"
"What one thing."
"Why is it so hard to say that you really were my master!?"
"Hoeyeon. You know what I regret most?"
"What is it?"
"Telling you my name."
The tears scattered and became stars.
"I started regretting it—thinking you might go around proudly saying the name of something that isn't human."
"I already have. Proudly. To people who knew what kind of person you were."
"So did it hurt a l—"
—ot?
They believed in me.
What's that supposed to mean.
They told me that if you were someone I respected, then at least where I was concerned, you were someone worthy of respect.
That so. Those ones from earlier, by any chance?
Yes. The ones you threatened to cut down.
Aigoo. Well. Sorry about that.
The sword ran red.
Gayul, pushed past her limit, collapsed, and the barrier shattered. The light of magic scattered like countless fireflies.
Hoeyeon's blade was driven clean through the center of Eunha's chest.
"You little brat… surpassing your master… so damn insolent…"
"Master."
"Yeah. Go on."
Eunha closed her eyes.
"Don't go around saying my name too much. People don't like it."
"Yes."
"You were the only exception in my life."
"I know."
"Insolent to the very end, you really…"
Eunha grinned. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth.
"Only when I was looking at you did I become human. Don't know why myself."
"Yes. I know."
"No one else in this world has a face I can see. Only you."
"Yes. I know that too."
"So I wanted to treat you right, at least. So you could live well even after I was gone—taught you the sword, set something up for you to inherit and make a living…"
"Yes."
"Hey. Is this what they call love, by any chance?"
"The people of the world call it love."
"Hahh… So they've been hogging something this good all to themselves. No wonder every last one of them has flowers for brains."
"Master."
"What."
"You were my first love."
"That so? I'm about to die again."
"Yes."
"What are you crying for over that, you brat. Hey. Since we're talking love—can I try just one thing before I go?"
When Hoeyeon nodded through a face ruined by tears, Eunha lowered her head.
The first kiss tasted of blood and tears.
"…Not bad."
Eunha patted the back of the one whose sword was still run through her body.
"I'm dying now."
"Yes."
"Do what you want. Don't you dare think you're sorry, or that you sinned against me… Ah, right—love a lot. This seems like a good thing, love."
"Yes."
"Don't cry too hard. You'll wreck your throat. Take care of yourself."
"Farewell, Master."
"Yeah. I loved you, Hoeyeon."
"I loved you too."