16 | Identity of The Heart

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

            - = - = - = -

        | Shin-Ah |

            I had never been one for needless altercations, but the events surrounding our temporary inhabitance of Shiroi Hana had me recalculating aspects of myself that I never knew existed.

            Meeting Yona had forever changed me. I'd been moved from a life of seclusion to one filled with unlikely friendships and beautiful horizons that saw no end. Words that'd been locked away for so long had begun to escape me without warning, and I'd managed to find companionship in a group of people who were marked with ancient powers much like my own.

            My promise to protect Yona and her wishes had been chiseled into my every action, my every breath. But the solidity of that promise had begun to waver with the unworldly addition of her.

            I'd never been intrigued by something so uncomplicated in the entirety of my existence. It had little to do with her unexpected role as a Dragon or her ability to rouse life itself from the tips of her fingers.

She was just simply . . . Different. And for some incomprehensible reason, I couldn't seem to steer my mind away from the fact.

            I don't know how to describe it, I fitfully realized as I peered down at the silent and lithe girl walking in front of me. We were still on the second level of the brothel, following any sign of the drunken soldier's passing. I knew good and well that my thoughts should've been directed toward the situation at hand, but it was almost impossible to not think about her after our most recent exchange of words.  She cares little of herself, and the moments where she does openly express her fears it's always out of consideration for someone else . . . Not many are capable of such selflessness.

Frustrating. I wasn't sure why, but it was frustrating to see her live without much consideration for her own wellness.

     I knew that it was incredibly selfish of me to feel such a way. I also knew that my personal input had little to do with her situation, but I couldn't fight the frightfully persistent part of me that sought to keep my companions out of harms way. She was just as important to me as Kija and Yoon and everyone else in the group were, so wasn't it only natural that I be concerned for her?

"I think they're in this room," she said in a soft subdued voice as we approached the sealed entrance of a private guest room. The second floor wasn't nearly as noisy as the first floor had been, but the boisterous sound of laughter and clinking glasses could be heard from the opening of the stairwell. "I saw this screen slide shut once we turned down this hallway . . . "

"Is the room next to this one occupied?" I asked with equal volume discretion.

She walked a little ways ahead and peered to her right. She looked back to me with a small shake of her head. "No, it isn't . . . Shall we enter?"

"Yes," I answered with lackluster enthusiasm. "Then we can follow through with the rest of the plan."

"Okay," she muttered as I walked over to the opened paper screen. When I was standing right before her she appeared to be fidgeting. Only a moment passed before she glanced up at me, her eccentric blue eyes rounded with curiosity. "Will you not enter first?"

            "Do you wish for me to do so?" I asked plainly. When she nodded in return to my query I soundlessly stepped into the room.

            She followed me in as I quickly evaluated the size and contents of the room. The window, just as we'd projected it to be, was aligned with the roof of the building next to it. Although a pesky set of blinds were shielding anyone from looking in, I knew that Yona would fit through just fine once we removed the coverings and signaled her entrance.

            When I looked to the very center of the room I found a single bedroll laying on the dark wooden floor. Next to it was a very low table that had a bottle and a small drinking dish placed neatly upon it. Most of the room was consumed by darkness, the corner where the solitary lantern was located being the lonely exception. I took a few strides toward the window and offhandedly noticed the silly shadows my mask casted onto the wall opposite of the light source.

            The horns make me look like some sort of bedtime monster, I lamented with little to no amusement. I hated the comparison the moment I made it, for it was stained by an ugly reality that I faced every day. Who am I jesting here? A bedtime monster would be plenty more harmless than the beast I've always been . . . I'm not sure why I bother conjuring such thoughts in the first place.

            Feeling ridiculous, I busied myself in the task of removing the window coverings as quietly as I could. The presence of the Dragon of Life resonated strongly behind me, a glowing pink light that I had yet to grow accustomed to. I assumed she was awaiting orders of some kind but I decidedly ignored the possibility.

            Leaving her to her own devices wasn't a crime. I trusted that she had a mind of her own that could form ideas better than anything I could offer her.

            A few stale moments passed and she finally moved. I didn't have to turn my head to know she was pressing her ear to the wall that was shared between our room and the one of interest. At first she was on her feet, but she crouched down toward the floor after a short while, her ear still pressed to the wall in question.

            It wasn't until I managed to remove the bamboo blinds that I heard her whisper something. It sounded like a question but I hardly heard it. I turned to look at her.

            "What do you hear?" I asked lowly as I carefully brought the coverings to the floor next to me. "Are they talking?"

            "They were," she whispered to me with a short glance before averting her gaze back to the floor in front of her. "But now . . . "

            I squinted my eyes at her inability to finish her explanation. She couldn't see that, of course, so I used my words to find clarification. "What do you hear?"

            She fidgeted again and I steadily realized she did not want to answer me for a reason that was nothing short of troubling.

             Great. This evening has already had its fair share of mishaps. All we really need is another one to top it off . . .

            Much to my own confusion, I was a little dismayed by her selective silence. Had she not trusted me enough to share her words? I'd thought we were finally beginning to develop a better connection, but what good would that presumption do me if she refused to speak her mind?

            "Well," she swallowed, looking perfectly horrified. "It's definitely not in accordance with our goal of receiving information, that's for certain . . . "

            "Take your ear away from the wall and come here," I told her outwardly. She followed the former half of the order but remained in her crouched position. Confused and almost miffed, I extended my hand in her direction and spoke again. "Come."

            "I can't," she said through the midst of a weary sigh.

            "Why?"

            It was then that she decided to look me in the eye. I couldn't help but notice how her pupils were dilated. I assumed the slight enlargement was a product of fear, for her breathing was growing uneven and her brow was furrowed as it always did whenever she was deep in thought.

            I was preparing myself to ask her yet another question when she opened her mouth to speak in a hushed and hurried manner;

            "I'm stuck."

            "You're what?" My voice fluctuated without my permission.

            "I can't move," she said in the most vulnerable voice I'd ever heard from her. "The hem of this dress is caught on something, and I fear that if I move I'll be without clothing."

            "You can't reach the part of the dress that is snagged?"

            "I'm afraid not, it is too far behind me. If I turn around the dress will . . . "

            I could feel the inner workings of my mind come to a painfully slow stop as I tried- and most definitely failed- to prioritize my thoughts.

            We were in the brothel. We had made it to our desired position within said brothel. Yona should've been on the roof opposite to our window, waiting for a signal that would lead to the crux of our mission. But the signal had yet to be given because my partner had landed herself in a predicament that had less to do with our spying and more to do with the preservation of her modesty.

            What to do . . . What to do . . . My eyes flitted over her crouched body, not fancying the look of sheer worriment wrenched across her kind face. The dress was still on her, so I supposed the situation could've been worse. While I was one to stare, I knew when to shield my eyes and my reflexes would've caught on fast enough to give her privacy . . . At least I thought so.

            Shaking my head, I redirected my attention to my poor pink haired companion. Even though her face was partially concealed by a white cloth, I could easily see the heat flooding the surface of both her porcelain cheeks. The long strand of hair that'd been held back by the ministrations of a small pin revealed a similar rosiness on the tip of her left ear. She was trembling and horribly bothered by her misfortune. Since nobody else was around, I was undoubtedly going to be her rescuer.

            "Don't worry," I said tonelessly as I stepped away from the window and over the dispelled bamboo blinds. "I'll assist you."

            "Th-thank you," she murmured through her blatant discomfort. "I'll remain still."

            The room was eerily silent once I crouched down behind her. Nothing could be heard except for the occasional spell of laughter from another room or the slight creak of the floorboard beneath me as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

            I looked down at my friend's borrowed dress and easily spotted the problem. The dark silky material had been captured by an upturned part of the floor moulding. It probably wouldn't have been a problem for her if the wood hadn't caught the fabric that rested just below her . . . Bottom.

            This doesn't feel right, I quickly realized as I imagined my hand reaching for the snag. I was almost glad that the room was so dark. I would be able to see everything that transpired, but she wouldn't have to go through such an embarrassing misery. It would be different if Yona was the one solving this problem, but no. I took responsibility for it just as any of the other Dragons would have.

            The idea perturbed me. Though I had no clue why, I knew that seeing Kija or Jae-Ha help her with such a predicament would only rattle my patience. I wondered why I was so certain about events that were never going to happen . . .

            "Shin-Ah?" she slightly turned her head in my direction, the smooth waterfall of pink rippling along her back with the motion. "Did you get it?"

            "Not yet," I answered back, feeling quite dull for spacing out so easily. I was usually attentive, but here I was getting caught up in my own mental narrative. "Don't move."

            "Alright," she said quietly, and I carefully reached for the marred material. I avoided touching her as I moved my fingers in the direction of the snag. All I had to do was pull it back a little. Then she would be released and we could carry on with whatever it was we were doing exactly.

I was just about to bring the material way from the moulding when a thunderously loud thump from the right of us sent me spiraling out of balance. I thought I'd grown used to boisterous surprises; traveling with the others had desensitized me to most things rambunctious, but the noise was so close and timed so poorly that my instincts spoke out before my mind could.

My eyes were wide open as I subconsciously jolted forward, my arms spread out in hopes of avoiding a complete collision with the floor. It wasn't until I heard a starkly feminine yelp and an obnoxious clatter that I remembered what- or who, exactly- lied between my body and the space ahead of me.

A grunt escaped the depths of my throat as the flat of my stomach came in blunt contact with something hard and unmoving. It was her hip, I realized with a start. I wasn't sure when she'd curled onto her side, but the angle (much to my relief) freed her dress from the snag without any unnecessary removal. After blinking away my initial shock I realized yet another concerning reality.

My mask fell off, My eyes snapped shut the moment the revelation registered in my head. It hit the ground just a few seconds ago. She couldn't have seen my eyes, right?

"Are you alright . . . ?" Her delicate voice creeped into my ears. All I could see was darkness, but I could seamlessly imagine her concerned expression, honest and genuine as the rest of her.

            "I'm fine. How about yourself?" I asked numbly.

            "I'm okay," she said almost breathlessly and I felt myself huff a small sigh of relief.

            My nerves had become a frenzy of sorts since my mask wasn't within arms reach. I assumed she hadn't caught a glimpse of my eyes. She hadn't said anything about them and she wasn't stiff with shock. I'd yet to grow accustomed to the reactions of those who saw my eyes. It seemed to vary from person to person, but it wasn't hard for me to register the stench of fear that never failed to follow whatever poor soul that fell victim to my accursed eyes.

            There was a moment of indecisiveness on my part as she and I both remained in the same position, her being trapped beneath both of my stabilizing arms. I still didn't know what in the other room had caused such a loud disturbance, and I was far too fazed by my vulnerability to pay anything much mind.

            All thoughts and feelings escaped me when she spoke to me again, her voice clear just as it'd always been.

            "They're golden . . . Your eyes."

            She saw them.

            I didn't know what to do or say. My eyes were still sealed to a close but every part of my body was screaming at me to do something. Anything to assure her I wasn't a coward and was capable of protecting her, even if that meant protecting her from myself.

My instincts hit me like a tidal wave as I tried to move away from her. She isn't safe, I kept reminding myself. I don't have my mask on, and she's too close to my face. I could hurt her. I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt anyone-

"Don't run away," warm fingers brushed over my cheeks as an unwavering voice filled my pounding ears, stilling me and my efforts of retreat. "Why are you afraid?"

"I'm dangerous," out came my dry response. I was surprised I still had the sense to breath let alone talk. "I have little control over my powers . . . So I conceal them."

"That's what I believed about my own powers for so many years, but I was fortunate enough to be told otherwise," she said so quietly that I almost didn't hear her. The fingers that were so delicately placed against my skin moved to the area beneath my eyes, over the crimson markings that carried a lifetime of sadness. "Gold suits you. I'm not sure why, but I couldn't imagine your eyes being any other color than that. They carry a warmth that rids me of worry . . . I may know little of your powers as a Dragon, but I know you wouldn't hurt your friends. Not with eyes that hold nothing but kindness."

            "What makes you say that? How are you so certain?" I asked numbly and I heard her stir beneath me.

            "I'm not sure how to describe it . . . I just know. Being here with you and the others has showed me plenty of things. Whenever I'm with you, I begin to understand what true comradeship means."

            "You don't fear me?"

            "No."

            "You're not hurt?"

            "Not actually, but I am hurt that you refuse to open your eyes again," she said, her disappointment fully disclosed. "I promise I won't stare . . . "

            What shall I do? I wondered to myself for the thousandth time that evening. I'm not fully confident in my control just yet . . . But she's not startled by what she's seen so far. Maybe she's someone who can understand all of me.

            "I'll open my eyes, but only on one condition," I told her without truly knowing my own intentions.

            "Alright," she paused for a moment. "What is it?"

            "Let me give you a name."

            Her silence spoke volumes as I tried to grasp the sheer boldness of my request. Since when had I been a giver of names? Yes, Yona had been the one to name me, but she was our practical ring leader. I was a Dragon, and the Dragon of Life was my equal, so what right did I have to decide something so incredibly important for someone I knew very little about?

            "I agree to these terms," she said tersely before releasing my face from her hands and soundly righting herself from the floor. "So what do you want to do first?"

            "Huh?" I blanked.

            "Do you want to name me before opening your eyes, or would you prefer the opposite order?" She asked, and once again my nerves spiked.

            I couldn't recall a time where I'd been so socially troubled, and that was quite the memorable fact considering my long standing record of awkward encounters. So, instead of answering her tactfully put question, I skipped all formalities and pushed the conversation to its brink.

            "Chin-Sun," I muttered right as I opened my eyes.

            She was sitting there, much closer than I'd imagined, with her hands folded in her lap. The first thing I noticed about her was the softness of her gaze as it met mine. So kind and full of wonder. Something in my chest stirred when I realized she was looking straight at me; the me that didn't need a mask to stow away the feature that ruled my very existence.

            I swallowed, not quite believing what was transpiring at that very moment as I opened my mouth to speak again. "I think that would be a good name for you . . . Chin-Sun," I repeated.

            "Is there a reason you chose it?" She asked tentatively, the stars in her eyes shimmering and dancing all at once as they sought my own. "The name, I mean."

            "I think it suits your way of viewing the world as it is . . . A close friend of mine had once described the meaning behind the name to me after I'd heard it in passing," I looked away during my bleak explanation before gathering the courage to face her completely again. "Chin-Sun is a person who seeks truth and goodness in everything. Even though you've been exposed to so many undue things, I've watched you shine light on a countless number of darkened situations. It's . . . refreshing."

"Chin-Sun," she parroted the name after a momentous pause. I couldn't explain why, but hearing her say

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net