Before Jinsoul leaves, Jungeun pulls her into a deep kiss. “Come back to me.”

“Always,” Jinsoul whispers against her lips.

(Jinsoul and Jungeun are soldiers-in-training at a military academy who really like to touch tails.)

< Inspired by Kaiser and the Nova race from MapleStory >

Jinsoul x Kim Lip

---

Perhaps it’s wishful thinking to start the year off peacefully. The second Jinsoul’s heel touches the school grounds, Haseul yanks her by the elbow and drags her around the main building. There’s a cluster of people around a marble statue in the shade of a gnarled, aged tree. They look young and frightened. Except for one. She remains in a fighting stance with her tail low to the ground, fists raised and wings stretched protectively in front of the others. The rest of the school forms an intimidating ring. Bystanders, enablers, and provokers alike leer with glinting smiles.

Jinsoul cuts across the courtyard like a hot knife through butter. Haseul stumbles behind her muttering “Be careful!” and “Don’t do anything stupid!” in a squeaky voice.

“What’s going on here?”

Heads turn, whispers spread, people jump out of her path, some even cower. They fail miserably at looking disinterested and uninvolved. A boy with a front row seat to the spectacle laughs. It comes out rougher than Jinsoul’s familiar with.

“We’re just having some fun with the newbies.”

Jinsoul examines the cluster of students in the middle. They’re dressed in ill-fitting leather armor and their book bags are strewn about the cobblestone. Her eyes flicker back to the boy who tilts his head to show only his profile. The uneven growth of his horns gives him an impish appearance. He winks at Jinsoul. The rest laugh menacingly. Relief washes over her; nobody actually intends to hurt the new students. Then anger takes over. She beats her tail on the ground once. Everyone in the vicinity flinches under her scornful gaze.

“How dare you prey on their apprehensions. They’re under enough pressure getting into the academy. Don’t you remember how it was being in their place just two years ago? You should be ashamed, all of you! And in front of the great hero Kaiser, no less,” Jinsoul hisses. She humbly turns toward the legendary warrior carved out of stone, standing tall and proud with his broadsword raised to the zenith.

More murmurings weave through the crowd. Heads dip down at Jinsoul’s striking words. The boy frowns deeply. Jinsoul can practically see his brain trying to string together an excuse. She sighs and tells everyone to get inside before the first bell rings.

“Thanks.”

Jinsoul nods at the blonde girl who seems to be the new class’ fiery de facto leader. An amused smile stretches across Jinsoul’s lips, then her eyes widen in shock. The girl salutes. Heat creeps up Jinsoul’s neck as she clumsily dismisses her. The girl orders the other students to pick up their belongings and rush inside. Jinsoul watches her curiously until she disappears around the corner, her red-headed friend glued to her side.

Haseul tugs at Jinsoul’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

~|~|~|~

Classes are shortened for the welcome ceremony at the end of the first month. Jinsoul watches from the stands as the finalized class of new cadets walks across the stage. Haseul is the only one in their section thumbing through the pamphlet; their cohort tucked it under their seats the moment the band blasted the national anthem.

“You know that girl who was ready to brawl the first day?”

Jinsoul hums, eyes flickering to the head of blonde hair among the rows of chairs on the main floor. She giggles. The girl’s a textbook example with her back straight and chest out, shoulders relaxed with her wings tucked neatly, shined black boots flat on the ground, her tail curved to the left.

“It says here she’s the daughter of two blacksmiths.”

Jinsoul places a calm hand over Haseul’s bouncing knee. A teacher eyes the students up and down the row, trying to spot whoever was shaking the bench. Jinsoul understands Haseul’s excitement. It was rare for someone outside of military families to apply and be accepted to the academy. Tradespeople usually kept to their businesses out of pride, respect for the craftsmanship, and money. Having a background in metalworking and armaments is the perfect segue into this life. It may even be an advantage. Jinsoul’s classmates are exceptional fighters. But they don’t appreciate the nuances of materials, of forges and temperamental flames, the art of a balanced blade and intricate chainmail.

“Kim Jungeun.”

Jinsoul applauds as the cadet glides across the stage to receive her first badge, her heel-to-toe gait the smoothest Jinsoul’s ever seen.

~|~|~|~

Jinsoul rolls her aching wrist with a huff. Though the Nova prefer heavier melee weapons such as Kaiser’s two-handed sword, the academy wants well-rounded soldiers. That means being able to fling a steak knife at an enemy’s eye should they crash a dinner party.

“Do you want to take a break?” Haseul asks from the shaded bench.

Jinsoul grunts and beats her wings, glaring at the pile of knives around the target post. Haseul whines as Jinsoul picks up another knife. She winds up, steps forward, and throws. The chink of metal makes her eye twitch in irritation.

“Need some help?”

That voice is deeper than Haseul’s. Jungeun’s leaning against a nearby tree. Her friend Jiwoo waves enthusiastically next to a beet red Haseul whose nose is buried in her book. Jinsoul raises an eyebrow and Jungeun immediately stiffens with her hands behind her back, feet shoulder width apart, eyes focused on a point over Jinsoul’s shoulder.

“You can relax. I don’t play into the rankings off-hours,” Jinsoul grins. Jungeun immediately cracks a smile. It’s like the the entire training yard is basked in a soft afternoon glow.

Jungeun approaches carefully, her broad shoulders slumping in a bit. “May I?” Jinsoul hands her a spare knife. “First off you want to adjust your grip. Your hand’s probably sore. It’s instinctual to hold a knife along the edge, but it’s a bit unnatural. Keep it horizontal to the target. The blade feels weighted. Am I right? That’s the end you want to throw.”

She curls three fingers around the hilt, lined up dead center. Her thumb rests on the opposite side. The blade glints in the sunlight, parallel to the ground. Jinsoul copies her grip. Jungeun wraps her hand lightly around Jinsoul’s and raises it the air, then pulls it back down.

“See? Now you don’t twist at an angle. Just let go. Remember to follow through.”

Jinsoul purses her lips and nods, takes her stance, and throws the knife. It bounces off the chipped board. When she turns around, Jungeun fixates on Jinsoul’s feet.

Jinsoul’s distracted by the tiny bulge of flesh between Jungeun’s furrowed eyebrows. Target training doesn’t seem so tedious anymore.

“—maybe another step and a half.”

“Huh?”

Jungeun looks frustrated in the way someone productive works out ten different solutions in their mind. When she meets Jinsoul’s eyes, she shrinks back slightly. It might just be the blazing orange sun setting, but her cheeks seem flushed.

“You, uh, you need to move back about one and half paces. You need to create more distance between you and the target. The knife doesn’t have enough time to rotate fully. That’s why it doesn’t stick. The tip hits at an angle and bounces off.”

Jinsoul tries to align herself as Jungeun directs, but she doesn’t quite follow. They spend a good five minutes dancing around each other before a shout interrupts them.

“Just put your hands on her hips, Jungeun! It’s late and we’re hungry!”

Jungeun glares at Jiwoo who grins back unapologetically. Haseul ducks her head behind her book, now pretending to read it upside-down.

“I don’t mind,” Jinsoul shrugs.

Jungeun maintains an awkward foot of space between them until Jinsoul chuckles and pulls her hands forward. Jinsoul molds them to the light leather protecting her hips. She admires how she’s just a tad taller, so her wing joints don’t interfere and Jungeun’s head fits neatly above the upper curve. Jungeun shifts her weight, Jinsoul following easily now. Jungeun’s voice is low like she’s revealing a secret.

“Okay. Have your left shoulder facing the target. Sideways, that’s it. Now wind up on the step, keep the knife level, and throw.”

The dull thud is music to Jinsoul’s ears. Bullseye.

The grin stays on Jinsoul’s face as she tells Haseul to head inside first when the dinner bell tolls. It stays as Jungeun stirs up the dirt while she and Jiwoo make faces at each other, Jiwoo finally leaving with Haseul after one more kick at the air. It stays as she and Jungeun pick up all of the knives. Each is accounted for before they sign the set back into the armory. They walk slowly, tails lazily sweeping over the mowed grass. Jinsoul shares a horrible pun. Jungeun nudges her with a wing. Jinsoul claps back with hers. Then she’s chasing Jungeun back to the mess hall with their squeals echoing off the deserted buildings.

~|~|~|~

Near the end of the year, classes for the youngest cadets are on hold for a week. Jinsoul hasn’t seen Jungeun in three days. She shakes Haseul awake first thing in the morning to scour the grounds. No luck. After lectures, they stop by the mess hall and bump into Jiwoo icing a bruise on her knee. Haseul squeaks and squats down next to her. Jiwoo assures her she’s fine. An amateur numbing spell spills from Haseul’s lips before Jinsoul reaches them. She looks around, her jaw clenched.

“Jungeun’s in the woods.”

“What? Why?” It comes out sharper than Jinsoul intends.

Jiwoo scoffs, too tired to quell Haseul’s fussy mumblings. “Training like the rest of us. Why else?”

“Where?”

Jiwoo shifts uncomfortably under Jinsoul’s intense gaze. “You know Jungeun can handle herself. She’s a natural swordsman—”

“Where?” Jinsoul growls. Her horns look stark black and sharp in contrast to the sterile white lights.

“The Enchanted Forest,” Jiwoo sighs.

“Wait! The period’s half over!” Haseul shouts.

Jinsoul makes it to the outskirts of Pantheon in a record seven minutes. It’s a rough landing on the cliffside. The mountainous shrubs rustle from her wide wings folding in. Her lungs burn and her back tingles with fatigue, but she’s quick to reach for her sword. She whirls around, poised to strike a devastating blow to an approaching monster. An orange grappling hook clings to the ledge. Jungeun propels herself high into the sky. The chain disintegrates into shards of light. Then Jungeun slashes down with her blade. A lingering trail of fire scorches the pale rock. The Gravi Stonegar lets out a final roar before crumbling.

Their labored breaths blend with the whistling wind.

“What are you doing here?”

“Funny. I was just about to ask you the same.” Jinsoul hates talking to someone’s back, but she trades nitpicking for answers.

Jungeun’s wing twitches, like she’s about to take off. “I’m training.”

“Yeah, that’s what Jiwoo said.”

“Then it was a pointless question—”

“Jungeun.”

Jinsoul steps forward. A pebble rolls down the cliff, echoing as it hits the bottom. Slowly, she reaches out to turn Jungeun around. She gasps.

“I’m fine,” Jungeun says petulantly.

Jinsoul gently cups Jungeun’s cheek. Her thumb rubs dirt off a fresh scarlet gash. Her watery eyes roam all over. Any exposed skin is marred by purple bruises, shallow cuts, soil and sweat.

“You can’t just fight level forty monsters on an empty stomach. Not every waking minute and not alone.” Jinsoul means to chastise, but it sounds more like a plea. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t.

“I killed that animated pile of rubble, didn’t I? I can do it. You just don’t want me to.”

“So what if that’s true?”

Jungeun looks like she wants to rebuke, throw Jinsoul’s hands off of her. But she doesn’t. One glance. Jinsoul thinks she must look broken and hurt because Jungeun’s brows knit together and her lip curls back at one corner. It’s the look she gives before muttering an apology.

“I’m sorry. I just— I need to be stronger. I need to do better.”

“Are you that worried about the advancement exams? You’re the best in your cohort.”

“That’s not enough!”

Jinsoul holds her tongue. She said the same when Haseul snuck out at midnight before their exams and tried to drag her back to the barracks. They’re soldiers after all. Bad marks are one thing. Losing a limb, or a life, is another.

Jinsoul sighs. Jungeun smiles weakly. It’s obvious who won. Jungeun wouldn’t be Jungeun if she doesn’t give it her all, petty little test or not. That doesn’t mean Jinsoul is going to back down either.

“Eat,” Jinsoul demands. She pushes some food wrapped up from the mess hall into Jungeun’s scraped palms.

“I’ll eat during dinner—”

“No. Now.”

They freeze. Jinsoul hadn’t noticed her tail inching closer and closer until the tip wraps around Jungeun’s by their ankles. The strength in her touch is desperate, but gentle. Jungeun’s scales are smoother than expected. The silence creeps up on Jinsoul and she braces for rejection. Then Jungeun’s tail grasps hers. She hugs the food parcel.

“Okay. I will.”

“I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’ll go straight to the barracks after?”

“But I have to—”

“Jungeun.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go back with Jiwoo. I promise.”

“Good.”

“Jinsoul?”

“Hmm?”

“I—“ Jungeun brushes back her hair and Jinsoul forgets how to breathe for a second. “Thanks.” 

Jinsoul leaps off the cliff and nosedives to the ground. Her wings expand at the last second, catching the air and guiding her ascent. The speck that is Jungeun nibbling on a bread roll shrinks the further she flies. Haseul berates Jinsoul when she darts into her seat, panting and hastily fixing her uniform, but she’s not late.

~|~|~|~

During their summer break, Jungeun visits home on the southern edge of the Nova’s refugee nation. She writes occasionally about the shop. Business is booming. Jinsoul suspects some of it is courtesy of the elusive Shadow Merchants, but it’s not her place to ask.

The last letter is short. A meeting place and time. See you soon, J.

At the East Pantheon Border, Jinsoul brushes clear a spot atop a stone arch where the roots of a tree have grown in. Her chainmail clinks against the bark. (Only a fool would venture out of the city without armor.) The night air is clean and the heavenly bodies twinkle from light years away. It’s beautiful, but it’s not home. Though she was born and raised in Pantheon, her people remember. They remember the siege on the castle. The rumors of the royal family slain by the usurper. The Specters and despair cast over the land by the Traitor sitting on that cold throne. Villages laid to waste. Civilians fleeing from their beds. She knows deep down. They all do.

That’s why she trains. That’s why they fight. Decades pass and the hero is long gone. A martyr. His memory keeps them strong. The reclamation effort pushes on. The elders are reaching out to heroes of lands far away. An alliance is underway.

“Reminiscing about times we never witnessed?”

Jungeun barely ruffles a leaf when she lands. So much growth in mere months. She stands taller with confidence. The fire in her eyes blazes even brighter. It’s nothing short of admirable.

Jinsoul notices how Jungeun’s polished horns gleam in the moonlight. The look of a true warrior, worthy of being called the Nova’s pride someday. (She sniggers because Haseul’s horns are more pointed nubs than anything.)

“How was your flight?” Jinsoul offers her full canteen.

“Not too bad. Kind of liberating.” Still, Jungeun gulps a fourth of the water as she settles into a neat crook at the tree’s base. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine. It’s fun being Haseul’s test subject. She promises a spell will increase my speed and health. I end up coated in putrid glowing slime. Same difference.”

“That’s disgusting.” Jungeun fakes a gag.

“Jiwoo said you were a clean freak.” That earns Jinsoul a harsh shove. She grins. “I promise I scrubbed myself raw. Have you never been Jiwoo’s victim?”

“Once when we were little, she tried to bake an apple on the spot. When I bit into it, it bit me back. It’s a wonder why I prefer citrus fruits now.”

“Baffling,” Jinsoul agrees.

“She improved by leagues since then. Especially with enchantment scrolls. In fact, she helped me with a little project.”

Jungeun unbuckles from her back a large package wrapped in cloth. Jinsoul eyes her suspiciously before taking it into her hands. It’s heavy; Jinsoul smiles because the weight grounds her, tethers her to this world. The fabric falls away and her jaw drops.

A beautiful blade black as obsidian stretches across her lap. It’s just beyond two-thirds of her height and greater than a handspan wide. It’s unsteady with one arm, but perfectly balanced with two. The hilt is comfortable in her right hand as she pushes it forward slowly, guiding it with the pull of her left. When the air sweeps over the blade, the metal resonates like a flute. Jinsoul trails a finger along the glossy surface. The tip tapers off artistically like three uneven crystal shards.

“Jungeun, this… The sheer power. It must take two hundred, two-fifty strength at least to wield.”

“Sharp eye. About two-sixty.”

“Attack power?”

“Hazard a guess.”

“You’re testing me?”

“Maybe. C’mon. Spit out a number.”

“Ninety. Ninety-five?” Jinsoul lifts the blade, stares along the edge. “Ninety-six. Final answer.”

“Bingo!”

“How in Grandis did you make this?”

“With sugar, spice, and everything—” Jungeun snorts. “Okay. It took a lot of patience and that’s the only ingredient I can divulge.” She presses a finger to her lips and winks.

“Does it have a name?” Jinsoul’s heart swells at how Jungeun’s eyes sparkle. It’s impossible to hide her love for the craft, no matter how many hours she spends clashing swords.

“Night Raven’s Wing.”

Jinsoul repeats the name over and over, her smile growing each time, until it sounds like the trees whisper it back. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours.”

“What? I can’t possibly—”

“You can. I say so. I made it.”

“Jungeun…”

Jinsoul does everything to hold back her tears. But when Jungeun looks at the sky with a grin that shows all her teeth, and her tail tentatively slides over Jinsoul’s, a droplet escapes.

“Happy birthday, you sap.”

Jungeun yelps when Jinsoul tackles her in a hug. To her dismay, crying is contagious. When they calm down, Jungeun pulls out another sword from the sheath on her back. It’s almost identical except the blade shines like amethyst mined from stars.

“Dawn Raven’s Wing. And this is where Jiwoo comes in.”

A single tap sends a surge of electricity coursing down the lengths of the twin swords, a hidden power coalescing in the girls’ palms. Jinsoul feels every cell in her body vibrate with raw energy. Her blade glows cobalt blue, Jungeun’s molten red, then they fade.

“I have faith we’ll be able to wield these by graduation,” Jungeun declares proudly. “I can upgrade them. I mean, if you want. You don’t have to. It’s an option. But of course if you ever find another sword that suits you better. I could upgrade that too. Whichever.”

As much as Jinsoul enjoys the uncharacteristic rambling, she puts her mind at ease. “I’ll earn the right to carry Night Raven’s Wing into battle. I’ll never part with it even in death.”

Jungeun makes the same oath. It might rival the actual sword as a gift, but Jinsoul doesn’t admit it.

Jinsoul holds the sword high and Jungeun matches her pose. Past the enchanted force field that protects Pantheon from the Traitor’s Specters, across the celestial gorge, is the desolated homeland of their people.

One day, Jinsoul swears, she and Jungeun will take back Heliseum. They’ll return the capital to its former glory with their comrades in arms. Those empty halls will fill with music again and sunlight will shine on the throne, where a true Nova leader will sit. One who is pure of heart, kind in nature, and rules with a just hand.

It’s not their duty. It’s their destiny.

~|~|~|~

Jungeun says she has a surprise. Jinsoul likes surprises. She does not like waiting a month for them. She, Haseul, Jungeun, and Jiwoo have a boisterous reunion half an hour before the new school year starts. Jungeun stays mum.

“Are you sulking?” Haseul teases. She rolls her tongue and trills by Jinsoul’s ear.

“Haseul! I have Experimental Buffs and Debuffs first period. Mind showing me around?”

Right. Now that the first-year cadets had advanced, they chose specialties over the break. Jinsoul isn’t the best at spells, but she knows how to make Haseul suffer regardless.

“Are your ears turning red because Jiwoo asked you to walk her to class?” Jinsoul enunciates each syllable loudly.

Their eyes narrow, Haseul’s in disdain through thick glasses and Jinsoul’s in a challenge. A wing extends as a barrier to prevent any feud that Jinsoul would obviously win. Jungeun pulls Jinsoul toward the staircase and Jiwoo lures Haseul away to the back of the building.

“Yes, Jiwoo already knows where the Mana Division hosts classes and no, do not start heckling Haseul. Oh don’t give me that look.”

Jungeun's exasperated warning gives the others time to escape. Jinsoul purses her lips and puffs out her cheeks. Jungeun makes an indent with one finger until Jinsoul relents.

They talk about how Jungeun misses the mess hall food; Jinsoul doesn’t believe her. Jinsoul comments on Jungeun’s healthy tan from daily deliveries and manning the forges at night. She doesn’t mention how Jungeun’s biceps seem a bit bulkier, a bit more toned, nor how the muscular lines that appear when Jungeun gestures with her hands are a distraction.

They reach Jungeun’s lecture room too soon. Jinsoul has a few minutes to go up another floor. She’d stay longer but flying inside was an awful excuse to get demerits on the first day back.

“Hey, Jungeun. Jinsoul.”

“Hi,” they say in surprise.

It takes Jinsoul a second to recognize the boy in her cohort. The one who playfully, and in poor taste, patronized the underclassmen the previous year. Perhaps calling him a boy was also in poor taste. His voice had finally deepened and he was a head taller than Jinsoul. His hair was shorter, neater. One horn is still larger than the other but it comes off as handsomely roguish.

“Hope you enjoyed your summers. You look good.”

He speaks to both of them, but his gentle eyes are on Jungeun. Jinsoul doesn’t understand the weight that settles in the pit of her stomach. It’s mildly uncomfortable. It disappears when Jungeun touches her arm, thumb circling the crook of her elbow.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You better go. Don’t sulk too much. You’ll get your surprise later today.” Jungeun slips inside before Jinsoul can poke her in the ribs.

Core classes pass in a blur and lunch finally rolls around. Before she can even get a greeting out, Haseul’s lithe tail whips her in the rear.

“Deserve,” Haseul sniffs.

Jinsoul smiles because even a peeved Haseul cares for others first. She hands Jinsoul a tin tray before grabbing her own and moving up the line.

“I thought the strict protocols would’ve taught you to keep the crumbs inside your mouth.”

Another tail whip. This one stings because Haseul targets Jinsoul’s wing joint where scales blend into skin. Seeing as how Jiwoo chokes on her food, Jinsoul earned it fair and square. Jungeun hides a grin behind her glass of water so the ounce of remorse in Jinsoul vanishes.

Jungeun leaves early. Jinsoul panics like she hasn’t met her verbal quota yet. Jungeun’s hand on her shoulder barely quells it.

Haseul nudges her. “You’ll see her later.”

“Yeah.” Jinsoul refrains from adding, So why am I so worked up?

Jiwoo points at the clock on the wall. “Sooner,” she hums. She scrapes her tray clean and heads off to her own class.

When Jinsoul stands at attention in her last lecture, she catches a hushed whisper.

“Did you hear? We have a new student!”

“Shh! We’ll get demerits. Face forward.”

The teacher marches in promptly. The students salute in perfect sync, then stand at ease when directed. It’s painfully cheesy how Jinsoul watches in slow motion as the only other blonde student at the academy enters the room, turns on her heels, and introduces herself. Jinsoul doesn’t take her eyes off of Jungeun until they’re seated and the teacher flows right into a scenario exercise.

“Considering the enemy is behind, you have a blind spot. If they know your handedness, they could pick up on essential cues,” Jungeun evaluates.

“You can’t just sit there and pretend like waltzing into an elite combat practicum as a second-year cadet is an everyday occurrence.”

“Surprise?”

“Jungeun!”

“Is it a bad surprise?” Jungeun slumps in her seat.

“You’re amazing!” Jinsoul whisper-shouts. “I’m so proud of you! We should celebrate!”

“You can plan that with Jiwoo later. Right now we need to focus or else we’ll have to run laps—”

“Sorry.”

Suddenly the polished wooden desks are fascinating. Jinsoul retracts her tail and curls it around the leg of her chair before it grabs anything else without her permission.

Jungeun clears and scribbles hastily on the worksheet. “D-don’t be.”

The thrill of soaring through the clouds pierces Jinsoul’s chest when Jungeun’s tail coaxes hers into uncoiling. They remain tightly wound under Jungeun’s chair for the rest of the period.

The next week, Jungeun reaches for her as soon as they sit. And every Monday after that.

~|~|~|~

“Most people prefer to relax on a Friday afternoon.”

“You can go inside if you want.”

A strong gust blows through the training yard. Haseul nestles further into her oversized cloak, but doesn’t vacate the bench. Jinsoul tilts her head back and lets the wind wick the sweat off her neck.

Tuesdays to Thursdays her practicum hammers through drills. Fridays are for skill assessments. Jinsoul and Jungeun make it a routine to stay out after the final bell tolls. They spar for an extra hour every day, sometimes until dinner. There’s something about the trembling numbness after a good duel that leaves one feeling alive.

By far, absolutely nothing compares to Jungeun’s caged temper after evaluations. She’s never satisfied with her results, though her top marks beg to differ. There’s always one step extra she could’ve taken. More strength put into a swing, a twinge of hesitation, miscalculated recoil, lackluster finesse. Her aura radiates like a heatwave. At one time Jinsoul might’ve feared a calamity in which it was bottled up for too long.

“Ready yet?” Jungeun drawls impatiently.

Bold, Jinsoul thinks as she eyes the discarded helmet.

It’s Jinsoul’s curiosity that matches Jungeun’s ferocity. What new technique would she attempt? How would she overcome a disadvantage? A blind spot, subpar weapons, a chink in armor, fatigue, her emotions. Deciphering all of Jungeun’s tells mid-battle is like appraising artwork before it disintegrates. Trying to understand how her mind works is like navigating a labyrinth in a race against time. Everything about Jungeun tempts Jinsoul into a challenge.

Jinsoul admits their duels are self-indulgent as much as they are a release. So she’s completely aware of how her smirk prickles Jungeun’s mood even though Jinsoul’s doubled over and her limbs feel boneless. Jungeun inhales sharply and swings her great-sword. A hoot of excitement from the sidelines warns Jinsoul she’s way too into this if she hadn’t noticed Jiwoo spectating. Jinsoul ducks in time and uses the momentum of the missed blow to propel Jungeun’s blade further. It takes Jungeun longer to regain control which allows Jinsoul to create distance.

Jungeun flares her nostrils. Adorable or not, it’s a signal that Jinsoul’s about to become ash and bone dust. Jungeun’s wings are smaller but sturdier and stronger. She beats them once to give herself lift. Then she activates Piercing Blaze. It bathes the entire training yard in orange light. Fire engulfs Jungeun as she rushes forward. There’s no time to evade. Jinsoul glides back enough to where she estimates the flames won’t reach. She times her counter right, knocking both of their swords away with a harsh clang.

Jungeun reacts quickly by whipping her tail around before she lands and yanking at Jinsoul’s ankle. Jinsoul has a plan. She’s already falling back so she uses Jungeun’s weight against her. Gloved hands grip onto gauntlets, her foot meets chainmail. She tucks into a roll and flips Jungeun overhead. But Jungeun latches on even more tightly. Fingers dig into the openings of Jinsoul’s chest plate where the pauldrons should be. She brings Jinsoul with her in a dizzying tumble. 

In a whirlwind of steel, soil, sediment, and embers, Jungeun’s never looked more beautiful.

Their labored breaths mingle in the cool autumn air. Jungeun’s still tens of degrees too hot, but it’s a nice contrast to the cold hard ground against Jinsoul’s back. Jungeun’s eyes flutter close when Jinsoul brushes back her tussled hair and tucks it behind her ear. The desire to duel evaporates like the residual heat off her skin. Jinsoul just stares. The way Jungeun’s nose crinkles means she’s trying to gather her bearings. The way her forehead creases means oxygen hasn’t caught up with the physical exertion. The way she lowers herself ever so slightly while her arms remain steady on either side of Jinsoul’s torso means it’s all deliberate.

Apparently they move too slowly for the world because Jiwoo shouts in the gruffest voice to ever come out of her tiny body, “Just kiss already mmHMMPH—”

Jungeun’s eyes snap open and they both turn towards the lone bench by a tree. Haseul, wide-eyed in panic, has a hand clamped over Jiwoo’s mouth. It muffles enough, but Jiwoo is notorious for her lungs. Jungeun curses under her breath and adds a threat for good measure. Jinsoul can’t help but laugh.

“Look! You ruined it for them! You’re so tactless!”

Haseul slaps any part of Jiwoo she can reach with her hefty tome. Jiwoo doesn’t register the weak assault.

“They’re so frustrating! Talk about slow burn,” Jiwoo screeches and leaps into the air.

Her wingbeats swirl up some dust. She pulls at her hair and kicks out her feet like a pixie throwing a tantrum. Haseul tosses aside the book and tugs at Jiwoo’s foot, her tail, whacks her with a fallen branch until she gets a mouthful of leaves, anything to get her back on the ground.

“Hey, Jungeun?”

“Hmm?”

Jinsoul wraps an arm around Jungeun’s waist and pushes herself up. Her free wing flaps open to block Jiwoo from view. Then she kisses Jungeun. It’s so messy and so sweet, with Jungeun’s teeth scraping against Jinsoul’s lip until she can circle her arms around Jinsoul’s neck and pull her closer. Impossibly closer. Their armor creaks awkwardly and patches of Jungeun’s skin have yet to cool to a normal temperature. Still she presses down. She smiles into each hasty kiss and really, Jinsoul loves Jungeun’s impatience. Perhaps she loves a lot more than that.

“Let me see! Let me SEE!”

“Get down here— Oof.”

Jungeun sneaks a peck at the base of Jinsoul’s neck and rests her head on Jinsoul’s chest. Jinsoul lets her sore wing fall limp onto the ground with a sigh. When the flurry of dried leaves disperses, they spot a flustered and dazed Haseul flat on the grass, glasses askew and her fingers touching her lips.

“H-Haseul! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean to crush you. Oh gosh. Oh gosh! She’s not responding. Guys, quit staring and help me!”

Jiwoo doesn’t wait for them as she clambers onto her feet and hikes Haseul over one shoulder. That seems to do the trick because Haseul starts thrashing and slapping Jiwoo’s rear, demanding to be let down.

“And you owe me for stealing my first kiss!” Haseul shrieks.

~|~|~|~

Jungeun’s there for it all.

She’s there when the seasons change and the days grow long again. Jinsoul takes a deep breath outside the locker room. Her uniform is packed away, ready to be worn one last time if today goes well. Jungeun polishes away the nonexistent stain on the vambrace. A tear escapes as she straps Night Raven’s Wing to Jinsoul’s back. Turning her around, Jungeun’s hand brushes over the academy’s crest on the plate and rests on Jinsoul’s cheek. She pulls her in for a good luck kiss before slipping the helmet on for her, Jinsoul’s horns slotting perfectly into place. Delicate fingers tuck back a strand of hair. The visor slides down. Jinsoul walks back with weighted steps until their tails slide out of reach.

After two hours, she emerges from the arena hosting the final trials. She’s bruised and scarred. Her armor’s broken clean off in some places, her joints ache, and she has a terrible limp, but she’s victorious. Two weeks pass. Jungeun cheers her loudest for Jinsoul when she sheds her cadet rank. She receives her final badge and diploma.

A year later, Jungeun welcomes Jinsoul home from active duty. They trade stories and laughter and tears and battle scars, barely separating for minutes. Then school starts and Jinsoul returns to the front lines. Winter comes and goes. The sweltering heat sets in once again.

This time, Jinsoul returns the gesture.

Though stoic throughout the ceremony, Private Kim has the toothiest grin when she runs into the arms of Sergeant Jung. Haseul visits from the research facility to congratulate the new graduates. She gives Jungeun a sincere hug. She kisses Jiwoo with the same shyness from that irritating and fond autumn day, and every day since.

They spend one month reminiscing their time in Pantheon. They embrace their families, and Jinsoul with her friends pays her respects to her parents’ graves. Haseul waves goodbye while Jiwoo squeezes them with tears painting her cheeks, resolutely stomping towards the research facility before she becomes a bawling mess. Jinsoul leads Jungeun by the hand to the portal to Heliseum. It’s organized chaos on the other side, but Jinsoul’s never seen a soldier more prepared for the battlefield. They step through together.

The guard checks them in and it’s like Jungeun dons another persona, yet it’s still true to her. Jinsoul recalls the pipsqueak cadet with broad shoulders mirroring the protective stance of Kaiser in the academy’s courtyard. What a refined warrior Jungeun’s become.

Jinsoul resumes her duties as easily as a shark cuts through water. Half the time she spots Jungeun, she’s saluting or shouting affirmations. Whenever they’re close enough, they share a longing look, right before the clash of steel and the bombs go off among screeches of Specters. They pass fluidly, their tails sliding over each other as a fleeting embrace. Jungeun never comes back with her head down or eyes empty. So Jinsoul vows not to either.

~|~|~|~

The war of the Nova enters the cusp of a new decade. Rumors say Kaiser reincarnated in a young boy back in Pantheon. A brilliant show of bravery and power to prevent the theft of essential magic technology powering the shield. Until he grows into his purpose, they’ll hold down the front lines.

Expansion into Heliseum’s razed territory shows promise. Jinsoul, now a Captain, examines her company’s camp around the Full Moon Hill. They’ve cleared the Specters along the way; there’ll be more soon enough. Some of her soldiers hunted stray Dinogoths nearby. The smell of gamey stew wafts through the air. It’s a tad suffocating, but she didn’t work her way up the ranks for gourmet feasts. Protein is protein and fed soldiers mean power.

Jinsoul strolls through the camp, nodding respectfully at all who salute her. A jittery but enthusiastic pair of twins attempt to stand. Jinsoul places a firm hand on the blanched young man’s shoulder. He remains seated with his broken leg on a tree stump and his wing in a cloth sling, while his sister salutes per usual. She calls a subordinate over and orders the twins to be escorted back to Heliseum Reclamation HQ for recovery at first light.

She reaches the edge of her company’s boundaries and blends into the shadows of another’s. Winding her way without much notice, she finds the Lieutenant’s tent. It’s small and private. A commanding officer steps out, apparently exhausted after a long strategy meeting. He salutes and holds open the flap for Jinsoul.

She’s immediately engulfed in a hug, her nose burying into Jungeun’s soft chestnut hair. Jungeun’s fingers thread through Jinsoul’s black tresses; they both agreed blonde was too conspicuous given the stealth missions they were sent on in their early days of service.

It’s a rare break in action so they waste no time. The sentry on duty is ordered to guard the sealed tent entrance from the base of the hill. Jungeun’s calloused fingers are deft as they dismantle Jinsoul’s armor before trailing up her taut stomach. They sigh into a kiss, drowning in ecstasy when skin meets skin with the cool touch of metal. (Jungeun, ever the sentimental craftsman behind the hardened soldier exterior, fashioned a pair of rings out of the scrap armor from their final trials at the academy.)

A youthful giggle escapes Jinsoul’s lips because her horns grow forward then twist back. Jungeun’s curve out sideways. They’ve never had an issue with poking each other’s eyes out while cuddling. Maybe Jinsoul believes they were made for each other.

After proclaiming their love in more ways than one, they find peace in their dreams and shared warmth.

Dawn breaks the horizon. They expect a new company to join their camp. They don’t expect Captain Sooyoung herself to barge into the tent, evidently haggard but maintaining control. She forgoes apologizing for the intrusion; there’s no time for pleasantries in war. Soundlessly, they slip into their armor as the officer explains.

“We were ambushed just beyond the western border of the camp. My best troops are holding back the enemy as we speak, but our numbers are cut. They’re getting more organized by the day. They’ve got hounds. My scout spotted Warrior Specters, and one Reaper Specter.”

“This far out from the castle?” Jinsoul hisses.

Jungeun beckons two officers into the tent. “Staff Sergeant Jeon! Have the platoon ready to fly out in ten minutes. Fully armed, no carts. We’re facing them head-on. Staff Sergeant Kim, brief a team to head for HQ and get backup. Do not engage the enemy.”

“Sergeant Choi,” Jinsoul addresses the newcomer before she can salute to all of her superiors. “Prepare your team for recon in the north. I want a report within half an hour. This ambush won’t stay where it is. I’ll lead the company to the halfway point.”

The tent empties out with new orders barked in every corner of the camp.

Before Jinsoul leaves, Jungeun pulls her into a deep kiss. “Come back to me.”

“Always,” Jinsoul whispers against her lips.

Jungeun’s tail holds on for as long as possible, then the tent flaps open and Jinsoul’s gone.

---

A/N: I don't know shiitake mushrooms about the military or military school. I do know I expedited the hell out of their promotions.