“What are the elements of the book, Coraline, which make it such an uneasy read? Hmm, any ideas?” 

Shuhua can’t care for her English professor. He drones on and on about the littlest details. He says he’s open to class discussions, invites students to participate, but he refuses to accept all answers. Well. All except for one student’s. 

Long, draping brown hair. Sitting straighter than a pole. The girl in front of Shuhua raises her hand and the teacher smiles, gesturing to her, prompting her to speak. 

“I believe the recurring loss of bodily integrity surrounding the monstrous transformations are a key factor,” says Miyeon. What does that even mean? Shuhua doesn’t understand, nor does she think Miyeon truly does either. She bets the girl memorized that line from some online study guide. Sparknotes perhaps. 

“Yes! That’s correct, could you elaborate further on your point?” Shuhua tunes the ensuing conversation out. It’s not worth paying attention to them when Miyeon is simply the professor’s ego. Saying all the right answers the professor wants to hear. 

Shuhua can’t wait for class to end. This was boring, mind paralysing, soul draining. The professor himself is bad enough. Adding on Miyeon is another issue. Those two can go on forever about a dumb children’s book. About ‘other mothers’ and ‘other worlds.’ 

No. She can’t take this anymore. Shuhua’s eye twitches in irritation and she stands up and leaves. Closing the door, she heads to the washroom down the hallway. 

It’s not that she needs the latrines desperately, but it’s a good place to question her life decisions. Such as why she decided to pose as a university student or why she decided to sign up for English 235. The heavens know she doesn’t need the education. What was a 54 year old man going to teach her, a being as old as time, in a musty cramped classroom? 

Stepping into the washroom, she locks the door, hauls herself onto the counter, sitting beside the sink. Shuhua leans back against the cold mirror. 

Inhale. Exhale. Taking her phone out of her pocket, a single glaring notification pops out. She can hear it in her head, the content of the voice message. Shuhua grins in anticipation. Finally, there’s work to do. 

The door opens with a bang, lock in tatters. Huffing greets her ears. Mouth curled, narrow eyes trained upon her figure. Of course. Who else would it be? 

“Why did you go?” asks Miyeon. Her voice is barely contained, anger seeping through the cracks. Shuhua shrugs, staring back at her. 

“You broke another door again and this is the twelfth time. You should consider donating a hefty sum to the school.” Shuhua pockets her phone.

“That’s not important right now. Did you get another mission?”

“Yeah—”

“And you planned to leave without me?” 

“It just sort of happens. You were busy with the professor.” Miyeon groans at Shuhua’s words.

“Nothing is more important than a mission,” says Miyeon. 

“Well, that’s funny coming from you. I’m going.” Shuhua walks out, not bothering to glance at Miyeon. 

Footsteps sound behind her. “I’m coming with you.” 

Quickening her pace, Shuhua breaks into a jog. From the scabbard at her hip, she unsheathes a curved single-edged obsidian blade with a squared white guard. 

The unmistakable hum of approval. Miyeon. Without looking back, Shuhua knows the other girl has done the same, drawing her own weapon. An ivory bow, black arrows in her quiver strapped to her back. “Where are the monsters, Shuhua?” 

“Outside the biology building. Nine imps. One geist.” Imps are easy to deal with. They’re tiny creatures of evil, but they’re more of an annoyance than a threat. The geist is the real problem. Hardly ever seen, they almost never appear during the day. Glowing red eyes, stretched jaws. Those wispy monstrosities with four arms, without a solid body, breathing out ice. 

“Great. Make sure you aim for the geist’s eyes,” says Miyeon. 

“Who doesn’t know that? We’ve been doing this for 400 years.”

“I know, it’s... that we’re old and we sometimes forget.” Some things are better left unsaid. Some feelings are better left forgotten. They don’t talk, focusing on running. Out into the courtyard, past the fountain. 

Soon the monsters are in sight. Nine small and ugly horned creatures and one icy geist. The creatures stiffen, sensing their presence. Their heads turn to face them, hungering for the souls of grim reapers. 

A deafening roar echoes in the air. Chirpy snarling follows. 

“Stay out of my way,” mutters Shuhua.

“You do the same.” They scatter, bolting to opposite sides  as the imps charge towards them. To her far left, Shuhua sees Miyeon deftly draw her bow, shooting the imps. Turning them into black ash immediately. The girl is precise and Shuhua can appreciate that.

The geist’s howl catches Shuhua’s attention. The air is cold, the hairs on her arms rising. Just in time, she jumps out of the way. Narrowly avoiding the blast of air. Which would’ve turned her into a frozen reaper. 

Whirling around, Shuhua lunges with her blade, aimed at the geist’s eyes. Her blade doesn’t connect, missing. The geist has flown up higher, out of her reach. Its jaws widen, cold air swirling, ready to fire. 

It isn’t aiming for her. Shuhua turns. Shouts. Hopes it is enough. 

“Miyeon!” An explosion of ice detonates, freezing everything in a seven feet radius. The trees, the fountain, the biology building. Frozen. She can’t see the imps. Or Miyeon.

The air is now downright numbing. Shuhua tries to move, knees on the ground, but her feet are stuck. The ice snaring her legs, rooting her. 

The geist screeches and Shuhua hears it. Its clacking jaws, ready to tear through her heart. Whizzing through the sky. She closes her eyes. 

Except she never feels it. All is suddenly quiet.

“Miyeon?” Her eyes open and she sees the geist. A pure black arrow through its eyes. 

A last howl and the creature crumbles into ashes.  

Then she sees her. Crouching behind some bushes, bow out. Arms shaking. Miyeon runs towards her, falling to her knees before Shuhua. 

“What were you thinking?” Miyeon cries.

“But I didn’t die.” Shuhua doesn’t notice it at first. Miyeon’s cheeks are shining, wet streaks rolling, falling. Her own eyes begin to sting a bit. 

“Don’t leave me behind. We’re too old for that,” Miyeon says. No matter how much Shuhua tries to ignore the other girl, how much she tries to annoy her, certain things are still the same. 

“I won’t.”