The room is dark. 

 

Dim moonlight streams through the open window. A teal blazer hangs on a drying rack, swaying lightly as the lone figure, a girl, bumps into it, tying long black hair. 

 

Clothes are pulled out of the washing machine. Crumpled white dress shirts, grey slacks. Fingers busy smoothing creases and folding, her face is turned the other way. 

 

Miyeon recognizes the academy’s uniform, the signature school crest. Cube Academy, the most prestigious school for gifted youngsters in the country. Anyone would recognize it right away. 

 

Cube Academy produces 90% of their country's superheroes. 

 

When the girl’s face is in view, she’s a stranger to Miyeon. A pretty stranger in an innocent and youthful kind of way.  

 

Working hard, never pausing, the girl’s motions are fluid while doing the laundry. But then she stops, setting aside a blouse. Her hands clench atop the washing machine, shaking from the pure force exerted. 

 

It’s not discernible immediately, Miyeon has to listen closely.

 

She can hear muted whimpers. Not low feeble groans from searing pain. She would say they're sobs, raw from the inside, afraid to make noise. The kind heard when trying to muffle cries with the back of your hand, biting down hard. 

 

The impulse to rush towards the girl thumps plaintively in . She hates how she can see the dampening fabric even with the poor lighting.

 

The desire to wrap her arms around the girl, to ask if she’s okay even if she’s clearly not, it reminds her this is only a vision. 

 

There’s nothing she can do, this is a scene of the future, a spoiler of things to come.  

 

Someone else rushes in. Large eyes widening further. 

 

(Miyeon can put a name to the face.)

 

Soojin. 

 

Who sits a few seats over from Miyeon at school and is the teacher’s favourite. Except this Soojin seems a couple years older, more mature with no signs of baby fat.  

 

Soojin hugs the girl from the back, holding her close. Whispering indistinctly.

 

The whimpering steadily wanes, the girl's hands wiping clean any last traces.

 

----

 

Miyeon never knew what to make of that vision. She never ran into that mysterious girl. At school, she didn’t talk to Soojin either aside from polite greetings. They never ran in the same circles.  

 

Miyeon wasn't compelled to befriend Soojin. Having Minnie and Yuqi as her friends was more than enough. 

 

Her time as a junior flashes by. The same happens when she’s a senior. Graduation comes and goes, summer ends without any highlights. She packs her bags and boards an airplane to the other side of the country.  

 

On that fateful summer day, weeks ago, Miyeon doesn’t count finding an acceptance letter in her mailbox as a highlight. She treats it as a freak accident. There’s no sound explanation for why she passed that darned interview when her ability is utter crap in comparison to other candidates’ superpowers.  

 

(The guy before her turn came out of the interview room with entire arms, hands included, sprouting from his own arms. Controlling them like extensions of his own limbs. Getting over the horror-show factor, Miyeon would’ve clapped aloud in amazement.)

 

It’s impossible that her parents bribed the interviewers. Her parents have no expectations. She herself doesn’t. Their bank account doesn’t either. 

 

End of the story. 

 

It’s not until her first day at Cube Academy that Miyeon catches a glimpse of the girl. 

 

At their school assembly in the gym, sitting in the furthest seat from the podium, in the corner. Legs crossed, back straight, a faraway look in her eyes.

 

Miyeon walks past her on purpose. Being sure to glance at the hastily scribbled nametag, neatly stuck to the girl’s blazer. 

 

Her name is Shuhua.    

 

----

 

Three years at Cube Academy and Miyeon still hasn’t gotten used to this. 

 

Dirty glares shot her way, Miyeon at least has the decency to look at her feet, avoiding the ball of rage bubbling to her left. Soyeon appears to have reached a certain level of tiredness. Mentally burnt out, head in her hands. Gripping her hair.

 

In the seats to her right, Yuqi and Minnie seem to be none the wiser, giggling over the latest half-baked prank they just pulled. It wasn’t anything mind blowing or harmful in the slightest; they had decided to make every couch in the academy inaccessible. By putting them on the rooftop.

 

Displaying the pinnacle of maturity.  

 

Miyeon legitimately had no idea what was going on. She was cooped up in the newsroom, stuck writing an opinion piece for the school newspaper. The next thing she knew, she was dragged along, designated as the lookout, and the two pranksters scampered away… eager to put couches on the roof. 

 

She’s well aware she could’ve left the second they began hauling the couches, but curse her steadfast loyalty. Unwavering in the spirit of friendship (or something like that).

 

So she kept an eye out, ready to warn Yuqi and Minnie of any incoming signs of danger, any staff or professors headed their way. 

 

The moment she saw Soyeon, the president of the Disciplinary Committee, she turned to shout, but it was too late. Yuqi and Minnie were bolting towards her, mouthing ‘run!’ 

 

Miyeon was loyal as ever, listening and obeying without question and without looking. She ran smack dab into Soyeon, the both of them crashing to the ground in a groaning heap. 

 

She couldn’t even untangle herself. The distinct crack of thunder boomed in the hallway and their white-haired principal (rocking a suit in the ugliest shade of maroon and polka dot socks) appeared out of thin air. 

 

Immediately sending all four girls to his office. 

 

“I hate all of you.” Soyeon shakes her head, slouching further down her chair. Minnie and Yuqi lean over, chorusing, “We love you too.” Their grubby hands stretch to tap Soyeon on the back. 

 

“I still hate all of you. Why do I have detention, I didn’t even do anything.” Soyeon makes a good point; it’s too bad that the troublesome reputations of Minnie and Yuqi equate to automatic detention.  

 

“Guilty by association?” offers Yuqi. Soyeon doesn’t respond, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. Eyes glazing over. 

 

“If it makes you feel better, we’ll have you know that we managed to sneak five couches up before the ole’ geezer caught on," continues Yuqi.

 

Miyeon whistles, appreciative of what the duo went through. Yuqi and Minnie weren’t gone for long, it was a minute at most. Regardless of Yuqi being capable of flinging immovable objects weighing over 20 tons, there’s no sugarcoating the fact that it’s hard work. 

 

“See, Miyeon understands,” says Minnie. 

 

“That’s because she’s sad and likes to live vicariously through others.” Miyeon’s mouth opens and closes, but then she resolves to remain quiet. Petty insults dying on her tongue. 

 

Funnily enough, she can’t really find fault with Soyeon’s statement.

 

Minutes pass in silence before Minnie breaks it, standing up to stretch her arms. “When do you guys think the geezer will come back?” 

 

“He’ll be here in ten minutes, lunch break will be over then,” says Soyeon. 

 

Yuqi perks up at that. “Miyeon, didn’t you say you were stuck on writing an article?” Yuqi is already out of her chair, rounding the principal’s desk and turning on the computer. 

 

She’ll try to convince her otherwise, but there’s no stopping Yuqi once the girl has thought of something, latching onto it. “It’s an opinion piece, you don’t have to do whatever you’re doing–”

 

“Think about the possible exposés you could write, everything about this stinking academy is probably in this computer!” Yuqi knits her brows in concentration, tapping her fingers on the keyboard. 

 

Again, there’s nothing wrong with those statements. They’re quite logical and flawless, Miyeon has to admit. 

 

“Damn, what’s the password.” 

 

“Try 121389,” mumbles Soyeon. 

 

“Miss President of the Disciplinary Committee, you’re aiding and abetting us!” scolds Minnie. 

 

Soyeon raises her arms in the air, unceremoniously flopping them back down. The shorter girl’s voice is monotone, devoid of emotion. “I don’t care anymore. The Disciplinary Committee is a thankless job.”

 

Yuqi types in the numbers, two fingers hunting, pecking at the keys. The startup sound plays, indicating a successful login. “Girl, how did you know?”

 

“It’s Taylor Swift’s birth date. I heard him streaming ‘folklore’ when I passed his office.”

 

Miyeon can’t resist the opportunity. "The geezer jams to exile? He has good taste.” 

 

Soyeon doesn’t give her a reaction, the other two look at her in disgust. Noses scrunching simultaneously, like they smelled foul rotten eggs. 

 

Until Minnie breaks the silence for a second time. “Stop promoting Taylor Swift. She'll never notice you on the bird app."

 

“All three of you have been giving me nothing, but cold hard facts. Let me live,” Miyeon whines.

 

"Whatever. Come over here and look at this.” Yuqi’s eyes are wide open, the whites comically showing. “There are profiles, personal reports on every student. And woah, it’s me.” 

 

They don’t need to be told twice, Miyeon and Minnie settle beside Yuqi, eyes raking over classified information. 

-

Song Yuqi (Year - 4)

Power: Superhuman Strength

Level: 4.1

Weakness: Apples

Notes: Yuqi has shown signs of intellectual ability far beyond the level of her peers, but she does not seem to be motivated enough to apply it in situations outside of causing mischief on school grounds. Yuqi also has difficulties managing her anger. If she is provoked, be sure to maintain a minimum distance of ten feet. 

-

“Your weakness is apples,” says Miyeon. She stores that bit of info in the back of her mind. It could be useful one day. “Of all the possibilities, it’s apples.”

 

Minnie seems to be holding it in, trying her hardest to not laugh, cheeks puffed out. “But how does it work? If I threw an apple at you, would you drop to the floor? Do you carry an EpiPen?”

 

“Very funny,” deadpans Yuqi, clicking on another profile. “I’m not going to explain.”

-

Nicha Yontararak (Year - 4) 

Power: Mediumship

Level: 3.5

Weakness: Can be possessed by strong spirits

Notes: Nicha refuses to respond to her birth name, preferring to be called ‘Minnie.’ Before entering the academy, Nicha was frequently possessed by S-tier spirits. She should be carefully monitored for her own safety. Green smoke and aura indicates spirit possession.

-

Yuqi snorts, resting her arm on Minnie's shoulder. “Remember when you willingly allowed Beethoven to possess your body? I can’t believe you did that in exchange for him telling you why he has been so quiet since Dula Peep released her album.” 

 

“Her name is Dua Lipa and for the record, I did it for a social media challenge, I’m not that dumb,” protests Minnie. “Can we please move on?” 

 

Closing Minnie’s profile, Yuqi rapidly scrolls through names, not taking the time to properly read them. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.” 

 

“Are we looking at Miyeon’s next?” says Minnie. 

 

Yuqi scoffs at that. “Miyeon’s is going to be boring, it'll say 'Cho Miyeon can tell the future.' We already know how useless her visions are. They can’t even save us from detention. If they were useful, the room we're most acquainted with wouldn't be the women's washroom."

 

"You're right. We've washed too many bloody stalls for detention." Minnie glares at Miyeon. Flaring her nostrils. "Literally. Bloody."

 

"Hey, they come in handy. Sometimes," Miyeon trails off. More often than not, her powers make the already shifty reputation of precognition seem like a roadside cheap fortune-telling sham. 

 

She just can’t tell when her visions will happen in real life. It could be a day after. A week. Ten years later. All she knows is that they’ll happen. 

 

Eventually. 

 

Yuqi scrolls past her name. "What about we look at Shuhua, Soojin, or Soyeon’s instead?”

 

Behaving very much like a zombie before, it’s terrifying how fast Soyeon sits up, eyes piercing into each of them. “Song Yuqi. If you even click on mine, I will make sure none of you step foot out of this office. At least not without being burnt to a crisp." 

 

“Don’t worry, Soyeon, I wasn’t even thinking about it. I didn’t suggest your name just now either.” 

 

“You better not."

 

Yuqi looks expectantly at Miyeon. “It’s your call then, Shuhua or Soojin?” 

 

Out of over a thousand students, Shuhua and Soojin are ranked number one and two respectively in terms of power level, both labelled as prodigies. Writing an article on them would definitely net her extra points with the editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, the entire student body is always craving for more information. 

 

Though specifically, it’s moreso info on Shuhua. 

 

“Shuhua.” 

 

“You got it, boss.”

-

Yeh Shuhua (Year - 4)

Power: Mimicry

Level: 8.2

Weakness: Unknown 

Notes: Shuhua does not seem to display any visible weaknesses. There are no official records either at her previous school. Shuhua has a tendency to mimic Seo Soojin’s power of time manipulation.

-

What was she expecting. From scoring top grades, being constantly picked for monthly field missions, to having no weaknesses whatsoever. Shuhua is that perfect. 

 

----

 

“Now, I’d like to talk about Jisoo’s recent article exposing the identity of the local arsonist, whose calling card was a burnt chicken nugget. Not only did she solve the case before the police, she brilliantly narrowed down the culprit in question to sweet, unsuspecting Park Chaewon.” 

 

Plump cheeks and round-faced, radiating the aura of an impish 30 cm tall demon, Boo Seungkwan, the president of the newspaper club slash editor-in-chief, wields his laser pointer. The glowing red dot wildly circles the pretty blonde first-year student’s mugshot on the whiteboard.

 

“What’s more important than catching the criminal, is that our readership has increased by five percent! Thanks to the lovely Jisoo, our club’s only competent,” he coughs once, “ahem, I mean, our club’s MVP of the month. Excuse my Freudian slip.”    

     

The room applauds respectfully as Jisoo stands up from her spot and does quick, short bows. Sitting down, Jisoo whispers in Miyeon’s ear, “He just insulted all of you guys. Including you.”

 

“I’m well aware,” Miyeon mutters. 

 

It has become a sort of running joke, tallying who between the two of them is dubbed the ‘only competent journalist’ by Seungkwan. She has nothing against Jisoo, the girl makes all-nighters in the newsroom bearable. Jisoo is also the most tolerable roommate she’s ever had in her years at the academy. 

 

Needless to say, they’ve bonded over their mutual hatred of Seungkwan.

 

“Before our meeting concludes, I’d like to say one more thing. Everyone, please applaud once more,” he announces. Every club member golf claps. 

 

“Louder please.” They clap vigorously, hollering and hooting, pounding the table for added effect. They shriek like maniacs. Knowing he won't go on until he feels they have demonstrated an adequate amount of passion.

 

According to Seungkwan, 'adequate' means their enthusiasm must at least reach the decibel level of an arena chalk-full of die-hard Swifties seeing their goddess in concert.

 

Their voices will be dead tomorrow. That’s a fact.  

 

“Thank you." They stop, relieved they don't have to redden their palms further.

 

"That applause was for our dear esteemed Jisoo. Because she did a wonderful job and I’d like all of you, every single one of you, to emulate her shining example. Go out and find crime, solve crime. Make the police jobless. And this concludes our meeting.”

 

Seungkwan turns off the projector, stashing his beloved laser pointer in his pocket. Everyone packs up, grabbing their bags. Exhausted and done with Seungkwan’s antics. 

 

Jisoo pokes Miyeon in the ribs. “Want to grab coffee? I can help you with your opinion article.”

 

Coffee sounds amazing. Lord knows she needs it, especially after Seungkwan railing on them for three hours straight. “Sure–”

 

“Miyeon!” Seungkwan shouts. Jisoo apologetically murmurs, “or not. Seems like you’re getting the ‘talk.’ I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

 

Miyeon makes her way over. As slow as possible. Trudging. 

 

“Miyeon, come over here, now!” She speeds up by a smidge. 

 

“What is it, Seungkwan?” 

 

“I gave you an extension for your opinion piece. How’s it going along?” That. To be fair, she has been sidetracked. Mopping washroom floors with Minnie, Soyeon, and Yuqi (detention lasts inhumanely long).

 

“It’s… going.”

 

“Miyeon. I’ve been generous, I wanted to see it a week ago. Have you at least finished the bulk of it?”

 

Nope, not at all. She hasn’t even decided on a headline yet. If she tells him the truth, she’ll be trapped here for another half hour, ears quaking. “Yes. I have it almost done. Just need to come up with a title.”

 

All of a sudden he smiles. 

 

“I must say I’m pleasantly surprised, I always knew you were my favourite journalist of the bunch."

 

His compliment would be a lot more sincere if he hadn’t called everyone except Jisoo incompetent. 

 

“What’s your headline?” he asks. 

 

Well, it’s time to make one up on the spot. Miyeon runs her fingers through her hair. “High cafeteria chicken prices are unaffordable.”

 

“It’s not eye-catching. You have to tickle our readers.”

 

“Cafeteria chicken price digs holes in wallets?” Absurd, really, but Miyeon has no willpower to earnestly try. 

 

Clicking his tongue, his disapproval plain and obvious, he shuffles to and fro. Wrinkles materializing on his forehead. “Tickle them more.”

 

“Chicken causes bankruptcy?”

 

Seungkwan stops shuffling around, standing in place. “What about.” Face lighting up. “You won’t believe chicken is the root of bankruptcy.”

 

“Aren’t we taking it a bit too far with the clickbait?” 

 

“You’re right. We have to shorten the headline,” he says. Completely missing the point. “You won’t believe this chicken.”

 

“You won’t believe this chicken? That doesn’t even make sense.”

 

“How about this? A three-word title.” He moves his hand in a wide arc. Face solemn, dropping his smile. “You won’t believe.” 

 

Miyeon seriously doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Her brows increasingly creasing, stupefied and bewildered. Befuddled into silence. 

 

He takes her silence for acceptance, shaking her shoulder. “I’m glad we’ve settled it.”

 

“Can I go now?”

 

“Not yet. There’s one more thing I want to talk about.” Seungkwan throws a set of pictures onto the table and she picks them up. They’re HD images, the girls’ pimples in the photos are clearer than her future.

 

She sifts through the pile, pondering when he had the time to do this. He always seemed busy, practically living in the newsroom rather than at the dorms. “You took pictures of Soojin and Shuhua at the library?” 

 

“I did.”

 

“What do you want me to do with these?” 

 

“I was thinking since Jisoo has us covered with the crime department, you could help with the gossip column. Write me a short 500-word piece on Shuhua and Soojin. Spin it however you want as long as it tickles the students.” 

 

So she’s been relegated to tabloid journalism. Just great.

 

“That’s it. You’re free to go, remember to send me both articles by tomorrow morning at seven.” 

 

----

 

Snoring on the other side of their room, Jisoo sleeps soundly. Entering dreamland, leaving Miyeon to fight a lonely battle against her news articles due in four hours. 

 

The long hand on the clock ticks past 12. The short hand snaps to the 3. 

 

Miyeon sits straight. Twisting, stretching. Yawning into oblivion. Trying to blink her tiredness away. The light blue glow of her laptop screen lulling her to sleep. 

 

This won’t do. 

 

She cracks her knuckles. Forces herself to stay awake. She spreads Seungkwan’s photos on her desk, fans them out, and hopes a second look will spark inspiration. 

 

Inspecting closely, drumming her fingers in thought, the pictures aren’t scandalous. They don’t pop. They’re normal. 

 

She looks at these photos and all she sees are top-ranking students. Reading comics. 

 

Maybe the cover of the comic Shuhua is holding, featuring two women hugging, cheeks pressed together, lips almost touching, is a bit, for lack of a better term, very LGBTQ friendly. 

 

And maybe Shuhua’s arm is too close for comfort to Soojin’s. To the point where if Miyeon was a delusional romance-starved socially inept young girl suffering from insomnia and puberty, she could say they’re holding hands. 

 

Miyeon types a tentative title in bold font, just to see how she feels about it. 

 

ACADEMY #1 AND 2 STUDENTS CAUGHT ON A DATE?????

 

Frankly, it makes her feel like dishonorable garbage. A sorry excuse of a journalist in cahoots with the paparazzi.

 

But this is what Seungkwan is asking for. He tossed some photos to her, expecting a trashy take on normalcy at the library. This is what students are itching for. Thrilling, juicy dirt, never mind that it might not be real. 

 

Reluctantly, Miyeon starts writing, accepting her descent, her relegation to tabloid journalism. 

         

----

 

The dating article is published (Seungkwan had given the green light without trouble), Miyeon follows the standard newspaper club drill.

 

She adheres to social distancing and goes above and beyond, staying greater than 6 feet away from Shuhua and Soojin. Miyeon walks with her head down, avoiding eye contact whenever she passes them in the hallways.

 

One can never be too careful when snubbing students in the newspaper.

 

Soojin and Shuhua’s dating rumors take the academy by storm. Everywhere Miyeon goes, someone in the vicinity is talking about it. 

 

In the next club meeting, Seungkwan praises her to the heavens while offending everyone else (Jisoo included), calling them ‘bungling buffoons.' Miyeon becomes the shining example that should be emulated.

 

As for the range of responses to her tabloid article, there’s a wide variety. 

 

The most common one is they’re so cute together! 

 

Then it’s god, they make me feel more single than ever. Where’s my hunnie.

 

A few people have lamented over Soojin being unavailable and off the dating market. No one does the same for Shuhua, it had already been established in the girl’s first year that you do not ask her out. 

 

Confessing to Shuhua is the biggest mistake you could make. Miyeon witnessed it once when she was a freshman. 

 

There was a large commotion in the courtyard and the boy, a senior, got on one knee. Clove pink carnations in his hands, nervous, yet hopeful. The innocent sight of a boy in love. 

 

Shuhua rejected him with a flat no. Unblinking. The boy had stood up, desperately trying to convince her and time stopped. 

 

Everyone in the courtyard couldn't lift a finger. 

 

They watched as Shuhua plucked the flowers from him, discarded them in the nearby trashcan and walked off. The world came back to life when Shuhua stepped foot into the school building. Out of sight.

 

The poor boy was absolutely devastated, receiving everyone's pity. He didn't become the academy's laughingstock, ironically, thanks to Shuhua's harsh rejection. 

 

----

 

Life goes on. Rumors rise and quiet down. 

 

After the first week, things go back to normal. As normal as they can get. 

 

Which means stressing over her test, scanning up and down her sheet.

 

The last question stumps her. Granted it’s for an ethics class, Miyeon knows she’s supposed to formulate an answer involving taking the moral high ground. She’s sitting at her desk, motionless. Drawing blanks. 

 

Jittery legs, she stares and stares, praying a brilliant idea will strike her out of nowhere. 

 

The bell will ring soon and she’ll have to hand in her test. That she definitely didn’t study for and will receive back in a few weeks marked with a fat red zero. And then in a few months time, the zero will turn into an even larger and ugly ‘F.’ 

 

She’s on the verge of failing this class. Right at the cusp and barely passing. She gets it, she really does, she understands why this class is mandatory. You’d hope immature teenagers with superpowers would at least abide by some noble moral code. 

 

It wouldn’t look good for the academy to produce criminals.  

 

Forget about right and wrong, the pressing matter is that Miyeon needs to pass or else she won’t graduate. It’s paradoxical as hell that she’s considering cheating on an ethics test. 

 

Would it be wrong to take a small peek at her neighbour’s sheet? Lying in plain view, an elbow haphazardly obscures nothing. Begging for a glance. As a bonus, her neighbour’s answers should be correct as well, granted that it’s Shuhua. The girl is spinning a pencil in her hand, bored and killing extra time. Having finished a while ago. 

 

Far away, the professor isn’t paying attention to the class. Miyeon could quickly look for a second. After that, she’ll never ever cheat, she’ll study and work hard (a lie nonetheless, but a necessary one to tell herself right now).  

 

Tilting her head, Miyeon squints, painstakingly deciphering Shuhua’s handwriting. Inwardly cursing. 

 

Of all the things Shuhua could be bad at, it’s penmanship. The words are barely legible and Miyeon is proud of herself when she manages to construe meaning. The argument against egoism is—

 

Shuhua suddenly stretches, blocking the view. Blood drains from her face when Shuhua turns. 

 

Meeting her eyes directly. 

 

There’s no way out of this one. Forgetting to breathe, locked in a strained staring contest. Please don't tell, please don't tell.

 

Shuhua looks away first, her arm moving aside. Answers in full view once again. 

 

Miyeon knows a second chance when she sees one. She doesn’t copy word for word (she’s not that stupid), she paraphrases every sentence. 

 

“Time’s up.” 

 

Scrawling the last word, she caps her pen, handing in her test. 

 

Shuhua is already out the door when Miyeon is still packing. Seeing the girl walk so fast, she hastens, shoving her pen and whiteout into her backpack. She hasn’t run this fast in years for a stranger no less, but she sprints to catch up. Grabbing, latching onto the girl’s arm. 

 

Gripping too hard. 

 

Shuhua stops, facing her. Miyeon swiftly lets go. 

 

With the girl watching her closely, waiting for her to speak up, Miyeon realizes this was a horrible idea. She doesn’t know what to say. Should she thank her? Should she apologize? 

 

Rumors surround the girl more than anything else. Yeh Shuhua, the strongest student the academy has ever had in years. The girl with a death stare from a mile away, always keeping to herself, warding others off with a poker face. Rarely seen smiling except when she's with Soojin.

 

The current rumor floating around (aside from the dating one) is that if you so much as stare in her direction, you’ll find yourself mysteriously sporting a black eye by the end of the day. Miyeon can’t confirm it, the supposed victims claimed to have developed amnesia. 

 

Hands shifting behind her back, hoping to not develop amnesia or gain a black eye, she mumbles what comes to her mind first, “I grabbed your arm too hard, didn’t I?” 

 

Lord. Her toes are curling, cringing. 

 

If a blackhole appeared right under her feet, she’d voluntarily permit it, even going as far as to say beg it, to swallow her whole. 

 

“Um no. It’s fine,” says Shuhua. 

 

“Okay. That’s good.”

 

“Okay,” the girl replies. 

 

Her apology could be grand, conveying utmost sincerity. Instead, Miyeon settles for simplicity. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Why?”

 

“About earlier. And also for the news article.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“On you and Soojin.”

 

“Oh.” Miyeon wants to sink further into the hypothetical black hole. Socializing isn’t her forte, but this is beyond painful. The stiff one-liners. Cutting off, not even reaching two sentences. 

 

This gives an entirely new meaning to ‘awkward conversations with the girl who helped you cheat in your ethics class even though you wrote her dating rumors into existence.’  

 

Arms hanging dumbly at her side, Miyeon gathers the courage, convincing herself it’s the right thing to do. “I want to make it up to you. Because you really didn’t need to help me, you did it anyway.”

 

“You don’t have to.” 

 

“I want to.”

 

Shuhua crosses her arms. “You really don’t.” 

 

Right here and now, Miyeon catches onto why a single glare from Shuhua induces the bravest students to sob for mercy. She pushes on though. “I insist.”

 

“You’re stubborn. Did you know that?”

 

“I prefer being called ‘resolute’ though ‘stubborn’ works too.” 

  

Shuhua’s voice lowers, snickering, “if you want to make it up to me, don’t cheat the next time. As for the rumors, I don’t mind them." A casual smile breaks on the girl’s face.

 

Miyeon isn’t exaggerating when she figures she has no choice, firing a grin of her own. 

 

----

 

The scene unfolds.

 

Dressed prim and proper, a meeting is ongoing. Voices steadily rise in volume. The academy’s faculty and staff seem agitated, crowding around, jabbing at a large sheet of paper. 

 

Elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands, the principal is quiet in comparison. A picture of tranquility within a stream of discord. He doesn’t partake in the heated discussion. 

 

“I’m telling you, this mission is far too dangerous for students!”

 

“You’re coddling them. We’re not their nannies, they’re not ignorant babies.”

 

“I’m saying we should hand this one over to the officials. To qualified superheroes instead of students who haven’t finished their training.” 

 

The principal clears his throat and the room goes silent. 

 

“I have six students in mind for the mission. A hostage rescue operation is no easy task, but I am confident in these students’ abilities,” he begins, noting their subdued reactions. 

 

He points to names on the sheet.

 

“I fully understand selecting Shuhua and Soojin. Soyeon and Yuqi to an extent. But Minnie and Miyeon?” voices another professor. Murmurs of assent follow. 

 

“We are missing necessary information on the situation. Miyeon and Minnie’s abilities will be more than adequate for the task, gathering intel,” says the principal with conviction. 

 

----

 

“Field missions are posted, want to go check if you’ve made it on the list this week?” Minnie is bright, her tone, energetic. Preppy and comparable to all things happy in the morning.

  

Good for her. Miyeon means that in the best way possible. Honestly. Good for her. Where can she get some of that energy for herself. 

 

Miyeon closes her locker, unintentionally slamming it shut. Startling Minnie.

 

“Geez, Miyeon. Did you not sleep well last night?” Heavy-eyed, Miyeon exhales tiredly, nodding. 

 

"I slept for only two hours."

 

"How are you still alive and functioning?"

 

"I'm not. This," she gestures at her coffee, taking a large sip, "is what's functioning. I'm a mere robot servant of bean juice."

 

Minnie looks at her pitifully, guiding her down the hallway, wrapping an arm around her, "you're not making any sense."

 

"That's fine. What's not making sense is that the four of us, Soyeon, Yuqi, you and me, we're going to be paired with Soojin and Shuhua. For missions." 

 

"You're joking," replies Minnie. Miyeon holds on tight to Minnie as her friend parts through the crowd. Students are milling around the bulletin boards, clogging the hallway. Chattering raucously. 

 

Her headache throbs with each squeal and screech of excitement.

 

"I wish I was." Standing on their tiptoes, they peer at the large sheet, searching for their names. 

 

Like she had foreseen, they're near the top, grouped with the aforementioned names. The principal, that eccentric geezer truly had gone off the rocker at last. By putting them all in a group.

 

"This is going to be a disaster," comments Minnie. 

 

----

 

Field missions aren’t new to Miyeon, it’s just that she’s usually chosen for crime-solving ones. Who assassinated the CEO. Who suffocated the lecherous old man in his sleep with the classic hospital pillow. Who decided on a herbological takeover of the city. 

 

They’re more up her alley, there’s less at stake when the crime has already been committed. 

 

Now as for hostage rescue operations. 

 

No sweat. She has dealt with them before. Once. 

 

It was three years ago, when she reported the findings of her vision and ‘heroically’ prevented the mayor’s fifth mistress from being kidnapped in the dead of the night. 

 

The following morning, she had found her surname in small print in the local newspaper, coming after all the big names responsible for the successful operation. 

 

She had brushed it off, feeling indifferent. It’s not like she was the one who shattered the perpetrators’ kneecaps (Yuqi’s doing) and handcuffed them to a grandiose Corinthian column (the mayor's mansion features symmetrical Greek designs). She was hiding behind said columns while the action happened. Safe and sound. 

 

Her self-defense technique was shoddy then, she was a sitting duck. Hiding was the best she could’ve done. (That’s not to say her technique has improved immensely in the following years.)

 

Stomach knotting uneasily, popping her knuckles from left to right, she reminds herself to relax. Minnie had talked to the dead last night. Soyeon is as ready as ever to burst into flames. Yuqi will bust into the warehouse with Shuhua as backup. Soojin will do what she always does. Soojin things.

 

Soyeon calls for them to gather around behind the shipping container. They shuffle into a circle, accidentally bumping into each other, none of them accustomed to working together. “Four targets. One hostage. This will be a piece of cake, a walk in the park,” says Soyeon.

 

“Like stealing candy from a baby.”

 

“Shooting fish in a barrel.”

 

“Piece of piss.” 

 

Soyeon pinches her nose. “Thank you, Yuqi and Minnie for your meaningful contributions. Now back to the plan. Minnie and Miyeon are the distraction for the targets. Yuqi and Shuhua will run in from the back and rescue the hostage. Once they’re out, Soojin and I will go in and help take down the kidnappers. We’re all fitted with earpieces, communication shouldn’t be a problem.” 

 

The plan seems solid. Courtesy of Minnie, they had learned about the layout of the warehouse, the positions of the targets and the hostage. The plan could be better though if Miyeon had gotten a vision about the abilities of the targets. The kidnappers. 

 

The file they received for briefing only mentioned three of the targets were low-tiers. In a fight, they wouldn’t be extremely dangerous. 

 

The fourth target’s ability is unknown. The same goes for his tier level. 

 

Her stomach churns faster, anticipating trouble. Possible accidents. What if it all goes horribly wrong and one of them doesn’t make it out alive? And if the hostage is killed in the process?

 

This is her first time handling a mission this important. She doesn’t want to think about what would happen if she fails to save the hostage.  

 

“Hey, are you alright?” Shuhua nudges her, concern laced in her voice. The girl grips her shoulder, squeezing. Stopping her from shaking. 

 

Miyeon wasn’t aware she was trembling. Out of excitement or anxiety. Maybe it’s both. 

 

“I’m fine. Actually, you know what? No, I’m nervous as hell.” Miyeon swallows, intending to dispel whatever is disturbing her. She needs to be calm for what lies ahead. 

 

On the contrary, Shuhua is relaxed, far from being a bundle of nervous energy. Emanating the aura of an experienced veteran.

 

She can’t help asking. “Don’t you get nervous too?” 

 

Really. She mentally slaps her own forehead. This is Shuhua. Nervousness would be a foreign concept to her, Shuhua probably popped from the womb and was combat-ready. Beating the living daylights out of petty thugs at two, defusing bombs in basements at three.

 

As for herself? She was learning how to walk with her stubby chubby legs at two, failing (by margins) at potty training at three.

 

(A hyperbole, yet the point stands.) 

 

“I still do. But then after a few times, it was fine,” Shuhua admits.

 

Removing her hand from its place on Miyeon's shoulder, Shuhua scratches the nape of her neck as though she shouldn't be saying this, “I got comfortable with being scared.”

 

“You’re not being helpful.” 

 

Shuhua walks off, moving into her position, teasing cheekily. “What can I say.”

 

Miyeon would never admit it aloud, but her panic has faded, to a tolerable level. Before it felt like she was blindfolded, riding a bicycle on a path in the forest and the forest was on fire. Now the blindfold has been removed, giving her the smallest sense of comfort. 

 

The forest is still on fire though.  

 

----

 

Curling smoky green wisps drift from Minnie’s open mouth, her eyes rolled back. Wooden staff in hand. “Ready.” Growling, profoundly guttural, signaling demonic possession. 

 

Grasping the handle, Miyeon opens the door.

 

Wide and airy. Light comes in from a few windows high up in the wall. Bruised and battered, a man kneels, head hanging. A blood-soaked blindfold covers his eyes. 

 

Behind him. Four men casually stand, heads turning to them. Their fox masks glinting crimson and snow-white. 

 

dries at the sight. 

 

“I suppose you have two more open spots for your cult?” she croaks hoarsely. The masked men approach. 

 

“We’re harmless lost tourists in the area, it was silly of us to explore an abandoned warehouse?” Advancing closer, their hands glow, red energy forming. 

 

Miyeon really hates being the bait, the distraction. She’s not allowed to run away and scream like a little child when it’s all she wants to do. 

 

In the back, Yuqi and Shuhua have crept in. Undetected. 

 

“I, uh- I don’t think you want to fight us. My friend here has been possessed by a buff thousand-year-old half bull, half man demon. Back off, I’m warning you.” 

 

The hairs on her arm rise.

 

Miyeon barely dives out of the way, red energy beams shooting the spot where she was. Unsheathing her dagger, she screams.

 

“Minnie, don’t go in!” 

 

Too late. Minnie charges forward. At the last second, leaping in the air. The men scatter, her staff smashes cracks into the ground. Shockwaves rippling. 

 

The masked men have recovered from the attack, shooting deadly beams of light at Minnie. Who expertly deflects them, whirling her staff. 

 

Buying time for Yuqi, hauling, carrying the hostage. 

 

One of the men, his hands emit cobalt, snuffing red. He turns. Firing, the bolt hurtles towards Yuqi. 

 

Seemingly missing. Then uncannily redirecting, changing directions mid-flight. 

 

Time slows, stalling. Grinding to a halt. The bolt is suspended, inches from Yuqi’s temple.

 

Only Shuhua can move. Pushing Yuqi, dragging her and the hostage through the backdoor.

 

Time resumes. 

 

The bolt meant for Yuqi pierces Shuhua. 

 

She falls to the ground, clutching her twitching right arm. A shrill cry. Hissing in agony.

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

 

The man, dark blue crackling in his palm, summons, gathers energy into the shape of a javelin. Shuhua is unmoving. Electric currents running, coursing through her body. Flickering visible static. 

 

Miyeon has to do something.

 

She throws her dagger, but it doesn’t stick. Doesn’t sink in, it clatters to the floor. He turns, his wrath upon her. She can’t react fast enough, standing still. 

 

Bracing herself. 

 

The pain never comes. 

 

The fusion of blue and red stops in their tracks. Soojin strides past Miyeon up to the man. 

 

His jaw cracks, echoing into empty space.   

         

----

 

“You’re telling me that Shuhua was hurt during the mission so Soojin lost it, wreaking havoc on the kidnappers?” Seungkwan leans back, swivelling in his custom office chair. Hands clasped together. 

 

“Yes,” replies Miyeon. 

 

“And you don’t want to write an article on them? This is big. Shuhua hurt. Soojin raging monkey. What more do I need to say?” Incredulity manifests on his face.

 

She had a front-row seat to what had transpired. This could be a great opportunity to pull in new readers. 

 

“I don’t think I was conscious enough to see what exactly happened. I don’t want to report any false news.” Miyeon forces a chuckle. An offhand ha. Seungkwan doesn’t seem to buy it, eyeing her suspiciously.  

 

“Conscious?”

 

“There was some kind of gas in the warehouse, dulling our senses.” There was no gas. There was nothing of the sort. Lies, lies, lies. 

 

“Can’t you write about it anyway? It doesn’t matter if the tiniest of details are a bit off,” he says. 

 

The thought did cross her mind. She had sat down at her desk, wrapped in the comfiest fuzzy blanket, a piping hot cup of tea on the side, a blank Word document pulled up. She entertained a couple titles for the article.

 

Shuhua motionless, electricity jumping, jolting her body at irregular intervals, did flash through her mind as well. Her fingers stalled. Hesitating, not knowing where to begin. Everything felt surreal in the warehouse, voyeuristic even, like she shouldn’t have witnessed Shuhua drop to the ground. Soojin subsequently breaking the man’s jaw. 

 

“It wouldn’t be fair to Shuhua and Soojin. I can’t spread half-truths about them.” 

 

“Then what if I wrote the article? I can spare you from the guilt of spreading fake news,” Seungkwan draws quotation marks in the air.

 

“As journalists, shouldn’t we uphold some kind of integrity?” 

 

He shrugs once. “If you insist, I’ll hold off for now. Out of my infinite respect for you, my favourite journalist.”   

 

----

 

Chocolate and candy line the shelf beside the cash register. Opening her wallet, there’s some very loose change adding up to three dollars. 

 

Sufficient for the burrito in her hand. Certainly not enough to buy a chocolate bar as well.  

 

“Are you going to pay? You’re holding up the line,” says the weary cafeteria lady. Miyeon dumps her extremely loose change and the burrito onto the counter. Pretending she doesn’t see the veins pulsing in the woman’s neck.

 

While her coins are being counted, Miyeon contemplates, surveying the chocolate again.   She reckons she should pay Shuhua a visit at the infirmary. The girl’s injuries are severe, luckily not life-threatening. 

 

She did promise she would make it up to the girl somehow. 

 

Miyeon grabs a chocolate bar. Milk chocolate to be safe since she doesn’t know Shuhua’s preferences. “Can you cancel the burrito? I want to buy this instead.”

 

Nostrils flare, actual steam and smoke escaping from the lady’s ears. Horns grow atop her head. 

 

“Wow, you’re a dragon shapeshifter!” The words barrel from , unstoppable. Scales the shade of walnuts burst onto the lady’s skin. Teeth sharpening to jagged edges.

 

Survival instincts are elusive to Miyeon, it seems. She should work on that. 

 

“You’re lucky you’re not the last in line.” Sweeping the change into the register, the woman scowls. Miyeon briskly heads out the cafeteria. Jamming the chocolate into her back pocket. 

 

Checking her watch, she has about 20 minutes before visiting hours end. The nurses permit one visitor at a time per patient, but it won’t be a problem. Not a lot of people would visit Shuhua in the first place.   

 

The thought invokes sadness. 

 

Shuhua alone, strapped to a narrow bed, blankly staring, waiting for the day to go by. With the infirmary in sight, she hurries.

 

She hears them before she enters. Soojin and Shuhua.

 

Backtracking, Miyeon opts to wait outside, not wanting to disturb them. (The nurse's glare, warning her to stay where she is, is also very effective.)

 

Miyeon isn't purposely trying to eavesdrop, it just so happens that she overhears.

 

"Remember to take your meds. Listen to the nurses and doctors, alright?" Soojin's tone is caring, like her voice might break from the simplest touch. An audible yawn follows. 

 

"I will, please don't worry about me. I'll be fine," replies Shuhua.

 

"Are you sure? Should I call the nurse to give you another pillow or a glass of water?"

 

"It's getting late. I know you haven't been sleeping well lately. Get some rest."

 

The scraping of a chair being pushed back, footfall nearing. A soft “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Shuhua’s hum of acknowledgement, and Soojin steps out. 

 

Waving politely to Miyeon then Soojin is gone. 

 

The tender exchange, far too delicate for friends, might've been a hint of something more. Perhaps the dating rumors weren't groundless.

 

“What are you doing here.” Realizing she’s awkwardly standing in the doorway, Miyeon goes to sit in the chair beside the bed. 

 

The seat is uncomfortably warm.  

 

Miyeon adjusts her sitting position, squirming around. Oh right. Reaching behind, she takes the likely melted chocolate out. Placing it on the bedside table. “I intend to keep my promise of making it up to you.”

 

In hindsight, it was a dumb idea to stash chocolate in her pocket.

 

“I brought you chocolate. I thought it might cheer you up.” 

 

“Thanks. I would eat it now, but,” Shuhua pointedly looks at her arms. Although it has been three days since the incident, seeing the girl covered in bandages, Miyeon’s insides have frozen into a block of ice. Heavy and cold, weighing her down. 

 

She was the weakest member of the team, she couldn’t even pull off being the distraction right.     

 

As if the girl could read her mind, Shuhua sighs, “Don’t feel bad for me. I’m in good hands, the nurses are expert healers.” 

 

“My knife bounced off and did nothing. I couldn’t help you!”

 

“You bought time for Soojin to come in. Because of you, I’m okay.” Wearing an exasperated look, Shuhua pauses, switching to a gentler expression. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” 

 

----

 

Startlingly clean, the facility is pristine. Specks of dust are invisible. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, blindingly white.

 

Chilly air blasting from above, air conditioners whir. Jamming.

 

Raging heat erupts, fire slithers down the hallway, consuming everything to ashes.

 

Noise, indistinct clatters, and stomps. Nothing in front of her is the source of it. 

 

Someone tugs on her arm, clenching hard. Urgently whispering, hot air blowing in her ear, "We have to go!" 

 

The scene changes. White fading to black and brown. Stray cardboard boxes, heaps of trash and litter, a cramped alley invades her vision.

Limbs splay akimbo. Gashes deep and light, fluttering, closing eyes. 

 

Soojin cradles the severely injured girl.

 

The spectator, whose point of view she has embodied, turns away from it all. Miyeon’s line of sight abruptly shifts. Foreign pale hands clench. Nails pricking into skin, she can feel the dull pressure.  

 

Subdued jealousy seeps through her lenses, engulfing, ending the scene altogether.   

 

----

 

“Yeh Shuhua, Cho Miyeon, Seo Soojin, Jeon Soyeon, please come to the office. Yeh Shuhua, Cho Miyeon, Seo Soojin, Jeon Soyeon, please come to the office.” 

 

Loud and clunky, the telephone scrambles back onto the receiver. Followed by a mechanical beep. 

 

Curious eyes trail her figure as Miyeon leaves class, still in session. What could be so important that they would be called down? Her mind flits to Yuqi and Minnie, thinking it might have to do with them. 

 

She did spot them skipping classes, scheming, carrying buckets of slimy fish entrails into the staff washrooms. 

 

Miyeon’s premonition proves to be wrong.

 

The principal pushes ornate fox masks across the desk towards them, the very ones worn by the men they defeated in the rescue operation. 

 

The principal regards the four girls carefully. Gesturing for them to take a mask each. “We’ve interrogated the men you’ve captured and they admitted they acted on the behalf of an elusive organization named Nine-tails. Before we could discover Nine-tails’ motivations, the men died there and then.”

 

“They died from self-inflicted wounds?” asks Soyeon. 

 

“It doesn’t appear to be the case. After lengthy persuasion and convincing, they informed us of one of the organization’s underground bases, located beneath a subway station. The man then spoke the name. Nine-tails.” The principal seems troubled. Disturbed. Slightly frowning, pausing. 

 

“The men began to convulse, even the ones who had not spoken yet. Their necks cleanly snapped. Their muscles moved on their own, it was a gruesome affair.” 

 

“Mind control,” Soyeon guesses. “The ability is a staple to cults.”

 

“Yes. That is what we believe occurred. For Nine-tails’ members, perhaps mentioning the name aloud is forbidden and punishable by death.” 

 

Soyeon nods slowly, “the cult I was in also operated the same way.”

 

“You were in a cult? It all makes sense now,” blurts Miyeon. Her teachers weren’t bluffing when they said you learn something new everyday. 

 

She didn’t take Soyeon to be the cult type though the nagging voice in the back of her mind tells her it’s plausible. In light of Soyeon’s fiery obsession with setting dodgeballs on fire during PE. 

 

“I was a baby!” Soojin pats Soyeon on the back, barely soothing the girl’s simmering indignation. Restraining Soyeon from lifting her hand for a beating. “My parents were the cultists!”

 

“Pyromaniacs have their roots somewhere,” muses Miyeon, caught up in the heat of the moment. 

 

In her opinion, what she said wasn’t A-grade humor, but Shuhua chuckles next to her. 

 

“Why, I ought to–”

 

“Girls,” the principal intervenes. Soyeon drops her hand back down. Shuhua resumes her poker face. Soojin doesn’t do anything. Miyeon realizes they’re still in a meeting with the principal.

 

“Your task is to infiltrate Nine-tails and gather as much information as possible. This will be a reconnaissance mission, set to take place in a week. It is only fitting that the four of you are chosen for this, considering your involvement in the previous mission.” 

 

“What about Minnie and Yuqi?” Miyeon says.

 

“They will be occupied for the remainder of the next two weeks. Excuse me for a second.” A crack of thunder resonates, lightning surges around his form, and the old man is no longer present. 

 

Not more than a second later, their principal has returned. Holding a guilty-looking Minnie and Yuqi by their collars. 

 

The pungent smell of fish wafts into the room.    

    

----

 

The masked men at the warehouse didn’t wear any uniforms, any sort of coordinated clothing. Aside from the mask. 

 

Which means Miyeon is free to wear her fresh-scented black t-shirt and gray training sweats, having done her laundry yesterday. Soyeon and Soojin are decked out in similar clothing. Short sleeves, comfortable pants. Perfect for a full range of motion, nothing limiting their movements.   

 

The only one who’s different is Shuhua. Wearing long sleeves despite the warm weather. 

 

To outsiders, the four of them in casual clothing don’t stand out, sending the impression of young adults going home after dinner, waiting for the subway. Except they never board the subway. Lingering behind, knocking randomly on tiled walls. 

 

They inspect every nook and cranny. 

 

The entrance to Nine-tails’ base can’t be in plain view, it won’t be obvious. There must be some degree of privacy. Just to prevent random tired citizens from stumbling into a secret underground cult meeting during rush hour. 

 

Beside her, Shuhua has her hands on the wall, fingers minutely twitching. Concentrating, face furrowed. Miyeon sidles up to her.

 

“Are you scanning the perimeter?”

 

A pronounced, troubled sigh. Evocative of an old grandma who has seen too much on her lawn. Shuhua takes her hands off. “I wish. It’s unfortunate, huh? Like everyone else, there are limits to my ability.” 

 

Limits. Weaknesses? Even the academy is in the dark over the nature of Shuhua’s weakness. Miyeon wants to ask more, but she’s interrupted. Soyeon approaches triumphantly, Soojin traipsing behind. 

 

“I think I’ve got it,” announces Soyeon, ushering them to the empty women’s washroom. Into the farthest stall, the handicapped stall. Locking the door, Soyeon grins dastardly. “What better place to hide the entrance than in the bathroom?”

 

“Sure, Soyeon. Sure,” says Soojin. 

 

Oblivious to the overt sarcasm, Soyeon slips on her fox mask. “I saw someone. A guy entered in here, the women's washroom.”

 

“So a ert. You saw a ert,” deduces Miyeon. 

 

“Will you guys listen? He went in and no one screamed. He hasn’t come out either and obviously, we don’t see him here. The entrance must be somewhere close by.” Talking with her arms, Soyeon accidentally swings wide, hitting the toilet flush handle.

 

The water in the bowl swirls. 

 

“Come to think of it, I did hear a lot of flushes after he entered,” Soyeon flushes repeatedly, the water continually siphoning, “and don’t say it, Miyeon. It’s not because someone drank milk tea and they’re lactose intolerant.”

 

Nothing happens at first. 

 

The toilet paper dispenser produces a faint click. 

 

It subsides into the wall and a small contraption slides forward. Neon green laser beams latch onto Soyeon’s face, scanning her mask. 

 

Everything shuffles back into place. With bated breath, they wait.

 

The entire wall unravels, presenting a shiny white passage leading underground.   

           

----

 

Miyeon controls her breathing, evening the time between inhale and exhale. Warm air circulates underneath her mask. Suffocating, the sense of déjà vu striking her all at once.   

 

Startling white. Miyeon has seen this before. Her vision. The wounds, the gashes at the end. 

 

“We’ll split into pairs. I’ll go with Soojin,” Soyeon taps her earpiece. “Keep each other updated, we don’t want another repeat of last mission.” 

 

Shuhua visibly flinches. 

 

“Be careful. I had a vision that someone, maybe one of us, will be severely injured tonight,” Miyeon warns.

 

Soyeon and Soojin nod, heading down the hall in the opposite way. Disappearing from view. 

 

Glancing at Shuhua, Miyeon feels like she should say something more, something to assure her.  

 

But it seems unnecessary. Shuhua is already steps ahead, head turned back. Looking, waiting for Miyeon to catch up. Composed. Whatever nervous movement before is an illusory afterthought.   

 

“What are you two doing here?” 

 

Her blood freezes. 

 

From out of nowhere. Narrowed eyes seen through holes in his mask. Broad shoulders, hulking muscular frame, the man ambles towards them, shutting the door behind him. 

 

“New recruits?” 

 

Miyeon steps closer to Shuhua. Tongue-tied. Her brain barely functioning, flabbergasted. Did they really run into a cult member within a minute of entering. 

 

She’s fortunate Shuhua finds the words for her.

 

“Yes, we’re new.” Lying so smoothly, bold and brazen under scrutiny. Shuhua doesn’t withdraw into herself. Miyeon tries to do the same. (Cosplaying as a straight pole).  

 

“Hm. Follow me.”

 

He directs them to a large room, filled to the brim with recruits. They enter, searching for space. Squeezing in near the side, close to the door. 

 

Eerie silence. The room of close to 50 people, Miyeon estimates, is utterly silent. The fox masks everyone is wearing elevates the creepy factor. 

 

At the podium, a woman commands attention in her flowing, layered white silk robes. Snaking flame motifs emblazoned on her sleeves stop a little below her elbows. Exposing toned forearms. 

 

The paint lines, the right red streaks and swirls on her mask are much more intricate than theirs. 

 

She taps the mic. “Welcome.” Her voice projects over the crowd. 

 

“Welcome to Nine-tails, an organization dedicated towards eradicating injustice. We are gathered, incapable of turning a blind eye to the tyranny of the government, the corruption of the state.” Gazing over the sea of new recruits, her eyes harden. 

 

“Inept and avaricious, state officials rob our citizens blind. Constraining them to abject poverty. Never to rise, never to gain even the smallest slivers of wealth.” 

 

The sultry, inviting lilt in her words weaves an enchanting web. Unconsciously, Miyeon leans for a closer glimpse, tilting. She finds herself agreeing. Nodding along. 

 

Sharp twinge, a pinch in her arm, she realizes she’s empathizing with a murderous cult. Shuhua has her eyes trained on the woman at the front, but her fingers don’t leave Miyeon’s arm.

 

“There is no need for the government we know of, feeding us constant lies. Society has progressed past the rudimentary need of false order. The future is freedom, the future is fluidity.”

 

Overhead. The alarms ring, cutting the speech short. An automated voice blares through the intercoms. 

 

Intruder alert. Intruder alert.   

 

The woman at the podium makes a motion, signaling the guards at the door to cut off the intercom. 

 

The room is silent again. 

 

"I ask all of you to remain calm. The problem will be dealt with immediately." She starts morphing.  

 

It makes so much sense why the organization is called Nine-tails. 

 

Spiraling of orange flame come to life, hovering above the woman's palms. A mind of their own, yet controlled, reigned in by the woman, the fox-fire blazes blue. Orbiting around her.

 

Soyeon’s voice comes through her earpiece. We’ve got a problem. Where are you and Shuhua? 

 

It is so quiet in the room that Miyeon doesn’t dare to respond. She keeps her eyes on the shapeshifting woman. The nine-tailed fox. Miyeon. Get out of here with Shuhua. 

 

“I smell fear. Flagrant lies.” Alluring, enticing. Cruel and calculating without warning. “There are impostors in this very room.” 

 

Whatever happens next, don’t panic.

 

Searing heat blasts open the door. Hailing orange flame.

 

The screaming begins, the room sets into a panic. Shrieking. Temperature rising to unbearable degrees. 

 

Amidst the confusion and mayhem, Shuhua grabs her and the world stops.  

 

Gritting her teeth. Tugging, heaving Miyeon's immobile body. “We have to go.” 

 

Miyeon can’t move, but her eyes lock with the shapeshifting woman’s. Vehement rage seething from their escape. 

  

Shuhua harshly whispers, breathing heavily, "I can’t stop time any longer. Get ready to run.”

     

----

 

When Shuhua said run, she really meant book the hell out of there and don’t look back. Miyeon can get with that. She wholeheartedly agrees.

 

Adrenaline kicks in. Miyeon sprints, tracing their footsteps back to the entrance. Arms pumping, exerting herself to the limit. 

 

The floor is hot. The walls are hot. Everything is hot. 

 

Miyeon stumbles, stepping, flying a few feet in front of her. Air knocked out her chest. 

 

Primitive fear seizes her lungs. 

 

The floor behind burns. She sees cinders.

 

Shuhua pulls her up. Sweating from the heat, grunting. Wincing grindingly. “Keep moving!”

 

Her feet find their rhythm again, running. Faster and faster. A sudden spurt of speed, chasing after Shuhua. 

 

The entrance, a melted hole in the wall. It’s in sight. Just a little more. 

 

Her earpiece crackles. We’re outside of the station. To the left, in the alley.  It’s Soojin. Agitation in her tone. Borderline hysterical. Hurry. 

 

They burst through out of the handicapped stall, the subway station, into the open night air. 

 

They don’t stop, trampling muddy cardboard, uneven cobblestones. They run until they reach Soojin. 

 

Kneeling on the ground, paling. Cradling, supporting Soyeon on her lap.  

 

And Soyeon, the weak rise and fall of her chest, barely perceptible. Dread overcomes Miyeon. In every detail, her vision was accurate. Soyeon’s legs, arms, torso. Limbs. The lacerations and burns. 

 

“She’s losing blood fast. I called backup from the academy. They won’t arrive in time,” rambles Soojin. Breathing fast. “I have to–I've got to do something.” 

 

Carefully carrying Soyeon, Soojin shakily stands. Snaps her fingers once. 

 

Miyeon and Shuhua are paralyzed. Watching Soojin rush past them. 

   

----

 

The conclusion of the cult debacle amounts to the principal scolding and praising them simultaneously. 

 

Praising them for gathering crucial intel. 

 

Scolding them for burning down the entire underground facility.

 

(Soyeon is lucky, or rather unlucky, to not be there in-person, listening to him berate them.)

 

The nine-tail fox shapeshifter remains at large, but the four of them have been laid off from the job. The principal has finally deemed it too dangerous. 

 

The case has been handed to the police. 

 

(It only took Soyeon's extreme burns and wounds to convince their principal. How timely, Miyeon's little respect for him has increased by a negative amount.)

 

What is more, apparently Soyeon wasn’t the only one injured. 

 

Treated for minor burns, Shuhua comes out of the infirmary, sleeves rolled up. New bandages wrapped around her right arm. The arm that suffered a direct energy blast. 

 

Miyeon intercepts her before she can leave. “How’s Soyeon doing?”

 

Mild surprise colors Shuhua’s features then exhaustion shows; her expression drops briefly. “She’s fine, she’s with a healer and Soojin won’t leave her side either.” 

 

Detecting a trace of bitterness, the persistent feeling that Miyeon is missing something, a piece of the puzzle, comes back. 

 

“What are you still doing here?” says Shuhua. 

 

Is Miyeon here because of Soyeon? Well. Yes. Soyeon is one of her dear friends. Actually. She’s not quite sure, but Soyeon is someone who’s more than an acquaintance. Someone who often spends detention with her, Minnie, and Yuqi. Therefore as a good friend, she should be here for Soyeon. 

 

Except it’s kind of pointless. Soojin has been glued to Soyeon’s side, never leaving the infirmary. The nurses would never allow Miyeon to enter when Soojin is there. 

 

In other words, no one else will be visiting Soyeon for awhile. 

 

Is Miyeon here for Shuhua? Well. That’s a question for another time. 

 

Miyeon isn’t sure if she was waiting outside because she had nothing better to do (it is past 10pm after all), as part of her promise, an extension of her guilt. Or if she genuinely cared about Shuhua (even though she isn't all that injured). 

 

What Miyeon does know is that her stomach has been empty for hours on end. “Since you weren’t injured that badly, I thought we could grab dinner and celebrate setting an underground base on fire?” 

 

“You’ve been waiting for me, I can’t say no, can I?” says Shuhua merrily. Heat crawls to the tips of Miyeon’s ears. Reddening. Hardly hidden by her hair. 

 

“I mean. You don’t have to,” Miyeon coughs, feeling the urge to scratch .

 

“But I want to. I insist.” Reminiscent of their first meeting, down to the exact words and Shuhua knew it, judging by her smirk. It's irritating and smug. 

 

In a good way.  

 

----

 

Eating cereal alone late at night in the cafeteria, when most students have already retired to their rooms for bed, encapsulates the student experience. It builds character. 

 

The depressing realization of eating breakfast foods for dinner hits very hard, at least for Miyeon.   

 

Having another person eat with her, spooning crunchy colorful bits of oats and wheats across the table. The knowledge that she’s not the only one changes everything. 

 

Cereal for dinner becomes a bonding experience through a shared struggle meal. 

 

“You know, this isn’t that bad,” comments Shuhua, lifting her spoon.

 

Miyeon scoffs. “It’s not bad because I’m here. Wait ‘til you do this alone.” 

 

They return to silence though it’s not awkward anymore. Silence settles in comfortably like a blanket. There isn't any insistence to maintain a constant flowing exchange.

 

Undergoing two high pressure situations with someone is the key to becoming acquainted.  

 

Swirling her half-eaten cereal around, a seemingly random detail comes to mind. Miyeon didn’t think much of it then. “Why’d you pinch me when we were listening to the speech?”

 

Shuhua looks up. “Hm?” 

 

“Why’d you pinch me out of the blue in Nine-tails’ base, when the woman was speaking?” 

 

“It’s rare, but strong nine-tail fox shapeshifters can hypnotise people with the sound of their voice. Pain is an easy way to break free of their hypnosis,” Shuhua explains in stride. Grinning as though she’s letting Miyeon in on a secret. “Lucky for me, I was already in pain.”

 

Recalling the out of place grunts and winces. Shuhua’s strange choice to wear long sleeves, probably to hide bandages. The signs were there.  

 

dries in incredulity. Inexplicable, vexing dismay welling from her realization. There and then, Miyeon knows. 

 

She’s not indifferent to Shuhua. She cares about her to some capacity, not out of guilt. She sincerely wishes for Shuhua to take her own well-being seriously.

 

Miyeon tries her hardest to speak pleasantly, barring her disappointment from boiling into an outburst. “You haven’t recovered yet… and you still agreed to another mission?” 

 

Shuhua’s grin drops. “I can’t wait around for my injuries to recover. The academy needs me, I can’t take a break from going on missions.”

 

Shuhua is likely the student who undertakes the most field missions, her ability is flexible, useful for any situation. The sky’s the limit. The girl is dependable, she could always be counted on to finish an operation without trouble. Adding to her clean track record.  

 

Until recently. 

 

In whatever way Miyeon looks at it, this poor justification can’t excuse overworking a student. Taking down secret cults isn’t their job. They haven’t graduated, they’re not full-time superheroes. 

 

Hell. There’s no obligation after graduation to become a superhero. 

 

The academy preps students for life with powers, the majority of them will go on as normal citizens with 9 to 5 jobs. Who can on the side, fire an energy blast or two, lift a car one-handedly. Get possessed for asinine social media challenges.    

 

“Why are you working so hard?"

 

“You can’t possibly understand, you’re a low-tier. There’s no pressure for you to keep up a front. Nobody watches your every move,” replies Shuhua calmly. 

 

No hints of intentional malice. Shuhua is stating her truth. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you aren’t groomed to be the city’s next strongest superhero."

 

She can’t fault Shuhua for her honesty. The difference in their ability levels has shaped their perspectives, the way they live their lives.

 

Miyeon isn’t offended, she has no right to be upset.  

 

But she could chastise Shuhua for not caring about her health. There’s a lot she wants to say. The academy’s business doesn’t revolve around you. You should be selfish for once.   

 

Tonight though, she’s not looking for an extended argument. Shuhua might raise her guard, becoming even more defensive. No doubt Shuhua has already heard the sort of comments she’s thinking of making. 

 

A part of her also doesn’t want to rock the boat when they’re starting to get closer.   

 

Shuhua pushes her own bowl to one side. Pressing her lips together. “I’m sorry. It was uncalled for, I shouldn’t have been accusatory with you. I know you’re asking because you care.” Fiddling with her thumbs. 

 

“I’ll try to be more mindful of my health. For the next little while,” Shuhua concedes. 

 

For now, that’s enough for Miyeon. A light promise that the girl will try. 

 

Miyeon gathers their finished bowls. Wiping with a napkin any small spills on the table. “You better. Chocolate from the cafeteria is expensive, visiting you in the infirmary burns a hole in my wallet.”

 

“Are you guilting me into taking care of myself?” Shuhua laughs, the sound coming deep from the belly. 

 

Seamlessly slotting into place, meshing into Miyeon’s life.     

 

----

 

Counting invisible sheep on the ceiling, lying in the dark, she’s kept awake by the clacking keys. 

 

Jisoo types furiously, fighting against the clock and her deadline. Miyeon rolls onto her other side, throwing her blanket over her head. In a futile attempt to drown out the keyboard. 

 

Never mind, she can’t breathe under her blankets. Miyeon pops her head back out.

 

“Jisoo.”

 

“Yeah? What’s up?”

 

“Jisoo.”

 

“Speak woman.”

 

“What do you think of Soojin and Shuhua? And Soyeon?” Miyeon says tentatively. Biting, chewing on her lip in thought. Those three are also keeping her awake, there’s no denying it. 

 

The typing ceases. “Why do you ask?”

 

“There’s some sort of weird vibe to them. Like their relationships with each other are really complicated. Conspiracy-worthy complicated.”

 

Jisoo huffs, going back to typing. “Go to sleep, you’ve had a long day filled with a cult of anarchist furries. I think your brain is rotting ever since you wrote that dating rumor article.” 

 

That might be it, but no. In the vision where she saw the unidentified girl (Soyeon) hurt, Soojin handling Soyeon with utmost care and gentleness, the final kicker was the restrained pang of envy. 

 

The feeling was definitely not her own. She wasn’t envious watching Soojin and Soyeon in real time. She only felt concern.  

 

Miyeon adjusts her pillow, closing her eyes. Tossing around. “What if I said I stumbled upon the love triangle of the century?”

 

“And what’s it to you? Are you going to expose it in the newspaper again?”

 

“I can’t do that, I think I’m friends with them now.”

 

“Then stop talking, leave me alone, and sleep.”  

 

----

 

Silky long black hair. Thin lips, naturally innocent.

 

Oh. It’s Shuhua.  

 

(Miyeon is just glad this vision has at long last granted her a privilege: knowing the identity of who she’s observing.)

 

In the hallway, Shuhua sits on the ground, leaning against a door. The door to her dorm room? Miyeon has never been there in that hallway, but its configuration is the same as the one outside her own room.  

 

Curled up, eyes shut. Shuhua hugs her knees. Appearing smaller than she actually is. 

 

No one else is there, it’s only her on the empty floor.

 

Her phone is taken out. 

 

(Miyeon observes the date and time, Saturday 10:47 pm) 

 

Thumbs type wearily. ‘I forgot my keys.’ 

 

Miyeon feels her pain. The locks of the doors and the doors themselves are fire-proof, ice-proof, lightning-proof. Anything-proof. Jamming in a paper clip for lock-picking purposes will result in two thin pieces of steel wire. Even Yuqi can’t knock them down.

 

Hours pass, minutes pass, her romanticized youth passes – Miyeon doesn’t know how long she’s been watching. 

 

Shuhua checks her notifications. 

 

Nothing. 

 

----

 

The issue is that Miyeon doesn’t have Shuhua’s phone number in her contacts. A short text, ‘don’t forget your keys,’ winky face, smiley emoji, and the problem would be solved. 

 

So Miyeon is scurrying everywhere in the academy on a Saturday morning, asking people if they have Shuhua’s number. Trying her damn best to not ram her head into a wall from pure frustration.  

 

She has been to Shuhua’s dorm room, the library, the cafeteria, anywhere her sleep-addled brain could think of (she hasn’t had her daily dose of bean juice–coffee–yet). 

 

Apparently Shuhua is one of the most elusive people she’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. No one has her number and she has seemingly disappeared off the face of the Earth. 

 

If anyone would definitely know, it’d be Soojin. Then again, Soojin is likely in the infirmary with Soyeon.  

 

Is Miyeon brave enough to sneak past the nurses’ watchful eyes? Maybe. If she were to graduate tomorrow, never to see them for the rest of her life. 

 

Healers are on another level of blood-curdling. They do no damage whatsoever with their abilities, but they have perfected their glares to convey the wrath of a thousand suns. 

 

Miyeon can’t believe she ever thought Shuhua was more terrifying than the nurses.

 

So asking Soojin is off the table.

 

Maybe she could approach Jisoo for help. Jisoo’s hunter ability would come in handy, tracking down Shuhua’s location.  

 

Hold on for a second.

 

Why is she worrying so much, spending her entire morning running around like an auntie at a department store on Black Friday. The obvious solution is to stop by Shuhua’s dorm room at 10:47 pm, check if she’s there, and figure out what to do then.

 

Miyeon doesn’t dwell on her brain fart, fearing what she’ll find at the bottom of her deepest thoughts. Timid to approach and dissect the source of the warmth in her chest. 

 

Entangling herself in the love triangle of the century, as she so eloquently put it, nothing good would come out of it.     

             

----

 

9:47 pm. 

 

Time flowing as slow as cement, there's an hour to go. She puts her phone back onto the table. 

 

Miyeon tosses the foam-rubber ball, snatching it midair. Throws it again. Catches and squeezes. Immersing herself in the satisfying squish. 

 

A couple more throws and she stops. She gazes around the newsroom, scoping for a target.

 

The ball bounces off Seungkwan’s round head. 

 

Occupied, working on new graphics for the newspaper, he grunts once. He doesn’t turn around. “Miyeon, you’re the journalist closest to my heart, but I will demote you to the journalist I want to stick into an incinerator.” 

 

Jisoo stifles a snicker, bending to pick up the ball. Throwing it back to Miyeon.

 

She makes no effort to catch it, watching it sail past, rebounding into the mini yellow trash can. And there it goes. 

 

Jisoo claps herself on the back. “Woo! Three points.”   

 

----

 

Seungkwan had left maybe ten minutes ago. Carrying a drawing tablet under his arm, a stack of newspapers under the other. Muttering something along the lines of graphic design not being his passion.  

 

Miyeon looks at her phone again. 10:11 pm. 

 

“Why are you checking your phone every few minutes.” Jisoo’s hand on her shoulder startles her. Making her jump in her seat. “Are you waiting for someone special to text you, should I bust out the balloons in celebration?” 

 

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Miyeon scolds her. “What are you saying?” 

 

“I don’t know, you’re not the type of person to obsessively check their phone. What’s going on, are you dating someone?” Jisoo’s slick grin provokes an instinct in Miyeon to smack her. 

 

Jisoo has it all wrong. Miyeon settles in her seat, leaning back. “It’s just Shuhua. She’s going to be locked out of her room tonight. At 10:47 pm according to my vision.”

 

Plopping onto her chair, Jisoo wheels over to face Miyeon, her bubbliness multiplying in folds. At the mention of Shuhua’s name. “Aha! You can invite her to our room to spend the night. I’ll go to Jennie’s so Shuhua can take my bed.”

 

“I mean, sure?” 

 

“Jennie won’t mind if that’s what you’re worried about. If you really feel like you’re troubling her, I can stay in our room. You two will just have to share your bed.” Jisoo stretches out her fingers, wiggling them. Puckering her lips in fake mockery. “And there was only one bed! Ooo, isn’t that scary?” 

 

Miyeon rolls her eyes. “Shuhua is a friend. I don’t have feelings for her.” 

 

“You can always develop feelings for her! Why don’t you head over to her room early for a head start? She might already be stuck outside even before ten-forty whatever. I can use my ability to confirm her location.” 

 

Jisoo must really have a death wish. Her roommate is a mix of snarkiness and persistence, constantly testing her patience. Though she did raise a valid point. 

 

Shuhua could’ve been locked out since an hour or two ago. Miyeon wouldn’t know.   

 

----

 

Punctuality isn’t one of her strongest suits. Nevertheless, Miyeon watches the clock attentively and leaves for Shuhua’s dorm room a couple minutes early, giving herself time to arrive on the dot.

 

She wants to be there on time, not early, to spite Jisoo. Yes. That is exactly it.

 

Miyeon finds Shuhua huddled into a ball, head resting on her knees. The girl doesn’t react when Miyeon crouches.

 

Shuhua is asleep. 

 

She almost feels bad rousing her awake, but it’s cold in the hallway, it wouldn’t be good for her health to spend the night here. Miyeon does her best to tap her as gently as possible. 

 

Fortunately, Shuhua is a light sleeper. Rubbing her eyes, taking a moment to adjust. “Miyeon?”

 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Miyeon helps her stand. 

 

Yawning wide, an unfocused gaze paired with slouching shoulders. Scrunching her face drowsily. A sleepy Shuhua is a cute Shuhua, Miyeon concludes.  

 

Shuhua blinks slowly. “I forgot my keys.”

 

“I know,” she replies. 

 

“Soojin is my,” Shuhua opens , inhaling deeply, “roommate. She probably didn’t see my messages and fell asleep at the infirmary.”

 

Miyeon’s phone buzzes noisily in her pocket. Checking her texts, it's Jisoo. I’ve vacated the room, captain. Your good friend Shuhua is free to use my bed. 

 

“Who’s that?” says Shuhua, walking down the hall. The wrong way. 

 

“An idiot." Miyeon steers her around, down the right way this time. "I’m taking you to my dorm room, you can sleep in my roommate's empty bed for the night. Is that okay?”

 

“Sure. Anywhere is good.” Shuhua doesn't talk afterwards, doesn't ask why Miyeon magically appeared out of nowhere. Which keeps her evening running smoothly, without problems.

 

Miyeon wouldn't know how to explain she spent the day with the girl living rent-free in her mind.

 

Clinging like a baby koala, Shuhua latches onto her arm with no intent to separate.

 

They stay that way until Miyeon has to unlock her door. 

 

Miyeon has no complaints about that.

 

----

 

"Here." Miyeon rummages through her drawers. Handing over a no frills, olive green t-shirt. And a pair of cherry-patterned sleeping pants. The super comfy type of pants stereotypical of adorable grannies.

 

"Thanks," murmurs Shuhua. Going into the bathroom to change.

 

Turning off the lights, Miyeon slips into her own bed, drawing the covers just below her chin. Closing her eyes. 

 

Soft pattering of feet, the rustling of blankets on the other side of the room. Miyeon registers a tender "goodnight" before she fully succumbs to darkness.

 

----

 

"Good morning Miyeon and her gal pal Shuhua! Hm? Shuhua you're already up."

 

Eyes shut, Miyeon burrows further into her pillow and wraps her blanket tighter around herself. She hears Shuhua greet back, rasping a low "hi." 

 

Someone pokes her in rhythmic intervals on her back. "It is I, Jisoo is back in the house!"

 

Stilling her body, Miyeon imitates an inanimate log. It's rather unfortunate Jisoo doesn't buy it. Increasing the rate and intensity of her prodding. 

 

"Jisoo," Shuhua calls hoarsely. The jabbing comes to an end. 

 

"Yes, Ms. Yeh?"

 

"Were you kicked out of the room because of me?" Mindful of Jisoo the first thing in the morning, Shuhua is a cut above Miyeon. Jisoo deserves no sort of kindness this early.

 

"No, no. It is I, who exiled my lonesome self from my humble abode. Miyeon isn't awake yet, hence I shall spill some tea in her stead."

 

"Jisoo, I think she's awake."

 

"Well, if she's awake, she's welcome to come and slap a hand on my mouth to stop me."

 

Miyeon tenses her muscles. What is Jisoo going to do now?

 

"I heard from Jennie that Miyeon was asking around campus for your number all day because she was so worri– mmph!" 

 

Miyeon has lept out of her bed, crossing the room in two long strides. Clamping her hand on Jisoo's mouth. 

 

She drags Jisoo backwards, stumbling onto her own bed. Letting go when her roommate taps her hand twice in surrender. She shoots her a warning look to which Jisoo mischievously raises her hands, shrugging.

 

Miyeon will ensure Jisoo never sees the light of day again.

 

"Miyeon, if you wanted my number that badly, you could've just asked," says Shuhua, mirth in her eyes.

 

Miyeon buries her face in her hands, feeling blood rushing up her neck. "That's not it!"

 

"Ten points to Gryffindor, Ms. Yeh, that is very much it." She whacks Jisoo on the rump. "Ow." And returns to burying her embarrassment in her hands.

 

“Can I borrow this?” asks Shuhua. 

 

“Go ahead, it’s not mine,” replies Jisoo. 

 

A felt tip presses on her skin, scratching. Dawdling in its path, leisurely etching curves and lines along her forearm. The tingling sensation withdraws.

 

Miyeon opens her eyes to nine ink digits.

 

Shuhua caps the marker, returning it to its place on Miyeon’s desk. Winking playfully, the other eyelid fluttering; blinking. “There you go.” 

 

Messily imperfect, Miyeon commits the numbers, the endearing confidence of a particular girl to memory. Hoping they’ll stay there indefinitely. 

 

For the moment, she forgets about her visions and pretends Shuhua’s heart doesn’t flutter for someone else.  

 

----

 

Jisoo wrangles her around the neck, hugging roughly. “Yeah, Miyeon! You can die happy now.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

----

 

Yuqi sketches a frowning stick figure on the back of a receipt. Little horns are added to its head. A hairnet. Dragon flames to the side and a 'rawr' inside a speech bubble. 

 

Miyeon reaches for the brown pencil crayon. "You're missing the cash register." 

 

Yuqi snatches the pencil crayon. Inadvertently snapping it in half (Objects commonly break around Yuqi). "Geez, Miyeon. Not everyone is an artist."

 

"I didn't say your drawing is bad!"

 

“Leave me alone, I’m productively channeling my dislike for the lunch lady into an artistic masterpiece,” Yuqi hisses. Taking the receipt, Miyeon looks at the front. 

 

“Your masterpiece is on a receipt for Lao Gan Ma Chili Crisp Sauce from the supermarket.” 

 

“Economical is the word. I don’t waste my resources.” Yuqi doodles some more using Miyeon’s pencil crayons. Nearing the finish line for the end product. “Why don’t you use your time productively as well? Go bother that person you’ve been texting so much lately.”

 

“You mean Shuhua?”

 

Yuqi’s eyes bug out, dropping the pencil crayon in her hand. “It’s Shuhua?”

 

“What about it?”

 

“Hey girl. I don’t know about you, but Shuhua is literally an ice queen to everyone except for Soojin.”

 

The texts started with a hi, i’m bored from Shuhua. The ball went rolling from there, as smooth as flowing water. Miyeon harnessed the power of memes and established a solid stream of back and forths.

 

It doesn’t matter if one of them replies hours and hours later. They pick right back up as if they never stopped talking. 

 

Lately, Shuhua has been messaging her a lot and Miyeon doesn’t mind. She actually looks forward to the random texts during classes, the ones in the middle of the night. Talking about everything and nothing. Mythical creature shapeshifters, the principal’s extremely fried hair. Where’s the best malatang in the city. 

 

(Noticeably, they never talk about Soojin or Soyeon.) 

 

Conversing with Shuhua is comfortable. 

 

Yuqi gathers the pencil crayons together, swiping them into Miyeon’s pencil case. Shuddering. “No one is that happy looking down at their pants in class. You giggle breathily when you’re texting her.”  

 

----

 

A month has passed; therefore, it's time for another newspaper club meeting. 

 

Seungkwan’s laser pointer died this week so he switched to using a cue stick. He weaves jibes between his words while passive-aggressively whirling and pointing his cue stick. 

 

Moving onto the next slide, a mugshot of Park Chaewon is blown up with the resolution worthy of major motion picture of the year. The Park Chaewon who was arrested for arson. 

 

“Chaewonnie escaped the juvenile detention center a fortnight ago. She was put in the coldest cell with temperatures reaching minus degrees, she couldn’t have produced fire for a birthday candle. But.” Seungkwan whips around, spinning on his heel.

 

Directing the tip of his cue stick at Jisoo who points at herself in confusion. 

 

The cue stick points at Miyeon. Then the snoring boy beside her. He smacks his cue stick on the long table, waking him. “Insolence! No sleeping in my glorious presence.”

 

The boy jumps to his feet, alert. Bowing and apologizing. Sitting down sheepishly. 

 

“Someone busted her out, what a shocker,” Seungkwan says dryly. “They posed as an officer, unlocked her cell. And,” he takes a deep breath. “And they left a fish in a fishbowl as a calling card.”

 

Jisoo raises her hand. “Was it alive?” 

 

“The fish, the blue betta, was alive. Thank you for asking such an enlightening question, Jisoo.” 

 

“No problem.”

 

Seungkwan carries on with his spiel. (“There’s animal communion at hand, that’s the culprit’s ability!”) 

 

Miyeon’s phone vibrates once, notifying her of a new text message.  

 

Shuhua: u busy rn

 

Head down, Miyeon types her reply quickly. What’s up. She pockets her phone, not anticipating it to buzz again. In less than a second. 

 

Shuhua: u want to grab cereal at the caf again?

 

When?

 

Shuhua: In 30 mins 

 

I might be late. Seungkwan is at it again. 

 

The cue stick strikes the table with a resounding bang. “Miyeon, what is it on your phone that is more important than our meeting?” Seungkwan glowers.

 

She doesn’t have an answer right away. With only bits of the meeting in mind, of fish and jail, she spouts “my friend knows who’s the culprit who set Park Chaewon free.” 

 

“Is that so?” Radiating happiness, he rubs his hands together. 

 

Miyeon scratches the side of her head. “Uh, yeah.” The weight of what she’s saying sets in. Seungkwan will want her to cover the news on Chaewon. And she’ll have to expose the identity of the culprit.

 

“Splendid! Can I expect the article ready to be edited by tomorrow?”   

   

Jisoo, bless her, comes to Miyeon’s rescue. “Miyeon’s friend, her good friend?” Jisoo looks at her to confirm, (Miyeon sighs and nods). “Her good friend isn’t 100% sure who it is, but after a week or two, she’ll know for certain. Right, Miyeon?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“The trends have changed, sprinkling miniature embellishments of the truth is out of fashion. Publishing fake news is a no-no at the moment. A faux pas. We must be absolutely certain on who the culprit is and I’ll be checking your evidence. You may have your extra two weeks, Miyeon,” declares Seungkwan.

 

----

 

Miyeon brusquely digs her spoon into her cereal. Fuming on the inside and the outside. “I hate myself. And Seungkwan.” 

 

Shuhua chews before replying. “Why?”

 

“I gave myself more work. Now I have to solve who busted Park Chaewon out of juvie in two weeks.”

 

“The chicken nugget arsonist?”

 

“Yeah, her. I can’t lie about who did it, Seungkwan must’ve gotten a concussion over the weekend. He became a true believer of the power of the press.” Miyeon is at a loss. A catastrophic event likely caused Seungkwan’s change of heart. 

 

Christ must've come for him. 

 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“I know so. If you don’t, I can always help you,” Shuhua offers. An enigmatic promise behind her words. “But I won’t need to.”   

 

----

 

A flame lazily rolls around Chaewon’s palm while she peers into fish tanks. Aquariums, pieces of nature in the constricting aisle. Fish of all kinds are inside, but red-orange goldfish are the largest in number. 

 

Chaewon’s hand inches to the water, the flame burns brighter, dancing livelier. 

 

Another girl with the sharpest jawline Miyeon has ever seen, a slanted scar in between her eyes, trudges into the aisle. Mopping wet black hair with a towel. She lets go of her towel and bellows. “Not on my watch!” 

 

The flame flickers out. Chaewon pouts, “Just a tiny burn, please?”

 

“No, I didn’t rescue you so you can burn my fish.” The new girl caresses her hand against the tank, murmuring apologies to the fish. “I’m sorry Chaewon scared you guys, I’ll never let her close again. She’ll stay the length of her midget height away.” 

 

“Don’t insult my height.” Crunchy and high-pitched, Chaewon is exactly as Miyeon remembers her.  

 

The new girl reaches into the tank and pats her fish affectionately. One by one. “If she ever tries to burn you guys, scream and I’ll come right away.”

 

----

 

Blinds shut, lights off, almost everyone has their heads on their desks. The professor delivers his rapt attention to the projector screen. 

 

Debunking the myth of a universal truth. What a fascinating topic for a documentary. 

 

Indeed, it’s another hour of social constructs and bland lessons in ethics class.   

 

Miyeon grips her pencil and writes on a slip of paper. Do you know anyone who’s obsessed with fish? Especially goldfish? She passes it to Shuhua. 

 

The reply comes swiftly. You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t know half the people in our year. 

 

Facing the projector screen, Shuhua slips a new yellow sticky note into Miyeon’s hand. You’ve got this, I believe in you.  

 

Miyeon folds crisp, clean edges and corners. Smoothing the lines with care. She pockets the note. Reminding herself to take it out before her pants go in the wash.  

 

----

 

2,000 students leave their classrooms in a frenzy, gleefully emptying into the hallways. Classes are finished for the day and Miyeon can now devote all her energy into playing detective. 

 

Shoving heavy textbooks into her locker, the wind picks up, blustering a fierce howl. 

 

Miyeon has seen stranger things. Nothing compares to a hole being ripped in her dimension. A circular portal leading to the outside, to a sea of shaking trees and hills, manifests in the middle of the hallway. 

 

The human equivalent of the sun, steps through. Her right eye briefly flares purple. A stack of flyers in her arms, she holds one towards Miyeon. “Hi, I’m Choi Yerim. Have you heard of the Animal Welfare Club?”

 

Miyeon accepts the flyer (Yerim’s cheery demeanor is too strong for her to refuse). “I can’t say I have.” 

 

“It’s our club’s fifth anniversary. Please consider stopping by Room 312 tonight at 6 pm. We’ve got free food, pizza, and games!”

 

Miyeon has a jail buster to catch, but this could be a lead. The Animal Welfare Club. If anyone would know who has a fish obsession, it would be those folks.   

 

----

 

Room 312 is modest for a fifth anniversary. 

 

Lounging about, one or two animal enthusiasts (the Animal Welfare members) wait around, chatting.  

 

Desks are pushed aside to create open space. Taped to the walls, dollar store golden ribbons and photos of various events through the years splash a touch of subtle flair. Quite the simple setup.

 

It could be easier to investigate for clues before the room is packed. Starting with the photograph closest to her.    

 

Three girls hugging dogs, posing for the camera. Yerim in the middle. Two other blondes on her side. 

 

And the one on the left. An unmistakable scar, discernable upon a closer look. 

 

She’s stunned.     

 

Yerim comes up to her before Miyeon can tap into her newfound kleptomania. "Hi, you're early! We haven't gotten everything ready yet so just hang tight for now." 

 

"Can I ask a quick question?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Is there anyone in the club who really loves fish? Like they live and breathe fish." Miyeon hopes she isn't coming off as weird. Or suspicious. She's probably failing miserably. 

 

Miyeon tries again, elaborating. "I wanted to learn more about caring for fish."

 

Yerim doesn't bat an eye. Strangely. The girl answers cheerfully, "there is someone, but I don't think she'll be here today. She's been sick for two weeks, she hasn't been here in awhile."

 

"What’s her name?"

 

"Jinsol! Jung Jinsol, our resident marine animal expert. But she's our animal expert in general. She's really nice, she can communicate with animals. She'd love to meet you and geek over fish." Yerim forges on with zeal. Providing information without batting an eye.

 

Going as far as pointing, identifying the girl in the photo. The blonde with the scar.    

 

Two hands grab her own. "I'm actually going to visit her tomorrow and bring her fruits. Fruits make great gifts. Do you want to come with me?" 

 

"I can't, I have a lot of work to do, I’ve got a 3000-word paper due tomorrow. Maybe I shouldn’t even be here right now, I’m procrastinating." Rambling, a thrilling tremor b under wraps. She isn’t outright lying. 

 

Yerim gasps, shooing her to the door. In which Miyeon is eager to play the part of a frantic, stressed student. 

 

“You should get to it, don’t let us keep you here. I lied earlier about the pizza. There is no pizza, there’s only unseasoned stir-fried beef with onions. So really, you’re not missing much if you go.”   

 

She doesn't comment on the hypocrisy of the Animal Welfare club eating beef, there's something more important at hand.

 

Waving goodbye, Miyeon makes a beeline to the newsroom instead of her dorm room (she’s not heartless, she doesn’t want to disturb Jisoo with her clacking keyboard through the night). 

 

She’s determined, Miyeon has never felt this excited to write a news article. This is her breakout moment. She’s got the scoop on Park Chaewon’s accomplice. Now she just has to write the article. 

 

She pulls out a chair, her laptop from her backpack, and sits. Cracking her knuckles as her laptop loads. Stomach rumbling. 

 

Screw dinner. Exposing Jung Jinsol is her priority. 

 

This is going to be good. She has always dreamed of writing about actual pertinent news instead of covering school rumors. Typing flows naturally, never a pause, losing herself in her work. 

 

Hours tick by. 

 

3,000 words in, on the boundary of delirium, perseverance carries her through.

 

The lack of food. Her need for sustenance. Miyeon shakes it off, tensing and relaxing her muscles, she doesn’t pick up the sound of footsteps. 

 

Coffee dangles in her face. 

 

And clean-cut bread, sliced diagonally. It's a condensed milk and peanut butter sandwich. (Miyeon can’t care less what it is, she’d eat it up as long as it’s edible.) 

 

She was not banking on Shuhua coming into the newsroom. With free food. 

 

Shuhua places them on the table. Pushing the steaming cup towards her. “How long have you been writing?”

 

“Maybe four hours? You’re amazing. I can’t thank you enough.” Miyeon hungrily sips the coffee. Controlling herself to drink only half so there’d be some remaining for later, she has a lot more words to go. 

 

Somewhere between drinking, typing and eating, she has the sense to notice Shuhua sitting beside her, curled up. Tufts of hair ruffled. Peacefully slumped over the desk. 

 

Miyeon knows it then. Heart palpitations, racing in allegro, thumping in her chest. It’s not the caffeine. 

 

The coffee stays untouched for the rest of the night. Irregular, ardent beats keeping her company. 

 

----

 

"Hey Jisoo."

 

"What."

 

"What if I said breathing is insanely difficult when I'm talking to someone?"

 

"Then you're either going to pee, your honour, or you have a fatass crush." 

 

Lying face down into her pillow, Miyeon flails once. Pathetically. "Not what I wanted to hear, but thanks, it's the second one."

 

"You're welcome. Nice Magikarp impression by the way."

 

----

 

Miyeon comes to terms with her feelings. 

 

She’s not thirteen, she’s not going to avoid Shuhua at all costs. 

 

Juvenile immaturity is rightfully, a phase of the past. (Which she would love to desperately wipe from her memories. God, what would she give to erase her years as an angst-ridden adolescent). 

 

She’ll wait. If she has to, she’ll wait forever for this inane. Fatuous. Moronic. Crush. To retire into the depths of nullity. 

 

Entertaining a possibility that was never hers to consider, she refuses to do that. Plain and simple. She won’t compare herself to Soojin. For the sake of maintaining her precious hours of sleep.  

 

The laws of the universe do not force obligations onto its subjects. She cannot compel Shuhua to erase her feelings for someone else.

 

And Miyeon is okay with that. 

 

Shuhua is not in love with her. 

 

And Miyeon will be okay with that. 

 

----

 

Shuhua: you up?

 

Miyeon stares at those two words. Morbidly watches the cursed check mark appear at the bottom of her phone screen. Seen at 2:34 am. 

 

She has no other option now. Damn her circadian rhythm, keeping her awake late at night.

 

Miyeon: yeah, i’m up 

 

Shuhua: wanna go for a walk? In the gardens

 

Logically. Rationally. Let's pretend she has a brain for a second. This would be a bad idea, setting her back a couple steps. She’d never get over her crush at this rate, albeit a very sluggish rate. Leaving her bed. Her warm, burrito-like bed at such an ungodly hour screams besottedness. 

 

All the same, Miyeon never made good decisions anyway. 

 

Miyeon: sure why not

 

Shuhua: cool, see you there in ten

 

Tiptoeing, slipping her arms through her jacket, Miyeon makes her way out. Slinking to the end of the hallway. The spy-esque atmosphere conjured by her last remaining brain cells throws a bone to her, feeding her food for thought. 

 

This situation resembles that tragic play English professors love so much. Romeo and Juliet. The parallels. 

 

Miyeon is sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet her beloved.

 

(Who doesn’t happen to love her back, that’s fine.)

 

Last she checked, maudlin Romeo consumes an unhealthy beverage and Juliet finds a sharp object in her body. Oopsie.

 

Here’s to her story ending in a more satisfactory way. Preferably without her kicking the bucket. 

 

Miyeon predicts her own future will revolve around consuming mass amounts of unhealthy beverages (sugary drinks in this case), along with several tubs of ice cream. Eating away her feelings. 

 

----

 

If there's one place on campus that's fancier than the gym, it's the gardens. 

 

Before summer break ended, a herbological takeover of the academy was attempted by the League of Evil. A nefarious organization recruiting anyone willing to dedicate their lives to mayhem. 

 

The remnants of their unsuccessful strike couldn't be completely destroyed. (Plants are tenacious complex organisms.)

 

The result is a botanical garden that blooms year round. Why? Miyeon is unsure of the details. But the variety of tulips are quite nice to look at. 

 

Red, orange, pink, purple, yellow. Any colour under the sun and it's there. 

 

The tulips have also been growing uncontrollably, petals appear in the most nonsensical nooks and crannies. Through the cracks of the stone pathways. 

 

Creating a literal flower road. 

 

Leading her to Shuhua, sitting on a rickety bench.  

 

"So what’s with the late night rendezvous?” asks Miyeon. She watches Shuhua as the girl rises, beckoning, inviting her to walk beside her. They match their steps in tandem. 

 

“I couldn’t sleep, I’ve got too much on my mind,” Shuhua begins, “life has been hectic lately.” 

 

Miyeon can definitely relate to that. She doesn’t even need to try, her heartbeat quickening from mere proximity. “Want to talk about it?” She’s relieved her voice comes out somewhat normal. A caring note to the end. 

 

“Mhm, it’s just trouble at home. It’ll soon sort itself out.” Lips puckered, Shuhua blows a steady stream of air. “Like always.”

 

“Ah. I see.” 

 

Shuhua elbows her, “are you disappointed? You wanted your next big scoop so fast?” 

 

“Oh no, I've sworn myself off from writing about student gossip. Y'know, it's not professional and it's highly unethical and besides, you're a friend so why would I do that to you and–"

 

"Stop." Cutting her off, Shuhua looks at her strangely, quirking her eyebrows. "I get it, you don't need to explain yourself. But since you're so trustworthy," Miyeon nods vigorously at that, causing Shuhua to snort, "I'll tell you something worth your while." 

 

"I inherited my ability from my father. My mother comes from a bloodline of exceptionally strong telepaths. She can read minds, manipulate thoughts. Even I'm not sure of the extent of her power. I do know that she's capable of entering and controlling dreams."

 

Shuhua grins ruefully. "And she isn't even close to perfecting her technique."

 

Miyeon waits for her to go on, but Shuhua seems to have deemed it as a closed topic. Refusing to expand on it. 

 

The girl tugs her by the elbow, leading her down another fork in the road, "which parent does your ability come from?"

 

"My mom. She's a low-tier, my dad is too. So there was never a chance of me having a power level over 4.0."

 

"Actually, it could've been possible. If one of your grandparents was a high-tier, you could've had a chance. Because of how genotypes work and the Punnett Square." Linking their arms together, Shuhua rambles on. "Let's take your maternal grandparents as an example. Imagine if one of them was a 4.6 and the other a 2.3, your mother would still carry the genotype for both." 

 

Biology? Genetics? Miyeon wasn't an active participant in BIOL 324. She drew her four tiny squares with a ruler, some hyper real brown and black mole rats on the sides, and called it a day. 

 

"Nature has just so ordained that high-tier abilities are recessive. Is your paternal grandmother a low-tier?"

 

Where has the conversation even gone, all she knows is that Shuhua is very cute, speaking animatedly with her hands. Passion shining. "My what?"

 

"Your grandmother on your father's side. Were you listening to me?"

 

"Yes. You didn't lose me there. Definitely not. Please continue nerding out on me." Immediately, there's a strong grip latching onto her arm. 

 

It doesn't hurt. It's a light pinch, masqueraded by an enveloping bear hug. Trying to wrestle her to the ground. 

 

Humorously. In good spirits.

 

"You calling me a nerd?" Shuhua smirks as Miyeon (willingly) crumples. 

 

Weight easing, getting up, Shuhua dusts the dirt off her own pants. “Thanks for coming out here, I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts.” 

 

“This is going to sound cheesy, but Miyeon, you’ve been a really good friend to me.” Shuhua’s full smile, worn out from their boisterous hysterics is a rarity to behold. 

 

The somber mood from earlier has dissipated. Losing a few hours of sleep, in every respect, Miyeon knows it's worth it.  

 

----

 

"Go Miyeon!"

 

Her stomach growls as if there’s a feral monster inside of her. Salivating, easily set off by the faintest whiff. A very hungry, ravenous monster that is willing to do anything for a sliver of food. 

 

Has the cafeteria’s fried chicken ever smelled this good? 

 

Attention is on her. Stepping up with one foot, then the other, she steels herself, goosebumps forming on her skin. It’s better if she just doesn’t think. 

 

“Unleash your inner Latina!” The yells, the screaming light a fire under her. If she was embarrassed before, there’s no sign of it. Any speck of logic she possesses is thrown down the drain. 

 

She twerks like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do.  

 

----

 

The door quietly opens. Miyeon doesn’t look to see who it is, she’s got something else on her mind at the moment. 

 

A hole in her shorts.

 

Threading her fingers through, the pit deepens in her stomach. She shouldn’t have accepted Minnie's dare to dance on the lunch table for an extra chicken wing. Greasy and dry, it didn’t even taste that good.

 

When the girls cheered her on, she danced harder, throwing her back into it. Shaking like there was no tomorrow. 

 

A little bit of validation, sending the happy chemical straight to her brain, and she thinks she’s god’s gift to dance. Her poor shorts now bear the brunt of it, there’s no way she’s wearing them to PE. 

 

She can’t stay here in the locker room forever, class starts soon. She knows she doesn’t have another pair either. 

 

Skipping is looking more and more attractive by the minute. She’s formulating plans in her head, running through hypothetical scenarios; they’re all doomed to fail. She knows it because she has tried multiple times to no success. 

 

Security cameras, doubling to catch truant students, are holed in every nook and cranny. No one is allowed to skip unless they’ve caught the plague. Or if they’ve been pulled from class for a high-ranking field mission.

 

She remembers being caught by the administrators, her incoming plight of detention flashing through her mind seconds before she had rounded a corner (curse her visions, they never come on time). Colliding with the strength training teacher. The memory of the woman’s deathly strong grip brings shudders to her heart. 

 

She sinks to the floor, head drooping. 

 

The shorts in her hand. The crusty dry chicken. Her twerking in front of the entire school during lunch. 

 

She shouldn’t be surprised if she comes to school tomorrow and she's greeted with a new nickname. Pancake booty. 

 

Miyeon would’ve continued to wallow in her misery, but she notices dark blue in the corner of her eye. Looking up, she blinks twice. She must be hallucinating.

 

Yeh Shuhua in the flesh, holding basketball shorts to her. 

 

Miyeon resists gawking, she’s bewildered to say the least. “Are those for me?”

 

“Who else? There’s no one here.” Staring curiously at Shuhua, who avoids eye contact, lip curling. ing the shorts closer to Miyeon’s face. 

 

Miyeon isn’t going to say no.

 

“Thanks, how did you know?” Miyeon reaches for the shorts, her hand accidentally brushing against Shuhua’s. The other girl slightly flinches at the touch, recoiling almost.

 

“I saw your dance earlier.” Shuhua coughs. Turning her body, facing away from Miyeon. “I thought you’d need another pair since,” clearing , “since you were very good at dancing.” 

 

Miyeon is pretty sure she didn't see Shuhua in the cafeteria. Did she hear her right? 

 

“You can say that my twerking put a hole through my shorts. No need to sugar coat it,” Miyeon says dismissively, trying to brush it off. In a miserable attempt to play it cool. 

 

Her delivery and execution of her lines definitely need work.

 

“I’ll… I'll do that. Next time.” Shuhua goes to the door. 

 

“Um yeah, you do that.”

 

When she’s alone again, Miyeon's head is reeling. 

  

----

 

There’s nothing more terrible than high school dodgeball during PE. Scratch that. There’s absolutely nothing more horrifying than 30 kids, each with superhuman abilities, playing dodgeball unsupervised in a state-of-the art gym (capable of withstanding even a meteor impact, the PTA had made sure of it). 

 

The teacher was out like a light, asleep on the bleachers.

 

He had walked in with the largest eye-bags Miyeon had ever seen, said something about a three-month old at home, suggested they play dodgeball, and promptly began to snore once he sat down.

 

The lesson Miyeon learns is that she should never have kids. 

 

She also wonders why she’s in the advanced class for PE when her ability has no physical aspect to it. The rest of the students congregate, crowding around, eager to play the game. A game that should definitely not be played even with normal human beings. 

 

Armed with a mischievous grin, Yuqi steps to the front. Shaking her arms, loosening her shoulders. “I’ll be captain! Objections?” A thick muscular arm shoots up. “No Chad, you’ve already been captain.” 

 

“That was a year ago,” the boy shouts. 

 

“Oh, was it? You can be the captain next time.” Chad sulks with his buddies, but he doesn’t further challenge the smaller girl.  

 

“Then Shuhua is the other captain,” yells Yuqi. Unamused and grumbling under her breath, someone pushes said girl who stumbles to the front beside Yuqi. 

 

“Okay, I’ll start first. Soyeon you’re on my team.” A clap of the hands, arms spread wide, Soyeon breezes past Yuqi’s waiting arms. Paying no heed to a loud ‘come on,’ the second clap of the hands. 

 

Shuhua doesn’t hesitate. “Soojin.”

 

“I choose Minnie!” The team formation continues, names rattled off, until there’s two left. Miyeon isn’t surprised in the slightest.  

 

“You can pick first,” says Yuqi, smirking. 

 

“Ugh. Chad.” The burly boy waddles to Shuhua’s side. Which means Miyeon is on Yuqi’s team. Slapping Miyeon hard on her back, Yuqi brings her over, whispering in her ear.

 

“She picked Chad over you. Chad, the himbo iron meatshield.” Guffawing. 

 

Ignoring Yuqi, Miyeon mentally prepares herself for the incoming dodgeballs. Which will be sent her way at breakneck speeds. 

 

----

 

“Before we start, bets everyone! Place your bets,” shouts Minnie. If it was loud before, everything has now escalated to an uproar. Students clamoring over each other, holding out crumpled bills, desperate to win some pocket change. 

 

“Hey Miyeon, who’s gonna win?” someone asks. 

 

“Yeah, is Yuqi’s team going to win?”

 

“No, it’s Shuhua’s, right?” Here it begins. This is the only time anyone wants her advice in PE. Miyeon sighs, helping Minnie collect the money.  

 

“I haven’t gotten any visions today.” Mild groans of disappointment. The crowd disperses, leaving her alone. 

 

Minnie whistles, nudging her. “Tough crowd?”

 

“You know it.”

 

“I didn't bet on our team," says Minnie. 

 

Soojin is on the other team, the Seo Soojin who can literally freeze time. It’s not that the girl will ever feel motivated enough and wipe out an entire team with her super power. A snap of her fingers and everyone will be out, faster than they can blink.

 

Shuhua would then copy Soojin’s power. 

 

Miyeon would bet on the other team if she had money too. 

 

----

 

Chaos reigns supreme in the gym. What used to be harmless inflated balls have turned into weapons of murder. Miyeon can’t count how many times her head has almost been knocked off. 

 

A 600 degrees Celsius ball of fire whizzes over head, slamming into the wall. Turning a portion of it into black smoking goo.

 

The goal of the day is to survive and avoid the infirmary. If it means she has to be a coward and duck for her life in the back behind everyone else, so be it. 

 

Soyeon cackles evilly, befitting a villain, considering she’s embracing her pyromaniac dreams. Setting balls on fire and lobbing them across the gym. 

 

Unfortunately, they returned just as fast because of the one and only flaming hot Park Sooyoung. The other team’s resident pyrokinesis expert. 

 

Miyeon quickly squats, narrowly avoiding her death. Her heart is leaping, pounding. The ends of her hair singed. 

 

“Miyeon, what are you doing?” yells Yuqi, chucking with precision. The ball hurtles into Chad, sending him flying into the bleachers. “Wake up and stop smelling the roses!” 

 

Gathering herself, she runs, positioning so Yuqi would block any incoming hits. 

 

“Here, take this and throw it,” says Yuqi. Miyeon does that. Winding her arm back, putting her all into it. 

 

The ball bounces harmlessly on the floor a few feet away. “And she threw it to the ground!” announces Minnie. 

 

Miyeon never said she was good at sports. Her aim is a mess and occasionally, she pulls a Wii Sports bowling, the ball going the wrong way, flying behind her head.

 

Life is made to be fair, at least that’s what her parents tell her. She can’t be athletic and be able to tell the future. That’s overpowered.

 

A speeding ball smacks Soyeon on her forehead and the girl is unconscious. Some of the fires in the gym die down, dissipating along with the smoke. “Soyeon has gone down!” Minnie cheers, waving her hands and gasping in surprise. 

 

Within seconds of the game starting, Minnie was out. So she had decided to take on the role of a sports announcer. 

 

“Idiot, why are you cheering, she’s on your team,” screams Yuqi, throwing with all her might. Muscles rippling, putting their burliest classmates to shame. 

 

The ball flies towards Soojin, inexplicably slowing in speed. It taps her harmlessly on the arm.

 

“What an upset! Soojin is out, though I feel like she was standing still, waiting to get hit!” Soojin yawns. Almost falling over while walking to the bleachers, indifferent to the ongoing mayhem. Miyeon wishes that could be her. Oblivious and calm in the face of danger.  

 

“I think she slowed time so the ball’s impact wouldn’t hurt! She probably wanted a nap, there’s no way Yuqi would’ve been able to hit her otherwise,” exclaims Minnie, shouting commentary in rapidfire.  

 

Another well-aimed throw and the remaining actual fires extinguish in the gym. “Park Sooyoung also known as Big y Joy is out and now there’s three people left. Only Shuhua remains on the other team, will she be able to do it? But look at those moves, Shuhua is twirling and playing Dodge Dodge Revolution! As expected of our academy’s rank one student.” 

 

Miyeon can’t help it, watching in awe, fear and wonder mingling in a tangled mess. Gravitating, drawn to such a stunning display of prowess. Stealing her breath away. Near misses, demonstrating inhuman acrobatics, Shuhua is lithe and agile in her movements. Evading every single ball, causing Yuqi’s brows to furrow. Her friend no longer grinning. 

 

“Oh no, there are no more balls on Yuqi’s side. Yuqi is angry, her aim has gone to , I’m calling it. I guess Shuhua has the advantage.”

 

“Shut up Minnie!”

 

Miyeon is rooted in place, dazed and defenseless, eyes drinking in every motion. Shuhua runs to the front and picks up a ball. Said ball hurtling towards her. Yuqi diving to catch it. Everything is happening so fast. 

 

Her vision goes white, a spectrum of colour bursting, events coming to life. Of all times, it had to be now. 

 

She really wishes she could control when she receives glimpses of the future.

 

----

 

An examination table, an old-fashion scale to the side. See-through cabinets full of antiseptics, cotton pads, gauze arranged neatly in jars. The walls are decorated with assorted animal stickers. Little green crocodiles and cute blushing sharks with thought bubbles saying ‘get well soon!’ 

 

There’s a girl on the examination table. Miyeon can’t identify who it is, her face is blurry, her outline is hazy. 

 

Panting, harsh breaths fill her ear. Someone stumbles into the room. “Baby, I came here as fast as I could.”  

 

This is when Miyeon does a double take. Inside her vision. 

 

She’s staring at familiar features she sees every day in front of a mirror. 

 

----

 

Miyeon returns on the dot as the game ends. “What a spectacular save, Yuqi has caught the ball. Nailing Shuhua in the stomach and Yuqi’s team wins!” 

 

The bell rings, signalling the end of the period. 

 

----

 

The walk to the convenient store is uneventful and Miyeon is fine with it. She has had enough excitement today to last her a week. The PE teacher will probably agree with her; he had awoken to a gym of unconscious teens. 

 

Incessant poking at her ribs. “Hey Miyeon, have you figured it out yet? Because I can't." Minnie pouts, kicking pebbles on the sidewalk.

 

“Why we won?” 

 

Minnie nods. “I saw you freeze up when Yuqi was throwing balls at Shuhua and missing by margins. Mere margins, I tell you, Shuhua is amazing at dodging everything. Anyway, you had a vision right then, didn’t you?” 

 

Miyeon doesn’t bother correcting Minnie about the vision happening later when Shuhua was aiming for her. 

 

She's embarrassed enough as it is, she had frozen on the spot, gawking at Shuhua. (In healthy admiration.)

 

“I saw a girl in the nurse’s office, her face wasn’t clear though. Then another girl ran in, apologizing for being late.” 

 

She doesn’t mention the ‘other girl’ is herself, she’s processing that fact and it wouldn’t hurt to not spill everything. “It was weird, she said ‘sorry’ and called the blurry-faced girl ‘baby.’”

 

"We're nowhere closer to figuring it out. How did Yuqi hit Shuhua? It's impossible,” Minnie groans. 

 

"Anyone can slip up."

 

"But Shuhua? This wasn't like at the warehouse. Yuqi's throws were absolutely terrible. It can't be a mistake."

 

"Perhaps." 

 

"You're not even listening to me now. You're giving me one-liners to work with." Minnie is rightfully complaining; Miyeon has her head in the clouds, disassociating from the conversation and Minnie's annoyance. 

 

She imagines Shuhua as the other girl in the nurse's office. She wouldn't mind that in the slightest.

 

----

 

Under the clumsily small umbrella, Soojin and Shuhua stand, sharing none of the rain's grief.  

 

Shrieks of laughter, uninhibited. Carefree punches to the arm. Miyeon knows not one of them would hurt. 

 

The pair settle down, catching their breaths. Wet patches on their clothes. 

 

"Imagine if your ability was hydrokinesis. We wouldn't be stuck outside," says Soojin, adjusting her hold on the umbrella, angling, shielding Shuhua. Her own left shoulder being rained on. Amused with everything and nothing, teasing further. "Mimicry is nothing special after all."

 

Shuhua steps closer to Soojin, burying into the crook of her neck. "It isn't. Mimicry can't keep the rain away. I'm not close to anyone who can control water."

 

"You seem to be really enjoying this," remarks Soojin. 

 

"Let me have my moment," grumbles Shuhua. 

 

Soojin flicks Shuhua in the forehead, causing the girl to detach herself. In the next second, Soojin seems uncharacteristically bashful. “Hey Shuhua. Can I tell you something?”

 

“I’m all ears, just for you.”

 

“I think I’ve fallen for Soyeon.”

 

Miyeon wakes up, jolted out of her vision. Peals of laughter reverberating. 

 

The neon numbers of her digital clock glow in the dark. Miyeon wraps her blanket securely around herself. 

 

----

 

A torrent. 

 

Extreme showers of rain, the day has finally arrived, another gloomy Saturday locking everyone indoors. 

 

Excluding Shuhua. 

 

Shuhua: I can’t eat with you today, sorry, i’m out with Soojin rn

 

Miyeon: oh have fun! 

 

Jisoo leans over, peeking. “Better luck next time, comrade.”

 

In retaliation, Miyeon steals the bag of chips from Jisoo’s grasp to fervent protest. Pawing inside the bag, there’s air. Prawn-flavoured dust. Miyeon grimaces. “Seriously, Jisoo, it hasn’t been a minute and you’ve eaten everything?”

 

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world. Eat or eat.” On the table, one more bag remains. Jisoo opens it and shakes some chips into her own hand.  

 

Miyeon watches as Jisoo eats. “That’s not... how the saying goes.” Her words lack the usual bite to them, trailing absentmindedly. 

 

“Don’t get technical with me, but I’ll let it slide.” Propping her feet up on another chair, yet still facing Miyeon, Jisoo studies her. “You’re worried. Or upset. Or both. I can’t read your face today.” 

 

Miyeon straightens her back, a sharp crack is heard. “Your spine though,” comments Jisoo. 

 

Scooting backwards in her chair, Miyeon makes room to sit cross-legged. “I’m not upset, I’m worried. I had another vision about Shuhua.”

 

“Yes, I’m listening. Spill the tea, sis.”

 

“Soojin confesses to Shuhua that she’s in love with Soyeon.”

 

“What does that have to do with you?” Jisoo crunches noisily on her chips.  

 

“Nothing, but I don’t know, I’m worried how Shuhua will take the news. Which is why I asked if she wanted to hang out with me. I think it’ll happen today because it’s raining. And there was rain in my vision.”

 

Jisoo clucks impatiently. “First of all, what if it doesn’t happen today? Are you going to just agonize every time it rains? Second of all, why do you want to hang out with someone who just got their heart stepped on. And listen to her sob over another woman. That’s messy, I’ll commend you for being a brave sapphic soldier.”

 

“I just want to be there for her.” It sounds ridiculous as Miyeon says it. Cupping her face in her hands, expressing her thoughts in proper words eludes her. Her friendship with Shuhua came first before her feelings developed into something more. Wouldn’t that mean she should at least check up on Shuhua? 

 

No one should cry over rejection alone. 

 

Jisoo sets down her chips. “Miyeon, I joke around a lot, but I don’t want to see you hurt. If you think that being there for Shuhua is more important, I’ll support you. It doesn’t mean I think this is a good idea. Going to her so soon will be trouble for you.”

 

“You’re not making sense either. Supporting me while thinking it’s a bad idea.” 

 

“Like-minded people usually find each other,” Jisoo shrugs. 

 

----

 

Sue her, Miyeon couldn’t resist meeting Shuhua in the gardens again at two in the morning. Hours right after her talk with Jisoo. 

 

By now, she should be a recipient of an award for making horrible decisions. Nerve-wracking in the worst way possible, she’s unsure if Shuhua wants to meet because of Soojin confessing about Soyeon. She hopes not. 

 

As Jisoo said, it’d be messy. For Shuhua and for herself. 

 

Yet her feet are carrying her to a particular destination with a certain girl in view.    

 

“Hey, you’ve made it,” says Shuhua. Miyeon takes a seat beside her on the bench. Assessing Shuhua’s face.

 

Puffy eyes? Check. Oh god. Puffy eyes. 

 

“What’s the occasion, this time?” Miyeon tests out the waters. Gaging the situation.

 

“I couldn’t sleep. You happened to be up. It’s a win-win,” says Shuhua. Miyeon believes she’s not winning in any sort of way at the moment. Nor is Shuhua. 

 

Turning to face the girl, Miyeon bites the insides of her cheeks. Not knowing what to begin with. “Are you okay?”

 

“Aside from being an insomniac, yes, I’m okay.” Shuhua faces her, the corners of , upturned. 

 

There truly are no words for this. Putting on such a joyous front while experiencing heartbreak. 

 

Miyeon tries to be as gentle as possible. Even when the scar on her own heart deepens. “You don’t have to say you’re okay if you’re not.”

 

“You’re right.” Shuhua sighs, looking down at her feet. Letting go of any cheerful mannerisms. Alike a ball deflating. “Habits are hard to break, I shouldn’t have to pretend everything is alright.” 

 

Miyeon prepares herself. Holding in her breath for whatever comes next. 

 

“My mother.”

 

Wait. 

 

“She’s been pressuring me ever since she learned of my two trips to the infirmary. The academy may be far away from our house, but she manages to visit me in my dreams."

 

Miyeon's throat tightens.

 

"She enjoys reminding me how much of a disappointment I am to the family name. Staying awake is my reprieve," grunts Shuhua, pointing at her own eyes, "these puffy eyelids are the result of several days of only taking short naps."

 

Stupidity, embarrassment cannot encapsulate her current emotion. Shuhua wasn't crying. Miyeon has to be certain about it though. Despite it being selfish to ask.  

 

"Did she make you cry?"

 

Shuhua shakes her head. "I think I've become numb to my mother's antics."

 

"Oh." Miyeon's voice is small, impossibly small. "I'm sorry you’re hurting so much.”

 

“I’ve had years to accept what my relationship with my mother has deteriorated to. Either way, it wasn’t much of a relationship to begin with. But enough about that woman.”

 

Laying a hand on her back, Shuhua shifts closer. Head dropping to Miyeon’s shoulder, resting comfortably. “What about you, how are things going on your end? You seem pretty tense.” 

 

Miyeon has no intention to reveal the extent of her rashness, of jumping ahead of the queue to who knows where in her head. 

 

Convinced that Shuhua would be crestfallen. 

 

Perhaps Soojin didn't say anything earlier.

 

Shuhua raises her head. Creates space between them again, negligible distance, a hand trailing, tracing a path down. Calluses grazing Miyeon’s knuckles.   

 

Miyeon has no intention to speak until Shuhua holds her hand, "I won't think badly of you, you can tell me what's going on.”

 

It spills out in a rush. "I saw in a vision that Soojin told you she has a crush on Soyeon. I thought you'd be hurt, it turns out I worried over nothing."

 

Shuhua is silent. 

 

“You’re a tough cookie,” Miyeon adds, blundering in execution. As a final touch for good measure. 

 

Shuhua doesn't leave her in suspense for long. Shuhua clenches her sides. Doubling over, convulsing, and suppressing leaked giggles.

 

(Never mind, that keeps her in suspense.)

 

Was there something Miyeon missed? 

 

Laughter is eventually smothered. Calming down, Shuhua interlocks their fingers firmly. A simple, reassuring grasp, forcing Miyeon to look at her in the eyes. "I was in love with Soojin. She cared for me when I was acting like a prick, she was sincere. It wasn’t hard to love her." 

 

"Days turned into months and years. Along the way, my feelings slowly faded, I didn't feel like I had to run out of the room for air when I was around her. Aren’t I making it sound easy?"

 

Easy is an understatement of gigantic proportions. 

 

“It wasn’t though. None of it was. But the funniest thing was that some part of my unconscious self realized I was no longer in love with her, I didn’t love her like I used to. My ability caught up to my feelings before my mind did.”  

 

“Your ability?” Miyeon prompts. Hope trickles through and Miyeon doesn’t care anymore. It wouldn’t be a reach to yearn for more, would it?  

 

Shuhua continues in stride. “The power level of the ability I copy depends on my relationship with the user. The closer the bond, the stronger my mimicry." 

 

This revelation is throwing Miyeon on a wild ride. She resists the urge to question and analyze the past for its implications, what it all means. The answers, the absolute truth can only be found within Shuhua's words themselves.

 

"I couldn't copy Soojin's ability to perfection as I fell out of love, realizing she would never see me as more than a friend. In the past, I could stop time for an even longer period than Soojin could."

 

“And now? If I can stop time for fifteen seconds, I’ll consider myself lucky.” Shuhua searches her eyes, holding her gaze steady. Facial features relaxing. Softening. 

 

“I didn’t expect myself to tell you all of that tonight,” admits Shuhua. The girl releases Miyeon’s hand to grip the edge of the bench. Knuckles whitening. Shakily letting go.

 

Miyeon doesn’t point that out. “It’s 2 am. Having any semblance of self-control at this time means you’re not human.” Delirious. That’s the word. Miyeon is feeling a bit of that herself. , fuelled by a motor that can’t be stopped. 

 

They’re alone with no other eyes on them. Emboldened by the pale moonlight and the cold nip of the wind, she yields to her thoughts. Restraint slips; inconstant courage rises, finally teetering over the precipice. “For example, right now? I probably need to sleep. But I’m not in bed.” Miyeon senses an incoming trainwreck and again, she’s not all too in control. 

 

“Because I like y–” The brakes are suddenly there, she halts, switching course. “I–uh, I like lurking around in gardens when there’s no one else around! I’ve weighed out the pros and cons.” High-pitched, too high-pitched and screechy. Miyeon chuckles sheepishly. Choosing to stare at a withering patch of yellow grass. 

 

. She is . Everything is . 

 

“Then I'll keep talking, I think you'd want to hear this.” Shuhua regains her attention unphased. Clarity in tone, no hesitation. 

 

Miyeon sees something else though; Shuhua's eyes are shaking minutely. Quivering.

 

“Recently, I've been copying someone else's ability without meaning to. It just happened." The tremble in her eyes persists so Miyeon takes her hand. "Several times a week, I'd be going through my day and I would black out."

 

Miyeon finally dares to hope with all her being. 

 

"I would see visions of Soojin and Soyeon in the infirmary. Us in the garden. And I realized something."

 

"I'm in love with you," blurts Miyeon. Shuhua falters. Then brazenly smiles, stealing her breath away for keeping.

 

"I know," says Shuhua. "I wouldn't have known if I wasn't in love with you too."

 

Miyeon's brain short circuits. Going haywire with disbelief and exhilaration. Overwhelmed by the dizzying urge to hold Shuhua even closer. "Can I kiss you? I'm not dreaming, right?"

 

Shuhua does just that.   

 

 

 

AN: Jisoo best wingwoman? Jisoo best wingwoman. 

 

Here’s the superpower au no one wanted. It’s longer than the usual length of my oneshots so I decided to not put it in my mishu collection of drabbles. This was supposed to be 10k words long, then I was like, it don't make no sense so I kept adding to it. 

 

I played myself. The planned release date was the end of August. And it's now October. With an additional 10k.

 

I’ll probably return to this au one day in the far future because imagine the power of two idiots who can tell the future. There's also some things I'd like to expand upon as well, but I'm calling it a day for now. 

 

Inspo: Taylor Swift - Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

 

The release of folklore got me re-listening to Lover again so I heard the lyrics they whisper in the hallway, "she's a bad, bad girl" and bam, there we have it.

 

Thanks for reading and I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  

 

Thank you Clothes~ for beta reading this long mess and telling me to not scrap it. You’re the best. 

 

Twt: @ahealthyscalp 

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