Chapter 44: One Piece Per Hit

I took my shirt off.

What else was I supposed to do? A woman with a sword told me to.

Yoon So-yeon walked around me in a slow circle in the middle of the courtyard. Looking. Not the way the others look. Not hungry. Professional. Like a horse buyer checking teeth.

She poked my shoulder with the flat of her sword.

"Strong," she said.

Poked my stomach.

"Strong."

Poked my ribs. Right on the bruise.

I yelped.

"Broken," she said. "Twice. Badly healed." She tilted her head. "And something else."

She put her palm flat on my dantian.

Why does every woman in this city do that?

She went very still. Her eyebrows went up.

"...Four," she said slowly. "Four women’s yin. Braided. Plus one more, sleeping. And something else under all of it, all scarred up." She looked at me. "Your mother said you had a busy month."

"My mother said that?"

"Your mother said, and I quote, ’He was always so quiet, and now he’s sleeping with half the dock district.’" So-yeon’s lips twitched. "She was crying when she said it. But I think part of her was proud."

Oh my god.

She trained me in the back yard of the inn, where the pig trough is and the laundry lines hang and nobody comes except the cook dumping scraps.

Wooden swords. Hers moved like water. Mine moved like a log.

"Again."

She put me on the ground.

"Again."

On the ground.

"Again."

On the ground, face first, in the mud by the pig trough.

The pig watched me with total disgust.

"Your slip is good," said So-yeon, standing over me. "Somebody taught you well. A soldier, I think. Weight forward. Hips first." She held out her hand. "But that’s all you have. One slip. That’s not a sword style. That’s a trick."

I took her hand. She pulled me up. Strong grip.

"Tell me about the Falling Pine," she said.

I told her. Seol’s version. Tap tap. High right to low left. Step back. Wait. Right foot leads. Bad left knee.

She listened. Then she shook her head.

"The Gu wife is right," she said. "She’s just not finished."

"What do you mean?"

So-yeon walked to the middle of the yard. Lifted her wooden sword.

Tapped it twice against her palm.

Tap. Tap.

Then the Falling Pine. High right to low left. Heavy. Exactly how Seol had shown me.

Then she stepped back.

"He waits," she said. "Just like the Gu wife says. Everyone thinks he’s being elegant. Watching to see what you’ll do." She lowered her sword. "Twenty years ago, your uncle thought the same thing."

She walked toward me slowly.

"Jung-ho slipped left. Just like you’re planning to. Beautiful slip. Better than yours. And when he came forward from the left side to strike—"

She moved.

I didn’t see it. A low, flat, sweeping cut from her right hip, at knee height, coming up and across. Her wooden sword stopped one finger’s width from my sword arm. Right at the elbow.

I felt the wind of it.

"The Pine Root," said So-yeon quietly. "The Falling Pine isn’t the attack. It’s bait. He steps back to see which way you slip. And then he cuts the arm you’re about to strike with."

I stared down at the wooden sword resting against my elbow.

"That’s what happened to my uncle."

"That’s what happened to your uncle." She took the sword away. "He was the best swordsman in Hangju. He was better than Gu Seung-hwan in every way except one. Gu Seung-hwan is patient. Your uncle wasn’t."

She looked at me.

"Neither are you, from what your mother says."

"...Fair."

"So we’re going to fix that." She lifted her sword. "The Gu wife is right about his knee. It’s worse now than it was twenty years ago. The Pine Root comes from his right hip and needs him to push off his left leg. With that knee, it’s slower. Maybe a quarter breath." She pointed her sword at me. "In that quarter breath, you have exactly one chance. And Jung-ho knew a counter. He figured it out about ten years too late. He’s taught it to me every night since."

She smiled.

"And now I’m going to teach it to you."

It was sunset when I finally understood it.

Not did it. Understood it.

It was a step. Just a step. When the Pine Root comes low and flat across your arm, you don’t block it. You don’t jump. You step INTO it. Inside the arc. Past the blade, right up against his body, so close the sword can’t reach you anymore. Then—

Then I didn’t have a then yet. So-yeon kept putting me on the ground before I got there.

"Again."

Slip. Wait. The Pine Root. Step in—

Ground.

"Again."

Ground.

The pig had stopped watching. It was bored.

I was lying on my back in the mud, staring at the sky turning orange, breathing like a dying fish, when So-yeon stood over me with her sword resting on her shoulder.

She’d taken her riding robe off an hour ago. It was too hot to train in. She was down to a thin green under-robe, sleeveless, tied at the waist, damp with sweat and stuck to her skin. Her gold hairpins were gone. Her hair was falling down her back in a long black rope.

She looked like the kind of woman who’d been training every single night for twenty years. Long arms. Strong shoulders. A narrow waist. Hips that flared out under that thin wet cloth like—

She noticed where I was looking.

Then she looked lower.

At what I was absolutely, completely, one hundred percent failing to hide in my training trousers.

Her eyebrows went up.

"Mu-jin," she said slowly. "Why are you hard right now?"

I put my hand over it. Like that would help.

"It’s nothing."

"It’s not nothing. I can see it from here." She tilted her head. Not angry. Amused. Very, very amused. "So your mother was right. You really do like older women. She told me about the Gu wife. And the widow. And the physician."

"It’s not like that—"

"It’s exactly like that. Look at you." She crouched down beside me in the mud. Rested her forearms on her knees. Looked at me. "You’ve been on your back in the dirt for an hour. I’ve hit you thirty-one times. And you’re still—" she gestured with her sword "—saluting."

"I can’t control it."

"Clearly."

She was quiet for a moment. Looking at me. Not at my face. Lower.

[Target: Yoon So-yeon.] [Desire +15.]

"Even your uncle doesn’t look at me like that anymore," she said. Softer. "Since his arm. Twenty years. He teaches me sword every night. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He’s the best man I know." She looked away. At the pig. "He hasn’t touched me since the duel. He says a man with one arm isn’t a man."

The yard was very quiet.

"That’s stupid," I said.

She looked back at me.

"Sorry. But it is." I sat up in the mud. "He taught you a counter he figured out too late to use himself. Every night. For twenty years. So that one day someone else in the family wouldn’t get his arm cut off." I shook my head. "That’s the most man thing I’ve ever heard."

She stared at me.

Something moved behind her eyes. Something that had been sitting very still for a long time.

"...Do you find me attractive, Mu-jin?"

I couldn’t lie. Not covered in mud with her crouched right there.

"Yes."

"Even though I’m your uncle’s wife."

"You married my uncle. You didn’t marry me. You said so yourself."

She laughed. Low. Surprised.

[Desire +20.]

"This is inappropriate," she said. "Very inappropriate. Your mother sent me to teach you sword, not—" She gestured again. "Whatever that is."

"I’m trying to calm it down."

"You’re doing a terrible job."

"I know."

She stood up. Walked a few steps away. Stood there with her back to me, looking at the sunset, her sword resting on her shoulder. The thin green under-robe stuck to her back. The muscles of her shoulders moving under it.

I watched her decide something.

She turned around.

"Alright," said Yoon So-yeon. "Here’s what we’re going to do."

She pointed her wooden sword at me.

"You need motivation. You keep getting lazy at the step-in. You flinch. You don’t commit." Her lips curved. "So. A deal. Every time you land a clean hit on me — a real hit, with the counter, inside the arc — I take off one piece."

I stopped breathing.

"One piece of what?"

She raised an eyebrow. Looked down at herself. The sleeveless under-robe. The sash. Whatever was under it.

"Guess," she said.

She wasn’t wearing much. Three pieces, maybe. Four if you counted the hair ribbon.

"And if I don’t land a hit?"

"Then you do fifty sword forms." She smiled. "I hear you already owe a certain instructor eight hundred. What’s fifty more?"

I stood up.

Picked up my wooden sword out of the mud.

The pig looked up from its trough. Like it could sense something had changed.

"Again," I said.

I did not land a hit.

For the next six tries.

Fifty forms. Fifty forms. Fifty forms. Three hundred sword forms owed to my uncle’s wife in the time it took the sun to go down. My arms were dead. My legs were jelly. My ribs were screaming.

But every time, I got a little closer.

Slip. Wait. The Pine Root came low across my arm.

Step in.

I got inside the arc. For the first time. Right up against her. So close I could feel her breath. Her sword went past behind me.

And then I didn’t know what to do. And she hip-checked me into the pig trough.

The pig squealed. I came up dripping slop.

So-yeon was laughing so hard she had to lean on the laundry pole.

"Inside!" she gasped. "You got inside! That’s the first time! Now finish it!"

"I don’t know HOW to finish it!"

"Your hand! Your free hand! When you’re inside, his sword arm is extended past you. Your free hand goes to his elbow. Push. Not hard. Just push. And your sword comes up under his arm." She wiped her eyes. "Jung-ho calls it ’Climbing the Pine.’ It’s the stupidest name. Again."

I climbed out of the pig trough.

Slip. Wait.

She tapped her sword twice against her palm. Tap tap. Falling Pine, high right to low left. I slipped left. She stepped back. Waited.

I came forward.

The Pine Root came low and flat from her right hip, across at my sword arm—

I stepped in.

Inside the arc. Up against her. Her sword sweeping past behind my back. Her body right there, hot, damp, breathing hard.

My free hand found her elbow. Pushed.

Not hard. Just a push.

Her arm went wide. Her balance tipped. And my wooden sword came up underneath her arm and touched her ribs.

Tap.

We both froze.

The yard was completely silent. Even the pig stopped eating.

So-yeon looked down at the wooden sword resting against her ribs.

Then up at me. Inches away. Her eyes were wide. Her breath was fast.

"...Climbing the Pine," she whispered.

"Climbing the Pine."

"That was clean."

"Yeah."

"That was really, really clean."

She stepped back. Slowly.

Dropped her wooden sword in the mud.

Then, without taking her eyes off mine, she reached up and pulled the ribbon out of her hair. Let it fall. Her long black hair came down around her shoulders.

"That’s one," said Yoon So-yeon.

I stared at her.

"The ribbon counts?"

"The ribbon counts." Her lips curved. She bent down and picked her wooden sword back up out of the mud. "You didn’t say which piece. You should negotiate better."

She lifted the sword.

The last of the sunset was behind her. Her hair was down. The thin green under-robe clung to every line of her. Her sash was tied in a single loose knot at her waist.

That was two.

She tapped the sword twice against her palm.

Tap. Tap.

"Again," she said softly.