The camerawoman lowered her camera.
“Oh,” she said.
Jin recognized her. The coffee shoot. His fifty thousand won. He'd been hoping to meet her again under circumstances that involved another fifty thousand won.
Yu-ra shut her eyes.
“Arin.”
“I thought you wanted the break in the training montage.”
“An actual break.”
“You said bring the long lens.”
“For the training.”
Arin looked at the paper bag. At Jin. Back at the bag.
“Right. The dumplings don't need a close-up.”
Jin's stomach chose that moment to make a noise.
Yu-ra looked as if she might walk through the nearest wall.
He took the bag from her.
“Yes,” he said.
“What?”
“I'll eat with you.”
Arin lifted one finger.
Yu-ra pointed at the far door.
“Not a word.”
The finger went down. Arin backed away with her mouth pressed into a suspiciously straight line.
They sat on the low wall outside the gym, where the late sun warmed the concrete and somebody had abandoned a pair of practice gloves beneath the bench.
Yu-ra unfolded the bag too carefully.
Two boxes. Wooden chopsticks. A little tub of sauce with a pepper on the lid.
Jin picked that one up.
“Should I ask whether you endorse this?”
“I paid for it myself.”
“A promising start.”
She nudged his knee with hers.
Not hard. Not by accident, either.
Jin became intensely interested in separating his chopsticks.
They ate.
The first dumpling was hot enough to make him stop breathing. He kept his face still. Yu-ra watched him swallow, took one from her own box and immediately made the same mistake.
Her shoulders rose.
Jin offered the water bottle between them.
She took it without speaking.
For half a minute they sat staring straight ahead, beaten by lunch.
This version came from the page where the author publishes the story, without their approval; that page supports their work. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Your publicist can't find out,” Jin said.
Yu-ra made a small, dangerous sound into the bottle.
Then she started laughing.
It wasn't the smile from the coffee advertisement. She had to put the bottle down before she spilled it. Jin found himself laughing too, despite his tongue.
“I wanted this to look easy,” she said.
“The eating?”
“Asking.”
He lowered his chopsticks.
Yu-ra lifted another dumpling, inspected it and put it back to cool.
“People usually decide what I mean before I get there.”
“I thought you wanted to test the step.”
“I do.” She glanced at him. “Also this.”
“I'm good at this.”
“You nearly died.”
“I defeated it. It's inside me now.”
She looked down at her box, smiling.
Jin took the pepper sauce and moved it beyond both their reach.
They finished the meal. He learned she hated eating in cars, preferred the ugly old Academy gym to her guild's mirrored training rooms and was quite willing to argue that the crispy edge was the best part of a dumpling.
He gave her the crispy one left in his box.
She looked at it for long enough that he almost took it back.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She ate it before he could change his mind.
When they stood, her sleeve brushed his hand. This time he didn't immediately move away.
Arin was waiting inside, holding the camera against her chest.
“Training?” she asked.
Yu-ra looked at Jin first.
He nodded.
“Training,” Yu-ra said.
Before Jin took his place, she went to the far end of the mat. Thin ribbons hung from a wire above it, each weighted with a wooden bead.
She moved.
The first four beads clicked together. The fifth swung untouched. The sixth split neatly in half.
Yu-ra caught the pieces before they hit the floor.
“Again,” she muttered.
“I think that one surrendered.”
She held up the broken bead.
“Tunnel raid next week. People in the support rooms. I need to put the force where I want it, at speed.”
He looked at the ribbon that hadn't moved. Then the two halves in her palm.
“Close still breaks somebody's ceiling.” She replaced the bead from a box beside the wall. “Your turn first. I need a break from being angry at string.”
Jin walked three short paces across a clear mat, registered them and returned to the start. Yu-ra stood just beyond the endpoint, one palm held out.
“Finish the step,” she said. “Then push.”
He selected Replay.
The burst carried him across the mat. He reached the last mark, settled his weight and put his palm against hers.
Yu-ra didn't move.
Jin pushed harder.
His shoulder began to shake. Her fingers curled around the edge of his hand.
“Don't lift your heel.”
He corrected it.
This time his force went through his legs instead of trying to fold his wrist. Yu-ra's sleeve tightened along her forearm.
“Better.”
“If you say the floor is doing most of the work, I'm charging it tuition.”
She smiled, but her attention stayed on their joined hands.
Then she withdrew hers.
Jin almost followed it.
“Again?” he asked.
Yu-ra looked toward Arin.
“Give us a minute.”
The camera went down. This time Arin left without a joke.
Yu-ra waited until the door closed.
“You couldn't do that at the coffee shoot.”
Jin rubbed his palm against his trousers.
“Been busy.”
“I know. I saw the class video.” Her gaze dropped to the yellow trainers. “That doesn't explain this.”
He could tell her he'd practiced. He had. He could make a joke about the shoes, and she'd probably let him.
Yu-ra sat on the edge of the mat.
“I liked the lunch,” she said. “You don't have to turn the rest into a performance.”
Jin sat beside her.
He looked at the hand she'd held. At the raw line where the quarry rope had rubbed his palm.
Then he opened his status.
She couldn't see it. That made saying it harder.
“Seventeen.”
Yu-ra turned toward him.
“What?”
“My Level.”