Their holiday at Meteor Court was like a breath of fresh air. Life at the training camp returned to mundane normality after; they awoke before dawn and attended their lessons and trained together. Ricky did not usually join them for meals or to drink together after hours, but every once in a while when Gyuvin was alone for some reason or another, Gyuvin would seek him out. Sometimes Ricky would smile and say “yes, sit down” and they would talk, and Gyuvin would listen to his soft-spoken voice brush past his ear like the whispers of autumn willows. He was content even to sit next to Ricky in silence, reading or eating or doing whatever he was doing before.
Sometimes Ricky would entertain him only for a short while before extricating himself and disappearing to be alone. Gyuvin tried his hardest to figure out exactly what he had said or done to scare the kitten away, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt like he was desperately flinging knives at a target while blindfolded, just waiting for one to stick. Most nights Ricky would be under his willow tree, and Gyuvin would sit opposite the courtyard at the front porch of his sleeping quarters and watch the moonlight make his hair glow. Ricky never really came to look for him, or asked him to spar together, or even started many conversations outside of training. The second the day’s schedule was over, he would retreat. It was like he was content to be just out of Gyuvin’s reach, and as the weeks passed, the memories of the night they’d spent together at the Festival began to seem more and more like a distant dream.
Gyuvin still kept a close eye on him during training, just in case something happened to him again like it did on the first day. Ricky would look pale every now and then, and the color would drain from his face after a particularly strong attack maneuver, and his hand would cover his face out of instinct, but ever since that first day, Gyuvin had always pulled his punches. Ricky still disappeared to the infirmary once in a while, but Gyuvin didn’t try to follow anymore, or ask what was wrong. He knew that a line had been drawn, and if he wanted the kitten to come closer, he had to sit behind it and wait patiently without making a sound. And so he waited.
Life was also different, somewhat. Now that Minwoo was here, a few study hours a week were given to him to teach the cultivators about the history and development of talisman techniques over the decades, and the many ways it was used by commonfolk. They began to train in using talismans in battle too, mostly simple, rudimentary attack techniques because defense and healing talismans were too complicated to grasp within a few tries. Gyuvin and Hanbin had a vast advantage over the others when it came to trainings like these, and he was always grateful to have a taste of home, no matter how small. Minwoo would eat with them sometimes, when the seniors weren’t busy handling their own matters, and Gyuvin would look for him every once in a while when Ricky wasn’t in the mood to entertain him. He tried his best not to be seen by any of the other seniors, though; he could tell some of them still didn’t seem to like him very much.
Gyuvin confided in Minwoo about it, on one of the nights Minwoo didn’t have a meeting or a communication array to be present at.
“Sunbae,” he began, picking up a calligraphy brush from the little table in Minwoo’s quarters. “Don’t you think some of the other seniors aren’t very nice to me?”
He sounded so much like a child that Minwoo couldn’t help but laugh. “Why would you think that?”
“You’ve got eyes, sunbae, I’m sure you can tell,” Gyuvin protested, sitting up even straighter out of indignation. “What could possibly be the reason? I always try my best during training, I do everything they tell me to and I’m number one on the rankings board four out of five days a week.”
“Gyuvin-ah, have you ever considered that maybe that’s the reason?” Minwoo countered.
“What do you mean?”
“This training camp is in preparation for the Spirit Beast Hunting Festival next year, remember?” he continued. “And what’s the highlight of the festival?”
“The competition.”
“Exactly. Even though it seems like you’re all training together as a group, the truth is that it’s all one big competition. They rank you every day, you should have known. I know all seniors from the sects are supposed to be here to train everyone unequivocally, but they’re human too. They’ll look out for their own sect’s disciples first. Do you think they’re happy to know that their sect has been consistently outdone by the same person all this time?”
Gyuvin processed Minwoo’s words slowly, the realization finally dawning on him. “So they hate me because I ranked well?”
“Hate is a strong word,” Minwoo answered. “They’re unfriendly to you because you keep ranking well. I don’t think they have anything personal against you.”
As much as he’d tried not to let it get to him, it bothered Gyuvin deep down that everyone seemed to be able to gain the seniors’ liking except him. But now, as he listened to Minwoo, he felt like he could finally breathe again. So it wasn’t that he was doing anything wrong, but that they resented him for outshining their own disciples.
“Sunbae, are you sure? How do you know there isn’t another reason?”
Minwoo shrugged. “They try not to talk about you when I’m around, but I’ve heard things. There shouldn’t be any other reason, unless you’ve been going around annoying everyone else here like you annoy me.”
“Okay, I’ll trust you on that,” Gyuvin nodded slowly. “…wait, what do you mean annoy?”
“Just kidding!” Minwoo said quickly, before Gyuvin could throw something at him. “You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you too, but I never got the chance.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“Why do you call me ‘sunbae’, but call Hanbin ‘hyung’?” he asked, looking up from folding his clean clothes at his bedside. “You know I’m not that much older than him, right? ‘Sunbae’ makes me sound so old. You call Kiyun-sunbae ‘sunbae’ too, and he turns fifty this year.”
The last sentence was so abjectly ridiculous that Gyuvin fell over laughing halfway through it, and took a minute to compose himself. “Sunbae, you don’t like that I call you that?”
Minwoo sighed. “I already have more gray hairs than anyone else my age. I beg you, please don’t make me feel any older. Besides, ‘sunbae’ made sense a long time ago when we weren’t close, but we are now,” he added. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes we are…” Gyuvin reasoned. “All right. From now on I’ll remember not to call you that anymore.”
“Good.”
“Thanks, hyung.”
“Better!”
Comment