Mythatorium

Ziqian exhaled the sweet smoke from her lungs. It conjoined with the night air, overpowering the scent of dew and mud with a pungently herby blend. She felt the bliss of a breath brace her body, tracing the contours of her skin. She sat under her moonlit window, the crickets and the dark sky canvasing an immortal view. She closed her eyes and let the waves of feeling touch her, the heat in her blood and lungs pushing and giving to the chilly wind reaching for her. Her robes fell from her like water, free from her shoulders to rest at her biceps.

“Ziqian,” Yizong reminded from the other side of her door, “Did you hear me?”

“I did, Yizong,” Ziqian rolled the bundle of rice paper and hemp in-between her fingers.

“Well?” His breath stoked.
“Say again, Yizong,” She looked down at her toes, touching her cheek with her fingertips. The crackling of grass fizzled in the background of her mind, as she imagined him leaning against the door behind her.

“I am sorry,” He said, “I did not mean to hit you.”

“But you did.”

“I did not want to hurt you.”

“Want is not action,” She turned over her shoulder, her brow firming. Her chair creaked as she faced the flat face of the door.

“I know,” He said immediately, before pausing, wincing. He waited and thought for a few more seconds, “I let my frustration precede my interests.”

“Interests.” She tapped her finger on her armrest. 

He held his breath, feeling her frustration.

“Is Tùzi sleeping?” She changed the subject.

“She is,” He sighed, “It took her some time to.” 

“Have you told her sorry?” Ziqian slowly inquired.

“I will,” Yizong stammered, “Tell her in the morning.”

Silence followed between them. Ziqian tasted the bitter metal that surely burned on the tip of Yizong’s tongue. Guilt. He hung on the door’s surface. He had more to say, she thought, but not a way to introduce his thoughts to her. She felt that guilty iron sink into her own stomach, and said nothing. 

Another argument interrupted her hesitation.

Ziqian heard the rapping of armored knuckles on wood and the barking of orders. The brash voices slurred commands to a tavernkeeper across the room, who would’ve rather continued watching the two sloven drunks at the nearest table complain to each other. Several more shuffling noises rang behind him, the clinking of iron plates against one another, polearms falling to rest on comforting shoulders, heavy boots sloshing uncomfortably in the front porch’s mud. A pair of voices, reaching further away from this formation of accomplices, laughed and whispered jokes to each other as the shouting match between citizen and soldier became vicious.

“We know you have a fugitive in there!” The soldier shouted. 

Ziqian’s vision narrowed. Memories resurfaced on the texture of her dark skin. The cold bite of a metal collar, the burning of roped limbs, the weight of shame. She remembered moving amongst rooms that breathed like a series of cages. She remembered sleeping in a bed that never gave her rest. She remembered many men, whose names she never remembered, whose faces became a faceless one, and whose use of her was an embarrassing mockery of her body. She remembered one night, when the house lights sank away to the induction of darkness. It was the last night she ran with so much fear in her heart. Now, she had better plans. 

“Ziqian!” Yizong rapped on her door, whispering and shouting in the same breath.

“I hear it,” Ziqian paused, “Grab Tùzi.”
“But she is sleeping–”
“That is why you grab!”

“The Black Rabbit!” The soldier continued downstairs, “You know the name. Black! Rabbit!”

Ziqian hurried to collect her things, throwing gentle necessities not so gently into her bag, tugging the strings around her shoulders. She grabbed her straw hat with one hand, bundling and balling her hair in the other, until it could be neatly covered under the gap between her head and her helmet. The large brim covered her eyes with a mask of shadow, combined under the guise of thin moonlight. She put her hands on the window, slipping cleanly over the edge until she was hanging on the other side.
She watched as the dozen soldiers kicked down and barreled through the front door, marching and spilling onto the bar floor like liquid. They were too stupid to look up at her above them. She dropped down silently into the mud after the last man hurried to file inside, clutching her robes as she prepared to slink away. Yizong should know how to– 

CRASH

She looked up, and saw Yizong jumping through the next window over. He had his arms and legs tucked into his body like a cannonball, a frail little form of another little human bundled up in his grasp. Wood splintered from his crude impact, before he rolled his back across the mud, and began sprinting off towards the woods.

“Run, Ziqian!” Yizong shouted, not looking back.

Ziqian’s jaw dropped, as the soldiers turned heel, jamming at the door long enough to gawk at her gawking.

“You. Pig–”

---

They stopped when they had run enough to hear their breath over any other voices. They stopped to catch it, huffing into their wrists and hands. Low brambles pricked to their calves, piercing Yizong’s cloth and Ziqian’s skin. They had the time to crouch and tend, stuck in a tight clearing of ruffled leaves and low trees, boxing them into a frame of virtuously thick brush to camouflage them.

Yizong ignored the barbs rolling around on his arms to check Tùzi’s unblemished skin. Ziqian ignored the spikes in her legs to wrap cloth around her face. Black gauze, like tiny lattices of chainmail on her skin, covered her mouth and nose, leaving a gap for the nostrils. She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, quickly replacing it by tying her head and hair in.

“Are you sure you are not hurt, Tùzi?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Tùzi rubbed her eyes, her frail chest taking visible breaths.

“You will be fine, you will be fine,” Yizong reminded, his breaths small and quick.

“That’s what I said, Yi-zou!” She protested, swinging her arms unobtrusively.

Yizong set Tùzi down in a bed of leaves, waiting for her to set her shoes down before he let go. Ziqian pulled on her hair to straighten it out, then reached for Tùzi’s head, pulling out the leaves. Ziqian took her hands to herself as Yizong hovered his hands over Tùzi’s shoulders.

“Are you okay, Tùzi?” He softened his voice with the song of speaking to children.

“I’m fine,” Tùzi was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, “Where’s my stuff?”

“Right here, Tùzi,” Yizong handed over her bag, doing his best to smile. 

“Do you have my bunny rabbit?” Tùzi looked up expectantly at him.

“I do.” Yizong reached into her bag for her and pulled a pale blue, stuffed ball with simple dots for a face, large floppy ears lolling over the back of its head. Tùzi muttered her thanks and smothered the creature in her arms and face.

Ziqian knelt to pick the brambles from her feet. Prickles peeled painlessly from her calloused feet, piercing through the thick kneads of black cloth that tightened around her skin. She wrapped a new layer around her feet, patching the holes. She wrapped her hands and her wrists next. Down to each digit, making sure she could flex each one. She grabbed her mask next. It wrapped tight around her nose, stifling her nostrils, muting her mouth.

Tùzi walked up to her while Yizong was not looking, tugging on the hem of her pant leg. Ziqian felt this, the little digits of hers pulling on her, but the pull was so gentle that she assumed it was something else. Or did not know how to answer.

“Ziqian,” Tùzi spoke up, thinking similarly. 

“Tùzi?” Ziqian turned.

Yizong turned too, but let this happen.

“Where are you going?” Tùzi asked, with a small voice. 

“I am taking care of things.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

Ziqian made an ugly face at Tùzi. Her eyebrows and nose furrowed in a sneer. Ziqian took it back, and tilted her face in the opposite direction like a see-saw, realizing she should not give such a disgusting look to a child. “No,” She began with an attempt to be resounding, hastening to fix the lack of breath in her voice at first, “I will not be gone. I will be going, and not for long.”

Tùzi sniffled, reading the gangly lines in her face before she could make an effort to understand the nature of her words.

Yizong stood at this twitch of a nose, placing his hands on her head, “Ziqian. You can’t be leaving,” His tone was gentle while Tùzi could hear, but his face was becoming harder where only Ziqian could see.

Tùzi made an effort to tilt her head upwards, but Yizong ran his hands across her ears to make her look straight again.

“I can,” Ziqian began another start with him, flicking her tongue across her gums, “Because it is the smart thing to do.”

“What is smart?” Yizong pressed, nudging Tùzi out of the way, trading places with her, “Running around and slashing at more necks?”

“When they are chasing,” Ziqian furrowed her brow again when Tùzi was not looking, “When they are always chasing, nothing else is the answer.”

“And who are you to decide?” Yizong removed a hand from Tùzi’s head, pointing at Ziqian’s chest, his shoulders and voice rising with authority, “You can not just run off on your own and imagine fighting an army.”

“You reduce me,” Ziqian accused, “You reduce me to a woman. You ignore my skills. You know what I am capable of.”

“I do not-!” Yizong protested, exasperating his voice to be loud and quiet at the same time. “Do such a thing to you. I understand you. I want the best for you.” His hands let go of Tùzi, pressing forward in front of Ziqian’s face to help him articulate. His face had become stoic and serious like hers.

“I do what is best for us.” 

“You do what is best for you, but–” 

“You know not what I do.” 

“I am here for everything that you do.”

“You may ‘know’, but you can not understand–”

“I try so hard to understand! I am trying now.”

“You are forcing your understanding on me.”

“Because here you are, forcing your way away.”

“There is force being used against us.”

“I am not blind! I have run from it just as you have.”

“And I refuse! To run! Any longer-!” Ziqian had begun to shout, her voice rising without her realizing.

Yizong slapped his hands around her shoulders. It did not hurt, but it startled her. She made a noise of fear, bunched her shoulders, and froze. Yizong met her eyes. His face was cold and hard, but his eyes were wet and vulnerable to a degree she could not look away from. She was sorry. But, she could not pull the words from her throat.

“Ziqian,” He began for her, “I do not want to fight you.”

She looked down. He removed one of his hands from her shoulder and took one of hers from her side. It was difficult for her to feel the lines in his skin through the barriers she’d wrapped around hers, but she could feel the shape of his large, calloused fingers. She looked up as he drew it higher in-between them.

“Your freedom is what I want most,” He began to whisper, “But you must look at Tùzi.”

She realized she had ignored Tùzi. She saw her, sorting through the contents of her bag. She was touching the scratches in her wooden toys, left by flint arrows she carved with rocks and water. She touched the arrowtips, staring intently at them, her small fingers slow and careful. She was pretending not to listen. Ziqian nodded, and pretended she was not looking.

“I am not guardian enough for her. I have only one heart, and she needs two.”

Ziqian remembered the day she met Yizong and Tùzi both. She had spent a month alone, enough time to find new clothes. She walked from place to place, shuffled between stolen scraps. It was a rainy day, walking through the muddy roads when a fire caught her attention. Homes were being burned. She walked to it despite the danger. 

Men in armor, of a military station, ravaged the innocent. A young lord renounced his status as heir at the head of cruelty. He stood between a young girl, collapsed in exhaustion over the body of her mother, and the small company meant to be commanded by him. She had met no better man.

“The girl’s mother is gone, Ziqian,” Yizong whispered quieter, “I have not the heart to tell her, but she has the heart to know already.”

Ziqian’s eyes began to burn. She felt she could not look at anything, or let anything look at her. This feeling was impossible to absolve.

“Do not be the second important woman to leave her too soon.”

“You do not leave me,” She spoke through her shaken conscience, “To my own responsibility.”

“I am sorry,” His hands moved down to the sides of her arms, holding around her while she was still, “I know you wish to be alone, but I can not just leave you be.”

“I do not want to be alone.” She met his eyes when he became taken aback. His mouth hung open. They looked at each other for moments that felt too full to let spill over.

He cleared his throat, and began chuckling awkwardly, his eyes darting about, “Of course, let me clarify,” He patted his chest with his hand and put on a proud voice, “I do not want you to fight alone.”

“What?” She scrunched her face at him, “Then, why all your bickering?”

He reached behind his back, and thumped his spearhead into the ground, the Guandao that followed the length of his back let out, “Because good fighting requires some planning,” She rolled his eyes at the fatherly tone he had, rolling her shoulders.

“You are in the woods,” She’d forgotten about it, for how well its hilt followed the length of his ponytail, and the seams of his robes, “What good will your battlefield plans be?”

“Yes, I can not run freely,” He tapped his foot on the ground, pointing to it, “But I have a nice little arena here.” His wide grin made her stomach turn.

“You can not be serious.”
“I know when I need to be.”
He loosened his grip on her. She stepped backward, but stayed.

“You will do your running around and stabbing everyone,” He said, “But you will let them come to me.”

“You will be as loud and…raucous as ever then.”

“It is what I know best!” 

She sighed, groaned, and shook her head. She watched him tap his feet on the ground in an inspired rhythm, smiling openly again. Tùzi finally looked back up to him, trying not to wince as he hummed a song, sounding awkward without the drums to accompany him. Ziqian knew what would come soon after. She kicked her hollowed out bag in between the tree roots, protecting it with the tripping hazard. 

“Come, stand up, Tùzi,” Yizong cheered, beckoning her up.

“Where are we going?” Tùzi complained.

“Put that down,” Yizong nudged at her bow and arrows. “We are going to fight some people. But you are not,” He nudged her bow again, which she did not put down, “Because you are going to be standing very close to me.”

“I thought you told me not to do that when you’re fighting.”

“Yes, well, I make exceptions–”

Ziqian left before her head exploded. She put them behind her, letting Yizong’s laughter and Tùzi’s whining fading away. She checked over her shoulder. Despite being cloaked head to toe in dark cloth, Yizong still managed to see her. He waved, and she knew he was smiling. She turned away. She put her hands on bark and branches to begin to climb.

“Do not die, pig.”

---

Ziqian walked on gnarly wood with bandaged feet. She looked and felt for tough branches with her digits. She let the bushy leaves run against her protected face, skimming her cheeks. She crawled between trees, prowling as light as a red squirrel. The sleeping birds remained unbothered by her. They both agreed on the convenience of letting her be.

She brewed in her waiting. She poked her head over the treetops, for air and clarity. She saw a sea of deep, dark green, the plumes of hearty smoke rising from the village they left behind. Higher than that, a sea of stars shone softly against the night sky. She looked higher, to the moon. A light in the sky she could meet eye to eye. It was full. It did not look down on her, but she looked up to it. 

“Gather around, you stiff necks!” Yizong shouted boorishly from without view, “Fight me head-on!”

She ducked down, clearing the stars from her eyes. The birds panicked into the sky, as did the groundbound animals. Screaming was his signal. She kept moving. Her crawls changed to hops, keeping her momentum to not spring her footfalls. Forest critters made noise at her, preferring to keep away from the loud predators. She listened past them, and heard the distinct sound of metal, accompanied by the whining of man.

“Are you the dredge that’s left?!” Yizong shouted, “Close the distance!”

Ziqian heard his huge weapon whirl like a wheel. She let a soldier run past her, stabbing him in the back, then running over his body. She wasn’t far from the clearing.

“He’s over here!” They called as they found one another, “Formation! Get in a line!”

Yizong laughed boisterously with a chest full of air. Ziqian could imagine his shoulders rising and falling with each hearty breath. She decided she could wait no longer, following after the running men. She hurried, yet slinked. Her steps were unnoticeable to the rancor.

“Come on!” Yizong smacked his chest with an empty fist, brandishing the point of his blade, “Come and take the first strike!”

“Lord Zhu Yun!” A hard voice cried, “It’s not you we want. We don’t want to fight.”

“Address me properly, mouse,” Yizong replied, “I am the Wild Boar of the Ji Province!”

A circle of spearmen assembled around him in the treeline. Ziqian came upon this sight from the ground. She watched Tùzi cower and squeeze between Yizong’s legs, of which he had much room to spread them so as not to hit her in the head. The soldiers gathered together, wide gaps in their formation filled by trunks instead of shoulders. Their feet padded unsteadily on the lumpy roots, while Yizong shuffled on the flattened square of dirt. Two bodies slumped into his space, several more fallen men leaving imprints in the brush. Soldiers shuffled uneasily into the gaps they left. Yizong’s smile remained cocked, sweat rolling down his brow as he breathed out his overbearing excitement.

“Don’t you know how to hunt?!” Yizong spread his arm defiantly to the hesitant crowd, like a gladiator in a ring. His teeth shined and his chest swelled. He swiveled to meet eyes with everyone. He met eyes with Ziqian as she crept forth. 

SHINK

Ziqian wrapped her hand around a neck, slipping her knife through his sides. She found the other end of his stomach, dragging a gash in the bottom of his guts. She pushed him over before he keeled, letting him spill his bloody fertilizer facefirst into the ground. No one but Yizong had seen her move before the body fell. They all turned.

“The Black Rabbit is here!” The hard voice cried, taking the lead.

The next spearman close in line stomped over to meet her, snarling. Her feet were quick to respond, but the bark was tight around her. She went to block his weapon with her arm, but he gashed her side instead. She winced, feeling her blood roar. But his weapon caught now, stuck in the lattices of her improvised armor, allowing her to overpower her flinching and gouge him in return.

She slumped two dead, but a third roared from behind, more cohesive than she thought. His weapon swung down overhead to her, a curved blade meant to take all of her with him. 

Yizong stepped in, reaching forward with his oversized weapon,

SHICK

And thrusting his Guandao into the attacker’s ribcage. He took one step to thrust in, and one step to thrust out, letting him feel the hole in his heart, to feel the cold winds on his organs. Yizong smiled ungracefully as she leaped to his side, “You’re damn right she is!” He exclaimed.

Ziqian folded her knife in a reverse grip along the length of her arm, feeling her wound.

“How is your injury?” Yizong asked.

“I have had better,” Ziqian snarked.

“Proud of your scars?” Yizong snickered.

“I always have been.”

“Then we feel the same.”

Yizong cleaved away another oncoming attacker who thought he could interrupt their conversation. Ziqian pressed her back up against his. Another came at her front, trying to pincer them. He outranged her weapon, and he moved quicker than she thought–

THUNK

But a tiny arrow flew through his cheek, interrupting his travel. She took the flinch he made to reach forward and stab him in his chest. She looked over and realized Tùzi was standing beside her, still holding her bow. When did she learn how to shoot that?

“By the way, you look dashing in black, Rabbit,” Yizong grinned.

“Quiet, Pig.”

“I am a Boar!” Yizong roared, more to the sky than her.

“Boar it is,” Ziqian rolled her eyes.

“B-Boar!” Tùzi cheered, nocking another arrow while using his leg as cover.

Ziqian crouched so Yizong could sweep and spin his weapon around him freely. She matched heights with Tùzi, allowing her a greater range of sight. She took a deep breath, ready to catch anyone that got too close. She felt comfortable, feeling that this stand was not a final one.

---

The last soldier fell before he could count himself as the last one. They had become too desperate to do anything, and became reckless in turn. The space felt cluttered by the dead men, and the quiet became unsettling. Tùzi staggered against Yizong’s leg to recover her balance, brought down to Earth by a pond of bodies. Ziqian covered her eyes with her palm, preventing her from falling face-forward as she took a dizzy step.

“Walk with me, Tùzi,” Ziqian called, “My hand.”

Tùzi tripped forward into Ziqian’s support, grabbing her palm and wrist in both of her hands. Yizong scooped up her bow, stuffing it in with the rest of her things. When the sound of crickets returned to the air, the edge of their improvised battlefield was marked, and Ziqian removed her hand from Tùzi’s face. She kept it low enough for Tùzi to hold onto, swinging it back to her side. 

“You came right when I knew you would, Ziqian,” Yizong grinned ear-to-ear. 

Ziqian gave him a wry look, “When else was I supposed to come?” 

“When I needed you!” He cracked his smile in one direction, ruffling Tùzi’s hair.

“My hair-” Tùzi softly cried.

Ziqian nudged him away, replacing his hand with hers, combing through it.

Tùzi looked up to her. She hesitated, then spoke, “You were really cool, Black Rabbit,” 

Ziqian winced, “Do not call me that, Tùzi.”

“Oh,” Tùzi looked down, looking at Ziqian’s fingers, “Is it a bad name?”

“Yes,” Ziqian answered, “It is an ugly name.”

“What do I call you then?”

Ziqian blinked, confused, looking to Yizong for support, “You call me Ziqian,” It was the name he gave her. 

“I call you Zi-qi,” Tùzi corrected, shaking her head, “But only I can call you Zi-qi.”

“And me!” Yizong interjected, flashing his palms and wearing a big smile.

Tùzi nodded in agreement, “But they don’t call you Zi-qi.”

Ziqian sighed, shaking her head, “It is what they will call me. The name they have made up. I have no control over it.”

“But you should get a cool name that isn’t ugly!” Tùzi objected, putting up her fists, “It’s not fair to get a bad name, it’s your name!”

Ziqian squinted at Yizong. She really didn’t know how to say or explain a frank ‘no’ to Tùzi’s sudden spiritedness. She nudged him with her eyes to do something in her stead.

Yizong leaned down to her, “What about Big Rabbit?”

“Yizong!” Ziqian blurted, blushing at his clear defiance.  

“Ummmm,” Tùzi tapped her lips, seemingly deaf to Ziqian’s objection, “Mega Rabbit?”

“Good Rabbit?” Yizong faked a contemplative look as he scratched his chin.

“Why are they all Rabbits?!” Ziqian begged to know.

“Ah!” Yizong snapped up to attention, pointing at her with a smile, “Moon Rabbit!”

Tùzi gasped, clapping her hands in agreement, “Moon Rabbit!”

“Why??” Ziqian asked, incredulous.

“Because,” Tùzi pointed at her now, “You’re always staring at the moon, Zi-qi.”

Ziqian’s brow furrowed. She looked up at the night sky, checking that the moon was still there. She realized that she did look up at the moon very often. She found it comforting on the nights she spent alone, both trapped and free.

“And,” Yizong waggled his pointer finger, sounding exceptionally smug, “You’re as quick as a rabbit.” 

Ziqian groaned at his terrible humor. 

Tùzi squeezed her hand, recalling her attention. The little girl gave her a big, doe-eyed expression, lacking assurance, “You don’t like it?”

Ziqian bit her lip. She prevented her face from sucking in on itself at the shame of pulling on Tùzi’s heart, “I do like it,” She pulled down her mask, and put on her best smile, “I promise, Little Rabbit,” She kept Tùzi’s eyes on her as they twinkled, spying Yizong smiling at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Thank you,” Tùzi laid her head against Ziqian’s hand. Ziqian looked at her resting her head, remembering it was still this girl’s bedtime. She picked her up then, stressing the wound in her waist, but she did not mind. The warmth in her heart was better than the burning in her side. Yizong helped Tùzi bury her head into Ziqian’s shoulder, supporting Ziqian’s arms to make sure she was holding on tightly enough. He held Ziqian’s arm then, leaning against her too. Ziqian glanced at his closeness, but refused to fuss, or allow him to tease her. She allowed him to rest on her too. She looked up at the moon again and felt it had finally sent another light to guide her.

[…]