Chapter Ten

If Young-sup had wanted to win the competition before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Now he was flying for the King and for himself But most of all he was flying for his brother—to prove to their father that Kee-sup had been right about who should fly.

The days leading to the New Year were for Young-sup like the motions of a dragonfly's wings—repeated flying sessions that blurred into a single endless practice. He still had to attend to his studies and do all the usual everyday things. But most of his waking hours were spent with the kite, either on the hillside or in his mind.

One night Young-sup awoke with a cry. He was flailing around on his sleeping mat, his arms and hands making desperate movements, as if trying to control a kite line. Kee-sup was kneeling beside the mat, shaking his shoulder.

"Hush, brother, its all right. You were only dreaming."

"He was cutting my line!" Young-sup spoke frantically. "I couldn't stop him. The King's kite—I was about to lose the King's kite..." Not until Kee-sup lit the lantern was Young-sup able to banish the dream demon and come to himself at last.

Of the myriad skills involved in kite fighting, it was the line cutting that most worried him. To help him practice this difficult skill, Kee-sup had hastily made a dozen simple kites. He would fly one while Young-sup practiced the careful positioning and the manipulation of the reel that enabled his line to saw through an opponent's. When he was successful, Kee-sup's kite would fly off into the distance. Sometimes one fell close enough to retrieve, but the boys did not have time to chase those that flew far away. So Kee-sup made sure always to have another kite on hand.

During practice that day Young-sup had twice been able to cut the line of Kee-sup's kite. But after the second time he reeled in, shaking his head.

"What's the matter?" Kee-sup demanded. "That last cut was pretty good."

"The problem is that your kite just sits there, waiting for me to make the right move. That's not what's going to happen at the competition. They'll be trying to cut my line as hard as I'm trying to cut theirs."

"I haven't been just sitting there," Kee-sup protested. "I'm doing my best to try to dodge you."

"I know, I know," Young-sup replied hastily. "I didn't mean—I mean, this practice has been really helpful. But I wish I had some way of being certain that I will be the first to cut the line."

***

After a day of study and practice both boys were exhausted. They could barely keep their eyes open as they rolled out their sleeping mats. That evening Young-sup was feeling especially sluggish. As he spread his blankets out, he felt a sharp prick on his hand.

"Ail" he gasped, and examined his hand at once. It was bleeding from the tiniest of cuts.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I was just spreading my blankets on the floor when something cut me. It's fine now—it's not even bleeding anymore."

"Yes, but what was it? You'd better find it so neither of us gets cut again."

The boys moved Young-sup's mat and blankets to one side and carefully inspected the tile floor. They saw nothing, so Kee-sup fetched the lantern that hung by the door and held it down low.

Here and there a nearly invisible point caught the light and shone.

Young-sup cautiously touched his fingertip to one such point and looked at it closely.

"What is it?"

"I think it might be a tiny bit of pottery or something," said Young-sup. "Oh, I know." He looked up sheepishly. "That day I threw the jar—remember? You swept it up for me, but you must have missed these tiny pieces. I'll fetch a damp cloth—the broom would probably just miss them again."

Once the floor had been wiped and dried, the boys crawled wearily into bed. Just as Young-sup was dropping off to sleep, he heard Kee-sup's voice.

"Brother?"

"What?"

"That tiny piece of pottery. It actually cut you?"

"Yes—so what? I want to go to sleep."

Kee-sup sounded half-asleep himself as he answered. "Just an idea I have. I'll tell you ... some other time..."

***

When Young-sup awoke, his brother's sleeping mat was still on the floor, but there was no sign of Kee-sup anywhere. Young-sup got up, folded their blankets, and rolled up both mats. As he was putting them away in the low cupboard, the door slid open and Kee-sup stepped inside. He was carrying something.

"Where have you been? And why aren't you wearing your good clothes?" It was the first day of the New Year celebration, and they were to be dressed in their best.

"I forgot," Kee-sup confessed. He put some pieces of broken pottery down on the cupboard and began to change.

"What are those for?" Young-sup nodded at the odd bits of pottery. Some were from the jar he had thrown, others he didn't recognize, perhaps from a pot or bowl that had been broken in the kitchen.

"Just wait. I'll show you later." And for the moment Kee-sup would say nothing more.

***

That morning, as the brothers and their father were finishing breakfast, they heard pounding at the gate. Hwang rushed to open it. The boys' uncle and his family had arrived from the city of Inchon, which lay to the west on the Yellow Sea.

It was the only time of year when the two families were united, for the road from Inchon, where their father's brother worked as a fisherman, was long and difficult. Uncle's family was large: three boys and three girls, all younger than Young-sup. The littlest was only a baby, and some of the younger ones were shy and bewildered, clinging closely to their mother.

The visitors would be staying for nearly the whole holiday. The house filled with noise and activity as the adults bustled about putting away bags and parcels. Then the cousins changed into their holiday clothes. Everyone met in the Hall of Ancestors for the bowing ceremony.

The adults sat at one end of the room on cushions. One by one, each child came forward and bowed low, all the way down to the ground. Upon rising, he or she received a gift of money from each adult, with the child's age determining how much was given.

Kee-sup, as the eldest son of the eldest son, began the ceremony. Each child took a turn, and with his mother's help even the baby bowed, causing great shouts of laughter from everyone.

After the bowing ceremony ended, the games began. Children and adults alike played the board game yut, and throughout the day everyone collected "nines."

Kee-sup had written the Chinese character for "long life" on a large piece of paper. He showed it to everyone and explained it to the younger cousins.

"You see this symbol? It means 'long life' in Chinese. This"—he pointed to part of the symbol—"means 'life.' And these two parts at the beginning are 'nines.' That's why nine is lucky. The more nines you collect today, the luckier your year will be."

The collecting of nines began.

"I've picked up nine stones."

"I counted nine birds in the sky."

"I kicked the shuttlecock nine times without missing."

Even the adults participated, with the boys' mother presenting a tray of nine different kinds of cakes, and their father giving each child a bag of nine nuts. And their aunt got the biggest laugh of all when she announced that she would change the baby's diaper nine times that day.