Chapter Fifteen

The gong sounded for the final match. Kim Hee-nam strode out onto the field, his head steady and his face calm. As Young-sup tottered out behind him, his insides were boiling and freezing at the same time, and the terror he felt seemed to be screaming out with every step he took.

His brother was watching. His father was watching. The King was watching. The judges ... the guards ... the crowd of thousands ... Young-sup's mind whirled back to the moment when Kee-sup had cut and cast away the last bit of treated line. It was as if he had thrown away Young-sup's chances of victory as well.

The judges gave the signal to launch. Suddenly Young-sup felt as though his body were pushing his confused and frightened mind aside. You watch, said his arms and legs and hands, we know how to do this.

***

It was true. Young-sup felt as though his mind had gone to sleep, or was just watching, while his body made all the familiar, much-practiced motions on its own. Side by side, almost simultaneously, the red dragon kite and the plain white one rose into the air.

The white kite attacked immediately, its flier wasting no time. It knocked fiercely at the dragon kite.

The dragon dodged and twirled, its scales flashing in the sun. It dipped below the white kite and drew closer in its first attempt to cut the line.

The white kite swung away and hovered just out of reach, as if teasing the dragon to follow it. But the dragon had found a favorable patch of sky and wind and remained where it was. Patience, the kite seemed to whisper. Wait here.

The white kite charged again, and this time it bumped the dragon. The attack continued, with the white kite knocking the dragon lower and lower and following each time for another hit.

He's not going for a line cut, thought Young-sup. He's trying to make me crash instead. Rapidly he loosened the line. The crowd gasped as the dragon seemed to feel the extra slack and veered out of control.

But the slack was what the dragon needed to turn in a new direction. It now had room to find a fresh burst of wind, and it recovered from its dive, climbing higher and higher until once again it flew proudly level with the white kite.

Again and again the white kite attacked, tipping and bumping the dragon. Again and again the dragon recovered. Young-sup had no idea how long they had been flying. It was all he could do to keep his kite from crashing. He was reaching the end of his strength.

***

As Young-sup turned in his struggle to keep the dragon aloft, he caught a glimpse of his brother out of the corner of his eye; Kee-sup had pushed his way through the crowd to the edge of the field.

Enough, A voice came to Young-sup from somewhere—from where? Was it the wind or the kite, talking to him? Was it the tok-gabi again? Enough of this. It's time, you know. Cut his line—you can do it, no one better. You've never seen yourself fly.

It's Kee-sup, Young-sup thought. He's right here with me—he's talking to me somehow. And his strength came back to him as he remembered that more than anyone else it was his brother who deserved his best efforts now.

Young-sup reeled in a little line; the dragon responded to the increased tension by climbing higher. It was now above the white kite. Then he released some length and the dragon drifted back, its line dragging against the opponent's.

Once, twice, three times ... The white kite moved sideways, trying to escape. Four, five, six. Young-sup could hardly feel where his hands ended and the reel began. Line in, the dragon rose. Line out, the dragon fell. Each time the kite lines crossed and rubbed.

Young-sup shifted his feet as the dragon followed the white kite. Seven, eight, nine. Surely his line must he frayed.

Just a few times more ... Young-sup's whole body leaned and strained, every fiber of his being intent on the battle in the sky. Ten, eleven...

The twelfth attempt, and then a gust of wind.

Young-sup lost his balance and fell to his knees outside the circle just as the white kite snapped free.

***

The soldier's red flag shot up into the air. Pandemonium broke loose. Everyone was shouting.

"The line broke first!"

"No! He fell out of the circle first!"

"It happened at the same time—the very same moment! I saw it!"

The judges had risen at once and were standing in a tight group on the platform. Young-sup staggered to his feet. Above him the dragon kite still flew, unconcerned about the madness below. Automatically Young-sup began to reel it in.

Next to him his opponent was also reeling in—an empty, kiteless line. Kim Hee-nam strode off immediately, without the customary closing bow.

Bewildered, Young-sup picked up the dragon and stood uncertainly in the middle of the field. What would happen now?

A guard from the platform hurried onto the field. He beckoned the soldier with the red flag who had signaled Young-sup's fall out of the circle. The soldier trotted to the platform to speak with the judges.

From a distance Young-sup tried to read their conversation. The soldier was shaking his head, No. What did that mean? No, the line wasn't cut in time? Or No, he hadn't seen what happened?

The noise from the crowd was rising. Excited spectators, jostling and arguing about the result, pushed against the soldiers along the edge of the field. Young-sup searched the crowd for Kee-sup and his father, but the faces seemed to blur into a mass of shouting and confusion and noise.

Someone in the crowd started to chant. "Kim ... Kim ... Kim..." Other voices joined in, a few at a time.

Everyone knows his name, Young-sup thought.

Kim ... Kim ... Kim ... Kim ... More people joined in; the chant grew to a roar. KIM! KIM! KIM! It seemed to Young-sup that every single person in the park was shouting his opponents name.

He had never felt so alone.

Then, from somewhere in the crowd, Young-sup heard something else. Between the incessant beats of KIM ... KIM ... KIM, a single voice was chanting a different name.

KIM ... Lee ... KIM ... Lee ... KIM ... Lee ...

Young-sup could hardly believe his ears. The voice was small, but he recognized it at once. Young-sup knew his father must be shouting at the top of his lungs to make himself heard.

Another voice joined in—Kee-sup's.

KIM—Lee—KIM—Lee—KIM—Lee...

Lee. A whisper seemed to run through the crowd. The other fighter's name is Lee.

And a few at a time, voices added to the strength of the name until both resounded equally through the park.

KIM!

LEE!

KIM!

LEE!

KIM!

LEE!

Young-sup looked around in amazement. The blur of the crowd seemed to clear, and his eyes found Kee-sup again. Then he saw their father push through the crowd to stand at the front, some distance from Kee-sup.

KIM LEE KIM LEE KIM LEE...

The chant, almost a song now, had somehow broken the tension in the crowd. People were laughing and shaking their fists good-naturedly at each other as each group tried to outshout the other.

Young-sup caught his brothers eye. He nodded in their fathers direction.

And for a moment amid the noise of the shouts and the crowd, their three gazes met. It was then that the brothers saw the rarest of sights: a broad smile on their father's face, as he continued to shout their name.

***

The shouting had been born and grown in only a few moments. Young-sup looked again at the platform. This time he saw Kim Hee-nam approaching the judges.

I should go there, too, thought Young-sup. I should tell my side of the story.

But what was his side? He could not say clearly that the line had been cut before he fell out of the circle. I cut the line, and then I fell, he thought. No, I fell as I was cutting the line...

He did not know which had happened first.

If that is the truth, he thought, then that is what I must say.

Young-sup walked toward the platform. He saw that his opponent had finished speaking to the judges, who were now consulting with the King. A gong sounded, and the chanting crowd was suddenly stilled.

In dead silence, Kim Hee-nam walked back to meet him. Every face in the crowd was turned toward the center of the field. No one spoke; no one even seemed to breathe.

The gong sounded once more, its echoes merging with the blood pounding in Young-sup's ears. Then, to his astonishment, the other boy dropped to his knees in the deepest of bows.

The sudden roar that erupted from the crowd seemed to shake the very earth he stood on.

Young-sup had won.

He was the new champion.