The Other Shoe

The sun did not wake up Cheongmyeong since that would be too late for his morning training to start. He instead, relied on an internal clock that yelled at him with urgency. Cheongmyeong had developed it during the war, where waking up early to fight was a necessity.

He had a gut feeling when he woke up on this spring morning. He could have blamed it on a nightmare that he forgot, but he did not.

Something bad was going to happen.

He walked out to the courtyard. Plum blossom flowers covered the tiles. He tied his hair up and swept. He had always been told to take the menial tasks of the sect that he was given—such as cleaning—to be just as important as his training.

In his mentally old age, Cheongmyeong liked the peace of that morning with no sun and hated his fear of its disturbance. The sun rose anyway.

"I don't like today," he said aloud to the courtyard.

Pink plum blossoms could be mistaken for red in the dim lighting.

Maybe it really was just a nightmare.

Yoon Jong and Jo Geol came out to the courtyard. The two saw what Cheongmyeong was doing and started to help.

The rest of the third class disciples slowly staggered out. One of them yawned, then another yawned, and another, until everyone did. Yoon Jong was responsible for the next infectious yawn a few seconds later.

Cheongmyeong saw the sun rising, a sliver of it peaking over the edge of the mountains. "Well, since you all didn't get up to help me before, we're going to have to rush through the running. That means that I will expect you to be back and eat before I finish breakfast."

The third class disciples grumbled in agreement and got ready to run up the mountain with rocks on their back. Jo Geol combed a hand through his hair, but it only made the messy bits worse.

The second class disciples were not there because they had been on an errand the past week and so no one went to prod or kick them awake. The third class disciples were envious of this as they climbed while their seniors got out of training with Cheongmyeong.

***

Cheongmyeong's bad feeling had not disappeared by breakfast. He ate slowly, keeping an eye on the door as everyone came in.

Was there something he had noticed about the others? A secret technique? A betrayal? No. None of them were acting suspicious.

The issue was Cheongmyeong. He always missed his old sect from a hundred years ago. Nothing new. There was no news of war or a possible problem he could think of. If the issue was him, then did he feel like an outsider and old? Sometimes, but not right now.

He kept thinking about that feeling he woke up with as he watched the first class disciples demonstrate sword techniques. He was in a bad mood because of it, so he paired up everyone to spar and walked around to critique them personally.

"Are you okay?" Yoon Jong asked. He was always the first to notice something was different. He had his hair pulled back, but those long bangs of his still fell past his right eye.

"Do I look sick?" Cheongmyeong didn't realize he was frowning.

Yoon Jong shook his head. "No."

Cheongmyeong guessed it wasn't that then.

Jo Geol was Yoon Jong's sparring partner. He sheathed his sword, a sign he wouldn't take advantage of the distraction to attack. He squinted, leaning closer. "You don't look right though."

"Yes. He usually would be grinning sadistically as he watched us pummel each other into the ground," Yoon Jong agreed. "Is there something wrong?"

"No. No. It's nothing." Cheongmyeong couldn't justify making all of them paranoid. He smiled.