"No assignment today!" Jimin sings as he dances his happy dance across the room. He ends the dance with a graceful pirouette, stopping right in front of Jin.
"Please can we go play ball?"
"First of all," Yoongi cuts in, leaning back lazily on his beanbag as usual. "Fix that atrocious grammar. And why in the world do you want to go outside on such a beautiful day? It's perfect weather to sleep in."
I can practically hear everyone rolling their eyes at Yoongi's expected reply.
"Nope." Jin refuses, hauling a reluctant Yoongi off the beanbag as he nods at Jimin. "We're going to go and play some tennis. The weather's too precious to waste."
"But Jungkook always wins tennis!" Jimin whines childishly as he waves at the smirking maknae.
"Fine," Jin acknowledges. "We'll play baseball."
"But Jungkook always wins that too!"
"There's a reason I'm so golden, hyung." Jungkook smiles smugly as he pretends to pick at his fingernails. "That's because I'm too good at everything."
"Except for common sense." Yoongi strikes, still clearly annoyed at the chicken comment. "And the logical parts of the brain."
Jungkook makes a face as Jin throws up his hands in defeat. "What then? If Jungkook's going to win everything, what's the point?"
"Let's go box at that place!" Namjoon suggests, his dimples showing. "The place where they have really nice gloves."
"Boxing? Then how is Tzuyu going to participate? Or V? Their body parts are all out of order for that, remember?"
I give an annoyed glare at Hoseok as he sheepishly smiles and shrugs an apology. The pain had decreased significantly lately, thanks to his expert medical skills. But that didn't mean that he gave him the right to rub it in.
"I've decided." Jin declares, his arms excited and waving rapidly. "And no one's going to say otherwise, because this is what we're going to do."
Time Skip
"You have to be serious." Yoongi groans as Jin hands him a knife.
"Or you could take the bow." Jin shrugs as he motions at the rack of knives and arrows. "Let's check up on your accuracy, Yoongi. You better have been practicing."
"Come on, hyung. You got to be joking." Yoongi centers the knife without giving it a second glance, mirroring all the other members. I sit back and watch as the target is moved further away.
"Tzuyu," Namjoon calls, handing me a knife. "You should try. Who knows— you might be good at it like the chess game."
"Bow, please."
Even nocking the arrow is a struggle for me, and I wonder if I should've just gone with the knife. When it slips out from the string for the fifth time, I hear a frustrated sigh as V moves over me.
His hands close around the fallen arrow, angling the shaft so it would stay in the string. It annoys me how he is able to make the frustrating process look so easy and elegant at the same time.
Finally, I draw back the string until it pushes against my lip— just like I'd observed in videos. Trying to calculate the wind and distance, I move the bow slightly above than a parallel path.
I still didn't know what I was doing was right until the arrow leaves the string, the rebound strong enough to make me stumble a step back.
It hits the center of the target, driving barely a centimeter to the right of the knife V had buried in.
But of course, V wins the round.
"Amazing shot," Jin comments as the target automatically disposes the projectiles and slides even further back. The bulleye is now so tiny that I can barely see the red circle in the direct middle.
How was anyone supposed to hit that?
True to my prediction, Jin's shot sails past the tiny target— the whole thing must have a diameter of a foot— and disappears into the clumps of bushes behind.
Hoseok's knife grazes the target, while Namjoon's falls too short— the sharp knife diving into the dirt instead of the firm wood of the target.
Jimin's is so close that I can see his knife carve out a piece out of the wood. The only one that hits the target after is Jungkook, who buries his blade into the outer white ring.
And to my dismay, V shatters the maknae's record with the exact same results he'd been getting in the past hour— point blank range into the center of the target.
There is no way.
My fingers tremble as I lift the bow, eyes narrowing as I try to focus. Looking at the tiny target, I can only
wonder how V managed to make it seem so flawless.
Maybe he wasn't even human. Most likely, he'd been the master of everything combat related since he was born. He was just probably programmed to be that way.
Shutting my eyes and frustrated that I was taking this so seriously, I draw the string back as far as I can and release.
When I open my eyes, I watch as my arrow shoots past the target and strike something behind a heavy group of underbrush.
To my shock, a painful shriek echoes from where my arrow landed.
All I feel is wind rushing past my right as V lunges, reacting faster than anyone in the clearing. Only when V disappears do the others move as well, but by then it's too late.
Grim expression on his face, V drags a man from the bush— and my breath catches in my throat.
That missing eye. My arrow jutting out of his arm. That face. That damn smirk.
The devil himself. My torturer— my executioner. The fingers that had wrapped around my throat— the lips that had whispered countless curses and threats into my ear.
My father's right hand man.
A terrified gasp escapes my lips, only leading to a thousand more as I fall to my knees— vision blurring, mind racing. My body is fading back and forth so quickly that I'm feeling every sting and every ache clawing down my spine.
"Noona?" A pair of strong arms lift my trembling self up, catching me again when I fade through his hold.
When I gather enough courage to look up, I see the man's eyes boring into me. V had forced him down to the ground— his lips forming words that I can't hear.
His gaze.
Another bitter spark burns across my memory when he smiles at me. And with it comes more pain and agony.
"Don't look at her," Jimin hisses as he takes a syringe from Hoseok and brutally stabs it into the man's neck. Even though I knew Jimin meant well, I can't help but remember myself as he stabbed the same needle into my body. Only torture had followed whenever he'd done that.
He brought death and blood for me wherever he went. And he was with me so often it wouldn't have been an understatement to call him my shadow.
"Noona," Jungkook finally decides that I was taking too long— and instantly pulls me up to my feet.
"Is he still awake?"
My voice is everything that I'd expected it to be— shaky, fearful, tentative. Only when Jimin shakes his head can I manage to peek out from behind my hands.
Just as he said, the man that had considered himself so mighty and so above humanity is now limp as a rag doll in V's merciless grasp. Like he was made of air, V hoists the body into the air for me to get a better look at.
As long as his eyes weren't open.
"Tzuyu," V asks, his tone softer and gentler than ever before. "Do you know him? Who is he?"
Trying to keep my heartbeat down, I nod. "He's my father's man. I have no idea how he ended up here— was he watching us?"
That's when the horror sets in my bones, freezing my blood to ice. If he's found us, then there was no doubt that there was more.
V seems to have guessed what I'm thinking.
"All the hyungs scoured the place from top to bottom— there wasn't anyone here except for him. Does he usually work alone?"
I shiver.
"Yes— I'd think so. But my father..."
My father must've pulled something. He was too manipulative, too clever— for something like this to be nothing. There had to be a hidden component,
and I was missing what it was.
Seeing me lost at thought and confusion, Jin prompts us to move.
"First things first— let's take him back to the base. We can settle things out there."
My mind rushes as I wave my hands in protest. "No! Check his body— to see if he has anything..."
"We already did, Tzuyu." V tells me flatly as he effortlessly hoists the man over his shoulder. "Nothing."
My voice fades away at the note of challenge in his tone. Maybe I was just hallucinating— just being paranoid over nothing. Maybe everything really had turned out well for once.
Maybe this could be the upper hand for me in the game my father always seemed to win.