The Kite Fighters: Chapters 12–16

The King dismissed his courtiers, then bounded down from the throne.

On a shelf stood a lacquerware box.

Since the day of the confrontation with Kee-sup, their father had not spoken of the kite festival. Both boys knew that it was not because of his normal reserve. Behind his silence lay great disapproval.

After a second gong a splendid procession entered the park: a host of scarlet- clad soldiers, followed by the royal palanquin and then many more soldiers.

But the King paid no heed to the murmurs in the crowd.

At a signal from the King, a guard hit the gong, and the wishing kites were launched. More than a thousand of them rose into the air, at first jostling and bumping one another like the people in the crowd below, then finding more space and sky as they were released.

The tall boy’s face was calm and emotionless, unlike the anxious expressions of most of those in the line. His kite was plain cream-colored paper, and he held it almost casually.

Posted near each circle was a soldier whose sole responsibility was to watch the feet of the fighters.

The boy behind him, against whom he would fight, looked to be about his age and size; Young-sup had glanced at him surreptitiously several times.

The start of each of the preceding matches had followed a similar pattern.

For a moment Young-sup felt a twinge of guilt when he saw the depths of surprise and unhappiness on his opponent's face.

The second line cut of the competition was achieved by Kim Hee-nam. He used a similar technique to Young-sup’s, but it took several tries before his opponent’s line was severed.

The striking appearance of the dragon kite combined with the swiftness of its victories had the crowd buzzing with excitement.

After Young-sup’s third quick victory in a row, the judges conferred briefly, then called him to the platform.

“Your line cuts are most impressive, young flier. We are all agreed that we have never before seen such an efficient display.”

The enemy kite seemed to duck like a boxer, with the other boy trying hard to accomplish the dual feat of avoiding Young-sup’s line while knocking his kite.

The glue mixture had worn away with each successive fight.

Young-sup tested it, pulling tentatively at the weak spots.

His father shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

The crowd gasped as the dragon seemed to feel the extra slack and veered out of control.

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.

Young-sup’s whole body leaned and strained, every fiber of his being intent on the battle in the sky.

Pandemonium broke loose. Everyone was shouting.

Kim Hee-nam strode off immediately, without the customary closing bow.

Between the incessant beats of KIM...KIM...KIM, a single voice was chanting a different name.

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

It felt like years since he had thought of anything but flying, and he was startled to find himself ravenous. He ate enormously of the picnic lunch his father had brought.

The valiant dragon of the boys’ competition was made by Lee Kee-sup.

He flew the kite that night, and his soldiers thought that the light was a new star in the sky. A good omen! With their spirits renewed, they won the next day’s battle and defeated the invaders.

Young-sup helped his brother launch, watching until Kee-sup’s kite was well on its way. Then he released his own lantern kite. It was the last to join the silent fleet in the sky.