Iromi: The Child

"If we get caught, the head-priestess will expel us," Iromi whispered, hiding behind the weathered Bamboo door, its hinges clutched onto its frame, in a rusted trance.

Korou tip-toed his way from under the lantern-wreathed passage, its light casting an elongated shadow over the creaking floor.

"Those who never tried, never got anywhere, Iromi." He called for her. "Today, let's unearth the secrets of the cosmos."

Ibo, who was crawling on the floor, gave him a thumbs up. "Again, I have no clue, but you sound cool."

"I am not letting you two out of my sight," Iromi grumbled and rolled the sleeves of her chuba. She then took out her bead bracelet and used it to pull her dark hair into a ponytail.

"I thought you were scared of expulsion." Korou teased as he placed his palm over the ragged door. Following its creviced surface, he raised his gaze towards an oddly nostalgic symbol. The three-layered Hokkaido Shinyobun. This was only the second time he had encountered it. Its edges pulsated in shades of distorting blue.

"I am..." She admitted picking Ibo by the ear, dragging him up. "But making sure you two don't end up lighting this place is more important."

The door won't budge no matter what they tried. Korou pulled the rusted ringed knob with all his strength, his fingers snapped, a loud creak, and he slumped over the floor.

"Shhh, quiet," Iromi turned over. "If Athongba Yaiphabi detects our presence, we are done for."

"Just make a run for it when that happens."

"Can't do."

"I second that." Ibo agreed; he was sprawled on the floor again.

"Why do you guys have some kind of history with her?" Korou dusted off his chuba and sat cross-legged. Iromi gave a side glance to Ibo, who shrugged with his back touching the walls, making another creak.

"She was our tutor," Ibo said after a pause. His finger was playing with a single lapis lazuli bead on his wrist. "And let's just say Athongba Yaiphai is special; she can sense what others can't."

"Of course she can," Korou shook his head. "Everyone's a Shaman here, except they won't teach us."

"She is different from most Korou," Iromi spoke in a slow murmur, each word strained.

"How so? Was she born with some special powers? Or do we have prophecies now?" Korou held onto the door ring once again. "Though we won't be surprised if we did. Everything seems to go on in this place."

"No special powers at birth," Iromi admitted, letting out a stifled breath. "But she was born special."

"Great, now we are talking in riddles." Korou traced the hinges, his eyes scanning for an opening. Maybe be a lose screw or a weak end.

"She can't hear or speak Korou." Iromi finished. "She can only interact through magic."

Guilt hung over his head like a sharp blade. His heart thumped louder, every beat clear. This wasn't his intention. He was a bit frustrated with the door. He didn't mean to hurt. With a quiver, his lips parted as he gazed back. Iromi and Ibo both had unreadable expressions. Was it because of the dimming lantern or his own blurring vision, Korou wasn't sure.

His tongue rolled, words, new that he had drilled, paused in his throat. An apology. That was all he had to say. But why should he? He wasn't wrong. He didn't know. Yes. He didn't hurt; he was simply being oblivious. There's no need to apologise; he has to make up to them by never doing it again.

"I wasn't aware..." He muttered after a brooding silence. His words echoed through the passage; Iromi and Ibo gave a slight nod.

"We know." Iromi offered a smile. It was strained. "Nobody does, not at the start."

"Let's try again tomorrow, Korou," Ibo got up from the floor, his chuba a patch of black and cyan. "I think it's better we leave for today."

Korou nodded, hesitantly. The feeling of guilt stabbed his heart. He was doing the right thing, he thought he was. But the reality cast over him was stronger than the fragility of his delusion. One that had already been shattered seven years ago inside a cavern.

The room's temperature stooped, and Korou glanced to see frost veins up the floor. His breath came out in a mist, while Ibo and Iromi stood wide-eyed. Their limbs trembled, not of the cold but deep-seated fear. A silvery gale snaked over the sheen, swirling around their feet and then with a click, they all froze.

The visit to the head of the institute for unruly behaviour was a nostalgic experience. One Korou had parted with, after his stint during his post-graduate studies. His teeth clattered, with Iromi and Ibo's shoulder pressed to his. Trembling, he drew the blanket closer, mumbling apologies.

Athongba Yaiphabi cast a stern gaze. Her grey iris, though emotionless, swirled like a void. Korou feared he would get lost in them if he didn't break the stare. She waved her arm almost fluidly, calling the cyan trails. They rolled and bounced over her sleeves, forging sentences. Each glowed with a vibrant gleam.

<Head-priestess will meet you soon.> It said, Yaiphabi waved again. <You have broken a sacred rule of the Monastery. Please take this time to reflect on that.>

Iromi held onto Korou, her breath shuddered. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

<Even I can't cast over this crime...Be honest with her and accept the verdict.> Athongba Yaiphabi strained at Ibo and then Iromi. <And maybe she will be kind enough to let you join back next term.>

"Isn't that better than expulsion?" Korou spoke after a long pause. "If we do things right-"

"Korou, shut up!" Iromi snapped. "We are done for! We are done! I am done! This is it!"

"But Athongba said-"

"What Korou? What did she say?" Iromi clenched her jaw and held her arm. She avoided looking Korou in the eye. He assumed it was not to punch him in the face. "Go in and say sorry! And everything will be fine!"

"For a matter of fact..."

"Don't." Ibo tapped his shoulder and shook. "It's not funny this time."

"But Ibo-"

He felt his body rattle with a jerk; his eyes bulged as Iromi clamped onto his shoulder.

"We will get expelled, Korou! I will get expelled!" Iromi said with stifled gasps. Streaks of tear-stained her flushed cheeks. This was the first time Korou had seen her so vulnerable. She was forged in resilience, a force of nature; she would scale down mountains, but today she was simply a girl. Not the illustrated prodigy, just a helpless child. And he was responsible for that.

"I..." Korou parted his lips, and guilt hammered over his chest. It was suffocating

"I-I don't want to go back, Korou, I don't," Iromi gasped, her words breaking into rasping sobs. "I don't want a life of domestic work. I want to stay here. I want to study." She clutched onto the fabric of his chuba, her face leaning over his chest. "Korou, please, I don't want to get expelled. I can't..."