Page 24 of The Last Tiger

Eunji

“You are to marry Kenzo Kobayashi, and that is the final word on the subject.”

“But why ?” I cry out as I chase Father around the halls of our family’s summer manor in the Dragon Empire.

“You know exactly why,” he replies, annoyed. “Eunji, go to your room. I don’t have time for this.”

I bristle at the order; once upon a time, I wouldn’t have found his command so off-putting, but something in it really rankles me now.

“Father, I beg your pardon, but I don’t think you understand. That position you declined on my behalf—it was the same level as the one Kenzo—”

“ You are the one who does not understand.” Father seethes, whirling on me, sending pieces of the stack of papers in his hand flying. He glances at them in irritation. “That position, Eunji, means nothing .”

“Well, it certainly seemed to mean something when Kenzo achieved it.” I bend over, sweep the papers off the floor, and hand them back to him.

“Have I not proven to be more than worthy of taking care of myself? What income, what status could Kenzo bring to our family that I myself could not provide now?”

A servant who I’ve never seen before hustles through the hall and stops by Father, muttering something about a business meeting in thirty minutes. He waves the servant away and whips back around to face me, a storm brewing at his brow.

“This union between you and Kenzo is not about how well you can or cannot care for yourself, Eunji,” Father says, “nor about money. This is a matter of blood .”

Father pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“The war against the Serpent Queendom is not going well. Isao is aggravated. The empire is threatening to seize ownership of our company’s property—do you understand what that would mean for us?

No position of yours, nor Eunsoo’s, nor even your father’s, can grant our Tiger family what we need.

Because what we need, Eunji, is to become of Dragon blood .

Isao cannot tolerate any hint of disloyalty now, and we must prove ourselves utterly beyond reproach.

These things are beyond my control, daughter. And they are well beyond yours.”

I step back, looking at him squarely for the first time. Father’s eyes are swollen, dark circles sagging beneath. He’s lost some weight, and a line of sweat runs down his temple.

And that’s when I see it. The realization strikes me like a bolt of lightning.

I’ve been walking down the wrong tightrope here.

This whole time, this entire year, I’ve been working so hard, trying to prove to my parents that I’m capable, to convince them to extend me the freedom I crave.

But I see now that they’re not the ones who I need to convince —like all Tiger people, they don’t have any true power either.

As wealthy and well connected as my father is, he’s just as equally trapped within the empire’s fist.

I certainly can’t be free when even Father isn’t. And Father can’t be free, because he doesn’t have Dragon blood. He doesn’t truly belong to the Dragon Empire. And that puts him forever at risk, forever unable to achieve total security for his family’s fate.

What could I possibly do for my family that would earn them more grace in Isao’s eyes than to marry into Dragon lineage?

For the first time, I think I understand what it must be like inside Father’s head. Being so adjacent to power—having a taste of autonomy—but constantly having it at risk of being snatched away almost feels worse than growing up ignorant and trapped.

Days pass.

It’s my wedding day.

I step toward the mirror as my robe falls to the floor in a heap.

“Arms up,” Moonhee says. I lift my arms as she works around me busily, tsk-tsking, threading my hands through the pink-and-white silken sleeves of the wedding kimono. The elderly servant brushes away a tear. “My little Eunji,” she whispers. “You’re grown up.”

Mother sits silently—as usual—on a seat cushion behind us.

I haven’t seen Moonhee in a year. When she first met me outside the double doors of our summer Dragon manor, her face went blank for a moment, her eyebrows arching sharply upward in surprise and delight, as if she hardly recognized me.

Perhaps she didn’t.

Peering into the looking glass today, I hardly recognize myself.

The Choi Eunji in the mirror is not the hopeful girl who ran through the streets of Kidoh clothed in a servant’s cloak a year ago.

This young woman is sharper, her body fuller, her shoulders tense.

She wears a full face of ivory makeup with a poised expression.

She looks like…a Dragon woman.

Moonhee finishes wrapping the kimono around my waist as my body disappears within it, swimming in cherry-blossom silk that glides smoothly against my skin. She clasps it together just above my right hip with a small red ribbon.

Then she takes a step back, admiring her work. She sniffs again, wiping her eyes.

Somewhere beneath this extravagant dress and this bright red lipstick is a girl begging to escape back to those Kidoh streets—to find the boy who took her there—to take his hand—

And run.

The rouge and mascara cannot hide the bitterness in her eyes.

I avert my gaze from the glass.

The door to the dressing room slides open. A Dragon servant from the Kobayashi household stands there, ready to escort us to the shrine. He bows deeply to me.

Mother appears at my side, her fingertips grazing my elbow. Our eyes meet as I scan her face for some semblance of sympathy.

“It’s time, Eunji,” she whispers, turning away from me toward the door.

The plucking sound of a sanshin rings as I step through the broad, bright red sweep of the rectangular archway and into the temple.

My wooden shoes clack softly against the cold, white stone.

Mother accompanies me. Ahead, I see Father observing our processional to the side of the open-air space.

He stands to attention among more than a dozen prominent empire officials.

Normally, wedding ceremonies in the Dragon Empire are small, private events. But today is special. It’s historic . Several photographers poise by the edge of the path, ready to document the big moment, to immortalize this historic union.

I stare at my feet, then up at the shrine in the center of the temple, which beholds an ornate statue of a Dragon spirit.

The last time I was here at the Dragon shrine was nearly nine months ago. It was a very different occasion then—my first day at Adachi, the day that I received Dragon ki. I close my eyes, remembering.

The Dragon spirit emerges from the shrine, circling around me, whooshing past in a blinding, crimson blur. My hair flies back with the force of the wind. Its scales are thick and gleaming golden red; its eyes, when it opens them, are pure gold.

The dragon opens its jaws wide—and leaps forward—

I cry out as it rushes toward me, swallowing me whole—

I crash forward into the temple, which is suddenly empty and still. The spirit is gone. My arms have plunged deep into a cold pool of water at the center of the shrine. I look down, then withdraw my arms from the pool. In my right hand is a single, spherical stone.

On impulse, I squeeze my hand as hard as I can.

The rock cracks. Then it crumbles. Just like that, it breaks into pieces in my hand.

My hand balls into a fist, but there’s nothing to grasp at now. My nails dig into my empty palm, threatening to draw blood. I force myself to uncurl them before I ruin the polish and cut that Moonhee so carefully crafted this morning.

Mother rests her hand just above my shoulder blade and gives a slight push, urging me to get a move on.

It’s her fifth and youngest daughter’s wedding day.

Her expression is a blank slate; it’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking.

Perhaps she isn’t thinking much. Perhaps, after all these years, there isn’t much left to call her own, apart from the mask she wears.

I steal a glance at Father. Surrounded by dignitaries, he, too, keeps his gaze trained forward. The blood vessels at his temples twitch with stress.

I’m doing this for them, and they won’t even meet my eyes.

As I move steadily toward the shrine, I’m fully aware of the countless Dragon aristocrats and generals staring at me. At the head of the temple, the officiant waits, bearing three small cups of ceremonial liquor that will indicate the start of the wedding.

And there, standing just beside the officiant—

There he is.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him since I left for Adachi.

He’s clothed in a traditional Dragon soldier’s uniform—red and black to match my pink-and-white kimono. Thick brass buttons run along his armored garb. A classical-style steel helmet conceals his face.

As if he feels my eyes on him, Kenzo Kobayashi looks up, raising the helmet’s visor to his forehead.

There is no proud smirk on his lips today. His hooded black eyes meet mine, widening, almost as if he’s surprised to see me. A shiver rushes down my spine.

I see a strange expression in his eyes. One I recognize.

Fear.

A cold wave of panic washes through me. My knees begin to buckle as my mind goes blank.

It’s a curious thing—the way that Choi women are crafted and packaged up into a boxful of paradoxes.

We’re members of the most powerful family in the Tiger Colonies yet wield no power of our own.

We are ordered to study hard but never to be too smart, lest we outshine the boys in our midst. We are endowed with unfathomable strength and supernatural powers, then made to never use them.

We smile through pain.

But no matter how hard I try now…I can’t seem to bring myself to smile.

No. I’m done with smiling.

Once again, an image rises unbidden in my mind.

I see the obedient bear, the itinerant tiger, from Moonhee’s bedtime story so many years ago.

I see the future. I know what will happen if I obey my parents’ wishes today.

I’ll bear the divine king’s son. I’ll be lauded. I’ll be rewarded for my sacrifice.

I’ve known this day would come for a long time.

I find my hands brushing Mother’s off my back—

Before I know it, my legs are turning and running. As if they aren’t my own. But it’s happening. I’m fleeing the wedding, running to be anywhere but here, running headlong back toward the edge of the temple—toward the broad staircase—past the columns that uplift the immense stone archways—

“Stop her!” someone shouts behind me.

“Eunji, stop !”

I don’t. I can’t. I barely hear them. Footsteps clatter behind me as someone, multiple someones begin tripping over themselves to chase me.

I don’t look back. I don’t dare to.

My heavy kimono drags on the steps as I rush down, away from my pursuers.

When I pass under the final archway at the end of the staircase, on instinct, I concentrate ki energy into my arms, then heave , pushing the column with all my might.

It teeters under my strength, then topples down, one stone archway collapsing into the next in an avalanche of stone—

Blocking the way of the men behind me, who curse and cough within the thick cloud of dust—

Guilt rushes through me. Those stone things are probably thousands of years old.

But I don’t have time to worry about that now.

I shed the thick layers of ceremonial cloth weighing me down and leave them to flutter to the stone floor.

Then I run. Away from Kenzo and Father and Mother.

Away from the party of hundreds that awaits us at the Dragon Emperor’s palace, gathered expectantly to usher in the first official marriage between the elite of the empire and the colonies.

I run until I can’t anymore. I don’t know where I’m going, exactly, but I do know one thing.

It’s somewhere far, far away from here. I’m never going back to where I came from.