Super

24. shadow clone jutsu

"You're gonna laugh," Shao said.

Taeyong shrugged. "Probably."

"Way to go, nice guy," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Okay. I used to work in a circus."

He smiled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, aren't you the jester?" she asked drily, then cleared her throat. Taeyong pushed his elbows against the back of the couch and leaned back, keeping his eyes on her. "I was a trapeze artist up until I was sixteen. I had a partner and stuff, it was all super professional and nothing like they show on TV. We had these caravans and all this equipment, and we did everything according to protocol. If something wasn't safe, it was fixed before the performer was allowed on."

"So what does that have to do with your scar?"

"I'm getting there." Her fingers played with the blindfold absentmindedly. She looked deep in thought, and Taeyong thought he noticed a slight apprehension in her tone whenever she spoke. "One day, despite the careful precautions, there was a fire."

"A fire?" He frowned, sitting up. "The scar doesn't look like a burn mark."

"Oh," Mark exclaimed, his head peeking out from the doorway of the kitchen. "I bet it was the lion or the tiger or something. Maybe, like, the fire melted their cages and they attacked her or—"

Shao stared at him in disbelief. "You were listening in the whole time?"

Mark looked back, embarrassed and at a loss for words. "Um—"

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head, but there was a tiny smile on her face. "And no, it isn't a burn mark, and it wasn't the tiger."

"So you guys did have a tiger, then. I'm an oracle."

"An oracle tells the future, Mark," Taeyong said monotonously, but there was no malice in his tone.

"We'd never had fires before, but the manager was sure we'd be able to curb it in time," Shao continued. "But this fire—there was something different about it. The flames were as tall as the walls of the tent, and they burned white-hot. No one close to the interior survived."

The boys had fallen silent. Shao's voice was quiet and somber, so different from her usual tone that Taeyong could scarcely believe he was talking to the same person. She stared at the fabric in her hands, face looking like it was made of stone. The orange light from the kitchen made her eyes dance. It reminded Taeyong uncannily of flames.

"When the fire first started, we were in the middle of the show, and I was up," she said. "I remember there being something off about the atmosphere before it even happened—the lights were too bright, and the cheering sounded tinny and hollow. And then, the place exploded." She let out a breath of air. "It was too late to get down—I was already in mid-air, and my partner was swinging towards me. His rope was on fire."

Her voice had dropped an octave. "He swung towards me, and held his arms out, but we were both panicking too much. I tried to grab him, but the fire was spreading fast, and he was flailing so much—" She stopped briefly, a muscle jumping in her jaw. "His hands didn't touch mine. They grasped at the air, at anything they could get their hands on, and the first thing his nails met was my face. They caught on my skin and dragged down, opening a gash too deep to be filled. I remember not feeling it at first. Couldn't believe it when I finally saw the damage that had been done."

Taeyong and Mark stayed quiet, unsure how to read the last statement. Shao continued turning the blindfold over in her hands, brooding and silent, definitely not in the mood to say anything else.