The blade of light came down, and Haneul moved.
He didn't roll away from it. He rolled toward it, under Tae-yang's arm, and brought the broken half of the staff up as he came. It stretched in his fist, the jagged end shooting out like a spear, and the torn metal raked across the back of Tae-yang's hand.
Tae-yang hissed and jerked back. The light blade flickered out. Blood welled up in a long, ragged line across his knuckles, bright red against his glowing skin.
Haneul came up onto his feet a few steps away, breathing hard, the broken staff held low in one hand. His leg was bleeding. His lip was split. There was a burn across his shoulder that was still smoking.
He was grinning.
It wasn't a big grin. It was small, crooked, and bloody, the kind of grin a kid gives right before doing the one thing he's just been told not to do. Up in the box, Jin had never seen that expression on Haneul's face before.
"He's smiling," Do-yun said slowly. "Why is he smiling?"
