Yawning, Suok reaches her arms above her head as she sits up from the sleep mat. Mind still clouded by sleep, the muffled voices of her siblings the almost slip their way into her dreams as she closes her eyes, lays back down. Almost. “A fucking salg, are you kidding me?” Haeok’s voice, tight with anger. “Only one night, and a fucking leopard cat got to it.” Suok recognizes the familiar shuffling of his steps, thinks he’s probably pacing. “I know.” Jungok, tone level. “Should have sold it yesterday, but we can’t do anything about it now. Don’t worry about it.” Suok knows the projected calm of her sister’s voice, hears the underlying tremble. “I saw it. I fucking saw it too, was seconds late getting outside.” Sighing, Suok opens her eyes. At this point, sleep would only elude her. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment, she musters the energy to sit up. With the warm floor of the gudeul room on her mind, she dresses hastily and slides open the bedroom door. Jungok is sitting on the ground in the opposite corner of the room when Suok enters, posture relaxed with head on her knee and the other leg folded beneath her. Next to the front door stands Haeok, hands in his pockets and head leaning against the wall. They both look up as she enters. Jungok smiles, gesturing for Suok to sit beside her. Suok walks over to where she sits, plopping down to lean her head on her sister’s shoulder and inhaling her familiar smell. Across the room, Haeok exhales. Suok can’t see his face from where it’s tilted to look up at the ceiling. “The hen we kept died,” Jungok says. “A salg cat got to it this morning.” “I saw it,” Haeok grumbles. “I heard it, went outside and saw it get away. Fucking salg.” Her eyes feel heavy, lids falling and obscuring her vision. She doesn’t fight it, lets them flutter closed. Jungok sighs. “It’s not your fault. Nobody could have known it would happen.” Suok reaches out to clasp her sister’s hand, and her tapping finger stills. Out of the slits of her eyes, she sees Haeok slip on his sandals. “I’ll be back soon,” he mumbles, shoulders hunched as he walks away through the door. Moments after he leaves, Jungok groans. “Ughhh,” Jungok huffs. “I could say anything, and he wouldn’t listen. Was he always this stubborn?” Suok feels an arm reach over her back, hug her. “Yeah,” the younger agrees. “Don’t think it’s just that, though.” Head pressed against her sister’s chest, Suok feels her hum. It’s hard. Haeok is so distant, so visibly frustrated- but approaching him in a way without making him aware of the extent of their concern, without having him assume they see him as weak, is difficult. The way Suok sees her sister behave with him, conscious of the respect he deserves as their older brother, as their only brother- Suok knows she feels it too, the shame that any perception of incapability would cause him. And then where would they stand? “Well.” Jungok’s posture straightens, her hand nudging gently at Suok’s shoulder. “I’m surprised to see you awake. Did we wake you up?” “Hmm,” Suok hums. She’s not sure, honestly. Feeling her sister shift, she whines. “Unnie, don’t get up,” she complains, voice mumbled. “You’re supposed to keep me warm.” The elder huffs a laugh. “Just sit on the floor, you’ll be fine. Or,” she starts, Suok groaning as her sister pushes her off, standing, “you could help me make breakfast.” “Ahh, fineee.” Suok sighs, forcing her eyes open as she grabs her sister’s outstretched arm, pulls herself up from the floor. Might as well be helpful, she tells herself, trudging over to follow Jungok into the kitchen. “What should I do?” At her sister’s instruction, Suok pushes through her drowsiness to wash the rice. It’s not a hard task, and she tries to focus on it without discrimination. She concentrates- she’s only washing rice, nothing more and nothing less. Only walking, only stepping- to see, hear, recognize everything she does without distinction or assigning an action any unnecessary significance. haeng ju jwa wa- vivid mindfulness, as it’s called, in every action. yeosil jigyeon, a state of detached concentration, giving insight in accordance with reality; to know and see the reality as does the buddha, without discrimination. It’s difficult, so difficult- Suok often finds herself slipping into another path of thought, away from the simplicity of her action. But the first stage is to cease words and letters- so once she learns to cut off the path of language, she hopes, the rest should follow. She often imagines what it must be like, to silence her thoughts. She doesn’t like them very much, a lot of the time- imagines the tranquility of silence. Hopefully visualizing it will make it more accessible. Haeok returns soon after the rice finishes cooking. Neither of the sisters ask where he went, the silence which permeates sit a painful contrast to the ambiance of breakfast just yesterday. “Thank you,” he mumbles, taking the first bite. Jungok smiles at him in thanks, and the sisters join him eating. “You know where the station is, yeah?” Jungok asks the eldest, head cocked to the side. The tilt causes a few stray hairs to fall into her eyes; she brushes them to the side. “Yeah,” Haeok confirms, “But it’ll be a long walk. You been to Daegu?” Jungok shakes her head. “No, just Baekan-dong.” Suok nods. “Ah.” Haeok’s lips press together, before he continues. “It’s around three hours, walking.” Jungok nods. Suok gives a noncommittal grunt. The meal’s not as good as chicken would have been, but she eats it heartily regardless. The table is silent as they eat. Suok can feel Haeok’s guilt weigh over the group, clouding any attempts conversation. It’s not until the meal is finished and Jungok is thanked for the meal that it picks up again, as they prepare to leave. Haeok stands first, walking to where the ba jige sits next to the door, already packed. Jungok moves to clear the dishes, expression tight. “Kkoma,” she starts. “Would you walk through the house again, just to make sure we’ve got it all?” Suok nods, thoughts sliding into muffled silence as she moves to wander through the house. Haeng ju jwa wa. It’s the emptiest and cleanest she’s ever seen it, any evidence of life gone as she looks around the bedroom- no mats, no clothes, no pillows, no dust- only the cracks of sun that paint the floorboards, floating bits of dust reflected in the light. She leaves the room, sliding the screen door shut behind her. “We have everything,” she tells Jungok’s expectant gaze, reaching down to grab her own bag from the gudeul floor, sliding it over her shoulder. Her sister gives a quick nod, brushing the wispy hair behind her ears. “Okay. You can go outside, I’ll be there in a moment.” Head tilted, Suok nods in consent as Jungok brushes past her, further into the house. She slips on her boots, clunking against the hard soil as she walks through the courtyard, through the gate to where Haeok waits. Hands in his pockets, Haeok’s face is impassive. The ba jige is already strapped to his back, and he leans forward slightly under the weight of their grain and pots. He smiles slightly as she approaches, eyes scanning the courtyard behind her. “Not ready yet?” Suok shrugs. “She said a moment.” Haeok grunts. It’s a minute before she appears, wicker bags slung across either shoulder, stray hairs blowing in the wind. Her oval face is tense, pensive as she closes the gate to the courtyard, turns to face it. “Goodbye,” Jungok says, watching as the sun-stained gate swings shut. “We’ll come back.” Her lower lip trembles. Suok isn’t sure what she expected, but as she looks at her family’s home, her mind is oddly blank. The house has felt empty for years now, after all- the home she had known as a young child only existing in fuzzy memories. Maybe it’s different- Jungok remembers that time so much more clearly, after all. She knows Jungok has always longed for their home to be full again, to be warm in that same way. Maybe she’d hoped seeing it for the last time would spark something inside her, some sort of feeling. Though disappointing, that it doesn’t isn’t surprising. She looks away. “We’ll come back.” It’s Haeok, hand sliding into Jungok’s as they face the house. The sun hits their faces, eyes glimmering in the light. “Maybe for next Chuseok, if we do well.” Jungok’s face is still, lips pulled down as her gaze stays fixed on the house. When their brother speaks, she nods. “Maybe for Chuseok,” she repeats, mumbled. Jungok backs away, her expression tightening- Suok knows the moment she’s hardened her resolve, when her sister turns away from the house and waits for the others to follow. “Okay! Time to go,” She shouts. Suok is quick to find her sister’s side, and walk with her into the pine-lined path out of town. After a moment’s pause, she hears the shuffle of Haeok’s footsteps fall into step behind them. She might miss their forest more than anything else, their trees- The reddish gray colors of the Jeoksong pines, blue needles which never fall in the autumn, the tranquility of that path, leading all the way to bukjijangsa temple. As they continue down the path, birch starts to intersperse with the pine, yellow and orange hues sprinkled on the ground as they go. Suok still finds herself tight with anticipation as they walk through town. As they reach the end of Baekan village, Suok feels herself grabbed, pulled back Jungok’s from behind her. Suok starts, tripping slightly under the weight of the bag she carries. “What?” she asks, looking to her sister. “Shh. This is very important,” Jungok announces. “The farthest we’ve been is here. Are you ready to go further than we’ve ever gone?” She smiles at Suok, all teeth- wetness glimmers in the corners of her eyes. Ahead of them, Haeok huffs out a laugh, turning around to watch. Suok nods. “Yup, ready.” “Alright- count of three, we’ll walk forwards.” Jungok reaches her left hand out to hold Suok’s, the other occupied with balancing the bag atop her head. “One, two, three!” In synch, Suok lifts her right foot and steps forward with her sister. With a small smile, Haeok claps. “Okay. Let’s go.” Jungok’s voice is determined, uplifted. “Now every step is further than we’ve ever gone.” She flashes her toothy grin to Suok beside her, who lets out a soft giggle. Things look much the same to Suok as they continue towards Daegu. Familiar red pines interspersed with birches and other leaved trees, shades of amber and gold growing from their branches in the autumn, falling to carpet the floor. The stream which passes through Baekan-dong runs alongside their path, crossing through the road and gurgling in the distance as they continue, but never out of earshot. It’s not until they reach a village before a river that things really look different. Suok’s bag falls to the path with a small thump as her feet carry her to the bank, stopping when she feels her feet begin to sink into the marshy river mud. Eyes wide, she looks out across the river. The a cool breeze blows gently against her face, weaving through her hair. “That’s Geumho-gang,” Haeok calls out to her. “It’s where the stream at Baekan-dong goes.” The Geumho river is huge, Suok thinks, wider than any stream she had ever seen. The blue water moves lazily downstream, washing away any stray leaves and branches that might have tumbled down Palgongsan. Across from it, the city is visible in the distance, flat land stretching past the farming houses across the bank to the taller buildings in the distance. It really was bigger than Baekan village- there must be thousands living in the city, hundreds of thousands even. “You ready, kkoma?” Jungok’s voice carries over to where Suok stands. “Yeah,” she calls, turning- yelping slightly as she slips on the mud, just catching her balance before she might have tumbled into the river. Small grasses swirl around her rubber boots as she walks up the hilly bank, lifting the bag back over her shoulder.. The midday sun hangs high in the sky by the time Suok and her siblings have passed the old fortress street, and enter old Daegu. By the time they’re in the central district, Suok finds her nose scrunched and her steps hurried. There’s just so much more happening- so many people, so many sounds, so many things to look at that she can’t help but feel rushed along with the city’s movement. Beside her, Jungok is wide eyed and open mouthed, head craned up to peer at the tops of the buildings which crowd the narrow street. A few steps ahead of them, Haeok strides through the street with purpose, his usual slumped posture now straightened and alert. Suok reaches for Jungok’s hand, and pulls her ahead so they trail just a step behind their brother. “How far until the station?” Suok asks, tapping Haeok’s arm. He looks back for a moment, the corner of his mouth curled. “Not too far. You’ll know when you see it, it’s the biggest building around.” It was big. It comes into view a few blocks later- built in western style and seated just behind a paved square, the train station was the most ornate building Suok has seen by far. Large pillars held up the roof before the entrance, placed on either side of the longest windows Suok had ever seen. She finds the roof is weird though, with two triangle-like points at the left and right ends, with a large clock hanging between them. Haeok continues to walk, leading them forward until they stand in the paved square before the building, people milling about them. “Is that…?” Jungok asks, gesturing to the building. Their brother nods in response. Without much thought, Suok opens her mouth. “It’s kind of ugly,” she starts. To her side, Jungok’s eyes go wide, before she lifts a hand to muffle her laughter. “Isn’t it?” She looks to the small smile on the eldest’s face. “Donghwasa is much prettier.” “Yeah,” he says, narrow eyes curled in amusement. “I guess so.” Jungok shakes her head, but her smile is fond. Following their brother’s lead, they walk through the imposing entryway into the station. The atrium is vast, with tiles flooring and a domed ceiling. Further inside, Suok can see rows of leather chairs, occupied by a few people who seem to be waiting. A man walks past them briskly, the tapping of his leather shoes echoing throughout the antechamber. Looking down, Suok is glad Haeok decided to buy them rubber shoes; wearing straw jipsin would likely not go unnoticed in a place like this. Beside her, Jungok dusts off her skirt, one hand reaching up to tuck away a stray hair. “Where do we get tickets?” She whispers, looking to her brother. Looking back at Jungok, his lips are pursed. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I bought mine in Busan.” Three whispering Koreans in the middle of the hall must have been found out of place, because it’s not long before the sibling are approached by a broad-shouldered man. “Hello, do you need any help?” He asks, in pitched Japanese. He looks to Haeok, who averts his eyes. “Hello! Yes,” Suok answers, intervening. “Do you know where we can we buy tickets?” Eyebrows raised, he responds. “Yes, they’re sold at the booth at the end of the hall.” He points across the atrium to the wall opposite the entrance, where sure enough a sign reads ‘tickets’ in stylized kanji above a small service window. “Ah, thank you so much!” Suok says, giving a small bow, which the man returns. Gesturing towards her siblings, they follow her as she walks across the hallway. Once out of earshot, she turns her head to look back at them- and notices the man hasn’t moved, and is watching them walk to the booth. Her brow furrowed, Suok keeps the pace as she relays their conversation. “Wow, right there?” Jungok sighs. “They’re right where anyone can see them, that guy must have thought we were dumb.” Suok giggles. Approaching the window, the youngest leans on the counter. There’s nobody at the window, but she can see someone standing at the back over a stack of papers. “Sumimasen!” Suok calls, catching the figure’s attention. He turns, walking back towards the service window. The man is tall, Suok realizes, as he looms over her from behind the counter. A small pair of metal-rimmed glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, a small crack fracturing the corner of the left lens. His gaze is appraising, traveling behind Suok to her siblings, eventually making its way back to her after a moment has passed. “Yes?” He answers, finally. “How can I help you?” She smiles. “We need three tickets to Keijo, please.” He nods, looking down to write something on a paper. “Three tickets to Keijo. Third class?” He asks, tapping the pen against the counter. It’s a nice pen, a brassy metal with the cap pressed onto the end. “Yes, please.” Though rude, his assumption was correct. “Family name and first names?” “Giyon Kaito, Kanae, Sui.” The pen scratches against the paper. “Okay. That’s a total of thirty yen, ninety sen.” With trembling hands, the Suok pulls the bills out of the little pouch Jungok had handed her. Almost thirty-one yen, enough for a full meal of prime meat- she doesn’t think she’s held so much money in her life. The yen is crisp under her careful fingers as she counts, double counts, and hands the amount to the ticket master. With eyebrows raised, the man looks down through his spectacles as he counts the money, before finally passing Suok the tickets. “Thank you!” She says, though the man has already turned away. Shrugging, she walks back to where her siblings stand. “I’ve got them- three tickets for the next train to Kyongsong.” Souk glances over the wooden timetable propped next to the ticket booth. “Daegu to Kyongsong…” she mutters, searching for the platform. “Ah, here.” She points with her right hand, index finger touching the wood. “Daegu to Kyongsong, Kyongbuseon line, platform three. Today’s train leaves at noon. Says the trip is ten hours.” Jungok hums, impressed. “Ten hours, when it would take days to walk.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “The wonders of modernity.” Suok giggles. “Sure,” Haeok huffs. “Come on, don’t want to miss it.” The sisters follow as he walks through a high archway out of the hall, to where trains are housed under a partially exposed roof. It’s immediately noisier here, with the puffs of steam from arriving trains and crowds of people clustered on the platforms, obstructing Suok’s vision and movement. She struggles to peer down the hall, searching for any signs to indicate their train. “Do you see a three?!” She shouts over the noise, looking up to he siblings behind her. None of them are tall by any means, but they’d have more luck than she would. “Our train will be at three!” Jungok only shrugs, her eyes wide as they dart around the station, index finger tapping against her skirt. Suok reaches out her hand, widening her eyes and pouting at the older in her best pleading expression. Relenting, she sighs and gives Suok her hand; the youngest smiling when she feels the way Jungok melts into her grip. Next to them, Haeok’s narrow eyes scan the platforms, small lips mouthing the signs as he reads them. Nodding sharply, he turns to Suok. “It’s at the end,” he says, voice raised, “third to the end.” They push through the congested station, Suok sliding into small gaps in the crowd and pulling her siblings after her; Jungok’s hand is damp around her own. By the time they make it to their platform at the end of the station, the rush of steam and metallic clang of grinding wheels can be heard down the tunnel. “I think that’s us!” She yells back to her siblings, pushing through onto the platform with a renewed vigor before they’re stopped by a man at the entrance. “Tickets, please?” He intones. Suok nods vigorously, pulling the three tickets out of the bag to show the man. He inspects them carefully, face reluctant as he shows them the line for third class boarding. The train creaks into the station, and it's as loud as it is large. Painted black metal shines as huge wheels turn, the smoke gushing from the top thick and loud. Suok coughs a little, and finds herself covering her ears as it comes screeching to a halt, a stream of passengers flooding out of the train on the opposite platform. Slowly, the line begins to move, until Suok is the one walking up the ramp to enter. Eyes wide, she scans the inside- seats in rows of three, windows on either side. Having gotten to the station so late, the compartment is mostly full by the time she enters, so she walks with her siblings to the back. She stops before the next open row of three, looking back at her siblings in question. Her hands are clasped together behind her back, in anticipation- she'd really, really love to be able to look out the window, to fly past all of Daegu in this huge, modern thing… Jungok looks back at her, amusement pulling at her lips. “Go ahead, sit at the window,” she prompts, shoulder nudging the youngest. Suok doesn’t need to be told twice before hurrying into the seat, sliding in next to the glass and peering out onto the platform. She feels Jungok settling in next to her- Haeok must have taken the aisle seat. Suok watches as the train leaves the grey tones of the city, crosses again over Geumho river’s lazy current, midday sun sparkling atop the water like broken glass. Halfway across the river, she strains her neck, peering through the small window as much as she’s able- sighing in disappointment when she realizes it’s impossible to make out the path they had walked through the forest, and even more impossible to catch a glimpse of Baekan-dong or their home village. It’s strange, she thinks, that the urgent longing to see their home again only arose once it had become impossible, trivial. Suok gazes in the direction of the train’s movement, head rattling against the window. Dry paddies pass beneath the train, the speed of their movement blurring them into one. In the distance, an unfamiliar mountain range lines the horizon. She imagines what they might find in Manchukuo. She hopes for her family’s livelihood and dignity, as her siblings dream- and for relief, to satiate the ache in her soul. As the steam train rushes them north, the proud silence of Palgongsan’s spririt stands ever further behind them. The rumbling against the window lulls Suok to sleep, and she doesn’t look back again.