A Little Show of Skill

Luo Bin flicked his sleeve, producing a pair of bamboo chopsticks. Without even turning his head, he tracked a flying mosquito from the corner of his eye.

The chopsticks snapped out, fast and precise, and caught the mosquito.

He eased his fingers apart and released it. The mosquito flew off, just as fast as before.

"Draco, do you still need encouragement?"

Luo Bin flicked his sleeve again and tucked the chopsticks away with a flourish. "No?" he asked mildly.

"N-no. Go back to your book!"

Draco turned away, chopsticks in hand. When he reached for a mosquito, he deliberately lightened his grip. Then—clatter, clatter. He had held them so loosely that they slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.

Draco snatched them up. Once he was sure Luo Bin hadn't noticed, he let out a long breath. How embarrassing. That was mortifying.

He gripped the chopsticks again and went after one mosquito after another.

Dead?!

Still too much force!

Its wings were bent?!

Still a little too much!

Its leg was broken?!

I had to be even gentler!

Draco adjusted his grip bit by bit. When he caught the thirtieth mosquito and opened the chopsticks, it neither dropped nor clung to them. It beat its wings and shot upward.

I did it. I finally did it!

Draco wanted to share his excitement with someone at once, but when he turned, he found his roommate pointing his Wand at an empty glass bottle.

His excitement deflated. Half a minute later, though, he threw himself back into battle with the hundred-odd mosquitoes still in the tent.

The first step was always the hardest!

Draco had made it past that first step, and the rest came more easily. He now caught a mosquito three times out of ten, and his success