The Re-Forging of the Blade

**Chapter Nine**
The Sins of the Steel are the Sins of the Sword Maker

Jin opened his eyes just before sunrise, the sounds of the woods in the center of Tokyo coming alive. It could not have been more than two hours since the Devil landed his body in safety, shrouded by trees and earth, in the dark of night.

The Japanese youth forced himself to roll over in the dirt, his eyes cast up to the trees and sky beyond, slowly turning from midnight obsidian to a softer hue of blue. His body was sore and the cool damp earth felt incredible against his bare shoulders and spine, calming the burning heat that raged in the housing of the Devil’s wings beneath his skin. Nothing of the flight was coded in Jin’s memory, only the simple knowledge he had not slept nearly enough to restore his energy completely…but that could not matter to him now…

Taking a deep breath, Jin focused his strength to make his body respond…to sit upright as his hands grasped bent knees, pulling himself further into position. All of his senses were fuzzy and his stomach muscles quivered he forced himself to ground into the earth, using it as a solid base to support himself. Raising one hand from his knee, Jin slid his fingers through his hair, trying to wake himself up…as heavy lidded eyes closed softly.

“Where are you, Seung?” the Japanese youth groaned, his thoughts slowly shaking off the fog as he imagined where the Blood Talon would be, on this day, at this hour. Any number of places could be a point of interest…but if Seung was in trouble, as both he and the demon feared, that complicated things even further.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Jin drew to his knees…and gently upward from there. Unwrapping the sweat suit jacket he had tied around his waist before the Demon’s flight, the Japanese youth carefully replaced the material about his naked upper body; releasing black feathers stuck to his shoulders with dried blood. The obsidian remnants slowly flitted to the earth itself, rippling like black water against a dirt carpet.

Taking his first unsteady steps, Jin breathed in deeply. “Help me, Seung…help me find you….”

**

Ling shielded her eyes as she stepped out of the club, bracing her hand against Steve’s upper arm to guide her unsteady gait. “I think that last drink…just hit me,” she groaned, blinking rapidly as the bands of night yielded to a slowly rising light. Soon enough, the sun and moon would be parallel to each other in the sky…and their eternal battle would end with morning’s first rays.

“For a small thing, you can definitely prove yourself at a bar,” Steve snickered, his right hand entwined with Julia’s as his left came around to support Ling by the waist. “Don’t these clubs ever bloody close? The party is still raging inside.”

“I think the hours on the flyer said 5p-5a…that could get a lot of people in trouble,” Julia shook her head, the most sober of the trio. There was little desire in her to drink herself stupid, a level head and level spirit were her most valuable assets.

“I think this place is a success. We have to come back here again, soon,” Ling giggled, taking careful steps to keep in stride with Steve and Julia. “What time is it?”

“Well, I don’t think this place would be a good idea for either you or I, when the tournament kicks off on Monday.” Steve was craving a cigarette, but with both hands busy, he was forced to forgo the idea for the moment.

“It’s almost 5a…quarter off, far as I can see,” Julia replied, turning her gaze up from the watch Steve wore on his right wrist. Without indicators at every five minutes on the face, it was difficult in low light to tell the exact time.

“Wow, I really need some sleep.” Ling giggled again, nearly losing her footing and luckily braced by the Boxer’s strong yet gentle grip.

“I think that goes for all of us. It’s a shame Hwoarang didn’t show. I hope he is alright…wherever he is.” Julia sighed softly. “He’s going to have to show up for the kick off celebration, his track record for that is pretty secure. I think we can do some intervention then.”

“Hwoarang doesn’t do interventions,” Steve said, second handedly. “But Julia can be the ace in the hole for us…she has some great empathic abilities…very earth mother. I guess we can thank your Mum, Michelle for teaching you that.”

“Given a few minutes with him, I might be able to ask the Great Spirits for some insight. But he’s going to have to let me do that…I can’t just tap in without his okay. Free will and all that.”

“Jin,”….a soft voice echoed in the distance, so gentle and tortured only Ling, closest to the alley a few hundred yards from the club, could hear it. Steve and Julia were speaking amongst themselves…

“Hey, did you hear something?” Ling asked, stopping and nearly tumbling over as Steve’s arm pushed her forward and lost its grip against her narrow waist.

The Brit turned and looked to Ling. Pausing for a single moment, he strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. “No…I don’t hear anything. Why? What’s wrong?”

Ling bit the edge of her lip. “Hang on a second, alright? I thought I heard something coming from the alley over there. Let me go check it out.”

“You’re not sober enough,” Julia cautioned. “I’ll give a look in. Someone might need help.”

“It could be some homeless bum or a junkie or something. Let me do a quick sweep and see if there is anything there.” Steve released Julia’s hand, but not before drawing her skin to his lips and leaving a gentle kiss along the bridge of her knuckles. Even with two very accomplished fighters at his side, he still had to assert his masculinity.

“Yeah…that’s fine and all…but what if it’s Hwoarang….” Ling said, getting her hopes up that it would be the elusive Korean. She had seen what the Blood Talon was like after his night with the man he had spoken of during his massive freak out. With a shot of alcohol based courage in her system, she was confident she could handle Hwoarang better this time, if it was in fact him. “He won’t really want anything to do with you. Am I right? And he sure as hell won’t come near Julia…he doesn’t really know her all that well.”

“Why wouldn’t he come to Steve? They are pretty good friends…” Julia asked, looking between the two, confused.

“I...well, he owes me some cash and I was harping on him about it the last time I saw him. Money is a sore spot between friends…can create a pretty serious rift,” Steve chuckled, his eyes going to Ling with silent pleading.

“Why would you even think it’s him, anyway, Ling?” Julia quirked a brow, exhaling deeply into the slowly warming chill of morning.

“I don’t think it’s him…but what if it was? I’m sure it’s not the first time he has ever woken up in an alleyway, right?” Ling said, losing her patience. “Just let me take a look.”

“Alright. But we will both be right here, okay?” Steve finally conceded. Ling was right, Hwoarang might not let anyone get close, if it was really him. The Korean’s defenses would be up, especially if something was really wrong, wrong in all the ways Ling had described earlier in the day at the café.

Ling nodded and walked toward the dark alley, her hand bracing against the slick, saline coated walls…as she grimaced. Solidified, corrosive salt water sticking against dense stone was not a pretty sensation against manicured nails.

“Gross.” Ling shivered…and tried to find a point of light in the alley, something to reference the secrets contained within.

**

Hwoarang rocked back and forth in the center of the dark alley, his hands wrapped around the knees that braced his chest…comforted only by the click of his spurs against wet sticky concrete. “Fucking hurts…so bad…” he whispered as though trying to sooth himself, afraid to scream out loud…afraid he was truly and completely alone.

The sickening stench of regurgitated blood, mixed with salt and garbage, made the Korean shake. There was nothing in his mouth but the taste of copper…a bitter taste, malevolent and consuming…as though the blood within him was eating through his most vital organs.

Death would have been a welcomed release from this all consuming agony. Every muscle was tender, each tendon strained. The Korean’s heart beat erratically in his chest as his lungs heaved…forcing up another heavy throat of blood…this time, dripping down his lips to his already filthy shirt.

“Jin…I think I’m dying.” Hwoarang continued to rock back and forth, using the grip on his knees to try and brace himself. How did he get here? What had happened to him? The last thing he could recall was…Chaolan…being tied to the Silver Devil’s bed as bamboo splintered against his skin. And now, he was in a dingy alley, somewhere near water…but where, he could not tell. The Korean had no energy to stumble forward and gather his bearings. Fear and pain gripped him like restraining hands to this very position.

“I’m scared…” the Korean youth shivered, his blood caked lips trembling. Leaning forward, he pressed his head against his bent knees…the smells of the alley so pungent to his overrun, enhanced senses….he swore he would be sick again…if the pain hadn’t taken precedence over his body like a black tidal wave.

“Please Jin…wrap your wings around me…and give me death…” Hwoarang called out with innocence to the incorporeal memory of the Japanese youth, sniffing back tears of agony.

**

//The scent of the other is strong. The original demon is near.// Came the fractured, strained voice inside Jin’s head. The Devil Within had suddenly snapped to life as Jin walked downtown, toward the pier….crowds emerging from a gathering close by. Only a club could attract such an ostentatious, drink heavy crowd…but there had been no place of the such near to the run down district.

Grasping his head, Jin closed his eyes tightly, energy drained and waning fast as the Demon borrowed what little he had in reserve. “I am not strong enough…to fight Kazuya…not without rest…we must go…” the Japanese youth spoke out loud to himself, even as garishly dressed people walked past him, casting him side long glances. How he must have looked to them…a disheveled figure, stained and filthy…a derelict or homeless bum of the streets, speaking aloud to only himself.

//It’s too late for that. We must stand…gather…strike fast. He does not realize we are here…he does not acknowledge us…we will have the element of surprise…//

Jin tightened his closed eyes as his fingers clenched into fists in his unruly obsidian tendrils. The Devil Within was right…if they ran now, Kazuya would taste that fear…and chase them down till there was no energy left for Jin to stand, let alone fight.

Dark eyes opened and focused as Jin steeled his resolve. He had come too far to fail now…the search for Seung would have to wait, just a little longer. “Alright,” the Japanese youth whispered, breathing out with slow control, gathering what was left of his thinly stretched Chi. What energy he had left would have to suffice… “Do not…interfere…I can not support us both…”

The Devil remained eerily quiet, though Jin could feel the dark spirit watching from the back of his ocular cavities. Pulse quickening, the Japanese youth moved with determination to close into the distance.

//The alley. There. To the right.//

Jin exhaled sharply once more and turned, his eyes lingering against the dark corridor a few paces from where he stood. The concrete archway of the alley stunk of salt water and trash…so pungent it made bile rise in the back of his throat. Taking his first steps into the darkness, Jin hardened his jaw…

Spirals of red lightning swirled along his arms, illuminating the path as the reflection cast along the salt water slicked walls. He moved with purpose, abandoning fear as the ozone trail sparked around him…threatening to ignite the air itself…

The Japanese youth quickened his pace, not sure just how long the lightning would hold…his throat overflowing with the sickening smells he sucked in…mingled now with blood.

Movement in the center of the alleyway drew dark eyes and the flare of ancestral fatal lightning grew with the brilliance of sunrise just behind his stalking form. Red fingers of current licked up, highlighting a pale figure, curled in against itself…the shape was human…and it rocked, back and forth…melding into itself over and over again…making it nearly impossible to discern the figure….

…until sienna eyes turned up to the shudder of red lightning…wincing at the brilliance….

“Seung….” Jin’s lips formed the name and as though whispering an incantation, the blaze of electric swirling current quickly dying.

**

Hwoarang felt the ozone charge in the depth of the alley, like a lightning storm threatening the earth and sky with its vengeance. Errant papers and strips of trash blew back past his curled form as the Korean shivered, rocking in continuous motion in the sudden charged windstorm.

Red flickering light shifted behind his closed eyes. Ever so slowly, the Blood Talon turned his head to the left, to the source of approaching current, resting his temple along his bent knee.

“Seung” Jin’s voice filled the agonized Korean, like a guardian angel.

“You came…” Tears fell down dirt spattered cheeks as the vision unfolded before relieved eyes. “You came…to take me…” Hwoarang whispered, the lightning swirl of Jin’s body fading, leaving behind sparks of ozone that threatened to ignite stagnant air.

Never could there be a sight more beautiful to deliver him to death than the ghostly apparition of Jin…his angel of mercy…now, his angel of death. The pain could end now, the spirit of his lover was with him, ready to enfold him in black wings.

Jin knelt down, reaching his hand out to the pale, shivering figure before him, his fingers connecting to cold, sticky flesh. The sun was rising on the other side of the alley, carefully shedding scant strips of light through the dark corridor. Blood. Blood stained the Korean’s mouth…all the way down the clothing Hwoarang wore…and in a glossy disgorge beside a shaking, pale body.

“Seung…oh, god…Seung…” Jin felt his soul quiver as his fingers drew up into the tangled matting of once fiery copper tendrils. Tears fell along his lover’s tormented features as watery sienna eyes beheld him like a vision of mercy.

Hwoarang let free a scream as Jin touched him…as though the simple brush of the Japanese youth’s nearness tortured him. The original demon, bound within Korean flesh, rebelled just as sharply as the gene gifted to him by his lover. The initial gene fought to quench the uprising…its strength diminished greatly against stronger forces and yet, revitalized by Jin’s nearness. The scream subsided and Hwoarang leaned gently into the Japanese youth’s grip like an injured kitten, lost and abandoned…too weak to fend for itself.

//He thinks you are death…come to take him…// the Devil spoke through Jin’s thoughts, the normally mocking voice losing its sense of urgency and darkness in pure, complete shock. How could the Demon mistake Hwoarang…for Kazuya?

“I...don’t want to be sick…anymore, Jin…take me away with you…to heaven or hell…please…don’t leave me here alone…” Every word was broken with sobbing innocence as Hwoarang grasped his knees closer to his chest, afraid to reach out and touch the apparition of his salvation…scared it would dissipate and never find him again.

“Seung…” Jin felt his world crumbling as blood pumped hot and heavy through his ears. What was happening? “I won’t leave you again…I promise you…”

//He is sick…infected. He carries the curse…but something is wrong…something is horribly wrong…I feel his life force…is dying.// The Demons voice was fading, barely able to sustain itself on what little reserves the entity kept of its own.

“What have I done to you…” The pain made Jin’s voice crack as he released his hand from Hwoarang’s matted tresses. With a sudden upward motion, Jin grasped the cold, shaking Korean up to his feet…bracing his body weight as strong arms wrapped about his lover’s back.

The Blood Talon groaned with the motion, his head falling on Jin’s shoulder like a newborn, unable to perform even the simplest function on his own. The scent of his dead lover, the feel of familiar skin…it was all so real…Jin was so real.

“Help me, Devil. Drain me…and find the power to fly…we have to take him to safety…” Jin shuddered as his lips pressed against the black roots of the Korean’s cascading hair, tasting his lover’s scent beneath the overwhelming stench of sickness.

The first shake of pain wracked through Jin’s shoulders as he clutched Hwoarang tightly to him. Every fiber of his body shuddered as he forced himself to remain upright.

Biting back a heavy scream, shielded by the liquid currents of the Korean youth’s tendrils, Jin felt the first tear of flesh…the heavy torment of wings breaking through…unfolding and dripping like black blood to the very concrete of the alley.

“Hold onto me…Seung…” Jin gritted his teeth as the Devil’s horns spiraled from the sides of his head…arching out like an ancient god, freed of a dark prison.

“I won’t ever...let go…of you…” Hwoarang mumbled into the jacket that covered Jin’s shoulder.

Black wings stretched wide and filled the expansive width of the alley with a crisp, sharp motion…the sound of feathers tearing against concrete echoing as clawed fingers held the Korean against him. With an agonizing cry, Jin lost himself to the demons consciousness…black wings enfolding Hwoarang like a protective cocoon.

“I…love you...” the Korean’s tortured voice echoed as Jin slid back into the depths reserved for the demon, his spirit shivering as the potency overtook him. The knowledge Seung truly loved him, the sound of the words echoed from stone, gave the Japanese youth something to cling onto as he yielded to darker power.

Turning, the Devil drew their lover into a carry, one arm braced beneath Hwoarang’s back, the other at the fold beneath his knees. The Korean’s head tipped back as the wealth of unconsciousness surrounded him, no longer able to bear the agony snaking like fire beneath his skin.

“Let go of him!” came the heavy shriek of a woman’s voice, vibrating against the concrete.

The Devil, waning in strength, barely glanced over its shoulder, pausing in a moment of recollection before breaking off into a run. Ling Xiaoyu.

Drawing down to its haunches at the break of the alley into the street, black wings took to the air as the sun rose in brilliant red hue over Tokyo. Obsidian feathers created an upward driving current to support the extra weight carried like precious cargo in its grip.

The Demon flew into the blinding rays of sunlight itself, beating a pace like fast hands on a stretched drum. Battling exhaustion, the entity drew on every last spike of energy, soaring high and attempting to shield unwanted eyes from its very presence.

**

Sparks of red drew Ling’s eyes as she moved carefully down the long corridor. At first, it seemed like a reflection, a match perhaps, struck against the wall, turning the slick concrete a rich blood hue. But then, the Chinese youth realized, the red glow was moving into the very center of the pathway.

Shredded paper and small shards of trash blew within a sudden wind, created at the opposite end of the tunnel, where the sun was beginning to rise, nearly blinding the Chinese youth. With a heavy cough, Ling cleared her throat and cupped her hand over her brow…overflowing with a sudden, eerie thought…that Jin was near.

The red light dissipated just as quickly it arrived and Ling was plunged into darkness once more. Echoes of sound reached her ears, too inaudible to understand the muttering that washed over her. But it was only when the Chinese youth scented familiar ozone, wafting in a slow breeze down the enclosed alleyway, did she take to a run.

“Jin? Hwoarang? Anybody?” Ling whispered as she grasped the wall. The rising sun blinded her eyes, as the shape of a deformed man lingered like a shadow against the brilliant flares. Only when she strained did she realize, the shape was not that deformed at all…the figure was male by the outline…and it was cradling something in its arms….

..or someone. Someone with illuminated hair that burned like brilliant fire kissed copper against the sun’s vanquishing rays. Hwoarang. Who else could it be?

“Let go of him!” Ling shrieked, the sound of her own voice echoing back to her as the shadow figure paused…before taking off at a running pace, directly into the rising sun’s rays. The dark shape hunched down as yellow, orange and red ribbons leaked like water into the alley, blinding the Chinese youth instantly. By the time Ling could adjust her eyes to the caustic flare that reflected in the dingy, slick alley….there was no one there at all.

“Damn it!” Ling felt the surge of adrenaline through her body and she bolted toward the end of the alley, where the figure she had seen almost magically disappeared.

Holding onto the outer concrete, the Chinese youth scanned from left to right…and then up into the sky itself. There was nothing…but the release of nights torment to forgiving, yielding light. Nothing but the street out before her, still quiet on an early Saturday morning.

“I must be losing my mind,” Ling groaned, brushing the back of her hand against her forehead. How much of a fool could she feel like? To think Hwoarang would be in this place…or that Jin would be alive and drawing breath. Wishful thinking on both parts…it’s a sad world I live in.

Taking a deep breath, the Chinese youth began the walk back through the enclosed alleyway, guided this time by sun light’s beautiful fingers. Kicking her feet along the muck beneath her, Ling tried to think of an excuse she could give to Steve and Julia…maybe a homeless person after all? She just could not tolerate being looked at…like she was just a sad little girl trying to hold onto the friend she loved and lost…by saving his former boyfriend.

As these thoughts tormented her, Ling lost her footing, crashing down onto her knee in the center of the alley. “Ouch!” she hissed, bracing both hands down on the ground before her to begin hoisting herself up. “What the hell was that?”

The Chinese youth looked around to her right leg, she must have slipped on the dark and slick puddle beneath her foot. The wetness that held an awful stench that nearly reminded her of blood. Grimacing in disgust, Ling dragged her fingers upward, preparing to wipe them clean with her skirt, when a shimmer of light caught her attention.

Drawing her hand around toward the nearly iridescent glimmer, Ling grasped something sticky and yet soft. Squinting her eyes in the sharp light, the Chinese youth quirked her brow, as her lips fell agape.

“I think Jin did something to him…but I don’t really know what the guy could have done...Hwoarang is no push over. He used to keep this black feather with him, all of the time. He even got the thing tattooed on his back, between the shoulder blades when he was on leave in the United Kingdom, said it reminded him of Jin. I swore it meant something else. Have you seen it?”

Ling felt the words Steve had spoken at the café earlier in the day wash through her. What were the odds of finding a black feather this large, here in an alley? The Chinese youth was not exactly sure what it meant…but it had to have been something. Something big. It had to be Hwoarang’s.

Scanning around in available light, Ling followed the shimmering blackness that seemed to have fallen everywhere in the alley. Gathering them up into her fingers, every available one she could see, the Chinese youth took to a sudden and sobering run; back to her friends, and from the path she originally came.

(Authors Note: We have begun to reach the areas that will require longer time for updates...things are about to get wild. hehehe. So, please bear with me during the possible 2+ week lag in updates.

Also, be on the look out for the first chapter of the significantly shorter "Dagger Series 1: Switch-Blade" which will be up VERY soon. If you are not sure of what the Dagger series will be about, please visit the Mishima Compound Website for all the updated info. And, while your there...take a peek at the intensely beautiful fan arts. Feedback is always welcome and thank you all....

M. Mishima

End Authors Note)