The First Crack in the Metal

**Chapter 11**
Into the Mold

Hwoarang woke with a start, eyes looking around the sunlit room to find Jin had gone. He cast his amber gaze toward the digital read out on the clock near the bed. 10:30am. “Shit!”

The Blood Talon had less than an hour to get to his scheduled match. No time for a shower, not a chance in hell he would get himself ready by then. He would be lucky if he had time to stretch properly before the tournament even started.

He rose like a starting pistol had gone off, dumping his still unpacked duffel out onto the bed. His fingers curled around his dobuk, shaking it out, wrinkled as shit. Disgrace.

He slid the familiar, heavy uniform over his skin, grasping his bandana and tying it hastily to hold back his hair during the match. Throwing his spurred boots on and grasping his arm and leg guards, he rushed out of the door..but not before stopping in his madness to pick up the tossed pack of cigarettes and taking a moment to light a cylinder up.

Everyone has their priorities.

**

Nina Williams paced the confines of the ring. She had priorities, contracts that required her attention and the Irish Assassin would not be held up a moment longer than necessary. Her target was in the King of Iron Fist and it was her job to sniff him out. Now, where was hell was her damn opponent?

Hwoarang rushed into the tournament area, kicking off his boots and taking a moment to slide his shin and arm guards into place. He looked to Nina with a sudden sense of recognition. She looked..familiar. The Blood Talon could not place it but he swore he knew those features. And then it hit him, Steve Fox. Nina looked remarkably like the British Boxer. But that did not make sense, she was young….to young to have a son who was 21.

“I hate to be kept waiting.” Nina said, flipping her hand in the air, dismissingly as Hwoarang stared at her. “Are we fighting or are we going to play…other games?” The Korean was handsome, she had to give him that. She could have a good bit of fun riding a body like that, glimpsed from the opening of her opponents dobok.

“One fucking minute.” He snickered and drew down into a sideways split before her. He gasped at the sensation, the muscles recalling the motion but unready to receive them. It was the best stretch he could hope for, with so little time.

“Hwoarang!” came the cry and the waving hand held aloft, a short distance away. Steve was trying to get the Blood Talons attention and for a moment it worked before Steve got a head long shot at Nina…and felt, somehow drawn.

The Blood Talon rose up with agile motion, nodding toward Steve. The referee drew close and asked the simple, easy words, “Are you ready to begin?”

“Well, I am fucking here, aren’t I?” The Blood Talon fell into stance as Nina blew him a kiss from across the small area. “Not in your wildest dreams, sweetheart.” He cocked a loaded smile and the referee gave the signal for the fight to begin.

**

Jin was waiting in the stone area of the Korean Temple, his arms crossed before his chest, eyes watching Paul Pheonix pump up the small crowd with obnoxious smack talk. The Japanese youth was slowly growing impatient, tired from the last evening…unable to find blissful sleep after his encounter with Kazuya.

The Japanese youth turned his eyes to the side, along the decaying stone lions carved by Korean hands. He felt him before he saw him. Hwoarang. He was sitting on the back of the lion, still in his dobok, legs swung over as though he might ride the beast if it came to life. He flicked errant ashes from his cigarette and smiled when Jins eyes connected to his. Judging by his posture, Jin assumed the Blood Talon had won his match. Was there ever really a question?

“Aw, that’s cute. Got your little boyfriend here to cheer you on. Well, Mishima brat, your going to need all the help you can get.” Paul said in his usual obnoxious voice. He had been smack talking, not really meaning what he was saying…but he was closer to the truth then the idiot realized.

The current around Jins crossed arms encircled his chest. He had no love for the American since the last tournament. Paul had cheated to get to Toshin first, knocking Jin out cold to try and take the tournament. Now, adding insult to injury he was exposing a weak spot in Jins life. Hwoarang.

“Shut up and fight.” Jin hissed as the referee jolted back, the battle starting without his signal.

**

Hwoarang watched Jin go through motions he had never before seen. “What the fuck is this happy horse shit.” He said, cigarette tossed off to the ground, he took to chewing on his nail, still astride the stone lion. Jin was using a different art, it was obvious by the fall into to stance, the blocks and kicks that followed through. Was it possible the Japanese youth had taken on an entirely new art and tossed off the old like a snake shedding his skin?

“He disgraces his ancestors by removing his link to them.” Came a voice so cold, so elegant, the Blood Talon turned his head like a shot. An older man was standing not far from him, stealthy little trick.

“Who the fuck asked you?” Hwoarang snided as the older man turned. What was staring back at him was Jins face, older and more defined, more severe as though it was twisted in an eternal grimace. The face was scarred, eyes held at bay by dark sunglasses. Expensive ones. This had to be…

“I would pay attention to your tone, Hwoarang.” Kazuya said with a sneer. “It is improper to address the father of the man you court in such a way.”

That snapped the Korean awake in a single second. For the first time in his life, the Blood Talon…didn’t have a witty retort to toss back in his normal verbal frenzy. “What the fuck are you talking about, old man.” It was the best he could do. It felt like the wind was knocked out of him.

Kazuya, with arms folded before his chest, drew several paces closer to the Korean atop the statue. He looked deep into Hwoarang to the point of looking through him. Hwoarangs body reacted to the full on hold of Kazuyas eyes, it felt revolting…like bad kimchi sitting at the edge of his gullet, waiting to expel.

“I know of you and my son. I know how you have tainted and corrupted him, driven him away from the path of his divinity, the grace of his ancestors. You are a sickness that has infected his body.” Kazuya wanted nothing more than to rip the last shred of mortal coil from this boys body. But, he remained rooted, drinking in every detail of the so called Blood Talon. He was young. Healthy. Reminding Kazuya of an equally snide and youthful Silver Devil, 30 years ago. Hwoarang would almost be considered handsome, if he was not Korean…and if he had not been the disease that plagued Jins body.

“What the fuck is it with that?” Hwoarang hissed, jumping down from the lion. Two people in two days had said the same thing. What did they know that he didn’t?

The brazen Korean stepped up, crossing his arms at his chest in defensive posture, mimicking Kazuyas stance. “So, what we got here is Jins walking dead daddy come back to fuck with his head. And a homophobe at that. You know what they say about homophobes, right?”

Kazuya snickered. How he wanted to lay waste to Hwoarang right here, right now and make Jin watch it unfold. But no, there was another way…and it would much more satisfying in the end. “You will stay away from my son, or you will suffer the consequences. I only give one warning.”

“Jin is a big boy.” Hwoarang hissed, trying to goad Kazuya into a fight. “A very big boy, at that. I suppose I should thank his mother for that, cause Pops aint much to look at.”

//Do you smell that, Kazuya?//

The younger Mishima did, in fact. What he scented was more than the disgusting passion that reeked from Hwoarangs skin. It was blood. Jins blood was pulsing strong in those Korean veins and that only infuriated Kazuya more, left eye glowing like a beacon beneath the shade that held it. Jins list of offenses were growing deeper by the moment. If he tried to use Jins demonic half to injure the boy…it would be a hard sell…the devil would know that familiar essence. A near virtual talisman.

//Look with greater eyes, Kazuya. If he has indeed tasted Jins blood…then Jin…will come like a puppy dog to its masters whistle..should anything..befall this Korean rat. The cards once more turn in our favor. Our sons advantage has shifted and the game has become more interesting.//

‘You hear a fucking word I said, old man?” Hwoarang hissed as Kazuya fell eerily quiet. He was not used to be ignored, not when he was facing off and ready to take this man down.

Kazuya gave such a cold smile, the Blood Talon felt as though the temperature around him suddenly dropped. He felt himself getting sicker in that silence, like the blood in his body wanted to rush out through every open pore. It was excruciating…but he refused to show it. “We will meet again, Hwoarang. Sooner than you think.”

The younger Mishima turned to walk away, spying another set of eyes watching the fight that went on at the bottom of the stairs of the temple. Heihachi was stalking the grounds like a jungle cat, looking for the opportune moment to strike.

A string of Korean profanities littered the air. Kazuya understood every guttural word. His step brother was Korean, after all. He paid it no mind as he walked away, the plans forming in his thoughts to lay the trap and get to the prize.

The Blood Talon fell back against the stone lion, closing his eyes as the sick feeling slowly began to leave. What was the correlation between the feeling and the people around him.

“Taking a nap?” Steve said with a laugh, as Hwoarangs eyes opened with a wide, sudden start.

“Has everyone been taking lessons on stealth. Fuck, Steve. I must be losing my mind and my alertness.” The Korean hissed, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear the haze from his thoughts. He slid back up on the lion and let his chin drip down against his naked chest, dobok held open and caught in the slight warm breeze.

“Nah, your fine.” Steve smiled, offering the Blood Talon a cigarette from his pack. He lit his own and then Hwoarangs. “Who was that creepy old gaffer?” The Brit tilted his head to indicate where Kazuya had walked off to.

“Too long of a story to tell you. So, how ya been?” He watched Jin and Paul in the battle at the bottom of the steps. The American was making the Japanese youth sing for his supper. It still did not make sense why Jin would unlearn the traditional art of his ancestors for Shotokan Karate. It was much more closely linked to Tae Kwon Do by its motions. It made Hwoarang smile. Imitation as the sincerest form of flattery, why Jin, you romantic. He would have to have a little chat with Kazama about this new turn of events.

“Getting ready to take on my match later this afternoon. Going out for a drink with Julia after that. That’s cool with you, right?” Steve asked, leaning his arm on the lions head, which Hwoarang quickly swatted away with his booted foot. Interesting fashion statement, uniform and beaten down boots.

“Whatever man, no worries to me. Just don’t try to stick it where she don’t want it. She’s a pretty alright chic.” He said with a laugh, flicking the ashes from his borrowed smoke.

“The woman you were fighting before, Nina Williams. What do you know about her?” Steve asked, cracking his neck as he watched Hwoarang jolt at a particularly hard hit Jin had taken in his match. The Japanese youth flew back, landing on his ass as the American approached. Maybe Jin should have kept a better track of his training.

“Don’t know much except the fact she looks like you. But shit, she cant be much older than you. So, not sure what that is all about. Got a sister or something you never knew about?” Hwoarang asked, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Get the fuck up off your ass, Kazama! Can you believe he fought me to a draw.” But that had been a different style and a much more mentally focused time in his lovers life.

Steve took a longer glance down at the match, inhaling sharply. “So, this is the ex, huh?” He had met Jin for just a few moments, a few nights ago. He was a tasty bit of crumpet, there was little doubt about that. And Steve understood in that moment, enraptured as Hwoarang was with the fight…and Hwoarang was never enraptured with anything for this long.

“Yeah.” Hwoarang said simply, nearly bolting upright when Jin scored some incredible combinations.

Steve smiled. “You going to come out tonight and hang with the rest of us?” Watching Hwoarang watching Jin was just too…sapping on his strength. He liked the Korean, maybe a little too much.

“Just might. Don’t know yet. Depends.” Hwoarang said, distracted. Depends..on Jin.

“Alright, man. I will catch you later. Going to try to dig up some dirt on Nina Williams before I hit off my fight. You know how to find the lot of us.” Steve flicked his cigarette ashes with a smile, liking the way Hwoarang was so animated. His departure barely seemed to get a flicker from the Korean. But that was alright, Steve understood what it was…to want.

**

“Was that my father?” Jin asked, sweating and out of breath, Paul Pheonix still laying unconscious on the ring set up at the bottom of the stairs to the Korean temple.

The Blood Talon slid down from atop the stone lion with a wry smile. “Yeah. He high tailed it…but not too many can stand to be around me when I am in one of my..moods.”

Jin snickered. Hwoarang had no idea what fire he was playing with. “What did he want and what are you doing here?”

“He wanted the usual things all fathers want when I am after one of their kids.” The Korean said with a smile, licking his lips as he tasted the sweat coming off of Jins body. It was almost tangible to his senses. “And why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because you shouldn’t be.” Jin said simply, walking toward the confines of the inner sanctum of the ruined Korean temple. This place should have been kept up better, shown its proper respect. Instead, it was left to hang in near over run tatters. A disgrace to such a strong culture.

The Blood Talon followed as Jin moved away. “What the fuck is that cryptic shit all about?” He said, removing his bandana and lacing it around his wrist to keep it safe. He liked it, old as it was. It was one of the few things the Korean had kept with him for a long while.

Jin turned, nearly rolling his eyes at that statement. He was becoming far too accustomed to Hwoarang, adopting some of those mannerisms and it was frightening. “You know why.”

The Blood Talon already hated this conversation. “Enough with the cloak and dagger bullshit, already. Be man enough to say what you have to say.”

Jin took a deep breath. Why was he such a masochist for all of this angst. He could not stay away from the Korean…and yet, he could not seem to stay with him either. It was as though both sides of his personality were vying over Hwoarang. “Forget it.” Jin said, shaking his head, turning his attention back to the wounded architecture that surrounded the temple.

“No, Jin. I wont forget it.” Hwoarang would not be turned away, not again, not after last night…his own revelations…and Jins need. He came around to the front of the Japanese youth, forcing Jin to look at him. “Jin, I wont forget it. Fucking look at me!”

The Japanese beauty cast his eyes to Hwoarang, absorbed by questioning amber depths. “The way that things are…between us. It cant work.”

“Bullshit.” The Korean said from a place of hurt. “You don’t want it to work. For Christ sake, Jin…”

“Don’t defame this place. Its serenity is the last power it has.” Jin cautioned.

“I can defame it, because its Korean..built by Korean hands. The same way you have been…brought alive by my designs. Don’t fucking do this, Jin. Please.” The Blood Talon could not take another round of this battle.

That was the most emotion Jin had ever heard in Hwoarangs voice. Its soft crack shot a bolt through his body, making him want to buckle to his knees. “Why does it matter to you…why does any of this matter to you?”

“Because it does. I have been too involved with you to turn back now. I know shit is getting deeper, I feel it all around you. But who do you come to when all of it is going to hell? Who has been there, each time to build you back up. Fuck, Jin. Why do you keep running away from me.” Hwoarang turned and kicked an errant stone, cursing in a language Jin could only pretend to know the meaning of.

Why were their fates so inexplicably tied together? Why did they seem to find each other, always come around to this place inside of themselves? Why couldn’t Hwoarang just let him go, let him walk his path alone. “I know you have been there, on this journey with me…and for that I am eternally thankful…”

“Save it, Kazama.” Hwoarang said with a wave of his hand, walking away to the edge of the temple, to the overrun trees that filtered into the back of the once glorious stone building. It was just to much to bear.

Jin stood for a long moment, looking at the decaying idols carved into the walls. To be with Hwoarang meant precisely what Kazuya had said…the ruin of all. And yet, he loved the Korean youth…more than he ever believed he would or could. Hwoarang was his anchor, the very thing grounding him into place. But that place was volatile and changing…dangerous and frightening. If he really loved the Blood Talon, how could he take him on that journey?

**

The better part of a painful hour separated the two from each other. Hwoarang found a place to camp, sitting on an outcrop of rock that had once been formed into an observing deck, a place the temple keepers could come to admire their work. But there was no admiration for Hwoarang now, just the painful solitude of having been rejected, again, and probably for the last time.

“Since when do you run away from a fight?” Jin said, leaning with his shoulder against the mossy outside wall. He had been watching the Korean beauty for long moments, looking out over the ruined world with searching, questioning eyes. That was more his trait than the fiery Blood Talons.

Jin wasn’t sure why he stayed. Perhaps, knowing Hwoarang felt something real for him, felt that kind of pain..softened his heart. Or maybe, he loved the Korean just that much that he could not release him.

“When I got no more fight left in me.” Hwoarang said, casting his eyes sideways up to Jins face. Why did something that hurt him so much, look so fucking beautiful.

Jin closed the distance, reaching a hand to cup that angular chin, his eyes holding Hwoarangs so intimately. “I think you have a lot of fight left in you, I just don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

The Blood Talon pulled his face back from that gentle touch. “Don’t blow smoke up my ass, you gave the speech, your free to go.”

“Stop it.” Jin said in a voice firm enough to make Hwoarang quirk his brows. “That’s right, you heard me correctly. Stop it. Stop all of this pretense and all of this drama. You knew I would not leave here, leave you. I really wanted to..but you know I could not.”

Hwoarang returned amber eyes to Jins sable gaze. “Why?” It was simple.

“You know why, Seung. Lets just leave it there right now…and see what happens.” Jin said with a soft smile, giving into himself to just let things..unfold. An odd sensation, after feeling himself being folded over and over again like metal undergoing the process of the forge.

“You drive a hard bargain. But I accept.” Hwoarang said with a touch of that fire back in his voice. He did not move for a long breath, holding Jins eyes, wanting to fill those perfect ears with every revelation burning at the back of his throat. But now, was not the time for it. So, instead, the Korean followed his instinct and let it guide him to Jins lips. That first brush was electric and tantalizing and he leaned closer to his lover, his hand resting at the soft flesh near the join of the shoulder, feeling Jin wince slightly from the still bite tendered area.

For a moment, Jin swore he felt the world turn just a little bit slower…giving him even more time to savor the taste of Hwoarangs lips against his own.