The First Crack in the Metal

**Chapter Six**
The Metal has a Will of its Own…


“You were a little harsh back there.” Ling said, keeping her eyes down along the ground as she walked beside Jin. For the first several blocks leading out of the Yurei district, the Japanese youth had been quiet, contemplative. Her words were honest and she knew they hit a hard mark.

“I thought I was being realistic.” Jin sighed, not wanting to discuss this, making that evident by his cool demeanor. “After what has happened between us, I think it is more than fair. Hwoarang can not be a threat to my heart…any more than he can be a threat to my purpose here.”

“Jin, that’s not how it works.” Ling said, frustrated. The Blood Talon was growing on her and she hated to admit she actually was starting to like the fiery Korean.

“Then how does it work, since you know so much?” Jins legendary patience snapped and he paused on the walk. “Your not behind closed walls with us.”

“No, Jin, but I certainly can hear a lot behind those safe closed in walls.” Ling was growing to a spiraling end to her patience. “All evening long you were just happy to be in his presence and I know for a fact you did more than talking behind those hallowed closed walls. So, why did you have to act like a spoiled brat? You said yourself you loved him!”

Jin narrowed his eyes. Not liking the way Ling jumped to Hwoarangs defense. “You are overstepping your boundaries.”

“Well maybe the boundaries need to be overstepped, Jin. If you love someone, you don’t turn your back, not now when you have a chance to make a go of this. Maybe your just afraid of Hwoarang, as much as you are afraid of Heihachi.” Ling pursed her lips, words loosed like arrows.

“Maybe I am!” Jin hissed, throwing his hands up in the air. “Maybe I am scared half to death of being rejected again, of watching him step all over my bleeding heart. He did it once, what is to say he wont do it again?”

That was the most animated Ling had seen Jin, ever. Something inside of the normally stoic, gentile Kazama, was changing. “Nothing is to say he wont do it again. But you have still loved him, even two years after you both broke up. That has to mean something. Damn it, Jin, why cant you see the forest for the trees.”

Jin was not going to concede to the fact Ling was right, even if she was. “And I am not afraid of Heihachi Mishima. I am determined, when it comes to him, to do what I have come here to do. The rest of my life might be in turmoil, but not this. Not this.”

“Come on, Jin. The day is drawing on and I have to get home.” Ling said with a sigh, knowing she was not going to talk sense into his mind any more than she already had. Hopefully, some of it would stick in that thick head of his.

“I can walk you into the downtown, after that, we must part ways.” Jin said with a sigh. “If you cant find me, now you know where to look.” He said, referring to Hwoarangs apartment. He hated to say it, but he would more than likely go back there and set what damage he had done under control.

**

Chang set some yen down on the bar as he drew up behind Hwoarang. “Been wondering where you were at. Did you forget I gave you a cell phone?”

Hwoarang turned his eyes to Chang though his hands gripped the bottle of whiskey and the shot glass in front of him. “Yeah, its back at the apartment.” He said with a half smile.

“So, that was Jin, huh?” Chang sat down on a stool beside the Blood Talon. Where else would he find Hwoarang on a Saturday night. “Looks pretty alive to me.”

Hwoarang smirked. “Yeah, alive and feisty as ever.” He wanted to say more, but his words said enough for his compatriot to understand.

“Did you get the info you needed to satisfy your questions or did you get too much?”

“Lets just say, I got a craw full.” Hwoarang poured himself a shot and downed it, slamming the glass onto the bar before lighting up a cigarette.

“Saatchi saw him too, saw you run off.” he said as a beer was set in front of him, watching the Blood Talon in an unusually somber mood. That seemed to happen when talk of Jin was involved.

“What the fuck else could go wrong?” The Blood Talon snickered. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t expect him to be more than an occasional fix in my time here anyway.”

“Relationship troubles?” came a smooth, familiar accented voice. A firm forearm setting down money on the bartop before claiming the seat on the other side of Hwoarang.

The Blood Talon turned his eyes to the newcomer and smiled lasciviously. “Would be, if it was a relationship. But then again, I don’t do relationships. How ya been, Steve?”

The Blonde smiled, looking Hwoarang over. Not much had really changed in a year. “Here for the tournament. I knew you would show up as well. Didn’t think the military could keep you caged for long. Feisty as you are.”

“Not with a purse this big on the line. And the chance to get at some answers on what happened with Do San. What about you, found your mother yet?”

Steves azure eyes sparkled. “Getting closer every day. If I can get my time in with Mishima, I might get more answers. There is rumor she will be at the tournament. I suppose we all have our reasons for being gathered here. We shall see.”

“Always a fucking Mishima ruining shit, eh?” Or Kazama. One in the same.

“You could say that.” Steve took up a Guiness and tilted the cap off. He acknowledged Chang. “A pleasure to see you again. Excellent fight we shared. You have some wonderful skill.”

“Heh, well tell that to my face. Hell of a right hook you got there, Steve.” Chang sipped his beer, watching Hwoarang…watching Steve. Something there. Something definitely there. And it went beyond polite recognition. When and where had the two met before?

“That is what I do. I have trained long and hard at the art of boxing. Its like a dance, really. A good bit of fun.” Steve smiled, nodding his head to Hwoarangs friend.

The Blood Talon poured another shot and downed it as fast as the libation poured. Steve lifted the bottle, looking at it for a long moment before scenting the strong libation to determine its worth. “A stout Irish Whiskey. Double Malt. Good year.”

“Yeah, well I had some money to burn for a change.” Hwoarang snickered, flicking the ashes of his forgotten cigarette. The Brit could prove a welcomed distraction, a band aid for the pain he was in.

“So, I take it you met up with the one you had been seeking. When last we spoke, you were sullen about your ex.” Steve said, lifting the dark lager to his lips. “Not for long, of course.”

Chang was soaking all of it in. This could prove to be a bad situation. He turned to regard the rest of the patrons of the bar, listening but pretending not to.
“You could say that. He wasn’t really an ex, he just…was.” The Blood Talon said with a half loaded grin.

“Then I suppose this situation did not work out beneficial for the both of you. I trust your parting was on good terms?” Steve said with a smile.

“What is everyone writing a column? I don’t really want to talk about it.” The Blood Talon said, firmly.

“Fair enough.” Steve tipped the bottle toward Hwoarang. “What say you we finish this round and take a walk, catch up. Chang, you are of course invited to join?”

Chang shook his head. “No, I would not consider interrupting two reunited friends. But that brings to mind a question. Where did you both meet?”

“Hwoarang was stationed in the Military, working with some of our troops along with his battalion. It just so happened we met on the outskirts of London at a pub much like this one. Funny how history repeats itself?”

The Blood Talon had omitted that information when Chang had told the gang leader about the street fight with the Brit, obviously the very same one. Interesting how people change.

Hwoarang rose and clasped Chang on the shoulder. He leaned in so only his compatriot could hear him. “I will be at the den in the morning.”

Chang looked to Hwoarang, that slight stumble telling him his friend had been here longer than initially thought. The Blood Talon was not known for being the paragon of virtue when chemicals were introduced into his system. Bad mistakes could be made. “Whatever happened with Jin, don’t leave here with this guy. Its not worth it man.”

Hwoarang leaned up and smiled, arrogantly. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

**

Jin walked the streets of downtown Tokyo once Ling had left his side. He stopped to have something to eat, taking his time to think over what she had told him and what he knew to be right and wrong. Now, he paced near the entrance to the Yurei district, debating whether or not Hwoarang would receive him if he knocked…would let him into the sanctum of an earlier display.

Maybe Seung Roh was worth believing in. Maybe age and wisdom had caught up with the Blood Talon…maybe the world did not have to take a charted course but could be a scene of pleasant detours.

If Hwoarang was home, perhaps it was fate to profess his fears and wishes, his hopes. Maybe this could work. But maybe was still several blocks away and the hour was already late. Jin was not sure what he could say, knowing he would be met with a heightened level of defenses. He had broken through them before and he was confident he could do so, again.

**

Hwoarang took a shot of the whiskey he retained from the bar, setting the glass back down on the soft comfort of the rug. The game system was spread out just beneath the television, Steve sitting cross legged beside him. Two sets of furious fingers slammed the control buttons, making the martial arts fighters on the screen perform inhuman, death defying moves and throws. Each time Steve got a good hit in on the screen, using a Tae Kwon Do Artist, Hwoarang bucked his shoulder against the Brit, stringing a stream of curses in English and Korean together.

He barely heard the knock at the door, so heavy and intoxicated was his laughter. But it came again, and this time with more force. “Ahh, shit. I forgot to lock the downstairs.” He said with half stifled mirth, coming to a stand and pausing the game. Steve, sneaky as he was, unpaused it and began to whomp the shit out of Hwoarangs character.

“You asshole.” The Blood Talon hissed, hearing the knock a third time and growing more insistent. “Fucking stop messing with the buttons. Wait a minute.” Hwoarang let the control fall to the floor with a soft thud, eyeing an innocent smiling Brit over his shoulder as he moved to the door.

The last person he expected was standing in front of him. Talk about a buzz kill.

**

Jin had heard laughter and the sound of another mans voice, heavy accented, coming from inside Hwoarangs apartment. The door had been left unlocked and slightly ajar, giving him silent access as he climbed the stairs. The Japanese youth paused for a long moment, hearing those two voices, feeling increasingly unnerved until at last, his knuckles wrapped against the door.

No reply. A second knock. Still no reply. Jin was ready to burst the door down and confirm his worst suspicions as the portal suddenly flung open, catching him off guard.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hwoarang asked, looking back inside before stepping to the other side of the entrance, closing the door half the way behind him.

“I heard voices, entertaining late, Hwoarang? I should be asking, what are you doing here?” Jin said, his lips pursed with anger and innuendo.

“Mother fucker, I live here.” Hwoarang hissed, his gait as unsteady as his gaze. “Besides, its none of your fucking business what I do with my time, now is it, Kazama?”

Jin inhaled sharply, the shattering of his world crashing down around his ears. He had come here to save face, to try to repair what damage he could before a somber and questioning night was drawing to a close. Now, his hands were slowly clenching into fists…and his mouth ached for the taste of blood.

“Hey, everything alright out there?” The accented voice asked, seeming to draw ever closer to the half closed door. Steve heard raised voices and it was far to late to be that disrespectful. Normal people were sleeping to prepare for another grinding day at work, they did not need to hear Hwoarang and his spicy, guttural voice lingering down to litter their dreams and disturb a much needed rest for hard workers.

Steve opened the door as Hwoarang and another were standing, facing off. “Hwoarang, everything alright?”

“No. Everything is not fucking alright.” He hissed, amber eyes boring into Jin though the Japanese youth was staring down a new target. A gaijin face with sharp blue eyes and a mane of near platinum blonde. Exotic and undoubtedly the Blood Talons taste.

“Hwoarang, your pissed. Come inside, invite your friend. Lets not wake the neighbors.” Steve said with such calm and reassurance, the Blood Talon seemed drawn. He did not bandy words with Jin, deciding it best to listen to the other inebriated voice speaking reason that flitted past his shoulder.

Jin followed, not sure what he was walking into but more than ready to guess. The Japanese youth was surprised as he surveyed the scene. A game system with controllers splayed like tendrils on the rug before the television, two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey…an ashtray nearly teeming over with smoked down cigarette butts.

Hwoarang folded his arms across his chest, standing slightly taller than Jin and at equal height with Steve. “Steve, Jin. Jin. Steve. There now everyone fucking knows each other.” The Blood Talon huffed walking back toward the game system and the bottle he desperately needed at that moment.

Steve jutted a muscular arm toward Jin, a pure smile pressed over his lips. “Good to know you, Jin. Any friend of Hwoarangs is a friend of mine.”

Jin took the hand, having no great strength in the motion, still reeling slightly over his false assumptions. Apparently, the Blood Talon had not spoken of him to Steve. How fitting. And enraging.

“Are you going to invite your friend for a drink?” Steve asked as the Korean took a pull directly from the bottle. Obviously, Hwoarang was getting anxious.

“Yeah, why not. My ‘friend’ can have a drink, if his pussy ass can handle it.” Hwoarang threw out insults but it was the way he said the word “friend” that stung the hardest.

“No thank you.” Jin declined, his tension already raised, his boiling point too near.

Steve sat back down, cross legged before the game system, loosing a cigarette from Hwoarangs pack. It was too quiet and tense. “So, Jin. You two been friends long?” The Brit tried to break the ice with the only thing they could have in common at first glance. Hwoarang.

There’s that word again. Friend. “Yes.”

“Shit, Hwoarang and I have known each other a little over a year and he never mentioned you. I thought I had them all pegged down.” Steve said good naturedly, no double meaning in his words, even if Jin swore he tasted them.

A little over a year. Around the time of that one night drunken stand Hwoarang had professed to earlier in the day. Now, Jin could feel his own nails digging into his fists, concealed by his jacket. Everything on him still smelled of the Blood Talon. “I had not heard of you either and I to believed I knew all of your friends, Hwoarang, by name or face.”

The Blood Talon narrowed his eyes. He could smell a pissing match before the first drop hit the ground. “Yeah, well you know how that goes.” Cloy on purpose. Hurt hidden by sarcasm, the Blood Talons natural defense. “So, you gonna fucking sit down or just stand there like a goon?”

Steve shook his head. “He’s had a bit too much. Not unlike old times. Hell, I could tell you some stories about a pub just outside of London and Hwoarang in his fatigues. You want to play nice?” Steve laughed, taking a swipe at the Koreans legs, receiving a sidelong glance for the Blood Talon, a genuine laugh leaving those nicotine tainted lips.

That laugh made Jin taste bile in the back of his throat. Instantly nauseas. He had never heard a pure laugh from Hwoarang, a chortle snicker or chuckle yes, but never a true, heady laughter. And it was infectious and poisonous at the same time. Why did every moment since this afternoon feel like a fight for dominance? The Japanese youth was slowly losing his control.

Jin moved silently toward the couch where he could face the two as Hwoarang gave him a deadly stare before falling back to his knees and picking up the game controller.

“Are you a gamer, Jin?” Steve asked, letting the cigarette rest against the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, you could fucking say that, right Kazama? You like to play games, pretty fucking good at them too.” Hwoarang left those words dripping with double meaning.

“Your such an asshole.” Steve shook his head, hoping Jin understood Hwoarang was not normally this way, just when chemicals were introduced to his system.

Hwoarang took another heavy sip from the bottle and as he did so, Steve unpaused the game, sending Hwoarangs martial arts character across the screen with a series of Tae Kwon Do kicks. “You fucking cheat!” He belted out, hitting the back button on the controller to try and minimized damage to his fighters life bar. “Fuck, done in by my own art. That’s fucked up, man. You wear the asshole crown now.” Obviously, a hidden joke.

Jin watched the interchange. It was almost intimate. Two people who truly seemed to know each other, connect on some level. And it hurt. It made Jin seethe with rage to see it unfold, knowing he shared none of this with the Korean…nothing but angst and a few hot cries in the middle of the night. He did not have the intimacy Steve seemed to have, the banter and fire that exchanged silently between the two and not meant for a deadly end. He dug his nails deeper into his fist, still buried in the pocket, feeling them rip skin.

“Victory is mine.” Steve said, setting down the controller, not wanting to be rude. “Do you want me to leave you two alone, I don’t want to interrupt this late night visit?”

“You don’t have to go anywhere, Steve.” Hwoarang said, leaning back on his haunches, still sore backside resting against crossed ankles. He swayed slightly.

“I know I don’t have to but there is obviously some unfinished business here. I will take a run to the store and grab a pack of smokes, I know what a bitch you can be when your out.” He laughed, shaking his head. His hand rested on Hwoarangs thigh for a brief moment before using the firm surface to push himself up to a standing position.

Jin felt the anger flush his features, felt his heart beat against his chest as he sat up, ready to pounce. Touch. Him. Again. And. You. Will. Have. No. Hand. Left.

“Oh, don’t get up, Jin. Hey, it was great to meet you, with luck you will still be here when I get back. it’s a long walk though.” Steve said, extending his hand. Jin, this time did not return the shake.

“Don’t fucking walk, take my bike.” Hwoarang said, coming to a stand himself, one hand fishing for his keys.

“I am in no state to drive. Cant do much harm walking, worst case, I fall down. This district might not be the safest but I haven’t met a thug that can live up to my punch, yet. Well, present thug excluded.” He laughed and nodded to Jin, walking toward the door. “I’ll be back. You want anything else? Wait, let me guess, Red Hots?”

Hwoarang was about to speak when he laughed. It burned into Jin. Burned like hell fire. “Fuck man, I was just going to say that. Those candies are addictive as shit.”

With that, Steve closed the door, pausing for a moment to hear if anything was exchanged, not sure why..but he did not feel right around Jin. Something in the Japanese youth was amiss.

**

Yet another thing Jin did not know. Hwoarangs fondness for the American candy. Jin was starting to feel like he did not know the Blood Talon at all. The name Hwoarang gave him was probably as false as the copper tendrils the Korean sported.

“So. Alone at last.” Hwoarang snickered, taking up a cigarette and looking to Jin, the Japanese youth barely seeming to hold onto decorum, biting into the silence.

“He had you, didn’t he? That is the one you spoke of.” Jins eyes were flickering like a maelstrom, somewhere caught between abysmal and malevolent.

“None of your fucking business, Kazama.” Hwoarang hissed, blowing smoke out of pressed lips.

“None of my fucking business? Is that what you said, Seung?” Jin was up like shot, danger flickering with streaks of red lightning in his eyes. His hand grasped the Blood Talons wrist, drawing the swaying Korean to him, those nails digging into flesh once more. “Everything you do is my business.”

“Get your fucking hands off me.” Hwoarang growled, pushing Jin back, still sharp on his reflexes. “You are way the fuck out of line.”

Jin narrowed his eyes. “And so are you. Bringing him back here for an encore? I leave you alone for a few hours and already you found yourself an old toy to play with? So, do you fuck him…or do you get on your knees to be fucked.”

Hwoarang was not lost on this new and fractured side of Jin. He just wasn’t sober enough to process it. This wasn’t solving a damn thing. “I like the way you beg, much better.” He sniggered, daring Jin to make another grab and watch it be his last.

Jin had not expected that quip, for a moment it disarmed him, not sure how the Blood Talon meant it. “Don’t you dare try to flip the tables on me. I know what was about to happen here. I can smell it on you…”

“Well, baby. That was your call, remember. You pushed me away, now, what’s fair is fair.” Hwoarang chided. “One good turn deserves another, Jin. And frankly, if you are just looking for a no strings attached fuck, come and find me sometime, I know how to do you right, know how to give you what you need to get off. You like it rough, and I have no problem giving you the hurt you need. In fact, I enjoy it. Lets make that our definition, huh? We can keep it real simple so we don’t need to classify anything. But other than that, stay the fuck away from me.”

Jin was crossing the threshold of his own patience, the dull ache driving deep against his shoulder blades. He wanted blood. He wanted to rip Hwoarang open and feast on his screams…to be covered in the Koreans blood, swallow Hwoarang hole and never have to go through this again, never have the Blood Talon out of his body. What is happening to me?

“You don’t know the first thing about me, Hwoarang. Your pushing my buttons…and you are a not even a breath away from real danger. I have go…I have to get out of here.”

“That’s right. Run away and go hatch your little vendetta against Heihachi. Don’t face me in the tournament. Disqualify yourself now because baby, I will hurt you…and not the kind of way that will have you creaming your gi, either.” Hwoarang mistook Jins sudden need to flee as weakness, when in fact, it was the last remaining vestige of the Japanese youths strength, ready to break.

Jin felt his mouth burn, his forehead thrumming with an intense and sudden headache. Devil was coming…he had been trying to arrive since this conversation began and now, Jin did not know if he had the strength to battle the demon…and Hwoarang.

The Japanese youth turned, taking the narrow path near the kitchen to the front door. His breath was becoming labored, his hand reaching out to grasp the range and hold himself up…nearly losing his balance in pain. Spiritual, physical, emotional pain.

With the last of his reserves he made it to the door, slamming it shut behind him…nearly falling down the steps to make it to the entrance and out into the night. No sooner than the darkness covered him, he felt the material of his jacket start to rip…the wings trying to break through skin and clothing to find freedom…

**

Hwoarang once more, felt like he was going to be sick. He could blame it on the alcohol, but somehow that wasn’t cutting it. He rushed into the kitchen, turning on the tap, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth…but it wasn’t his blood. It didn’t taste like his own essence and he knew, he had swallowed enough of it in the past to know the difference.

The Blood Talon breathed, heavily, trying to calm himself. He raised splashes of cold water to his face to ease the burning, nauseas sensation. After a long moment, his legs would not respond, buckling beneath him and sending him crashing to the floor.

Hwoarang cursed in Korean, thrusting his back against the cabinets under the sink. And that’s when he saw it. Another black feather…