The Re-Forging of the Blade

**Chapter Five**
Invoking Masume

The Blood Talon parked his bike on the gravel area that led into his apartment in the Yurei district. For a long moment he sat there, engine still running with the sweet vibration of steel coursing through his veins, dragging on a cigarette till the burning filter made him flick outward onto upturned rock.

Exhaling sharply, Hwoarang killed the ignition and slowly stepped off the American cycle, standing before the entrance as the key to the outer door flicked against his fingers. “Come on, its now or fucking never,” he cursed to himself, making one foot step before the next until the lock was in his grasp.

He had left his things behind at Chang’s house. Strategic planning just incase he could not handle what was awaiting him. Closing the outer door, the Korean made his way up five flights of stairs, till he was standing face to face with the door…recollections filling him of the night he and Jin stumbled to his home…barely making it into the door…barely able to take enough time away from each others mouth…to open the portal.

Steeling his strength, Hwoarang slid the key into the lock, hearing the metallic click like a harbinger of the past. Sliding the door open, he reached his fingers out to connect against the light switch, flooding the corridor and kitchen with luminescence. “Honey, I’m home,” the Korean said to no one in particular, but the spirit that walked with him through the haunted steps into the apartment.

The place was clean, the undercurrent of bleach strong in the hall as he closed the door behind him. There was such silence it was nearly deafening. Each step from corridor to kitchen and finally into the living room was heralded with the feeling of glass underfoot. He could nearly hear the sound of the Military busting into his home…the click of rifles and the laser red scopes that pointed to his chest through the open dobok.

Shaking his head softly, the Blood Talon stopped in the living room, closing his eyes as memory overtook him. Ling on the floor, asleep…Jin on the couch, afraid to draw near and yet so wanton of the Korean’s touch it was almost aching. Steve on the floor, struggling to defeat the Blood Talon in a Martial arts game that pitted style against style…representing the great motions…including his own, TaeKwonDo. Jin…getting ready to leave for the semi finals match, drawing in against the Korean’s body for one last kiss…one last plan to spend the day after before the finals came…

Wincing slightly, Hwoarang let his eyes wander back to the table…the very area he had taken Jin with rough desire, sating two bodies, two spirits, before knowing of the curse his lover carried. There was the sharp taste of blood, the recollection of lust so intense, it nearly caused the table itself to splinter beneath every thrust. “I miss you, baby,” Hwoarang hissed, taking a deep breath.

Flipping on the light in the living room, the Blood Talon moved forward and held out his hand to flick the switch for the hall leading into the bedroom and bathroom. Jin’s scent, even with cleaning, was strongest here and it hit him like a brick to the back of the head.

Pressing his spine to the door of the bedroom, the Korean let himself absorb the sensation…let himself linger in the hot nights spent in lust and desire…striving to fuse two bodies into one. The agony of those memories was sharp enough to make Hwoarang want to weep…and yet, he could not allow it….could not fall to the ground sobbing as he wanted…no tears would bring back Jin…no amount of agony and longing would ever make that phantom touch real again.

The burgundy comforter with gold strands that hugged the bed was made so perfectly, the Korean could not think to disturb it. Moving toward the bathroom, Hwoarang flipped the light switch and ran the cold water, leaning down into the basin and splashing some into his face.

Opening the medicine cabinet…the Blood Talon had to pause…as though frozen by the items that appeared on the inside. Jin’s razor…deodorant…toothbrush. Simple everyday items that somehow became holy for the absence of their owner. Hwoarang slammed the glass door closed quickly and doused his face in the cold water. Every light in the apartment was on…and yet, the ghosts of memory still remained.

Stepping back into the bedroom from the bathroom, Hwoarang looked around once more. Jin’s jeans had been folded neatly at the corner of the bed, beside a pair of his own forgotten denim. How much more could he take? Everything smelled of the phantom he missed…everything was haunted by a ghost that never knew…just how much it had been loved.

“I’m gonna lose my fucking mind in here,” Hwoarang hissed, moving out of the bedroom and back into the living room. He could not stay here…no matter how he wanted to…he just could not bring himself to live and breathe Jin like this…not when the pain of his lover’s passing hurt so fucking much.

The gnawing hunger inside of his skin burned through the Korean’s core as he moved. “I’m sorry baby…I am so fucking sorry that you’re not here. I know you’re with me…you gave me something of you…this curse...this blood lust…and I don’t know how to make it go away. It’s you, but its not you…and I am going to have to sell my soul to fucking keep you with me….”

The Blood Talon leaned against the wall of the small dining room that bordered on the kitchen, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to do baby…help me…”

The tears were ready to fall at the rims of his eyes when Hwoarang choked back his breath, walking back into the bedroom once more…into the closet armoire he had not touched since Jin last cleaned the place. His fingers found the garment, long before his eyes could behold it. The black leather trench…musty from two years of storage. A memory from the days when Jin was still beneath Heihachi’s rule…left at the den….before they went their separate ways.

Sliding the material on over his shoulders, Hwoarang closed the closet door. Flipping his keys into his hand, he looked once more around the room. “I love you, baby. Wherever you are, I hope you’re not lookin’ down on me…cause you won’t like what you see.”

Shutting down the lights as he moved, the Blood Talon locked the door to the apartment and slithered down the stairs, the trench trailing behind him like black leather wings as he moved. Drawing onto the bike once more, Hwoarang lifted Chaolan’s calling card, memorizing the numbers on the watermarked, vellum cardboard, rife with the silver glow of embossing at a great expense. “Not yet. I have survived all this time without it…I can make it longer, if I have to….”

Revving the engine to life, the Korean turned the handle bars and backed up through the gravel…his headlight tearing down the road like a beacon to cut through the darkness.
**

Daylight broke over the freighter and Jin roused himself from sleep. The wings of leather that rode his dreams cut through dawn like the wheels of Hwoarang’s bike…the sunlight heralded in the wake of a halogen beamed American headlight.

“Winds are coming in Starboard. Kazama, turn the sails right and come for your breakfast. Can’t have you dying out on deck of starvation,” the Captain said in sharp Japanese, turning his attentions back to the helm of his ship. The nets that dragged the bottom for fish were slowly hoisted upward, spilling live creatures onto deck…flailing fins and screaming gills fighting desperately for life and the pursuit of water, once more.

“Ai, Captain.” Jin replied as his hands released the sails, turned right to catch the wind. Every moment was a moment that brought him closer to home. Closer to the questioning sensation of Hwoarang…was his lover in fact, alive, as the Devil Within had indicated? Had the Korean been unfaithful, as the entity dictated? It could not be…love rang through Seung’s veins, even if the words were not spoken, the fact remained clear as day.

The Japanese youth walked below deck, seven hands aboard to do the job he had done through the night, with what little sleep he had received. Drawing himself into the lower decks, Jin had to admit he was hungry….even if the Demon in his blood was hungry for even more. It took constant vigilance to keep the beast under bay, to prevent unleashing the damage the unholy one had done to a small woodland island, not far from Yakushima.

The scent of food built Jin’s hunger as the Japanese youth held his plate out to the mess crew, eager for proteins to fill his body. Every moment was a moment closer…so soon to come to the lands he knew…lands that would be alien after the freedom of the demon.

**

Hwoarang parked his bike at the hotel, slinging the red card of ownership onto the handlebars, showing the slip that matched his room number. Though the Blood Talon did not go inside…it was just at the mark of dawn…and the Korean was far from sleepy.

Taking to the street, the gang leader let himself walk onward, through the alleys and walkways several blocks from the five star hotel reserved for the King of Iron Fist Tournament. The taste of blood rang through his senses...as did the slight nausea now that the infected substance was finally absorbed into his system. The euphoria wore off, like a hard come down from a chemical substance, making the Korean’s senses feel…swimmy.

Swallowing hard, Hwoarang held onto the alley wall and pulled out his cell phone with his free hand…placing it between his lips as he foraged for the velum, water marked business card his “dealer” had left behind.

The Korean turned slowly, letting his back brace to the alley wall as he dialed the digits, letting himself sink down to the filthy concrete as a cold shiver overtook him. After several long rings, Hwoarang started to feel…nervous….eyes holding the name that greeted him like a flash of silver lightning. Lee Chaolan. “Come on…Pick up…”

**

“Come on…pick up.” The words in native Korean echoed as the Silver Devil drew the ear piece of his hands-free cell phone to his ear. With a snicker, he recognized the sound of Hwoarang’s voice, the delicious twinge of pain that registered through vibrating vocal chords.

“You have lasted longer than I expected, Hwoarang.” Lee purred, shifting upward slightly on the bed, his naked skin covered over with cool silk…gathered like a splash of blue water over his torso.

“I need…what you have,” Hwoarang barely managed, his breath heavy into Chaolan’s ear piece. “It’s starting...to hurt.”

“Is that so?” the Silver Devil purred, raising the plastic stem of the long, bushy feather he had been enjoying this early morning. Beside him a beautiful socialite lay on her stomach, her backside perfectly red from a continued paddling. But this, was far more exciting. With a slow motion, Chaolan let the soft feather drip against his well defined chest, tickling the skin pleasantly before allowing it to draw further down to his torso. “Where are you now?”

“Three blocks from the hotel….the first alley on the right…” Hwoarang wanted to bite back his words but the pain was slowly spreading through him like fire.

“An alley? How decadently cliché…so filthy and yet so film noir,” Lee chuckled, licking his lips slowly as the youth suffered on the other end. “I trust you are in too much agony to drive…?”

“Fuck you!” the Blood Talon hissed, thickening the roughness of his voice.

“Soon enough, Hwoarang. I will send you a car…but only this once. Consider it the last charitable act you will find this day.” With that, Lee clicked the end button on the phone, removing his ear piece. Looking over to the beautiful, barely legal debutante in his bed, the Silver Devil let his gaze return to the rosy hue of dawn breaking above him from the skylights. It was time for the real games to begin.

**

The car pulled up to the curb - the exact location given by the Blood Talon - within a half of the hour since the phone call ended. Hwoarang felt his heavy eyes try desperately to refocus, his body spasming as he attempted to move…one hand braced to the filthy concrete in an attempt to avoid his own sickness, evident on the ground…mixed with blood and bile.

The sensations had gotten worse since his nearly pleading call to Chaolan and now, it felt like the worst come down the Korean had ever faced through out all his experimentation. Never had he felt so sick…never had he lost the contents of his stomach in a congealing pool on an uptown Tokyo street.

The driver drew out of the sleek black limousine, stepping before Hwoarang and offering the junkie a hand upward. At first, the Korean fought it, swearing in native speech and attempting to rise up…only to fall back down again. “I am sick…” he managed, finally accepting the assistance, his body shaking…though it was far from cold on this humid summer morning.

“I have been instructed. Come with me. I am Dono Chaolan’s personal chauffer,” the female driver said, hoisting the Korean up against her with impressive strength and balance. Hwoarang wrapped his arms around his leather clad shoulders…and slowly staggered to the door that waited open for his entrance. There had never been a pain that humbled the Korean so…and now, making the pain stop…was his only focus…and Chaolan his only answer.

**

Lee opened the door as the driver walked with Hwoarang, escorting the shivering Korean youth into the warmth of the Silver Devil’s personal loft. With a narrow look back into the darkness Lee smiled, connecting to the phantom that lingered the hall…enjoying every delicious visual the shivering Blood Talon gave off.

“Thank you, Kim. I can handle him from here. I will notify you when it is time to return my guest to the hotel,” Lee said, drawing Hwoarang into the confines of his minimalist loft, the scent of vanilla and lavender giving away the sweet air of intoxication Chaolan could feel as the first battle of the war played itself out right before his eyes. Sweet instant gratification.

As the driver left, Hwoarang fell into one of the ample couches near the door. Blood shot sienna eyes fell on Chaolan like an angel of saving grace. “I need…his blood,” the Korean managed as he leaned over his knees, fighting the waves of nausea that threatened to overtake him once more.

“In due time. First, we must attend to the payment,” Lee purred, drawing a snifter of cognac just beneath his nose, scenting the nearly almond flavor of the vintage year. “You realize, of course, I have no need of your money. Dishonest blood money as it is.” Blood Money. How apropos.

“What...do you want then?” Hwoarang grimaced, no longer able to draw up the façade to play his poker face off. He knew…he just did not want to admit he could fall so far from grace.

“Your body,” Lee said, matter-of-factly. “More importantly, your pain.” The Silver Devil sipped, licking his lips of the excellent bouquet. “I have a certain adoration of willing masochism. You could say that makes me a sadist, but that is not entirely the truth. I suppose you can understand my meanings…you yourself have played your roles with Jin, have you not?”

“How do you…have his blood…if he is dead?” Hwoarang hissed, wincing with the pain of indignation…and the pain of his body. “What...do you get...out of this?”

“Something for nothing, Hwoarang? Is that what you are thinking?” Lee chuckled, setting his snifter down and walking to the mantle to remove an oval gilded mirror…careful not to spill a single drop of the pale yellow substance that rode the reflection. Cocaine. A beautiful prelude to what was undoubtedly proving to be a superior morning.

Lee set the mirror down and licked the edge of his pinky nail before forming the powder into a set of perfect lines. Tapping the pocket of his leather trousers, the Silver Devil withdrew a firmly rolled yen note…worth more than what Hwoarang could imagine he had ever seen for such a purpose. “I have his blood because of the sample I received when he was young, to study the devil gene. I have been able to make a synthesis of it…something I am sure you would not have the education to understand.” Lies. All lies. Though once Chaolan had met Jin in his youth and taken a sample of the young scions blood, all of the information had been used to regenerate and rebirth Kazuya…nearly 20 years ago. What Hwoarang was reacting to, with pain and sickness, was the introduction of a more powerful devil gene…from the host of original evil.

“And as for what I am ‘getting out of this’, to paraphrase you…let’s just say, I have a desire for all things…beautiful. Writhing in pain, the stench of sick all over you…you, Hwoarang, are still beautiful…” Lee leaned down, taking a line to his right nostril, his head falling back amidst the silver shocks of liquid metal that gave him the long ago street name…Silver Devil. Once more, a lie…but unlike the previous, it was not entirely false. The Blood Talon was a rare gem of beauty…

“Care for a hit? Ease the pain?” Chaolan smiled, handing over the rolled yen to Hwoarang as he offered the mirror.

The Blood Talon had been known to dabble from time to time in the powder, but that had been long ago and never again since then. Now, however, it was the most viable choice to prepare him for what was to come. Accepting the rolled up denomination, Hwoarang took the line deep into his body, biting his slowly numbing tongue to prevent the screams he wanted to issue as he moved. Leaving the bill beside the offered mirror.

“Now, do you understand what payment I desire for my services?” Chaolan snickered, withdrawing the mirror to replace on the mantle as he sucked back breath, just to taste the lovely chemical drip that numbed his throat.

Everything inside the Blood Talon wanted to scream and fight, and yet the pain was just too great. Was this going to be his life, his eternity for loving the Japanese youth that was only half human? “Yes…”

“And you understand everything that continues forward from this point is…consensual?” Lee raised a well defined brow, regaining his snifter of cognac.

“What the fuck more do you want from me, Chaolan, blood?” Hwoarang hissed, grimacing once more.

“In so much, yes. A blood test will be required to track the devil gene. I am something of a scientist. So, shall we begin?” Lee purred, setting the snifter down after a long swallow. He walked over to the chaise, opening a small black bag he had left on the surface in preparation for Hwoarang’s arrival.

The Blood Talon said nothing as Lee withdrew the rubber banding, two small packets of alcohol swipes and two self capping syringes…one unfilled, the other red and thick with blood.

“Now, this will only sting for a moment,” Lee smiled, drawing down to where the Blood Talon nestled, cramped over in pain on the couch. Breaking open the first sealed envelope, the Silver Devil let the cold sterility of the alcohol swipe draw against the Korean’s arm as he placed the unfilled syringe against his lips. Tying off the muscular upper bicep of the youths arm, Lee’s fingers tapped against the inside of the elbow…watching the heavy vein rise to the surface…

In a quick motion, Lee pressed the needle into Hwoarang’s skin, eliciting a heavy hiss from the Korean’s mouth. Pulling the plunger back with his thumb, the Silver Devil gathered a deep red swath of blood before withdrawing and using his forefinger to self cap the needle. Placing the filled syringe down on the glass coffee table, Lee withdrew the rubber banding.

“Fucking come on. I am in pain…” the Korean youth hissed as Lee held his arm flat against his knee, previous puncture exposed.

“Lets not get impatient, Hwoarang. This is, after all, what you have agreed to. That is quite the difference between treasure and trash…the ability to stand on your word, with little to no complaints,” Lee snickered, breaking open another alcohol swipe…pressing it against the youth’s tender flesh. “Our agreement begins now, Hwoarang. Mark and remember your consent.”

Hwoarang grimaced as he tightened his fingers into a fist. Every cell in his body screamed to fight against this, to renege on the agreement and throw himself into oncoming traffic just to stop the pain. Never had he subjugated himself…never would he allow the notion of surviving off of another…and now, he had become the parasite he always feared… “Just…don’t kiss me…I don’t want you to…”

“As you wish. I think I can concede to that single demand.” Seeing the inner turmoil in the Korean youth’s eyes, Lee licked his lips slowly, drawing the blood filled needle into his fingers. He paused a moment, rolling the congealed syringe between his palms at a rapid pace, warming the contents as the gel liquefied within the plastic.

Uncapping the needle with his thumb, Lee aimed the sterile metal edge of the syringe into the vein he had just punctured. The Korean youth shivered, closing his eyes tightly as the Silver Devil released the plunger with trained excellence…sending the tainted blood of the original demon deep into Hwoarang’s system…..