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The Quality of the Sword	By : MMishima Category: +S through Z > Tekken Views: 3069 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Tekken, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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**Chapter 10 Tempering the Blade**
Kazama Jin put a smile on his face as he approached Ling, sitting at the bar, sipping a soda. He knew he was not gone long but felt bad for leaving her alone in the club. She was not without her admirers, but that did not matter. He had done a dishonor. And he could not show her that things were just not�right. They hadn�t been right..since the park, yesterday.
�Your walking awfully funny.� Ling said with a giggle as a very flushed Jin drew toward her.
The Japanese youth nearly went white at her open comment, running a hand through his sweat dampened hair. �Yeah�we just had to..talk�� It was a lousy cover and he couldn�t lie to save his own life. �You almost ready to go?�
�What? that�s it and I didn�t even get to watch!� She laughed, her comments obscene but she loved to watch Jin flinch.
Jin scratched the back of his neck. He was picking up Hwoarangs mannerisms already. �Nothing to watch�� he smiled, self consciously.
�Bullshit.� Hwoarang purred, drawing up on the two, a false smile plastered on his lips. He couldn�t look at Jin and Ling was a welcome distraction in that moment.
Jin turned bright red as Ling laughed. �You know, you two really�fit together. I don�t know why I didn�t see it before, behind all that macho stuff I have had to witness from you both. �Oh, I want a rematch, Oh, I want to kick your ass�� she mimicked Hwoarang horribly. ��why cant you get over it blah blah blah� she took a stab at imitating Jin.
Jin shook his head, biting the edge of his lip softly. �Yeah something like that.�
�Fuck that. If I sounded that pathetic and made that horrible face, I would shoot myself.� The Blood Talon countered, still lingering in the state between sex and come down�between body and emotion.
Ling finished her soda and hopped down from the bar stool. �Its after 10, we really should get moving, huh? Mishima Heihachi is expecting you at 11p?�
Jin wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. �Yeah and I have that match tomorrow after school. I have to get some sleep.� Sleep? After this?
Hwoarang nodded. �Yeah, I am going to stick around for awhile more, don�t have to be up early for any good reason.� He shrugged, pouring a shot from the whiskey bottle that Ling had been keeping guard of. �Gotta take on that fat guy, the sumo�Gan�Ryu, tomorrow afternoon.�
Jin nodded, keeping his eyes to the floor. �Good luck with that.�
�I don�t need luck. But thanks anyway, Kazama.� Hwoarang cast Jin a quick side glance. Things were weird between them in this moment, uncomfortable. �Watch yourself with Yoshimitsu.�
Jin nodded. �He is a great fighter, noble and honorable. I will not underestimate him, even with the respect I have for him.�
Lings hands were on her hips. �I get to fight Paul Phoenix tomorrow! Ugly American! I don�t hear any words of sympathy, now do I.� Something was not right between these two. Where was the desire she felt before that stood between them? They were acting like two robots!
Jin smiled. �On that note, we should go. Goodnight�Hwoa-rang.� Jin had to stop himself from calling him Hwoa-kun. That sentiment just didn�t fit between them at the moment. Every instinct wanted to scream out to the Korean, to make a plan..a date to see each other again. But that fire was dying inside of Jin now that Hwoarang had rebuked his declarations.
�Yeah, later Ling, Kazama.� The Blood Talon, not much for good byes, grasped the whiskey bottle and drew into the crowd. When Ling and Jin turned to walk away, the Blood Talon leaned against the wall, watching his lover go with forlorn eyes that could have shed tears for what was happening to them both, if Hwoarang was the crying type.
**
Jin sat in study, alone. His thesis was nearly completed now and only the final touches were required before submitting the paper. Kazama Jin just could not concentrate. He could not take his thoughts from Hwoarang.
Elbows braced on the library table, Jin ran his fingers through his hair, cradling his head in that moment as he breathed deeply. Three days. Three days with no word, no visit, no secret rendezvous. Jin felt like he was losing his mind.
Kazama Jin had beaten Yoshimitsu in the quarter finals. The battle had been long and it may have been endurance only that kept Jin in the lead. He thought surely the Blood Talon would come to the match but there had been no sign�and his distraction did not help him in the least during the mayhem of the tournament round.

Sometime later, Jin had heard Hwoarang had beaten Gan Ryu. He could not attend the match, it was scheduled in a completely different local from his own and Jin could not escape Mishima Heihachis guards. It was as though they knew something�.were watching him for something.
Unfortunately, Ling had been eliminated by Paul Phoenix. Jin had comforted her the best he could and reassured his friend that she would use this time to study and prepare for exams. Even as crestfallen as she was in that moment, her exuberance could not be thwarted and she tried desperately to look on the bright side of things, even if the monies won from the tournament would have been significant to her less than wealthy family.
The world seemed to conspire against Jin. Every moment he trained or studied was mechanical, as though the spark had gone from his eyes without the promise of the Blood Talon near to him. And then, in the moments of quiet when the Japanese youth lay in slumber�and then, came the dreams.
Each time it was the forest he had run to in that scape, sometimes in the center of the wooded sanctuary there was a chasm from which he climbed, broken hands grasping dirt trying with his might to pull himself over, lured by the promise of his mothers voice�and then the screams of her agony at the hands of Toshin. The Aztec God of Fighting took Kazama Juns life, over and over again until Jin would awake screaming, his hands balled into fists to the apparition of his subconscious�his sheets charred with remnants of Fatal Lightning.
Jin remembered that nigh of his mothers death as though no other existed before it�.the night he could not save his her, was too weak, too young�the night she fought like a lioness defending her cub pleading on the wind for Jin to run away�.
And in these dreams another familiar voice filled him, offering an incorporeal hand to Jin, soothing and calming his body with promises of victory over the Ogre�.
Jin did not take that hand, he woke before his fingers could reach for it each night�
�until last night.
The voice had taken form, a brilliant image enshrouded by crimson light�the form of the Blood Talon with enthralling, glowing copper eyes. It had deceived him, bound itself to him in the dream and Jin saw for the first time the voice had a purpose�the voice knew his weaknesses and his strengths. Just as Hwoarang had known his weaknesses and strengths�
Dripping with sweat, the Japanese youth awoke screaming, clutching the bed sheets in his fists. Burning sensations tore beneath his flesh as though something was moving within him and the eerie feeling overcame Kazama Jin�that he was no longer alone.
Shaking his head, Jin forced himself to strip away such thoughts. He felt anger and hurt rushing like bile through him�mingled with regret and fear that his life was slipping out of his control�Hwoarang was slipping out of his fingers. Closing the books before him, Jin bound them in the leather strap, rising hastily from the library desk. If the Blood Talon was not coming for him�he would have to come for the Blood Talon�now..or never.
**
Hwoarang panted thickly, sweat glistening and dripping from his features as dirty bare feet repeatedly struck combinations against the sand bag suspended from the center of the ceiling. He had been going at the swaying adversary for three hours, working form against the thick material as though it owed him money..or respect. Saatchi and Han passed by occasionally in the beginning, commenting to each other on the tenacity at which Hwoarang attacked, as though something inside of their leader had shifted�had returned to a former glory with a new found violence.
The Blood Talon paid his street demons no mind as the comments wafted in. It had been an hour or more since the last one flitted past him and he recalled something about the duo riding to the airport to pick up Chang, another of the ranks freshly in from Korea.
Nothing mattered to Hwoarang over the past three days..nothing but punishing the sagging sand bag..punishing it for all of his sins�for all of Jins words. He barely left the house, unless it was to hustle�or to fight Gan Ryu to delicious victory, putting himself one step closer to his lover on the tournament rung�to defeat him and the angst that flowed in the Blood Talons own veins.
Why did he have to say it? Fuck! A vicious hook kick drew the bag towards Hwoarangs body, twisting it cruelly on the chain, the groan of overburdened plaster from above leaking into the room.
God Damn it�its bad enough he had us labeled into some kind of unrealistic relationship�Shit, I am no ones boyfriend�I don�t do�relationships� The Hook kick relinquished turned into a reverse crescent, sending dust from the plaster above skittering down onto the already filthy floor�.
How could he change the game on me? How could he tell me�he is falling for me�Come on, none of this should even be happening�none of it�I should have controlled myself better�should have told him and his pretty face to fuck off when I had the chance�but no, I had to let him into that room�why did I have to want it that bad�want him�that bad�.
Hwoarang threw himself into a move he coined as the Total Outrage, switching stance with agile motion, sending a flurry of kicks into the defeated bag as he cried out his spirit shout, feeling the power of his legs connect with vinyl. The Blood Talon looked up, sweat dripping down his features when he heard footsteps trotting up to the second floor, toward his chambers. Just what he needed, Saatchi or Han�one had gone to the airport, the other remained behind to torment him some more. Had he not proven himself a thousand times over in the past three days by taking both talented martial artists on at the same time�to show the den�who the true leader of the pride was? Had both of his compatriots not suffered enough injury for one day? Why did they insist on pissing him off?
The Blood Talon stepped away from the bag, grasping his deep blue towel and draping it around his shoulders, signaling to himself the pause in training. His fingers grasped a water bottle, drawing the half empty plastic to his lips and gulping down the room temperature libation. The footsteps stopped before his door, pushing open what Hwoarang had closed and bringing instant aggrevation to the Blood Talons already smirking features.
Turning angry amber eyes to the intruder, Hwoarang gasped�in shock. Why didn�t he see this coming?
**
Jin stood in the doorway of Hwoarangs room, hands folded neatly into the pockets of his school uniform slacks. He had come in to the run down building the Blood Talon called home after watching to see Saatchi and Han leaving at light speed for the open road. He admitted, he stalked the area for over an hour debating what to do�and when his window of opportunity arose, he took it with speed and determination.
�I saw no one was here but you, so I let myself in�I hope you don�t mind.� Jin said guardedly as he let the image of Hwoarang wash over him. His strength, his weakness bound in one human, sweating form. The Blood Talon was beauty to him, his dobuk open and exposing his perfect torso and chest, sweat dripping from the blue headband that kept his drenched coppery tendrils from invading his eyes.
Hwoarang gathered his shock around him, pursing his lips in arrogant fashion. �Breaking and entering, Kazama..how the mighty have fallen?� He scoffed, lifting the water bottle to his lips once more though his eyes did not leave Jins. He could have drown in those sable orbs, he wanted to�he wanted to leap into those mirky depths�but pride and reality were his opponents in such a hasty move.
�I guess your rubbing off on me.� Jin said simply, stepping over the threshold and leaning against the doorjamb with his cashmere covered left shoulder. �Been training hard? I..I heard you put a deep hurt on Gan Ryu�that is not easy through so much�body mass.�
�That is not why you�re here, so lets cut the small talk.� Hwoarang barked with characteristic impatience. �Come on and say what that proper head of yours is begging to get out.�
Jin flinched but instantly stiffened up, cocking his head to the side with a sudden sense of his own arrogance. �You have not been around, Hwoarang. So, I figured I would come looking for you�and get some answers.�
Hwoarang lifted the edge of his deep blue towel, wiping his flushed, sweating features. �Is that so? What answers do you want from me�exactly, Kazama.�
�Where have you been?� Jin said simply but powerfully. There was a depth of bass in the Japanese youths voice even he had not noticed before.
�I have had a full dance card, baby. My life does not revolve around you�so, next question.� Hwoarang said with full, dripping venom. He had to admit he was impressed when Jin did not even skip a beat.
�Why havent you come looking for me�come to find me�its been three days.� Jin said, cracking his neck.
�What am I, your babysitter?� Hwoarang chided with a roll of his eyes. �Three days? Glad to see your keeping count. Look, about this little relationship thing you think we have�the dream is over, Kazama�truth be told, your not that good of a fuck anyway.� The Blood Talon was a little shocked at his own tenacity, even if he did want to drive Jin further away�he knew his words were tougher than they needed to be.
Jin straightened up hearing that, feeling the slice of the Koreans words into his very soul. It hurt, instantly�made the Japanese youths skin crawl and his eyes darken from sable to abysmal black depths. �So that is how it is then�just like that.� He said, brows arching demonically as black ink spread itself down Jins arms, visible now for the first time from the rolled up sleeves of his cashmere blue sweater. Anger and pain skirted through him�
�What the fuck do you want baby? A good bye kiss�one last fuck? Do yourself a favor and get out of my place before the paramedics carry you out, pretty rich boy. I don�t have time to play your goddamn games.� Hwoarang added salt to that wound he found opening in Jins eyes. Tossing the towel down next to the bed, the Blood Talon scoffed at the scene and turned once more to look Jin over�those black etchings catching his eyes as he found Jin moving closer to him as if daring him for that rematch.
�What the fuck is happening to your skin?� The Blood Talon made out, backing up slightly as the markings seemed to drip and take on a life of their own, thick and black, screaming maliciousness.
Jin tilted his head to the side as though he could not hear, drawing ever closer to the fiery Korean. His mind had snapped, shifted into something deeper, something demonic�.as though a very part of his soul was now freed by the pain of Hwoarangs rejection, the agony of loving someone who does not love you in return.
Hwoarangs calves hit the edge of the bed and he could go no further lest he crawled upon it like a frightened child facing the terrors of the darkness. He would not do so, he would not debase and subject himself to fear�but Jin�did not feel like Jin�in this moment�and it was starting to freak the fiery upstart to a dangerous level. �I am warning you, Kazama��
Jin was completely silent as he grasped Hwoarangs arm, met by a flurry of up close kicks as the Korean youth tried desperately to ring free of Kazamas grip. Nothing seemed to phase him�no kick could connect hard enough up close to do enough damage to push him off. Eyes once chocolate brown, warm were now replaced by flickering black abysmal depths, the fingers of lightning forking from iris to pupil�and Hwoarang ceased to struggle.
Something frightening evil was deep in Jins gaze and The Blood Talon was helpless, hopeless to break free of the entrancement.
In that instant of Hwoarangs surrender, Jin released him, pushing the Blood Talon back onto the bed, standing over the edge like a specter of death. Hwoarang scurried back on the mattress, horrified, pale as a ghost as Jin stood in total silence, arm still outstretched as though continually pushing the Blood Talon backward. �What the fuck�� Hwoarang screamed, feeling his spine brace against the filthy wall below the window.
Jin lowered his arm and brought it before his eyes as though inspecting it, half cocking a smile so rife with malicious arrogance it sent a staunch chill through the room. The Japanese youth seemed pleased with the discovery, the glinting edge of nails that had elongated meeting his inspection. His eyes turned once more to Hwoarang, who remained speechless, shivering, cornered like a rat in a cats hunt.
Kazama Jin snickered and turned, striding with slow motions toward the door�stepping through the threshold like a spirit who floated above the ground, the edges of his jacket kicking up behind him on an unseen wind�leaving behind�a momento.
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The Quality of the Sword