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The First Crack in the Metal	By : MMishima Category: +S through Z > Tekken Views: 3051 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
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**The First Crack in the Metal shows the impurity of Design**
**Chapter One**
The Forge, Abandoned.
�Well, I guess the rumors are true.� Saatchi said with a dark smile, coming closer to the Blood Talon and instantly clasping arms with the gang leader.
�Ahh, Saatchi. You�re a sight for a sore eyes.� Hwoarang laughed. �Did you think I would leave you all to your own ends for a minute longer?�
�When word went out you went AWOL, I knew this is where you would end up.� Chang cocked a smirk, taking his turn to solidify his relationship to the Blood Talon with his own clasp of hands. �Its good to see you.�
�Its good to be seen. Lets keep the AWOL stuff on the down low, don�t want to get caught up when the military comes looking for me.� Hwoarang said, taking up his beer. �Hey, where�s Han?� He wondered, not seeing his lieutenant traveling with the others.
�He�s doing time. Caught disturbing the peace�with his fists.� Saatchi said with a shake of his head. �Han will be back in about 45 days. He�s already served 5 months. Hey, anyone need a refill?�
�Yeah.� Hwoarang said with a half smile. �Fucking Han, man. I thought I taught him better than this. So, tell me how is business?�
Chang beckoned the Blood Talon toward a booth while Saatchi went to the bar. �Just like you, never taking a moment to look at anything but business.�
�Well, I don�t play when it comes to money. So what�s the stats and where�s the haunt?�
Chang sat down after Hwoarang tossed his bags into the booth. �We have taken up in the Yurei district, not too far from here. I know you are partial to the Shinjuku but the heat has been on too much to stay. The action is a little less but the area is safer, well hidden.�
�Tell me more.� Hwoarang said, propping his arm up on a bent knee as he laid back in the booth, casual as usual. He took a moment to light a cigarette and let his head press against the dank wall. Chang was his first choice for a temporary replacement. The two had a long standing friendship that dated back to DoSan. At one time, they were the right and left hand of their former Master.
�While you were gone, I received your messages from Kiichu. I understand why you would not let me answer. She was a good messenger between us and it was ingenious to plant the letters with her and have them sent to Japan.�
Hwoarang laughed. �I had no intentions of going AWOL until I found out about the tournament but you know I had to check up on you and see how the gang was progressing. Not to mention spend a alittle of this pent up energy on the right kind of company. Now, continue.� There would be more time for personal talk when they were alone.
Chang nodded as Saatchi returned with a round, the clinking glass drawing the Blood Talons eyes. �We have recruited many here as you requested, keeping them on a sliding pay scale according to what they bring in. Times have been prosperous. We have been fortunate.�
Saatchi took a seat, grasping his beer. �Chang has been a hard ass, but I am sure you had something to do with that.�
�I gave my directives, Chang followed them. That�s what a good lieutenant does.� Hwoarang said, finishing his long neck bottle and reaching for another. Ever since the episode where Saatchi had challenged him, the Blood Talon had little trust in his soldier.
Chang continued, feeling the tension and knowing the reasons behind it. �All other arrangements have been taken care of and your bike is out front. I brought it here myself. Damn, it is good to have you back.�
�Yeah, its good to be back. And thank you, Chang.� Hwoarang said with a smile, taking a long swallow of his beer. �Now, its time to get things back on track and it starts with this Tournament.�

**
Ling Xiaoyu lifted her attention from the book she had been footnoting and dropped the pencil, rubbing her eyes. It was already after 1am and the sound of the night welcomed her from the open window. She stretched languidly and drew her leg up to her chest, contemplating if enough research for her paper had been done for one night.
University had been difficult but the end was in sight. Her first degree was within her grasp and it was nice to be home instead of her dorm at Mishima Tech. Grandfather Wang had insisted she return during the week to train. Weekends alone and what spare time she had available to her for practice would not be enough to win the grand prize.
Closing off her light, Ling rose and moved to the bed near the open window, drawing the covers back and sliding in. The mattress was like a glove around her, a warm and familiar thing that made her feel at ease.
As Ling began to drift into the blissful arms of sleep, soft thuds, like pebbles on glass reawakened her. �What is that noise?� She asked groggily, wiping her eyes once more before attempting to close them. The sound came again and again until she finally threw off the blanket and turned the light at her desk on once more.
Ling went to the window, glancing outside and wondering what was hitting against her pane. There was no strong breeze to flit acorns against the siding, no hail or heavy rain to make such a pitter pat noise. In fact, Ling could not see a single reason for the sound�until her eyes adjusted to the darkness outside.
Not even pausing to slide slippers onto her feet, Ling ran from her room and out of the house as quietly as she could, sliding the door closed as her hands came around upper arms to ward off the chill.
�Is it really you?� She asked to the blackness, and after a long moment of silence the blackness replied.
�I have come back�� The voice was soft and dim, familiar.
Ling could not believe her eyes. Jin Kazama was standing in the dark, just feet away from her. Though she could not discern his face, which was covered by a dark hood, she knew the form of his body, the scent of his skin�the feeling she always had when he was near to her.
Without another hesitation, Ling ran to the figure and embraced what first seemed incorporeal but became firm and living beneath her hold. �Jin. I can�t believe its you. It has been so long�and I have been so worried.�
Jin carefully returned the hold, smiling softly beneath the cover of darkness to have Ling near to him once more. She was his only friend and perhaps the only one in this world he could trust. That had been earned long ago by her discretion with his prior secrets and prior life. �There is no need to worry. Did you not receive my email?�
Ling wiped her eyes, now rimmed with tears and profoundly punched Kazama in the upper arm. �That was two years ago! What a cryptic message, beware of Mishima Heihachi�and that was all it said? I questioned myself up until this very moment that the damn email was from you to begin with! Everyone thinks your dead!�
Jin nodded softly as he put a finger over her lips to silence her excited tone. I am dead. Inside. �Shh. I do not wish for any to know I have come. Everyone may think I am dead�but Heihachi Mishima is not everyone.�
Ling pursed her lips as Jin withdrew his finger. �What happened to you? Where have you been and why haven�t you called me or at least emailed me. I sent a hundred replies and the address on the email kept coming up as non existent.�
�It is a long story, Ling. And I have not tried to contact you because I feared I would put you in danger. I will explain what I can another time. I came to see you just after I checked in to the motel I will be staying at until my business here is completed.� Jin said with an uncharacteristic slowness to his voice, a calm hush that held no emotions, held no feeling. It was as though Jin was distanced even from himself.
�So you have come for the tournament then?� She asked but already knew the answer.
�I have come because I have no other choice.� He replied calculatingly.
�Why are you speaking so weird? Like you don�t even know me?� Ling shivered in the cool air.
�Because it has been two years, Ling. I barely know myself anymore�and I feel I have forgotten what it means to speak to another human being unless it is in a dojo. Give me time and I will find that small part of myself again.� Jin said in all honesty. Never one for lying to begin with, Jin truly felt awkward now that his two years of respite had passed him. Other than speaking sparingly to his Sensei, the Japanese youth truly spoke to no other with the exception of politeness, a thank you here and a your welcome there. He was too afraid to make himself known, to find friends and others to share his time. Too many secrets to guard, too much at stake if he was ever discovered in Australia.
�I just don�t get you, Jin. But alright, you made your excuse for now. So, where are you staying?� Ling asked, changing the subject.
�I can not tell you that�but I can say, it is under another name.� he sighed softly. �Return to your bed, Ling. I will find you again soon. I am pleased to see you, after so long.�
Ling tilted her head to the side with that fiery smile. �Oh no you don�t. You disappear for two years and now you tell me you will find me. We are making a date right now. You will meet me for lunch tomorrow�in your place..by the water.�
Jin smiled. How could he refuse. Ling was a sight for sore eyes. �Alright and I will tell you everything then.�
Ling leaned up and kissed Jin on the side of his cheek, where the hood gave away the only sight of the Japanese youths skin. �Alright. Goodnight Jin.�
Jin nodded and began to walk away, pausing when he heard her whisper once more. �I really missed you. I am glad you are home.� was all she said before bounding back into grandfathers house and closing the door softly behind her.
Home. What was home but a stack of broken thoughts and memories, a lie lived for too long in deceit. Home is Yakushima. Home is at peace, in the ground beside my mother. Home may be something I will never see again�but home is not anywhere Heihachi Mishima lives and breaths.

**
Hwoarang followed Chang on his bike. It felt good to have the familiar American leather and metal between his thighs, the wind whipping through the errant tendrils that came out of his pony tail. The military had made him cut it spiky and short but he had been growing it slowly during SpecOps and now it was almost to the line of his chin if he let the small ponytail down.
The brilliant lights of the districts were a flash to the Blood Talons eyes. The world felt alive again, exhilarating and filled with potential. Saatchi had been sent out onto the streets to inform the others the leader had returned, not privileged to the conversations soon to be had.
Deep into the Yurei district, Hwoarang killed the engine of his bike and slowly dismounted, unpacking the bags he had slung to the rear. Shouldering the heavy satchels, he awaited Chang to open the door for him.
�Follow me.� Chang said with a smile as he led the way up the stairs of the building, coming to the top of 5 floors to the only apartment door. Once the key slid in, the portal opened and Hwoarang took a long look inside. �This is the place I rented for you. Paid in cash. I figured you might want something away from the main scene, something you can come home to.�
The Blood Talon had to say he was impressed. It was a one bedroom apartment, recently painted. The kitchen had a stove and refrigerator, a small table and chairs and a microwave. Upon further inspection, the living room held a leather couch and end tables, a coffee table and a hutch that housed a television and gaming system and of course, a stereo.
�Nicely done, Chang.� He said, dropping his gear.
�I picked up a few things, some essentials you would need. I recall your fondness for leather and I thought you would not mind.� He laughed and locked the door behind them, leaving the only set of keys on the kitchen range.
Hwoarang stepped into the bedroom and smiled. It was as big as the remaining apartment. The bed was made with fresh linens, the head and footboard polished, a wardrobe ready and waiting to be used. His posters had been returned to the walls, framed this time, to keep them from any further state of decay. On the other end of the bedroom was his hanging kick bag with enough room to move. Magazines and old newspaper clippings that could be saved from the prior den had been stacked in basket in the corner of the room. A separate door led to the bathroom. It too was nicely sized with a bathrub that had small openings for jets to relieve tension filled muscles.
�Business has been very good.� Hwoarang laughed.
�It has. And here. This is your cut.� Chang reached into his backpack and withdrew a hefty wad, reaching out his hand to place it into Hwoarangs. �You will find every cent there.�
If the Blood Talon held Chang on a pedestal before this, it was now made of platinum. He reached in for the money and drew his lieutenant in for a tight, fond embrace. �You are good to me, Chang.�
�As you have been good to me. You gave me everything I could ever need when I had nothing to give in return. If you never would have taken me under your wing, never introduced me to Do San�never cared for me like blood, I would not have survived. I would have rotted of disease and starvation.�
�There was never a debt, Chang. You are like blood to me.� The Blood Talon tossed the money onto the dresser and closed the light in the bathroom.
�It is not about the debt, it is about brotherhood. Come, I will get us a beer.� He said with a smile, happy to be of service.
�I don�t think I have ever had a place as nice as this.� Hwoarang said softly and followed Chang to the kitchen. �Well, now that the tournament is here, business should really start pumping. I want every available hand out there to make some cash. And I want you to take a break from the street, rookie in the new recruits, show them the ropes and take care of the bookkeeping. I noticed that bruise on your face, its faded now but no one has ever gotten a good hook in on you.�
Chang handed off a beer to Hwoarang. �Met up with a British fighter, a boxer. Couldn�t tell by the look of him and he seemed to know how to play the game. We came to a draw. He said his name was Steve and he was here for the tournament, might be someone to look for.�
Hwoarang laughed. �I fought to a draw once. It got me into nothing but trouble. You remember, you were there.�
Chang nodded and took a swig of his beer, stepping into the living room and waiting for the Blood Talon to try out the new leather couch before he joined him. �Kazama, Jin.�
The name was like a knife in the heart. Hwoarang tipped his head back for another sweet sip. �Anything?�
Chang shook his head. �Nothing. I had some white collars working on it for awhile, called in a few favors. The name is as dead as he is, I am afraid. I did stumble across another Kazama that seems to be related.�
�Oh?� Hwoarang said with one brow raised.
�Kazama, Jun. His mother. She is buried on the small island of Yakushima. The house they shared was burned to the ground apparently. Her death certificate reads something like a dictionary, but apparently she was beaten to death. Jin left the island by the time he was 15 almost 16 and came to live with his paternal grandfather, Mishima Heihachi.� Chang replayed all the information he had about the dead woman.
�Anything on Jins father?� He did not say so, but the Blood Talon had heard the name Jun before. Baek DoSan often spoke of the woman but never gave a last name that he could recall. Apparently, she was a strong and beautiful competitor in one of the previous tournaments. She was someone very well respected and very well loved by the Blood Talons former Master.
Hwoarang was not sure why he wanted to know this about his former rivals family. Jin was dead. But at least he could feel like Kazama was still living by hearing his name�and the names of his kin, spoken aloud.
�Mishima Kazuya. Killed in the second King of Iron Fist Tournament. Ruled as an accident but his body was never recovered. His last match was against Mishima Heihachi.� Chang said brushing a hand back through his hair.
�Thank you, Chang.� Hwoarang said after long moments of silence.
�There are others but they are distant relations, cousin and such on the Kazama side. I doubt they have any relevance to the situation. And an adopted brother to the Mishima family, a Chaolan Lee, former competitor in the King of Iron Fist. Also a Korean. His whereabouts remain unknown.� He replied, flatly. Hwoarang knew there was more.
�What is it? What are you holding back?� Hwoarang asked, turning to face his blood brother.
�I wanted you to know ahead of time that I have taken care of it but Saatchi went around for sometime spilling his ideas about you and Jin. He found Kazama Jin�s jacket in your rooms. I had it removed and hung here. I knew you would want to keep it.�
�And what was Saatchi saying, I was a fag?� Hwoarang scoffed, knowing full well what the word around town would have been.
�Yeah. But it has been taken care of. He will think twice before bringing your name up in that way again. Jins name as well.� Chang commented with a smile. �It may not be much retribution but respect is now maintained.�
Hwoarang nodded. �Thank you, Chang.� He lost the taste in his mouth. He had not been discreet enough, had not taken proper precautions to protect them both. But at least, Jin could rest his soul knowing their secrets had been saved. Respected.
Chang finished his beer and rose. �For what its worth, Seung Roh, I know somewhere inside you must have loved him.�
Hwoarang had not heard his given name in so long it was nearly alien to him. Only two people had ever called him that, in private. Baek Do San and Chang. He could not help but give a soft snicker as the rest of the words caught up with him.
�I guess we will never know.� He said, remaining seated even as Chang prepared to leave. �Come by tomorrow and show me the new lair. I am anxious to meet with the others.�
�Will do. Rest well and rise to victory.� Chang tossed the bottle in the trash and let himself out quietly.
Hwoarang sat for a long while before resigning himself to bathe and rest, his thoughts plagued with Jin as much as this tournament. When he was changed for the night and ready to rest, Changs words came to him.
The Blood Talon rose and opened the wardrobe, his fingers reaching out in the dark to touch the holy relic of two years passed. Jins jacket. He had left it that hasty afternoon when Saatchi and Han had surprised the two. Hwoarang never had the desire to rid himself of it. And now, it greeted his fingers, scented strong of his former lover mingled with the sweet smell of decay from the former place of refuge.
It was like touching a ghost. Hwoarang was so gentle with the quality material one might have thought he barely brushed the blackness of shadow and not the coat. He drank in the scent until he swore he could feel the moment Jins fingers first removed it from his own body. Flecks of the fine cable knit sweater Kazama had been wearing were set free by Hwoarangs fingers and the memory of that afternoon�of what had come over the Blood Talon�had changed everything.
If only I could have let this shit go. Said fuck it to the whole idea of that first fight in the back alleys of Korea. If only I would have resigned myself to being his equal and not his superior, I might have been there�might have stopped him from dying. Or at least, been there in those last moments, said some things he should have heard. Well, Jin. I guess you finally beat me after all.
Hwoarang stood for long moments in the dark, brushing his fingers over the fabric before he forced himself to tear away. He drew into his new bed with a heavy sigh, forcing himself to shut down..to turn off the memories of his dead lover and former rival until darkness took him and rest came on swift, black wings.

**
After pacing in the small room for a long while, checking the window behind the curtain more times than he could count, Jin finally forced himself to undress, bathe and prepare to rest. Being back on Japanese soil made his blood heavy, made him constantly fear that Heihachi�s men were coming for him.
�and Jins mind was once more wandering.
Hwoarang. It was a nightly ritual to think of the copper haired Korean. The fire in those sienna eyes, the timbre of that rough yet sensual voice, the faint recollection of the way his skin smelled�filled Jin with some of the only fond memories he kept to himself, silent and safe.
Their parting had been a bad one. The demon in his blood had taken hold. Before the darker side of his soul could make a false move, force the Blood Talon into a compromising position, Jin managed to make himself to walk out of the door�and walk away from Hwoarang forever. He never wanted Hwoarang to know of the weakness in his spirit, the curse he carried. With that knowledge could only come pain, the agony of placing Hwoarangs life in jeopardy.
There had been other factors that led to that break. Jin was falling in love with the Korean rogue. Hwoarang could not love him back, not the way he wanted. The Blood Talon knew only the notion of settling scores, of fighting till one was claimed victor..or one fell dead. It was like a sickness, a desire that consumed him till he could not trust himself when he was with the Korean youth. Hwoarang was dangerous, a beautiful detour on the road to what Jin would become.
And yet, every night, Jin fell into slumber recalling each contour of the Koreans� body�every soft word whispered in the heat of desire�the love he felt and the pain he succumbed to. Jin reasoned away his wanton need for the pain Hwoarang could give to him in the darkness of their lust. The pain both freed him and gave him something to hold onto, to feel alive and wrapped within Korean skin in a world where he was otherwise numb. It was symbolic of their joining and their rivalry. The pain fed the demon inside of him. He had wanted it with greed, as he had wanted Hwoarang. It was a lust he swore he would never know again but dreamed of each night.
And now, being back on Japanese soil made the recollections of Hwoarang all the more vivid, all the more powerful. It was almost too much agony to bear, a tightness in Jins gut and in his chest. His skin was sheeting over in a thin glistening sweat. Hwoarang was a poison that tasted like sugar. And it was a sudden fury that Jin could no longer fight as he gave himself to the vision of copper tendrils and the dark palette of the Blood Talons eyes
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The First Crack in the Metal