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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 Two**
The Memory of Former Design

Ling had come sometime before the fall of noon and set a picnic beneath a dense line of trees, beside the stream Jin loved. He had brought her here to the park just hours after Hwoarang and he had broken up. Jin had been distressed, out of sorts and in desperate need of some kind of grounding. Ling had done what she could, but he would not halt his pacing, his near tears�and the aura around Jin had been fractured, his Chi split in two�and it scared Ling�deeply. Shortly after that, Jin was gone for good and rumored to be dead.
�Is all of this for me?� came a voice as soft, serene as the surrounding woods.
Ling turned, drawing up to her knees, placing her hands on her hips. �Well, who else would it be for? Who knows when the last time you had something decent to eat was? Somebody has to look out for you.�
Jin approved of Lings placement for the picnic. It was deep enough in the trees that he could feel safe, could give himself a moment of breath and distance from the paranoia that followed him. �Thank you, Ling.� He said softly and drew down across from her, releasing the catch on his hood and slowly removing his jacket.
Ling could not believe how much Jin had changed in two years. Age was filling out his features, namely his face and never did she see the young Kazama look so dashingly handsome. But atop of his beautiful visage, there was worry lines, the heavy visual of dark circles rimming against his eyes as though he had not known a good restful sleep in all the time he had been away. Jins body was far more pronounced now, built in a strong V that showed every defined muscle, every perfect curve. Ling had never seen him so beautiful and yet, so tortured.
It was his eyes that caught her most of all. Jin looked separated from the world, lost and filled with an infinite sadness�a drowning black pool of emotion that could have broken Lings heart.
�Well, come on. Dig in.� Ling said with a smile, pointing to the vegetarian sushi roll she prepared herself.
Jin crossed drew his legs Indian style and reached for a small paper plate. He filled it with several sushi rolls and fresh bread as Ling poured a glass of warm sake for both of them. He took a bite and smiled, feeling the seaweed and rice pop with flavor into his mouth. It had been so long since he had proper sushi.
Ling let Jin eat in silence, pleased when he asked if he could take a second portion which she was more than happy to see. He sipped the sake, kept at perfect temperature by a small battery operated warming plate beneath the ceramic decanter. When the two had sated themselves on quiet company and the small picnic, Ling sipped her sake and finally asked all the questions she ever wanted to know from Jin.
Ling learned the Japanese youth had been in Brisbane, Australia�had continued his training and managed a small apartment. Jin had made money by building websites under an assumed name, which he would not disclose. She was surprised to know that Jin never had the intentions of returning to Tokyo�but rather he wanted to save enough money to live quietly in Yakushima, where his mother was buried�and where his life prior had been lived. No matter how Ling pried, she could not get from the enigmatic Kazama the events that unfolded at the end of the previous King of Iron Fist Tournament.
�And what about Hwoarang?� Ling finally asked as Jin laid on his side on the blanket, sipping from his fourth shot of sake. �You realize he�s probably back here in Tokyo, just like you?�
Jin literally froze. He did not blink or breath, even the wind itself seemed to halt with a fear of disturbing one cowlick lock that fell before Kazamas eyes. Why did Ling have to bring that name up? Hearing it spoken aloud made the Blood Talon real again, made him vital and undeniable. �I�I should go. I have stayed here too long.�
Ling jolted as Jin began to raise to his knees, putting his jacket on with unbelievable speed. Her hand reached for his shoulder, her head tilting up to catch those horror filled, pain laden eyes. �No, Jin wait. Don�t go. Please, I am sorry.�
�I have been here long enough. It will be dark soon. Any number of people could have spotted me. I am putting us both in danger.� Words said too quickly. True as they were, the string of it showed Jins need to escape.
�No one has seen us. No one has been through this part of the park. Jin, please. Don�t run away. I am sorry I spoke of him. I don�t mean to hurt you.�
�No, Ling. It is alright. It is nothing you said.� Jin tried his best to reassure. It really wasn�t anything she said�it was the feelings that stirred in him at the moment she spoke. Jin needed to go, to flee�to run from the recollection of pain just as soon as he could. Every moment he lingered, he felt like he was going to break.
Ling Xiaoyu rose with him, grasping his shoulders. His hood was drawn up now, but she could still see his eyes, the deep, unyielding pain in his eyes. �I know you loved him, Jin. Its okay to love someone. Remember how I used to feel about you, how much I liked you in a way you didn�t like me?� Her normally fiery voice was soft now, like a tree branch kissed by wind. �But I still love you, only differently now. Jin, please. Tell me what you are feeling.�
Jin wanted to crumble, but he couldn�t. He wanted to cry out his pain, scream to the sky with his agony�but he would not allow it. He had loved Hwoarang and it was not his feelings that were in question. The Blood Talon rejected him�brought him to a new height of his life, to an awakening..only to be tossed away. The Japanese youth never truly got over that sensation, the scars after two years were still too fresh. And now, with Lings words, the idea that Hwoarang was back on this soil was like a ghost becoming flesh and blood, right before his eyes.
�I am sorry, Ling. Thank you for lunch and thank you for listening. But I have to go�� Jin said in the most emotion he had displayed since returning to Lings life.
Ling kept Jin in place, knowing full well he would not be rude enough to remove her grasp. �Jin, where can I find you? When will I see you again.�
Without even thinking, he replied. �The pier, tomorrow night.�
Ling released her hold and Jin turned too quickly to leave, disappearing into the line of trees before she could even think to chase after him. Instead, the Chinese beauty stood with her hands on her hips, looking down from the blanket to the trail in the distance with a long sigh. So much pain. So much memory. So much love.
**
Hwoarang. Why did that name strike him like a punch to the gut. Jin made his way to his rented room with a fury that forced a pace past haste. He was running from his memories, running from his world. Running from Hwoarang. No matter where he went, the Blood Talon was already there, already with him, mocking him�rejecting him.
Jin just wanted the pain to go away. Two years and it was as though every word of that fateful afternoon was handed down only yesterday. Two years filled with the all consuming passion to drive the Devil Within into a cage, to unlearn the art that became an instinct, to remold and rebuild himself into something and someone new. And even now, Hwoarang haunted him. The idea of coming across his former lover in the tournament made him nauseous. There would be no fondness to hold onto, only the cold reality of competitors standing in a ring. Every punch the Blood Talon would throw would be made of anger and bitterness, rejection and mockery�.he would be left strong and Jin once more left weak.
The pain was building. The pressure in his shoulders became heavy, unbearable. He was coming. The Devil was making its way to the surface.
Jin stumbled into his room, slamming the door shut with a hard kick. He tore his jacket from his body, leaving it in a pool of material on the floor. Nails ripped into the bed as though each talon was sinking in to find an anchor.
�No!� the youth screamed through fanged canines. �No!�
**
The Blood Talon surveyed those assembled, appraisingly. Chang had built a nice retinue of new recruits. Hwoarang had to admit he was impressed, once more.
To show his prowess, the Blood Talon held a small, impromptu match. It was not unlike a lion atop a rock, roaring to hear his own echo, roaring to claim his domain.
One by one they fell beneath one spur or the other. It felt good to let the long forgotten boys out again, let them taste the cool rush of air as stances shifted, one kick led into a flurry of others and his opponents heaped before him on the floor. There would be no dispute as to who owned this proverbial rock, now or ever.
�I think the Military only made you more deadly.� Chang half smiled, patting Hwoarang on his back, the white shirt clinging to Hwoarangs skin like plastic. �No more smart assing around, no more banter. Its like a more silent, more deadly Talon.�
Hwoarang cracked his back, brushing his hand down his sweaty neck in a customary old habit. �Yeah, I do what I can.� He snickered with a sharp exhale, walking off the aggression, letting it pass through him and out into the world. His own little violent gift returned to nature.
�Hey, you got a tattoo?� Saatchi asked, kicking up his feet onto a nearby chair in the newly broken in thieves den.
Hwoarang turned, looking over his shoulder as though he was stalking prey. His eyes narrowed till amber orbs held only one face. �Yeah. And lets leave it at that.�
Chang noticed it to. Or at least, the outline of it from beneath the whet shirt that hugged the Blood Talons back. He could see, when Hwoarang moved that it was done in black ink, tribal style and situated directly between his shoulder blades. From what he could make of it, Chang thought he saw a single black feather.
Hwoarang ran his fingers through his coppery tendrils, brushing the locks out of his face. �What the fuck are you all waiting for. Class dismissed.� He hissed and watched his street demons rush out and away from him, still not sure what to make of their returned leader. Saatchi and Chang were used to the roar but still loved to see how everyone else was brought to attention by such a quick wit.
�Hey, Saatchi. Since your sitting there wasting time, roll something up. Make yourself useful.� The Blood Talon cracked his neck, taking up the towel he left on the floor and wiping himself down with it.
�You don�t have to ask me twice.� He laughed off the tension, eyeing Hwoarang from beneath his brows as he reached for the tray and the papers. Something inside of him seemed to get a thrill out of pushing the Blood Talons buttons, even if he would never dare to admit it aloud.
As Saatchi took up the task, Chang handed Hwoarang a clean shirt and a beer. The Blood Talon was careful to turn toward the other two as he changed before pulling the tab back on the imported beverage. He hated to admit it but he liked American Beer. An expensive habit in the old days. Money now was not so much of the object.
�I was thinking, maybe we could drum up some business down by the pier. Friday night and all.� Chang smiled, taking a sip of his own drink. �We could book some of the rookies, get a birds eye view of how they are doing out there on their own. The tournament doesn�t start for another few days, right?�
�Not till Monday, no. Nothing will be posted until then.� Hwoarang said between thirsty gulps. �Its not like I have a fucking bed time.� He snickered, pushing his shoulder against Chang.
Chang wasn�t biting. He knew full well his old friend was trying to goad him into a spar. When Hwoarang was like this, it was the last advisable thing to partake in. �No, but I do. I think Saatchi is done.�
�And I am about to be �done�.� Hwoarang laughed, taking up the first of the freshly rolled cylinders and cracking open his zippo. The first breath was like taking a draught of air after a coughing fit, it went really smooth down into the lungs. �Lets get a good head on before we hit the pier. Hell, everybody likes good head.�
Chang laughed and waited till the Blood Talon took a second hit and handed off the joint. It was like the old days, outside of Do Sans dojang. The feeling in the aire was slowly starting to shift, easing down. He drew a heavy draught past his lips and fought a wracking cough, which elicited a snicker and a smack on Changs, curtsey of the Blood Talon.
�I said it before and I will say it again. Everybody likes good head.�
**
Jin jolted, a sudden panic coming over his eyes. His knees were planted solemnly against the floor, his upper body spread out across the bed. All around him, a field of black feathers.
Slowly, the Japanese youth withdrew his fingers from the mattress, large gashes torn into the fabric where his talons had ripped deep, seeking an anchor to pause the transformation. It was obvious the change had occurred, though what he had done in that time, he could not recall.
Going to the curtain on shaking legs, Jin withdrew it slowly to see the sky was darkening. A full day had passed, a measure of time gone, lost to him and gained to the demon. It had been sometime since last the beast had truly made itself known and the same feeling, the drained�torn, frightened feeling lingered within Jin.
This time it had been Hwoarang that trigged the change over. The simple and easy way Ling had brought up the Blood Talon and the realization the Korean might well have returned for the next installment of the tournament had left an indelible mark on the Japanese youth; torn into his gut like a blood thirsty sword.
Jin undressed slowly, rubbing his shoulders once his bare flesh was free of constriction. Dried blood against his shirt. Another undeniable proof his wings had come through the skin. Black feathers stuck to the material like a lovers hands, making the Japanese youth suddenly sick to his stomach. Jin was left now with the ache�dull and yet crisp, a tingling sensation that all was not what it appeared to be.
Forcing himself to bathe, Jin shuddered when the hot water poured down his back. Settling his head against the shower wall, he tried to breath in the steam, to cleanse himself of this wicked sensation. He could not dwell on this, could not allow himself to fall into the chasm of his dark thoughts and fears. Ling would be a most welcomed sight to take his mind off of this, as much as he did not wish to be in public or see anyone right now. Jin knew that if he continued to pace lines into the cheap rugs of his room, he would only descend further into madness.
**
Hwoarang paced along the alley alcove as Saatchi fetched three orders of sesame noodles. �So, now we watch our soldiers from a distance and see what business they drum up. This was a good plan�if not boring as shit.�
�One of us has to be sober and ready to come to defense if shit gets out of hand, play the ringer. And that is not you, tonight.� Chang laughed, pushing Hwoarangs shoulder playfully.
�I have been up to my ass in military for two years. I deserve a little R and R.� The Blood Talon snickered, pushing Chang back with that dark smile over his lips.
�Nice choice of words there.� Chang laughed, his spirits elevated. It was nice to have Hwoarang back, to have the vibe the Blood Talon brought with him, refreshing and exuberant if not also dark and sometimes too hasty.
�Fuck, I got a better idea. Lets start ourselves a little tiff. Get Saatchi to take some bets�show our newbies how to handle the streets, old school.�
Normally, Chang would have fought against it, knowing Hwoarang had smoked enough to tranquilize a horse. But tonight, with the right feeling in the air, Chang gave that wry smile. He trusted the Blood Talon, with his life.
�Fuck, why not?� He laughed and leaned in to push the gang leader forward a little harder than before.
�Its on!� Hwoarang cracked his neck and started to circle his compatriot. Damn, its good to be home.
**
Ling drew the chopsticks against her lips filled with some spicy steamed vegetables as they walked, not minding how quiet Jin had become during their visit. She had enough to fill him in on to make up for two years of absence. She prattled on and on between bites, digging her chopsticks back into the white container.
Jin had opted against having something to eat. His stomach was still reeling from earlier in the evening. If he grew hungry, he would pause to bring something back to the motel room but for the moment he was contented to offer a nod here and there as Ling relayed to him all that had happened to her since his hasty departure.
The Japanese youth still felt uncomfortable out in public and the streets were teeming with youth run wild on a Friday night. He kept his hood up to conceal his identity, often looking to and fro to be sure none were following the duo or staring just a fraction of a second to long.
��so then, I told Julia in the email she was crazy. I mean, come on, that guy was total bad news. And let me tell you, � She paused to press spicy snapped, shelled peas between her lips before continuing. �it was the best thing I could have said. This guy had been around the block so much he could have been a road sign!�
Jin half smiled, recalling Julia and her normally calm nature, a complete opposite of the night when she and Hwoarang had come together in the club. That infamous night the Blood Talon kissed him�.
Jin felt somberness threaten to overtake him with that simple yet powerful memory. It was the night he first tasted flesh, desire and his own awakening beneath a hot Korean mouth. Now, looking back on the evening and the conversation that took place back after some heavy sexual desire back in Hwoarangs hotel room, Jin knew he should have seen this broken heart coming.
Ling had paused and Jin was now paces ahead of her, wandering through his own, quiet memories. He quickly turned, keeping his head down. �I am sorry, Ling. I was lost in thought and in your story. Please, continue��
The Chinese beauty was frozen, stone still, her body facing toward Kazama even though her head was turned, cheeks filled with food yet unchewed.
�Ling?� Jin questioned as he drew closer to his friend, his hands pressed into the pockets of his jacket. �Ling?� He asked again, more seriously this time. She did not even turn her head to acknowledge.
Jin tilted his head down, keeping his face covered by the hood as he followed the path of her eyes. His heart stopped. His body stiffened. His blood froze.
�He�is here.� Ling said softly enough that Jin could barely hear her.
The Blood Talon was in the middle of a street fight, moving like an agile cat against his adversary. A throng of on lookers were gathered by the dingy downtown alley as the Korean circled, whirling into a stance the Japanese knew all too well, followed by a flurry of kicks that were poorly blocked.
Jin felt his jaw slacken in shock and disbelief, his body suddenly feeling clammy and slick beneath his heavy jacket. He could not muster words, could not gather the muscles needed to move his lips.
Hwoarang looked�better than Jin could ever recall. His hair was shorter, gracing the edge of the Blood Talons chin, still a brash copper and held back by those obscene orange goggles. His body was slick with sweat, moving with predatory almost feline grace. That rude and dark smile plastered across familiar lips made Jin want to run�but he could not muster the strength to move. Two years�two years�.
�Jin.� Ling said, placing a hand on his arm protectively. �Jin, come on, lets go��
**
Hwoarang came out of his stance and began to circle Chang as Saatchi worked the crowd. The fight had been going on for sometime now and it felt invigorating to his body as well as his spirit. Cocking his head down as he moved, the Blood Talon gave a wicked smile and launched into a flurry of kicks, hitting high middle low�making Chang fall back to the jostle of the crowd.
A sensation unlike everything he had ever known shot up his back, making his stance falter for a moment. Hwoarang quickly snapped out of it as Saatchi gave the sign all the money had been collected, shaking his head and pressing into a Hunting Hawk to finish the preplanned scuffle.
Chang fell back, holding his hands up to signify the fight was over. Money exchanged hands and the Blood Talon walked away, taking his pack of smokes out from his overly tight denim pocket, tapping one cylinder out of the throng and lighting it up.
The feeling up his back was like hot lava, forcing Hwoarang to crack his neck to try to rid himself of the unwanted sensation. Drawing in a heavy breath of smoke, he coughed slightly from previous exertions and wiped a hand across his sweating brow. That�s when he saw the apparition. A ghost of flesh and blood, standing on the opposite street, unmoving.
Lips agape, Hwoarang held his cigarette between nearly lax fingers, eyes holding that image straight ahead of him�eyes he knew�half hidden face he recalled. The Blood Talons body was like a magnet picking up steel and just as tense. �Kazama.� He breathed like a hiss, eyes widening all the more for the name that escaped his lips. �Kazama.�
Ling was only a momentary fleeting orb in his line of sight. He knew that body, those eyes that met the familiar gaze across the way. He knew the feeling that ebbed in his gut now, unsure of just how he knew it so certainly but it was not the time to question it. Jin�Kazama�was alive. It cant be so�it cant be him. I felt him pass�I felt his spirit leave this place�..
Jin turned to leave, dragged by the arm by Ling Xiaoyu though the apparitions eyes never left the Blood Talon. A rage of adrenaline pumped through his tired body, overcome with too many emotions, thoughts to count. For a long moment Hwoarang stood stone still, unable to move his thrumming legs, overtaken with the sight of Jin�walking away.
�walking away.
Hwoarang tossed his cigarette onto the street and took off at such a pace a passerby would have thought a starting pistol for a race had gone off. He crossed in front of on coming traffic with little care for his own health and safety. If it took his last breath, he had to know the specter was real, had to know it was�who he thought it was.
�Jin!� He shouted loud enough to startle those who were unfortunate enough to cross his path as the duo made its way toward an easy escape, an alleyway, the shelter of two close buildings. Jin was not going to disappear in the dark, not if Hwoarang could help it.
The sound of his spurrs clinked against concrete as Hwoarang ran at a pace to catch up. �Fucking wait!� He hissed gaining on the two who evaded him.
**
Jin felt a panic in his blood making him want to flee all the faster. Ling half pushed the Japanese youth into the alley as the pursuer caught up with them at a rapid pace. �Go ahead, I will take care of this!� She shouted as Jin moved into the confines of the alley like a beaten dog, his shoulder clinging to the filthy walls as he moved. He felt powerless, trapped�entranced.
�Fuck!� Came that rough, guttural English tinged with a hard Korean accent. Hwoarang held onto his upper thighs, trying to recapture stolen breath.
Ling was awaiting the Blood Talon, one leg planted firmly, the other prepared to strike to protect Jin if necessary. �What are you doing here, Hwoarang?� she asked in a none to hasty breath. The white container holding her dinner was long gone now, dropped on the floor in hasty preparation to leave the main streets of downtown Tokyo.
Hwoarang drew up to full stance, looking hard into Lings eyes. �What the fuck do you think I am doing here? For Christ sake, Ling. Come on.�
Ling pursed her lips. �Oh, no. Don�t even think about it!�
�Thought about it? Why would I have crossed the fucking street to just think about it!� Hwoarang hissed, looking into the alley. �I know you�re here, Kazama. Come out of there or I am going through her to get to you, I fucking swear it!�
Jin had not made it far into the alley. He found his legs could not move, his body refusing to respond to his need to flee. He pleaded with himself until pleading was useless. The Japanese youth heard that voice, like the warm fingers of a lover along his spine and he was entranced�and agonized.
�Do you hear me, Kazama? I will go through her to get to you. You don�t want that�you fucking know you don�t want that!� Hwoarang shouted with a feral power behind his voice.
�Your not getting through me, Hwoarang.� Ling stood in fevering protest, dropping down into a ready stance. She would do whatever was necessary to protect Jin from this beast.
�The fuck if I wont. You will not keep him from me.� Hwoarang hissed, falling into an easy fighting stance before that alleyway and the opponent who prevented him from getting to Jin.
�No. Stop.� Jin said in a voice so painful it shot a shiver up Lings spine. Slowly, the Japanese youth came into the expanse of the scant street light in the alcove of the alley, his hood drawn low before his eyes. �I will not have anyone hurt.�
Hwoarang could barely breath. It was Jin. Flesh and Blood. Two years of torment and Jin was alive and only a few feet away from him. Kazamas voice was deep, anguished, his body rigid as he moved into what available light was offered.
�It is you.� The Blood Talon hissed a breath, dropping his stance as Ling drew up and before Jin, protectively. Hwoarang felt completely exposed to disbelief, to bittersweet realizations.
�It is.� Jin said with a distant voice, turning his eyes up to finally hold the Blood Talons form, meet that burning amber gaze. �I am here.�
�Jin, you don�t have to do this.� Ling warned, looking from the hooded figure to the hasty Korean.
�Now or later, it would still have to be done.� Jin said softly, laying his hand across Lings shoulder, thankful for her strength in this moment of his own weakness. Hwoarang was as toxic as he was sugary to Jins senses�two years of recalling every moment together, two years of remembering every elicit touch, every wanton need. It was almost unbearable and the source of every previous sensation was staring him down with disbelieving and questioning eyes
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The First Crack in the Metal