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Estranged Equals	By : Salysha Category: +S through Z > Tekken Views: 3336 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Tekken and Tekken characters are the property of Namco Limited. This is nonprofit fan fiction.

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Chapter 4: Cognitive Dissonance
Feet ground to the mattress, Hwoarang leaned back with a brittle laugh. The wall against his back felt disagreeable: it held neither pleasant, wooden warmth nor entrancing chill. He wrung from the wall and fluffed his hair in irritation. It was getting late at night, and he was aware how the most nugatory trifles were starting to grate on him.
It wasn’t the fault of the company: of course not. Steve and he had stayed up and chatted some, pointedly steering away from any newly-uncovered esoterica, but he was ready to crawl in. The only thing keeping him up was the perceived and undisputed unfairness of life, and while he didn’t will his lot on anyone, he couldn’t help saying with tainted cheer, “At least you’re still the same. Everyone here seems to be going out of their heads, but nothing’s happened to you.”
Hwoarang flung his head, sending a painful rush of blood with a wisp of hair forward, and missed the incredulous look Steve gave him.
“That’s not—” The negation was drowned out when there was a knock on the door, and Hwoarang missed the hurt.
Steve went to answer. He filled the doorway as he opened the door and found Jin Kazama, dressed in all black on the other side. Jin took in the blond presence. Without batting an eye, he looked right past Steve, into the room. “Can I speak with you?”
Jin didn’t even acknowledge his existence. Steve gritted his teeth dangerously as his fingers balled, but he bit the acid back with effort. Steve turned to say that Hwoarang didn’t have to go and he could send Jin on his merry way, but Hwoarang was already pulling his shoes on. As Steve looked on stock-still, Hwoarang hopped off the mattress and went after Jin.
After the door closed, Jin beckoned Hwoarang to come with him. Hwoarang nodded, and Jin took the lead. Once the initial frenzy had calmed, their hasty retreat placated to strolling around. The earthen corridors were endless, but Jin seemed to know his way around. Hwoarang knew they had passed the rooms he was familiar with. He had not been in this part of the house.
The architectonic solutions were not the point of interest, however. Hwoarang had a sideways view of Jin, and he kept taking the image in. Jin’s duster covered his clothes, but a glimpse of black and white peeked into view through the neck. A glance to the floor revealed shiny dress shoes to match the hint of attire underneath; Jin had come straight from the reception.
As Hwoarang continued his close study, Jin wrapped the coat tighter around himself. His steps slowed to strolling. “How have you been?” he asked. His voice was the same: pleasant and unburdened by anger. It was surreally normal.
“Not too bad, I guess,” Hwoarang said, surprised when the answer came easily, on a civil note. He hunched a little and trapped his hands in his pockets.
Jin glanced at him, and Hwoarang felt the scrutiny in turn. Yet, Jin retreated without a comment to the contradictory. “I’m glad.” The corridors had expanded; they were wide enough to hold the two of them side by side and peaceful enough to keep them moving nominal steps only. There were no prying eyes here, nor walls with ears. There were only corridors that were less mazelike and more open. There were only he and Jin, who had spoken in a low voice. Jin was fidgeting now. “Hwoarang, about earlier. I spoke in anger.”
The funny thing was, Jin had flung him with the cruelest possible insult, and all Hwoarang could feel was resignation. He shoved his hands further into his pockets. “It’s all right. Not like it wasn’t true.”
Jin looked at him sharply. “It’s not.”
Hwoarang shrugged and even gave a short laugh when he realized he was being the “bigger man.”
“It’s not true.” Jin grabbed his arm. The unexpected motion shook Hwoarang; Jin’s intensity was burning. “I never once wished anything was different. It always... pleased me.” This time, it was Jin who broke away when Hwoarang’s surprise at and recognition of the sincere tone came through unbridled. He seemed to realize he was still squeezing Hwoarang’s arm, and he eased his grip cautiously, like a caress. A hesitant, lingering caress.
The electric current broke when Jin pulled to himself and wrapped the coat on tighter yet again. Then he changed the subject. “That man you punched. Do you know who he is? Or what he does?”
The shiver down Hwoarang’s spine was involuntary. He was starting to regret the whole incident now, where he had been ambivalent about his justification all along. “It’s not really my business. I’m... sorry.”
“He is a commander in my army; an officer of the Tekken Force. Except he has single-handedly turned one-third of the armed forces against me and led them to rebel.”
“What?”
“He will lead the attack against me. He will betray me.” Jin stopped walking and leaned his head against the wall, craning backward. His eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. His hands went deep into his pockets, and he appeared dormant for a moment.
Hwoarang had stopped, too, and he was stunned with amazement. Jin could have been talking about the time of day, and, yet, he had no doubt that Jin was telling him the truth. “But you were acting so friendly.”
Quickly, Hwoarang came to conclude that the surprised puzzlement in Jin’s expression was genuine, and equally fast drifted to feeling like the biggest dolt on the planet. Again, Jin stepped up to save his face. “No.... No. It is all for show.”
“But... If you know he is a dangerous—or has been already—and you still didn’t do anything, even if he’ll go against you....”
Jin closed his eyes again and leaned onto the wall. “Maybe it is meant to be,” he said sadly. So placidly, Jin Kazama embraced his fate.
Hwoarang wanted to grab Jin by the shoulders and shake him hard, but Jin seemed almost lost in a reverie, on another plane than he was. In a place where he couldn’t be. Yet, Jin opened his eyes, and a small smile caressed his lips, just like before. Back in the present, more present than before, he pushed up and started the casual strolling again. “This is where I’m staying,” he said and pointed at a door.
“You’re staying here?” Hwoarang nearly jumped out of his skin. Did the other fighters know that? Did Jin even realize the risk he was putting himself into? There was a house full of mortal enemies out to get him, and he was sharing quarters with them.
“We should head back.”
Jin had to know, and it made no difference to him. Their shoes sounded a steady shuffling against the floor before Jin spoke again, “I haven’t heard from you in months. I never heard back from you.”
Hwoarang was unsure what to say. He swallowed and said nothing. He mimicked Jin’s movements unconsciously, and when Jin came to a halt, he was nailed to the spot.
“You still wear it.”
It was too late to hide the chain under his shirt; Hwoarang knew what Jin was looking at. Jin had given him the silver chain and star. It had been a holiday Hwoarang hadn’t known about and Jin hadn’t cared about. On a family occasion, there hadn’t been many people around. They had gone to the mountains and nearly made love on the bike. He still held to his heart the memory of sitting the wrong way round on the driver’s seat, leaning back, as Jin was leaning forward.... They had found a better place, and it had been as hot as every time they had done it. Afterward, they had gone strolling around the city, where Jin had gotten him the necklace. It wasn’t anything valuable, more like a trinket, with a heavy chain, rough and rugged, and a spiked pendant. He hadn’t taken it off since.
“Yeah,” Hwoarang said in a whisper. His voice rasped painfully.
Jin reached forward, hesitating briefly before he slipped his fingers under the chain, marveling down its length. He ran the chain between his fingers all the way down to the pendant, which he examined with diligent attention before setting it down carefully. Jin hovered briefly, and then he pressed a hand to Hwoarang’s chest.
Jin gazed at Hwoarang probingly. For the first time, their eyes locked in a connection that held. Jin finally tore his palm away and drew on. The walking resumed.
“Why are you staying with him?”
Hwoarang snorted. “I didn’t fancy staying next to the orgy room.”
“What?” Jin’s eyes darkened, and Hwoarang suddenly realized that this wasn’t Jin’s doing. Jin hadn’t known. He tried to laugh it off, but Jin’s eyes were blazing. “I will see to it.”
“You don’t have to,” Hwoarang said uncomfortably, but Jin wasn’t listening.
“I will see to it,” Jin repeated, and his shoulders set. Hwoarang didn’t want to argue further. He continued by Jin’s side until he suddenly realized that they were back at the start; the setting was familiar now, and he had been led back to the room. Hwoarang stopped clumsily, while Jin spun on his heel lightly and remained standing by his side. As they stood close by, words eluded the company until Jin said, “I should leave and let you rest for the night.”
“Yeah...,” Hwoarang said at the lack of something more observant to say. He shuffled his feet, fighting off the grips of blue.
Jin made to leave, no louder as a phantasm, but he didn’t go far. Halting long enough for Hwoarang to notice, Jin looked to his side, not quite at him. “It was good to see you, Hwoarang.” After the quiet confession, Jin left. The black clothes blended in the harrowing darkness, and his steps faded soon thereafter.
Hwoarang watched the corridor long after it was empty before grabbing the doorframe and heaving a sigh. He rested against the wall with a soft thump, bending to catch his breath as though after a strenuous exercise. He had not expected the meeting to catch him so unprepared. The collective minds were unanimous that Jin Kazama was headed down an evil path, even orchestrating a world unfathomable, but if Jin was the enemy, why was he being so kind?
No one else was moving about; he was the only one up in the dead of the night. Hwoarang had intended to go to bed, but he wasn’t feeling like turning in. He could go lie down and wait for the weariness to catch on eventually, but there was a chance Steve would be up and asking questions. Hwoarang didn’t feel he could deal with further analyzing now. He glanced down his garb and found the clothes decent for a long jog and thinking time. Hwoarang passed the room silently and went to look for a safe route outdoors.

Huge thanks to Gypsie for the proofreading!
Published April 15, 2011.
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Estranged Equals