My First Story Lemme Know If It Sucks, But First Some Backround Info And Reader's Notices
This story contains some plot changes from the Tekken timeline. Firstly, and most importantly, Jin did not complete the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5, and therefore did not acquire the Mishima Zaibatsu, thus he did not go on his rampage of destruction and war to draw Azazel out. Kazuya has killed Heihachi.(Tekken7) The rest shall be explained in due time.
Italics = Character's internal thoughts
Quote" = Said aloud
Bold = My comments
Underline = Something you want to take notice of
It was the beginning of summer, that period we all know which signals the changing of seasons. The days were starting to become slightly more warm , the nights longer, a certain mood in the air. People began to stay up later, stress less , and party more, though these things were hard to notice while rushing at 120 mph on a Honda CB500X, Hwoarang likely couldn't have cared less anyway. None of that mattered since he'd come to Osaka. He'd lost everything since the damn tournament anyway. Where you hiding Kazama? For the last 3 weeks he'd been repeating that to himself in his head. Finding it strangely familiar. Things hadn't been too difficult in Japan following the tournament, several of the other fighters had also chosen to stay here. It felt strange seeing them outside their element of fighting, like seeing a classmate outside of school. But he wasn't going to let what had happened slide. Another draw… He shook his head in disappointment at himself and remembered the result. Another blemish on a formerly perfect record. Just the thought of it enraged him to the point of revenge. He heard his phone ring, but let it go to voicemail. Probably Xiao or Steve again. He shook his head again. He didn't want to talk to either of the two at the moment. He especially didn't want them to know where he was or what he was doing,it was annoying enough being roommates during the tournament . It was 10 at night and he was riding around with no idea what to look for. "This sucks, " sighed the Korean complaining from his bike. Stuck in traffic he looked around the street he was currently on, having forgotten entirely that he was searching for something , and found familiar words printed upon a small rundown building: Kazama Style Traditional Martial Arts Dojo. The only English on the entire street. The sign on the window said the place had closed merely minutes before,"Like I give a fuck", Hwoarang found himself muttering aloud. Gotta stop doin that. He left his bike behind and made his way toward the run down building. It looked as though it had survived a few earthquakes, with the ancient paint fading away and holes in the wall. Upon entering he noticed various awards, achievements and trophies lining the walls. An old man looked up at him and spoke, " I am sorry sir, but we have closed for the day, please return tomorrow if you wish to sign up for one of our programs". "Fuck your program" , Hwoarang snarled , leaving the remaining people inside the dojo staring at him in shock, "Where's she at?" The old man, now enraged at the lack of respect this hot blooded youth has shown angrily stood up. "Weak you say? How dare you enter my buisness with such disrespect! Leave at once". Seeing that his target wasn't in view, he decided to leave, however not without a reply. "Yeah, yeah, shut up already old man, I'd kick anyone in here's ass anyway". "Weak ass Kazamas, Weak ass karate, weak ass Kazama ass karate", he mumbled . This entire family needs an ass kicking, he shook his head. As he pushed the wooden doors open to leave, he heard a familiar voice , "What did you just say, super-idiot??" The Blood Talon smiled and placed his goggles atop his head, pushing his auburn hair back. Especially this one.