Author's Note: Thanks so much for your interest in Tekken: Mono, guys :3

Also what do you guys think about this – I got judge's choice in the fanfic comp I recently entered (with my Kingdom Hearts entry "Pathway"), but on the winner's card… it still had my name on it. Crossed out. Do you think they did that because "lol we are of anime minds, everybody should have a chance to win, you won last year", or some other reason? I mean I have a different mentality to that, I'm a gamer. I play, or enter, to win. And its like in Tekken tournaments I've participated in/watched, even if that same person wins the tournament EVERY TIME, that just showcases the skill of the player. So if I initially won then… I dunno. I'm just in an odd head space about this.

Anyway. You Razerang supporters out there will like this chapter quite a bit. Cheers!

Chapter Twenty: Storm To Pass

Are you alright?

Razer shook her head vehemently at the stupid question proposed to her by Angel. No, she wasn't okay. Of course not. Firstly, it was absolutely freezing right now at four in the morning. It was snowing lightly, she'd been entirely rugged up, and she was trembling like she was in an earthquake. She was very tired and worried, and she didn't like how things seemed to be as of late. She felt queasy. Her left hand was hurting like a bitch. Everything just wasn't right at the moment.

I am shaken up too. Please don't think you're alone in feeling what you are feeling.

She thanked the bus driver – yes, she decided to take a bus instead of a limo – paid him a little extra for speeding to the location, and then hopped off, watching the vehicle go off to its next stop. She looked at the shops, noting how they were all empty, but all of the neon lights were still shining into her eyes. She turned away, hearing the water sprout up and hiss behind her. The front of her clothes and her face were lightly tinted blue from below as the snow dropped from the sky; and up ahead, Hwoarang stood with his hands in his pockets, lightly bathed in a blue light that inadvertently made her breath catch.

She exhaled, watching the frosty breath billow out, and quickly power-walked to his location in the middle of the fountain. The water tickled her face lightly, leaving a stinging chill - and for a moment she wondered why they never turned this fountain off, even in the dead of night. As she moved, she watched as the Korean turned away, heading towards stairs at the other side of the area, where he obviously wanted to be. She continued to walk and walk and walk, until she was standing right beside him – the only place she really ever felt safe and herself anymore.

"You were there. You dreamed it too," Razer stated, looking up at him. He nodded, looking at her.

A shared dream, Angel mused, opening her thoughts to both, A final warning from Jin.

Hwoarang took his right hand out of his pocket and fished her left one out too. He roughly pulled up her sleeve and peeled off the black glove – and low and behold, she had the cuts as well. He quickly did the same thing to his own hand, showing her that it wasn't just her who suffered like that, before looking at her square in the eyes again. He didn't need to speak. He never did.

She looked at his hand, noting how it was shaking from the cold and how the blood, though dry, was still caked on the areas that Devil Jin had grabbed – or rather, grabbed in the dream. She'd taken a bit of time to clean her blood off, but the initial wounds were still evident. She reached out and lightly touched his fingers, and a feeling of nostalgia swallowed her whole as he touched back and eventually moved to hold her hand again, like old times.

There was silence and closing eyes when he brought the hand up to his lips and lightly kissed near the wounds and then each of her fingers; and then he was just holding her hand against his face because he missed her so much. She smiled a little, eyes open again, and stroked his cheek with her thumb, which caused him to open his eyes and look at her. For the first time since their meeting, he spoke, uncertain, desperate and afraid, "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I couldn't."

He nodded a little, placed another soft kiss to the inside of her wrist before letting go of her hand, covering it up with her glove and jacket sleeve once again. He did the same to himself and jammed his hand in his pocket, looking to his feet thereafter for a few seconds, feeling weak. It took him several moments to speak again, now that his innermost thoughts were forcibly choked out, "Why's he doing this? What do you think he wants?"

"I do not know, and it is a shame, because I should have somesort of knowledge… yet I know nothing. I just know he's not Jin anymore, and he hasn't been for a very long time," Razer sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, watching as he looked up at her, "All I know is I'm sick of this, like so many others. I'm sick of him, I'm sick of how he looks at me, I'm sick of how he speaks of you with such anger, I'm sick of this war, I'm sick of feeling inferior and weak and like a child whenever I'm around him, and I am so fucking sick of being alone."

"But you're not alone. You have me. You alwayshave me. Even when the world tells me to just give up… I'll be here."

"You say that so much, but I don't feel it anymore."

"Maybe if you stopped pushing me away, for whatever fucked up reason, you'd feel it again, like you did when Angel was corrupt. I might not have had the gene myself, but you knew I was there for every moment. I'm still here for every moment. It doesn't matter how bad it might get or what the hell happens, but I'm not leaving your side. You know this. I've said it for years now."

He grabbed her again and lightly ran his fingers over a bruise he could see on her neck. She retreated.

"I wish you'd remember."

"It is hard to remember when you've fought for the last few months to forget other things."

She turned to face the stairs, taking a seat on the concrete edge. She looked to the black, marble ground ripping the speckles of white apart, idly running her fingers over it in a feeble attempt to keep her mind distracted and to try and reconstruct her thoughts. The Korean watched her for a few moments before finally speaking again, "How long's it been?" He didn't move when she shot a glare at him, "Since he started hitting you."

"About six months."

"And you didn't once think of coming to me."

She gripped the stair's edge, and Hwoarang recognised an old feral tone in her voice, "Are you insane? Of course I did. I still do. But you can't fucking do anything anymore Hwoarang, no matter how much either of us would like you to. Jin's in control. Until someone fucking kills him or until Devil's overthrown, we can't do shit. Nobody can. That is how life works now, and that is how we have to cope. We have to suck it up and deal with it."

"You still should've said something."

"And for what?" she huffed, "Come to you like a little girl that needs to be saved from the big, bad monster? What is after that? You go to the police? Perhaps to Wulong? He can take it as high as he can, but in the end it will all come to Jin, and Jin will dismiss the claims. Things will be exactly the same. It is pointless to even try going down that route. So all you have to do is keep your head down, your mouth shut and wait for the cloudy storm to pass."

"You still should've told me!" he hissed, "Sure, I might've done those things, I might've snapped and hit Kazama across the face – but I'm here to be spoken to as well, you know! You could've let it all out instead of keep it inside and let it eat you alive. Memories, old and new, don't have to be carried by yourself – you did that for six years after meeting me, and I still don't know shit about what happened around that time with your own family! Just a few wisps of knowledge, and now you tell me that your life's repeating itself and you think its okay?"

"I know it's not okay!"

"Then do something about it!"

"I can't do anything!"

Hwoarang swiftly approached her, "You're not a fucking child anymore, Razer! You've got a choice now. You couldn't leave back then because of your Mother, and even if you did, you really had nowhere to go until that fucked up night. You might not have been given the choice when you were twelve, but fuck, you have the choice now, and you are notmaking the right one for yourself!"

Her voice was increasing in volume, "I'm not making this decision for myself, Hwoarang! I'm not sitting here and tolerating these beatings and verbal hisses and doing everything he fucking says because I likedoing it! I don't fucking care about my safety – I'm doing it for you!" She gestured to her body, referring to the wounds, "All of this is so you live! All of this is so you can breathe…

"I have held my tongue for your safety and protection, because I do not want you to die again. The first time he hit me, the first time I got up off of the floor with a busted lip and trembling hands, I reached for that fucking phone to dial your fucking number to tell you so you knew! And then," she began imitating his actions, "he tore the phone from my hand and broke it, and he said to me 'unless you want your beloved brother to die, then I advise you keep this and what is to come to yourself'. That is what he said to me! I already lost you once, Hwoarang! I can't lose you again! I don't… I don't want to live in a world without you in it."

His hand was in his hair, scratching his head and moving the snow specks from his red locks. He looked down, entirely unsure of what to say or do. The wind picked up for a few moments before gently relaxing again, causing the cold bite to hurt a little less. His hands soon found their way into his pockets, gripping the sewn edges, and he wasn't sure if he felt this bad inside before, aside from the time he worked out she'd been going out with Kazama.

She was leaning forward, running her hands up the side of her face and through her hair, unaware of her trembling hands. One of her hands eventually ended up on her forehead, whilst the other merely dangled off of her legs. She didn't want to make it sound like she was blaming him, because that wasn't her intention at all – it was just the truth, plain and simple. She wasn't sure if she did the right thing in telling him, because she knew that somehow, Jin would probably find out, even if this was the safest time to speak of it. He'd just know.

The Greek didn't move when Hwoarang came and sat down beside her, hands still in his pockets and eyes still gazing at the slight shimmer in his shoes. When the words finally start to come – however stilted and simple they were – he began to speak slowly, "I don't want to live in a world without you in it either…" And then more sentences began to form, "…which is why I'm so afraid for you because of your current situation, because we both know what he's capable of. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. This… isn't what I want to be. This isn't what I want us to be. I want us to be happy. I don't care how we are relationship wise, but my God Razer, I want to see you happy again."

"It is hard now. For everybody. For me, for you, for Baek, for all of us. Even people we don't know. The world cannot smile for as long as this war and oppression continues. Even SH struggles to smile, and we both know what he's like. I just wish that I had an inkling in how I could stop him or delay what he is doing, but I've no clue what he's even up to anyway, which sucks…"

Silence.

"Do you think it will always be like this?"

There was more silence, because she meant so many things.

"It'll be alright," Hwoarang shrugged and looked up from his feet, gazing at her, "So, I dunno, just smile."

She was unsure of how to reply, but the simplicity of the statement indeed invoked the reaction wanted. In turn, he smiled too, before looking back out to the wondrous fountain, watching the water fly high and the snow fall down. She didn't turn away, merely watching him as he stared out. She remembered every part of his face down to the smallest detail, even that freckle that was almost invisible on his neck near his hairline.

The smile remained as she scooted closer to him and threw one arm around his shoulders in a friendly and loving manner. He grinned and imitated her action, bringing her even closer until their heads were touching; and he also lightly held the hand that was draping over his shoulder with his right one. He didn't care. She didn't either anymore. This wasn't forbidden. They could show each other that they still cared and that they were still the best of friends.

"I'll smile," Razer finally said, "for what'll eventually be a great future."