If it is in normal style, then it is speech.

If it is in italics, then it is thought.

If it is in bold, then it is the individual's natural tongue.

If it is underlined, then it is Devil and Angel.

Generally, if it is in italics and has singular quotation marks ( ' ' ) then it is Mental Speech.

Don't own any characters except Razer, Detective Burton and the rest of the gang (excluding Hwoarang).

All other characters belong to Namco.

Author's Note: I can't stop updating o_o; And thank you very, very much guys for over two hundred reviews. I'm thrilled that you guys are enjoying this story to such a level, and your words of praise and encouragement keep me going through the dark times. Honestly, I can't thank you enough :)

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Too Far To Come Back

With a furious growl, he grabbed the piece of paper before him and crunched it up in his hands, carelessly throwing it over his shoulder thereafter. There was another white sheet below it, glaring up at him blankly, asking to be written upon, asking for his thoughts and his feelings to be put down in blue ink… Begging him to do it. Just begging him.

He didn't comply this time, too distraught inside to form coherent words in Hangul or English. Hwoarang sighed feebly and leant over the table, crossing his arms on the top of it, burying his head in the gap that had been formed. He bit his lip worryingly and closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts and expel them onto the paper once more. His thoughts were too far away from him though, and he didn't know how to make them come back.

Taking a deep breath in, he sat up again and moved to attack the paper with the pen again. He drew a wobbly vertical line down the centre of the page for marginal purposes. On one side, he wrote Razer's name, and on the other he wrote Miharu's. He paused, bringing the end of the pen up to his mouth, and started to chew on it.

Just write what comes, He reminded himself, It's not that hard.

Yet nothing came to him. The answers were just sitting there in his head, yet they refused to go through his fingers and out the pen. The Blood Talon growled and tried to force himself to write out positive points about the two girls that he immensely cared about, and then make up his mind from there. This was not fair for either girl, and he had just about enough of trying to maintain feelings for both of them, let alone control himself in regards to his affectionate displays to his best friend.

He suddenly smiled and snickered to himself, spontaneously writing something down on Razer's column.

'She likes my hair.'

Truth be told, he loathed it. He didn't like it ridiculously short either. The only reason he kept it at this length was because she liked it. And after all, all he wanted to do was please her, by whatever means. If it were up to him, it would be shorter, though not as short as the assholes in the military made him cut it. That length was absurd.

Something else came to him, though for Miharu.

'She likes it when I imitate random stuff.'

He had been to her house a few times. Three times when her family wasn't home, and as for the other times, they were home. He liked her parents. They reminded him of his own, or what he could remember of them. Though, the feeling of 'like' was not exactly shared. Her Mother didn't like him, and her Father was a bit… iffy about him. Her younger brother, though, thought he rocked. The 8-year-old found it amusing when he would imitate Miharu, or animals, or something random… And he found out on that particular day that his girlfriend did too.

He came back to the other column.

'She can put up with my stupidity.'
'She's always been there, and always will.'

And to the other.

'She's stupid with me.'
'She's constantly ready to lend a hand.'

And back again.

'She's beautiful, in every way.'
'She's saved me.'
'I can't imagine life without her.'
'I love her.'

Hwoarang stopped again and looked up a little. He simply stared into space, those last two points constantly swimming back and forth in his mind. He couldn't imagine life without her, because she is his life. He loved her, there was no doubt about that. But why? Because… Because… Because…

He grabbed the notebook off the table and hurled it to the ground behind him with a disgruntled sigh, ignoring the echoing sound it created. The pen soon joined the previously thrown item and the goggles he had tossed upon entry into the room; only being hurled by the opposite arm. He leant folded his arms again, feeling his back muscles stretch, and rested his head on his arms once more. His body shivered in the cold, and he wished he bothered to keep his shirt on.

I give up…

A gentle touch on his bare shoulder roused him from his frustration. He lifted his head a little, seeing Baek stand there, notebook, pen and goggles in hand. He watched as his mentor placed it on the table before him gently, and sympathetically smile slightly, trying to sport some form of comfort. The older Korean didn't realise how much this was tearing his student up inside.

Hwoarang sat up, though was still slouched, and leant against the man he may as well have called his Father, "…I don't know what to do…"

"Let me show you something. Stand up and follow me."

All forms of physical comfort left immediately. The Blood Talon hesitantly stood up and followed Doo San's lead, which led them into the bathroom. The harsh sting of the white lights burned his vision painfully, to the point where he couldn't see for a moment or two. He felt a hand push and adjust him to a certain position, and it was here, once his vision cleared, that he realised that he had been made to stand in front of the mirror.

"What do you see?" Baek asked.

"Me," he answered simply, dejectedly.

The 48-year-old shook his head, "No no, that's the obvious part. Think a bit deeper. What do you see?"

He stood for a little longer, and although he looked a little harder, he didn't understand, "I just see… me."

The tactics changed thereafter, trying to make it simpler, "Okay, so you see you. Describe yourself to me."

Where the hell is he going with this…? And how is this supposed to help me…? He questioned inwardly.

"Come on."

"Um… Long red hair –"

The 21-year-old was cut off before he even had a chance to finish his sentence, "You like your hair red, yes? That unusual, defiant, orangey-red colour. Like a setting sun. But! But, do you like it at this length?"

"No."

"Then why do you keep it that way?"

"Razer likes it that way…" He remarked, looking down at his feet.

"And of your body? You didn't care what you looked like until you started to care about her."

"I wanted to impress her," Hwoarang answered, looking to his left where the teacher stood.

Baek reached out a hand and grabbed the rocket pendant firmly. His other hand grabbed his student's left wrist and held his hand up in his line of sight, "What do you carry with you everywhere? Everywhere? From a fight and to your bed. From a shower and to your general day. From the dojang, to the streets, and to the army. All the time, everywhere, wherever you go and whatever you do. You carry these with you, yes?"

Sienna eyes drifted downward as the voice got stronger, "You carry two things this woman has given you to every place you to go, and through everything you do. The rocket pendant from your youth, and the ring from your adulthood. Two things you treasure so much, that you refuse to let them out of your sight. And why? Because the person who gave them to you is so damn special to you. You don't want to let them go. They mean so God damn much to you, just like the person."

The Blood Talon miserably sighed, now looking at his feet once again.

The items were released. A warm hand touched his shoulder again, this time making him turn so his back was to the mirror, "And this? What is this, Hwoarang? Why did you get this spontaneous tattoo? What does it mean to you? Who did you get it for?"

He looked over his shoulder, "She said… that I'm her angel… But I have no wings to fly for her."

"You got this for her. So you could fly for her. You went through all that pain, all that agony of having that needle inject ink into your skin, having the ink merge with your blood; to have a piece of her on you at all times. And unlike the necklace and the ring, you cannot take it off. You went through all that to permanently have something of her with you at all times. Something that cannot be taken away.

"Everything about you is for her! Not for Miharu, not for any of those other girls prancing around out there… For Razer. Everything you are is because of her. Everything you did is because of her. The person you are today, both on the outside and the inside, is because of that lost little girl that you lifted onto your back and carried back home.

"And you sit in there now, on that squeaky chair, still tasting her on your lips. You're miserable and confused, wondering who to 'choose', and what to do. With all of this information, I would've thought you would know exactly what to do."

The younger Korean's face heated up a little at the notion that he had been seen earlier, but despite that, he could not hide the smile blaring on his features. He was right. It's just… he couldn't see it, for whatever reason. Stress, consideration, whatever. He was blind to the truth. It was as though his eyes had been covered by a hand.

"Thank you… Dad," He stated softly, still rooted to the spot.

It took a moment for Baek to recover from his statement. He smiled and replied in the same manner, "Go do what you have to do, son."

Taking that as a dismissal, he speedily slipped into the other room, hurriedly slipping on the shirt he had carelessly tossed aside. He then moved back to the table, grabbing his goggles, carefully putting them on and adjusting them, having them pushing his hair back. With a light sigh, he turned, heading back to the door to leave, before stopping and gazing at the notebook once again.

Another thing to add to the list.

Pen in hand, he scribbled down the new dot point quickly, before dumping the pen on the table and running out.

Baek, who had been standing between the rooms, stepped out, grinning pleasantly. Although his student was now an adult, he was still the same little boy he raised from all those years ago. The same smile, the same insecurities, the same mannerisms, the same downcast expression when he was feeling down, and so on.

Curious as to what the youth was trying to do earlier, the Tae Kwon Do teacher strolled over towards the table. He placed a hand on the notebook, which was still on the same page as earlier, and span it around so he could read it for himself. He didn't mean to pry, but his curiosity was too strong for his own good. He wanted to see this method.

His eyes scrolled down both Hangul columns, and he couldn't suppress a smirk.

'My world.'

The youth had run to her door and knocked at it, hoping she'd be there. After a few impatient seconds, he knocked again, but heard nothing stir on the other side. Biting his lip, he put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, sticking his head inside the room. To his surprise, there was nobody inside.

He closed the door and turned away, sprinting down the stairs until he was back in the foyer. His sienna eyes scanned the place quickly. In the waiting area, he saw King and Marduk having a friendly chat. The receptionist was being chatted up by Paul. Lili and her butler were waiting behind him, the former screaming at the American to hurry up.

On the move again, he ran to the front door and pushed it open, sending a ditzy Anna in a little tail spin. He stopped for a moment and quirked his eyebrow at her ruffled, slightly charred and torn suit-like attire, "The hell happened to you? Did you blow something up recently?"

"Well, Steve did, I was just there helping him out," Williams remarked, frowning at the state of her gloves. She looked back up, biting her lip with a light smile, "He settled a score with the Zaibatsu by destroying the Research Wing."

"So that's where he went."

"Yeah. He's looking for Christie right now. And as for me, I'll be off."

She turned and left, and as she did, Hwoarang ran outside and looked to where he and his best friend had been previously. It hadn't been that long since he left, so maybe, just maybe, she was still there. But… she wasn't. She had gone off, somewhere. He wondered for a long moment, as he stared into space blankly, exactly where that girl could've gone. He hadn't even noticed that it had stopped raining.

His phone buzzed in his front pocket. Jumping and leaning against the door, he withdrew it and saw a text from Seong-Hada:

'ur a fuckin dick. u've srsly upset her.'

He replied:

'she's with u? where r u?'

'not telling. go sit in ur room & think about what u've done.'

'i did.'

'then think sum more.'

Knowing he wasn't going to get anything more out of the 19-year-old, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned away from the outside, about to enter the hotel once more. However, when someone called his name, he turned back, seeing Miharu wave at him. He bit the inside of his cheek before complying, taking small steps towards where she stood, in the middle of the pathway.

I guess this is it…

Sometimes, to be kind, you have to be cruel.

But I don't want to be cruel, Hwoarang responded to the 'voice'.

Then think of it as selfishness.

But…

You know you are doing this for her own good. You don't want Miharu to suffer anymore.

…True.

Good luck, Hwoarang. Brace yourself.

Thanks. But… I've been meaning to ask… Who are you?

You will find out one day.

He strained to 'hear' her say something else, but was met with nothing. It was here that he realised Miharu was now standing before him, looking up at him with a pretty smile. Her favourite purple dress moved freely in the light breeze, as did her auburn hair. Still, despite the cold weather, she appeared to be alright. No gloves, scarves or stockings anywhere. Though, standing here, like this, he just wanted to turn away. But he couldn't… He was too far away to come back. Just like with his feelings for the Greek woman.

She greeted him with wide smile, a hug, a kiss on the cheek and a soft 'hello'. The Blood Talon returned such affections, but then drew back, looking at her directly with sad eyes. Hirano suddenly felt small as she looked back at him. She spoke, though her voice came out nothing more than a curious and tiny squeak, "…What?"

"I'm sorry."