Hwoarang couldn't help but smile at Dai's exuberance as they wandered about the Roppongi district. He certainly felt much more comfortable here than back at the Hotel Okura - at here he could be himself without fear of being arrested.

His self-appointed mission for the night was to find out as much as possible about Dai. She was evidently in the employ of an organisation of some influence, which was intriguing in itself. She had a vaguely Japanese air about her, yet also possessed more Western features, such as her electric blue eyes.

In a way he was irked by his curiosity. He had to admit to himself that he liked her - liked her a lot, and he trusted her, despite his common-sense telling him to do otherwise. The fact he knew so little about her, yet she knew so much about him was also should have worried him...but it didn't. Above all, he found her to be distracting. He'd have to force himself not to think about her when they were apart, which was rare, but he also cursed himself every time he tried to remain aloof and detached when he spoke to her. Occasionally he'd let his guard down, but afterwards he would be filled with a paranoia that he had said something stupid.



Dai's voice cut through his thoughts. He felt slightly guilty, not to mention flustered.

Nothing, I was just thinking, he answered defensively. She smirked.

Ah. I wondered what that burning smell was-

He pulled his face into an expression of mock fury and tapped her briskly on the head with the cluster of flyers they accumulated throughout the night. I thought English people were supposed to be the epitome of politeness?

Ahh. And what makes you assume that I'm English?

I heard you talking to that American tourist. You were speaking English with a funny accent.

A funny accent'? I'm almost offended...

Hwoarang's face dropped. Well, not funny, but, well...um... He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Well, weird. He grimaced at her continued scowl. Not weird! Just...different. Not American!

Dai's stern expression cracked as she burst out laughing. You are so easy to wind up! She wiped a tear from her eye as Hwoarang looked noticeably relieved, and also a bit riled. Well, your powers of aural observation are correct. I'm English.

As for being polite...have you ever been to a Premiership football match? She chuckled. English politeness can be very selective!

But you look kinda Japanese... Hwoarang ventured. Dai smiled.

Fishing, are we?

Well, as you know so much about me, he countered, folding his arms, I think it's only fair that I should know something about you.

Fair enough, she acceded, smiling lopsidedly. I was born in Japan - I am what some of the yokels in good old Derbyshire call half-caste'. Half Japanese, half English-

Hey, you should be really polite-

Dai laughed. Sorry to disappoint you! My parents split up when I was really young, and I was taken to England when I was less than a year old. I didn't see Japan again until I was ten years old, and then it was only for a few weeks.
How come you speak Japanese with such a natural accent? Hwoarang asked curiously.

My mother taught me, Dai answered. She would switch between Japanese and English all the time. Plus, there were all my martial arts tutors-

All'? How many did you have?

Well, there was Yamada-sensei, my ninjitsu teacher, and Tetsuji, my Aikido teacher. Upon my mother's instructions, they spoke only in Japanese in front of me. She smiled at the memory. The number of times Tetsuji knocked me over the head with a bokken for not removing my shoes...

And where did you learn Korean? Hwoarang asked as they neared their destination.

I took up Tae Kwon Do two years ago, she explained. As part of the TAGB gradings, you have to be able to understand basic Korean terms, so I thought What the hell, might as well learn the entire language', so I bought a book and a cassette.

You learnt Korean from a book? Hwoarang said, clearly astonished. How long did that take you?

A couple of weeks to get through the book, and learn the basics. The rest is on-going - you're good practice, by the way.

I'm impressed, Hwoarang said. He looked up as they came to a halt, feeling a pang of nostalgia. It was here, at this very club, he had fought his first battle in the previous tournament, against Forest Law. He had won, but not easily the match had taken over half an hour. He remembered his surprise as Law seemed to take the defeat in his stride. Now he was here again - not to fight, as his bout was scheduled for the following evening, but to watch the first battle of the tournament.

Well, here we are, he said, glancing at the queue of spectators eagerly awaiting to get in. Fortunately, as competitors, they were allowed straight in.

The club had been cleared of chairs and tables, and the CCTV had been adjusted so that all cameras were focused on the dance floor, where the fight would begin. They would transmit the images to the monitors dotted around the club, for those spectators that were too timid (or too smart) to stand close to the action. The bolder (or less intelligent) spectators were already jostling each other for the closest positions to the ring.

The pugilists were preparing themselves. A huge hulk of a man, was skulking around the edge of the ring - the number of spectators on his side were noticeably thinner.

Craig Marduk, Dai whispered to Hwoarang. He was a champion on the Vale Tudo circuit, until he got himself booted out over some minor scandal. He ended up killing a guy in a bar brawl. He must have only got out of jail recently - he was supposed to be in for ten years...

Maybe they let him out for good behaviour, Hwoarang snickered. Dai raised a brow.

I doubt it.

His opponent entered the ring, accompanied by applause and wolf-whistles. She adjusted the laces on her trousers, then stretched, much to the gratification of the males in the audience.

He's going to break her, Hwoarang stated matter-of-factly. She looks more like an extra from a Britney Spears video than a fighter.

Looks can be deceptive, Dai reminded him. That's Christie Monterio - she was taught caperioeria by Eddie Gordo. But, she added, That get up is totally impractical. What is she wearing?

Not a lot, Hwoarang smirked. Deciding it would be safer to change the subject Hwoarang pointed into the crowd. Isn't that Paul Phoenix?

A middle-aged blonde man in biking leathers stood in the centre of a small crowd, whose expressions ranged from awe to distaste as he told of how he was robbed of the title at the last tournament.

He's still harping over how he's the true victor then, Hwoarang sneered. I'd heard as much.

Must be here to see the match. She glanced round. The club was now filled to over capacity. It's due to start in a couple of minutes. Let's get a better view.