Hwoarang carefully picked his way along the street. He was making his way to meet some of his friends and fellow gang members. It was a warm evening, so he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tattered white T-shirt. He never worried much about his appearance; he knew that he could have his choice among the many women who stayed around his gang. They never seemed to mind his appearance, rather focusing on his body, and most importantly, his reputation. Knowing how things went most nights, he had left his motorcycle back at his place. There was really no need to bring it out on a nice night only to have to attempt to drive back home drunk.
The sun was just beginning to set, casting an orange and red glow over the streets of the city. Hwoarang ran his fingers through his short, spiky hair and took in his surroundings. He never cared much for anything other than his gang, but the beauty of the city and the sky hit him at that moment. It was strange, he thought, how little things could often distract you from what you had your mind set to do. He stopped and stared at it for a second before he heard a rather desperate cry.
"No. Stop!" A voice called. Hwoarang looked around and saw three street thugs standing over what was obviously a female figure. They had surrounded her against a wall in one of the many crumbling alleyways. He hesitated for a moment, but decided he was in the mood for a little fight. He walked over to the group and grabbed one of their arms, just as the owner was about to strike down. The group turned and looked at him. Hwoarang kicked the boy, and let go of his arm at the moment before the boy hit a near-by wall.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" He asked, grinning slightly. He was enjoying mocking the obviously underpowered group. He did three swift kicks to the head of the second boy, and then one harder one to knock him to the ground. Before the last one could leave, Hwoarang jumped at him, sending the boy flying backwards. He hit a wall and fell to the ground. Hwoarang did three quick kicks in the air and turned, looking quite victorious and cocky. He then turned and looked at the female.
"Shh." He muttered. "It's OK now." He cupped her face with his hands. She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. He took a good look at her face. She was not Korean, nor Asian, but he could not identify what country she came from. She had an almost olive complexion, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. He let go of her face and held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her up. He noticed that she was dressed rather plainly in jeans and a blue tank top. She had on sneakers, and very little make-up. Her hair was down and kept falling into her face.
"Thanks," she forced out, her face returning to the ground. "I think I have some money here…." She started, scanning the ground for her purse.
"Don't worry about it. I hate to see people pick on poor, defenseless women like yourself." He grinned and arched his eyebrows at her. She looked up at him, startled. "You need to be more careful. Well, see you 'round." Hwoarang turned to leave.
"Wait!" She called, running after him. Hwoarang turned and looked down at her. She was shorter than him, her head coming almost to his shoulders. "Could you, um, walk me home?" She asked, her eyes pleading. He stood there for a minute. If he helped her, he would be late. But he couldn't say no to a face like hers, and she looked so lost and confused.
"Sure," he finally replied. "It wouldn't be right of me to say otherwise." He cocked his mouth and eyes at her. "Where do you live?" She gave him the street name and the pair started walking.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Isabella Rossi. Yours?"
"Hwoarang." He paused and watched her mouth the sounds to herself. "Isebolla? What kind of name is that?" She giggled.
"It's Isabella" she corrected. "Just call me Isa. It's Italian."
"You're from Italy?"
"Yes. I am from Florence, in Tuscany, the north of Italy. Donatello and Michelangelo have art works there. Like the David." She glanced at him and saw he was confused. "It's close to Rome." He shrugged his shoulders and she gave up.
"What the hell are you doing in Korea then?"
"Teaching Italian and English," she answered. Hwoarang noticed that she would look up at him every few seconds, almost like she expected him to leave her at any minute.
"Why Korea though? You could have gone anywhere."
"I took Korean at the university," she replied. Hwoarang looked down at her and stopped. "I had some Korean friends when I was younger, and I used to watch this TV show set in Korea all the time. I just thought it would be fun to learn a different language. That and they didn't offer any other Asian language at my school." Hwoarang started laughing. "I like the other stories better, it is a little more how do you say….romantic? Maybe."
"You are strange. You should be more careful though. Korea isn't as safe as Italy or whatever."
"And how would you know anything about Italy?" She asked stopping and putting her hands on her hips. Hwoarang sighed and waved his hands.
"Forget it. Look, just be careful. There are lots of bad people out here who would like nothing more than to steal from foreigners."
"Sorry." The two walked in silence for a few minutes. "I really appreciate what you did back there," Isabella finally said. "You were pretty cool. I've never seen someone really do that. You always just see it in the movies." Hwoarang laughed.
"I've been studying Tae Kwon Do for years now. It's my life." Silence fell over them again. For some reason he felt uncomfortable just walking in silence. He almost regretted leaving his bike at home, but he figured the walk might do him some good. He could tell his master he went out of his way to do some extra training, or something. "How long have you been here?"
"A few months. I just started teaching a month ago, I think. My Korean is pretty bad. I can barely read it."
"You could have fooled me. Sure, it sounds funny," and here she made a face at him, "but it's not bad. You're trying, which is more than I can say for most people that come here." He sighed. "We have a lot of travelers that expect us to speak their language."
"I know what you mean. In Italy, we always get foreigners who expect us to speak their language. It really bothers me that so many people, especially Americans, don't even try. They seem to be the worst. At least people from other countries know English and will make an effort." Hwoarang laughed at her.
"You're pretty funny, you know? But I agree with you."
"My place is right there," she pointed at a building just across the street from them. She turned to look at him. "Would you like a beer or something?" She bit her lower lip gently when she finished the question.
"Yeah, sure." Hwoarang wasn't really sure why he said yes. He was going to be really late, but he supposed it didn't matter. He was the one in charge, so they could wait for him. He followed Isabella up the stairs to her room on the third floor. She unlocked the door and let him enter before her.
"This is home," she remarked. Hwoarang looked around the tiny place. She had a small kitchen area as you entered, with an even smaller sitting area. He saw a door leading towards the back, where he guessed the bedroom and maybe the bathroom were. He watched as she rummaged in the fridge. She walked over to him and handed him a bottle of beer.
"I thought Italians only drank wine," he joked.
"No, we drink beer, too. Wine is just better." She smiled at him and opened a bottle for herself. She joined him on the couch, sitting so that she could look at him as they spoke.
"What is it like in Italy?" He asked.
"Italy is the most beautiful country in the world," she replied, smiling. "I know, I am biased, but no other place compares. There is so much to see and do there. The countryside is so beautiful, and there is nothing like an Italian sunset. The coast can be sandy or rocky, and the Mediterranean Sea is so beautiful." She stopped and looked at Hwoarang. "It sounds, dumb. I keep saying the same word over and over. I just don't know enough Korean to describe Italy as it should be. The food is the best, and the people are so nice. Italian women are the most beautiful in the world, no?" Hwoarang laughed, but didn't answer.
"It sounds great," he replied instead. "Korea is pretty nice itself though." She nodded in response. Hwoarang looked at the clock hanging on the wall.
"I have somewhere to be. Thanks for the beer." He stood and walked to the door. Isabella followed him. He turned to say bye and she kissed him on the cheek. She then bowed, almost as an after thought.
"Thank you for saving me."
"No problem. See you around." Hwoarang turned and left her apartment. He placed his hand on his cheek and sighed. He didn't really want to get involved at the moment. He had no plans for anything that would be long-term. And she deserved someone who would be willing to commit. He was running late to meet his gang, but it didn't matter that much at the moment. He had other things on his mind. He had no plan to see her again as he did not want to put himself in a situation to hurt or be hurt. Besides, he thought, it would ruin his reputation to suddenly turn into some mushy, romantic guy. He had never been interested in any kind of relationship, and that would not change now. All he wanted was to live in the moment, earn some money, have fun and improve his technique.
Author's Notes:
Thank you very much for reading the first chapter! The idea for this story first came to me when Namco released the first information about Tekken 5. I started looking for good Hwoarang fics, but couldn't find very many. I decided to write my own, and use a new character. I thought about what would match well with Hwoarang, and finally decided to use someone who needed him, but was independent as well. I didn't want the girl to be American because everyone does that. I have been to Italy, and I fell in love with the country.
The story will be centered on the relationship of Hwoarang and Isabella. Therefore, only certain familiar characters will appear, such as Baek Doo San. Also, it is written from Hwoarang's point of view only,
For those interested, the title comes from an Italian song. It will be featured in a later chapter.
Please review, and do not hesitate to include criticism. I feel that one of the best ways to improve is to learn from your mistakes, and it is easier for others to see those. If you do not feel comfortable signing a negative review, I do allow anonymous comments, so feel free to do so that way.
And now, for the standard disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Tekken or the characters of said games. Those rights belong to Namco.