Chapter Eight: Firecracker
Xiaoyu didn't waste any moment to watch the two men square off in their silent testosterone battle when the fight bell sounded. As soon as Hwoarang provided Raven with enough of a distraction to take his razor-sharp attention away from her, she sped towards safety. Sprinting behind one of the empty crates, she flipped onto it, and springing from one to the next until she had achieved what she felt was a secure distance from the dark assassin. Turning, she kneeled onto the crate and watched the battle with a sense of nervous anticipation.
Hwoarang had taken up his fighting stance, holding himself loosely as he bounced on the balls of his feet. In comparison with Raven, who was crouched low and holding himself almost motionless, he looked almost hyper-active. The black man held only the illusion of stillness, however, quickly broken as he sprung forward, turning gracefully and pushing backwards with a powerful elbow-chop. Hwoarang backed away and quickly countered, lashing out with his foot a few times. He managed to clip Raven across the cheek with a quick strike, but the assassin's head snapped back almost as quickly as it had been struck, and he sunk down into his battle position once more.
Xiaoyu narrowed her eyes, trying to predict the outcome of the battle. Hwoarang definitely had more speed than his massive opponent, and his long legs still had their incredible reach. The rippling muscles in Raven's arms, however, promised that any blow he managed to land would be painful. Hwoarang seemed to have made the same assessment, his constant motion also serving to keep him out of the range of Raven's powerful punches. And, as the Korean demonstrated with another rush forward, still completely within the range of his lightning-fast kicks. He aimed two high kicks at Raven's head, which the black man managed to block smoothly, then backed off quickly and switched his stance again, scowling.
"Hwoarang's fast kicks aren't hurting Raven, but at least Raven can't reach Hwoarang," Xiaoyu mumbled, worrying her lower lip. "One of them is going to have to make a mistake for this to get interesting." She groaned at her own analysis; if there was one thing she knew Hwoarang to excel at, it was certainly making mistakes. "Well… there's always a first time for everything," she muttered, crossing her fingers. She groaned as Hwoarang launched into a verbal taunt, attempting to make Raven lose his cool.
"You remind me of a brick," he called out with boredom. "I knew this fight wouldn't be a challenge! You can't even move fast enough to hit me!"
Raven only raised one eyebrow. Then, he ducked his head down and pitched forward.
"Where do you think you're goin—" Hwoarang's loud question was cut off by a heavy booted foot which sent him reeling backwards. Raven had effectively closed the distance between them by somersaulting head over heels, his airborne feet smashing the cocky Korean directly over his head. He followed by winding up a couple of powerful punches which smashed into Hwoarang's stomach with an audible smack.
Xiaoyu winced and rolled her eyes. "You big dummy!" she whispered anxiously. "Come on, come on, recover and hit back!" she chanted, clenching her fists as Hwoarang staggered backwards. The redhead regained his balance and turned his head to the side, spitting, before glaring back at Raven with undisguised rage. Xiaoyu dropped her head into her hands in despair. "Why does that big idiot have to pause and stare at everything? Is it some sort of male thing?" The sound of another hit made her look up, and then she wished she hadn't. Once again, her theory was proven incorrect as Raven charged, not bothering to respond to Hwoarang's aggressive posturing. He landed a backhanded fist to the redhead's cheek, then swept to the floor for a low kick that knocked the younger man onto his back. Leaping up, he landed on Hwoarang with surprising swiftness and raised his hand over the Korean's face. Xiaoyu let out a tiny scream. "Don't kill him!" she cried out.
A bell chimed through the warehouse, and Raven froze. He could have passed for a statue, his body motionless and his fist poised over Hwoarang's face, dark glasses revealing nothing.
Xiaoyu almost wept with relief at the second chance Hwoarang had been given. The tournament, I forgot about the tournament, Xiaoyu thought wildly. Maybe he won't try to kill us until the cameras are off!
The announcer's voice boomed out over the room, calling the bout. "Raven wins," crackled the voice. "Fighters, prepare for the next round."
Smoothly, Raven rolled off of his opponent and crouched down into his fighting stance, no expression on his face. Hwoarang stumbled to his feet with considerable more difficulty, breathing heavily.
"Concentrate," Xiaoyu whispered to herself. "Just this once, you big idiot! He's not playing a game!"
Cracking his knuckles, Hwoarang fell into his fighting stance, jumping in place and twisting his torso a bit, all taunting gone. His eyes still burned with an unvoiced anger, but his usual bravado was gone, and he backed a cautious distance away from the black man even before the fight bell sounded.
"Fight!" sounded the announcer, and Hwoarang didn't hesitate. His foot lashed out in a powerful high jab, which once again Raven blocked. This time, however, he didn't back away, but used the chance to fall into his flamingo stance, pinning his opponent under a barrage of right and left kicks.
Xiaoyu let out a low whistle as Raven blocked the first few attacks, but Hwoarang remained relentless. "He's definitely got stamina," she noted appreciatively as the redhead kept kicking in rapid succession with his left leg, then quickly jump-switched to his right and continued his assault.
The attack worked as Raven misjudged the last kick and took a heavy hit to the chest, making him stumble. The redhead immediately pressed his advantage, launching into an explosive axe-kick that sent the surprised assassin into the air. Hwoarang followed him with a leap of his own, spinning back and lashing out with his foot.
"That's Baek's kick!" Xiaoyu said, recognizing the attack that Baek had used to fend off Julia. Hwoarang's version definitely packed more of a punch, particularly on his airborne victim. Raven flew backwards, smashing into a few of the empty crates and splintering them. Hwoarang landed neatly near the crate and bounced on his feet, obviously waiting for the moment the assassin would emerge from the messy pile to land another easy kick.
The bell rang again, and the match was called. "Hwoarang wins," the announcer stated.
Raven rose from the crates, his face still expressionless, but the tension held within his figure clearly visible. Hwoarang spared him the usual insults, only squaring his shoulders and falling back into his guard position, waiting for the next bout to begin.
"Final Round," the announcer intoned ominously, and the two men squared off once more. Raven made the first move, his knee coming up for what appeared to be a high strike towards Hwoarang. As the tall Korean ducked, however, Raven shifted his weight in mid-strike and brought his heel down quickly, slamming his heavy booted foot into Hwoarang's shins.
Xiaoyu winced as she heard the blow connect; it was clear the assassin was trying to disable Hwoarang's offensive barrage by injuring, perhaps even breaking his legs. She felt her surprise grow, however, as Hwoarang responded to the attack. Hwoarang was loud, rude and the antithesis of the concept of discipline, or so she had thought. The Hwoarang who recovered from the blow, however, had very little in common with the one she had come to know. Perhaps it was his time in the army, or just a matter of getting older, but the man that rose to face Raven was not an opponent she would have wanted to face personally. The rage still burned clearly in his eyes, but it was tempered by a discipline that she wouldn't have guessed Hwoarang could possess. As he shot up from the unexpected blow, he skilfully backed out of Raven's reach and quickly recovered his own fighting stance, all vestiges of humour and bravado aside.
Raven noticed the change and hesitated, and Hwoarang struck with deadly accuracy. With one quick roundhouse kick, he managed to swing himself back into the deadly flamingo stance and begin his attack once more. This time he aimed low, catching Raven off guard and returning the blow the assassin had dealt him. His attacks were relentless and completely unpredictable.
He fights like fire, Xiaoyu thought, watching Hwoarang mercilessly continue his assault on the larger man, who had switched completely to a defensive posture. It was true; Hwoarang's attack was wild and unstoppable, requiring only the smallest opening in his opponent's defense to flare up and overtake him. Even as she watched, Xiaoyu couldn't help but compare his style to Jin. "Opposites in every way," she wondered. Jin's technique was always about control; smooth, flowing, and ice-cold. Hwoarang, on the other hand, fought with passion and energy, his spur-of-the-moment decisions making him extremely dangerous to try to predict. It paid off as Hwoarang connected a final solid blow to Raven's kneecap, and a loud crack sounded through the hall. The black man fell gracelessly to the ground with a loud grunt, and the bell sounded.
"Hwoarang wins, match end."
The speakers died out, and the only sound left in the empty warehouse was the panting of the two competitors. Hwoarang towered over Raven, who was still on the floor and clutching his knee in obvious pain. "Talk," he snarled impatiently.
Raven grimaced and looked away uncooperatively.
"Then kiss that other kneecap goodbye," Hwoarang answered, lifting his foot over the fallen man. He stumbled and growled as he was thrown off balance by Xiaoyu, who ploughed into him.
"Hwoarang, stop it! The match is over, you won!" she yelled as he pushed her off.
"Shut it, Ling," he snapped back at her, his eyes still burning with barely contained rage.
Xiaoyu recoiled at his words. In a strange and definitely uncomfortable way, she was beginning to consider Hwoarang something like a friend. His use of her surname after their growing familiarity was like a slap in the face, but that was not was scared her. The hatred in his eyes was changing him, morphing him from the boy she would argue with to a dangerously unfamiliar man. It's wrong, she thought, looking at the Korean's face, still twisted into an ugly snarl. He's not a killer; he's not supposed to be one of them! "No, listen to me!" she yelled back, running forward and grabbing Hwoarang's arm once more. "He's not worth it. You won the match, right? You don't have to take it any further!"
Hwoarang shoved Xiaoyu's arm off once more, turning his attention back to the fallen man at his feet. "Why the hell not," he grit out, his eyes narrowed. "He tried to kill us first."
"He tried to kill me first," Xiaoyu corrected, stepping between the tall Korean and his prone target. Her voice softened, and a note of pleading bled into her words. "Let it go, Hwoarang. This isn't like you." Hwoarang paused, his fists clenched, and glared at Xiaoyu. "Please," she begged, tears beginning to creep into the edges of her eyes.
Hwoarang swore and pushed Xiaoyu out of the way. "Fine," he said sourly. "You. You got lucky, Little Miss Sunshine bought you some time." He narrowed his eyes, pointed at the assassin and his tone turned deadly. "Mess with us again, and you're meat. You understand me?"
"Fine," Raven replied, grimacing and propping himself to his feet. He turned his attention to Xiaoyu. "I still need answers," he said to her.
"Shut the hell up, I'll ask the questions here!" Hwoarang barked. Then he turned on Xiaoyu as well. "I want some answers from you too! What is this shit about Heihachi Mishima being alive? How the hell do you two know each other?" He paused for a moment, thinking, and then his face turned almost as red as his hair. "Don't kill him?" he parroted in a high voice. "You thought I was gonna fuckin' die because of this loser? Shit!"
The last was more an exclamation of wounded pride, and Xiaoyu rolled her eyes upwards. "Sorry for caring, it won't happen again!" she said sarcastically. Putting her hand on her chin, she narrowed her eyes at Raven, who was still waiting patiently for a reply. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you how I know about Heihachi if you tell me what you know about him."
Raven's face was unreadable, but after a moment he gave her a curt nod. "Fair enough," he answered.
"There's another operative from the G-Corp working at the tournament," Xiaoyu said. She brought her hands up quickly as Raven and Hwoarang peered at her. "It's not me!" she said hurriedly. "And I don't think it has anything to do with your mission. But we heard your last transmission; that's how I know about Heihachi." She lowered her head and stubbed her toe into the ground. "W-we're not related, and I guess he sort of treats me like a toy or a pet or something," she stuttered clumsily, then looked up, her eyes burning brightly. "But he's the only family I have here!" she cried. "I have to know! Please, tell me! Is he really still alive?"
Raven regarded her silently, his glasses dark and reflective. When he spoke, it was without a hint of amusement. "Take some free advice, girl. You should get yourself a new family." He turned away and began to limp towards the door.
"Wait! So he really is still alive?" she called after him.
"The explosion didn't kill him," Raven answered over his shoulder without stopping. "He spent several weeks recovering in the mountains, then returned to Tokyo to participate in the tournament."
"So he's the one behind this whole thing," Hwoarang said, crossing his arms.
"No," Raven said, pausing. "Something else is at work here, something even Heihachi doesn't know about. No one knows."
Xiaoyu covered her mouth with her hand. "Do you think it might be Jin?" she asked thickly, her throat dry and afraid of what the assassin might answer.
"Jin?" Hwoarang yelled. "That dude couldn't even keep his shit together long enough to stay in Japan for the last couple of years! How the hell would he manage to pull this tournament together?"
Xiaoyu winced; Hwoarang still didn't know the truth. She could tell that Raven did, however, as he spared her another look, one she might have mistaken for compassion. "It's not Jin," he said. Then he pushed open the door and was gone.
Xiaoyu let out her breath in a whoosh, relief flooding through her body. At least Devil isn't behind all this mess, she thought to herself. A loud cough brought her attention back to Hwoarang, who was giving her a lazy grin. With a sense of foreboding, she stepped back cautiously. "What now?" she asked him.
"So Heihachi is like your granddaddy, huh?" he said, still grinning. "I hear baldness skips a generation."
"He's not my real granddad!" Xiaoyu yelled, her hands automatically going to her ponytails. "Stop trying to weird me out!" It was too late, of course; images of Jinrei's bald, age-speckled head were dancing before her eyes, promising certain doom.
Hwoarang continued on blissfully, oblivious to Xiaoyu's sudden panic. "Naw, I meant Jin. Maybe that's why he spikes his hair up so much, tryin' to cover it up." His face turned more thoughtful as he grabbed Xiaoyu and dragged her towards the door. "You know, wouldn't that mean Jin's like your brother?"
Xiaoyu's panic was replaced by the much more familiar-feeling of slow-roasting anger as Hwoarang continued to speak.
"Talking to yourself, trying to date relatives… man, you're one sick puppy. And here I thought you were only slightly retarded. You really had me fooled!" Hwoarang said, laughing.
"Stuff it!" Xiaoyu screeched. "God, you're such a jerk! Why do I even hang out with you?" she screamed at the laughing Korean.
"Because you owe me," Hwoarang answered simply. "Twice, remember. I won, you lost. Now come on, Sunshine," he teased, "Better hurry or you'll miss your match today."
"What have I done," Xiaoyu muttered miserably to herself as Hwoarang pushed her out of the building and into the sun-lit parking lot and towards his motorcycle. The sight of what to her eyes was a metal nightmare brought her out of her moment of self-pity. "What? No way! I am not getting back on that thing!" A quick glance at her watch also provided another squeak of indignation. "And what do you mean late? I have plenty of time to get to my next match! I think I'll walk!"
"I think you'd better ride," Hwoarang said, swinging a leg over the motorcycle. "Remember, you've got to stop by your place and pick up your clothes." Seeing Xiaoyu's crestfallen face, he frowned. "Hey, like I said, loosen up. I'll make sure you get there in time," he grinned, clapping the handlebar of his motorcycle a few times encouragingly.
Xiaoyu let out another moan and dropped her head in defeat.
AN: It's a rather short chapter, but I'm still recovering from "vacation." Living together with non-internet-saavy parents for three months during the middle of a move can put a real cramp in anyone's style. Anyway, the author's notes drop off of chapters that I've finally managed to correct and proofread. Don't be afraid to point out my spelling, word, or redundant department of redundancy errors when you see them in your reviews. And do, please, review! I give cookies to reviewers! Hope everyone had good holidays as well and good luck in 2006.