Brilliant Moon
Yugao
Summary: Xiaoyu sits in the terrace, cradling her child in the crook of her arm. Will the father ever come home?
Author's Note: I know that Xiaoyu/Hwoarang is quite a stretch from what I'm used to writing, but I thought this up and I thought, hey, why not. Also… Xiao is a lot more mature in this story, maybe the child is a contributing factor.
Disclaimer: I don't own Tekken.
Ling Xiaoyu looked out the window to find a full moon, almost orangey in its glow, splashing rings of red, yellow and green light onto the gauzelike clouds that floated by. She remembered a night much like this, a year ago.
Was it only a year ago? It seemed so long.
Then, the girl named Xiaoyu donned a pink sundress and wore bright pink ribbons in her dark hair. Her brown eyes were so full of light and life – they mirrored her spirit. She prided herself on being a skilled fighter, and joined the Iron Fist Tournament not only to help her friend, Jin Kazama, but also to prove to herself, and to others, that she was strong enough to make it on her own.
They believed her.
Well, all but one.
Hwoarang was always like that. He challenged anyone and everyone, boasted of his own strength and put down others. None of his boasts were idle, though – his skills in Tae Kwon Do were remarkable.
And, of course, so were his looks.
Flaming red hair fell just past his chin, held back with a headband or, occasionally, motorcycle goggles. His dark eyes were intense, and often had a spark of mischief in them. He was lean but muscular, not as muscled as Jin but certainly just as strong.
Jin Kazama and Hwoarang… they were so different, and she loved them both in her own way. But after the conclusion of the fifth tournament Jin was nowhere to be found, and she found solace in Hwoarang's arms. She had, at the end, learned to love him, too.
Xiaoyu sighed when the baby girl cried in her fitful sleep. Now a woman, she picked up the child and cradled her in the crook of her arm, singing her softly to sleep.
"There, there," she whispered, "He will come back. I promise."
Inside her, she hoped that it would be a promise she kept.
In just a year so much had changed. They had bought a house in the Chinese countryside, far from all memories of the Mishimas she had once held dear. She had traded in her airy dresses for something more comfortable. Her hair, once done up in pigtails, was now let down to touch her upper back. Her eyes were still bright, but now carried maturity and perhaps, wisdom.
When the child had fallen back to sleep, Xiaoyu walked out onto the moonlit porch. Does he even know his daughter's name? She wondered sadly. Will he even live to know it? Grim thoughts crept into her mind. She worried for Hwoarang's safety. She always had.
He was always so reckless, so careless. It came as little surprise, but no less sorrow, that he was taken away by the military. That very month she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.
Her skin was pale, and her hair looked to be black; indeed there was only one distinct feature that was her father's – the dark, mysterious eyes that spoke volumes. Overcome with sadness over the loss, she had cared for the child with all her love – she was all of Hwoarang that she had left.
A silhouette formed on the path before her, and that snapped her out of her reverie. She went into her fighting stance, not unfamiliar to her even after the year of neglect. But something about the figure seemed intimately familiar…
"Xiao?"
His voice brought her to tears.
"Hwoarang?"
She ran towards him, catching him in her embrace. "You came back," she whispered, "You came back."
"I know. I had to."
They were silent for a while, and she took him by the hand as she led him in. She brought him by the cradle, where he picked the child up and carried her in his arms. "What's her name?" he asked quietly, as one does when a baby is asleep.
"Ming Yue," she answered lovingly, "The brilliant moon."
Author's Note: I know, I know… but just send a review, okay? I wouldn't mind constructive criticism but flames are really pointless.