Unpredictable Impulses, Chapter Five
Based on T3, Hwoarang's ending: He's tired of fighting. He's tired of being alone. He's even tired of college! Jin picks up Hwoarang's tab in a bar, with some interesting results. Yaoi: m/m relationship (Jin X Hwoarang). R for language misuse, implied illegal action, & possible explicit sex later.
Author's Note: I've never played any other Tekken game but T3, so I'm going to pretend that none of the others exist anymore. And Hwoarang did not join any stupid army! *snorts at the absurdity of the idea* That would really ruin my story. Maybe he became a citizen of the country he's going to college in... Yes... I think I like that idea... but I'm still referring to him as Korean, since that is his birth nationality.
Author's Note 2: I don't own Tekken or its characters, so don't sue me, but I can damn well ignore the parts of both that I don't like since I'm not even writing this for profit! *crosses eyes and sticks tongue out*
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Author's Note 3: Time for another secondary character! This one, unlike the clerk in the liquor store, will play a somewhat more interesting role. And NO... before you ask... she is not to be a Mary Sue, or Mary Jane, or whatever that contemptuous name for original female characters is... ^__~ you'll just have to keep reading to figure it out.
Author's Note 4 (lol): I just discovered I have ego problems... I never knew I enjoyed being positively reviewed so much! Keep it coming, and I'll try to do the same... Fair exchange, ya think? ^__~
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Hwoarang stepped out of the shower. He knew instantly that something was different in the house, in a negative way. *Demons of memory,* he tried to convince himself. He toweled off a little quicker than he usually did and slipped into the bathroom wardrobe, which was supposed to have some spare clothes. He located the light switch and stared at the extensive selection, seperated as it was by fabric. *Silk, cotton, polyester, OH GOD, he has HEMP CLOTHING!!* Hwoarang shook his head in amazement. "I didn't know you'd developed such expensive tastes, Kazama, though I might have guessed," he whispered aloud.
After a moment of reverent stillness he abruptly began pulling garments from their hangers and trying them on, careful to hang the rejects back up in their original place free of wrinkles. He settled on a tight-fitting dark gray T-shirt with black Celtic knots on the front and five elemental predators (Tiger, Wolf, Falcon, Shark, and Dragon) beautifully stylized in black and white on the back which particularly caught his eye; he wore it over a black fishnet shirt with long sleeves and a pair of oversized black cargo pants. His hair was brushed neatly and tied loosely at the nape of his neck with a piece of leather thong to keep it away from his face. He saluted his reflection in the full-length mirror on the back wall of the wardrobe, not knowing why he had taken such care, and strode, humming, into the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw *her.*
Eyes like liquid sapphire gazed coolly at him from across the room. A delicate, gloved hand brushed back a lock of tomboyish hair, so black it seemed blue in the light, from a pale, chiseled face. It was undeniably a female; her breasts, though not exactly huge, were well proportioned to her almost elfin frame. Her gray trousers, with their red suspenders and a white button-up belly shirt, outlined her feminine frame almost teasingly. She smiled at him. "So," she murmured distinctly (her voice was surprisingly deep and rich). "You are the King of Iron Fist Tournament. I've wondered if you'd kept your young figure and predatory grace; come now, I want to see a few moves."
He tore his eyes from hers and replied somewhat harshly, "I don't do exhibitions. I'm not into that-"
"Surely you could make an exception?" she asked sweetly. Her smile was clearly meant to be charming; it was. She stalked toward him on the balls of her feet which, he noted, were bare.
"Sorry. I don't think Jin would appreciate me kicking his furniture around," Hwoarang growled. *Surely she doesn't think I invaded his house without permission or something? Who is she anyway?*
Somehow he felt her focus sharpen. "Oh… I suppose not. Where is His Lordship anyway?" A light flickered just behind her eyes, veiled in blue.
"I honestly don't know, miss. I've been in the shower- AUGH!" He groaned as he caught a vicious uppercut in the stomach. The girl dimpled at him, cracking her knuckles through her gloves.
"I said, show me some moves, punk," she crooned. She tossed him some fighting gloves which had previously lain on the television, tapping her foot impatiently as he straightened slowly and pulled them on.
*Damn, she packs a punch…* Hwoarang sighed heavily and put his fists up. Instantly the girl was all over him again in a flurry of punches and kicks that almost sent him reeling. He hadn't even thought about doing a kata for almost a month, and he felt sorely out of tune with his body. His blocks came erratically, some too fast, some too slow, but he felt his balance gradually returning. He was forced to cartwheel over the coffee table. Hwoarang ducked a roundhouse and came up with his fist aimed for her solar plexus, lifting her almost a foot off the floor before she dropped over the couch with a groan. She growled but flipped onto her feet again as he sprang over the obstacle. She was met with a rapid succession of slapping moves meant to annoy rather than harm, then was thrown back slightly in preparation for one of the redhead's special moves. He performed the 'Hunting Hawk' swiftly and came down to earth gracefully. It hit perfectly, lightning fast, with such a controlled power behind it that the girl was thrown backward again.
She looked up from the Oriental rug on the floor where she'd landed with a satisfied air, pulling off her fighting gloves and gesturing forfeit before climbing onto the couch. She rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. "Perhaps a little rusty, but you did well enough. It'd be a close match between you and Jin." She smiled good-naturedly up at him.
"I'd know better than to try that now, anyway." *Close match indeed,* Hwoarang thought, remembering his first encounter with Jin and how they had fought to exhaustion, without either of them being able to land a winning blow. "But- forgive me for having to ask- who are you? You aren't dressed like a maid." He crossed his arms and was almost put off when she laughed aloud.
"So you're used to maids that fight you to see if you're still up to reputation? That's just great..." She laughed heartily for a long moment. "My name is Tora- and actually, I play several roles for Jin. I'm his occasional sparring partner, his cook, his masseuse, and his confidante." A tiny grin suggested she wanted him to at least think she was something more. Her voice became soft for a moment, serious, and she stared thoughtfully at her feet. "Jin always used to talk about you, Hwoarang. He used to talk about the demons he fought that night at the warehouse: they almost had control of him, but he refused to let them kill his grandfather's thugs. Then you put them all down... and Jin forced the demons to flee with his body instead of attacking you." She looked up again. "Even though I don't think he understands it yet, and I know for sure you don't, there was meaning to that night. I just hope you guys figure it out before your chance is gone."
"But- what's to figure out?" he asked, confused. His head had begun to ache again, in spite of the Advil's magic.
"That's for you to think about. I will give you a hint though- if everything happens as I foresee, we will soon have one more thing in common." She sat back on the couch, pursing her lips.
Based on T3, Hwoarang's ending: He's tired of fighting. He's tired of being alone. He's even tired of college! Jin picks up Hwoarang's tab in a bar, with some interesting results. Yaoi: m/m relationship (Jin X Hwoarang). R for language misuse, implied illegal action, & possible explicit sex later.
Author's Note: I've never played any other Tekken game but T3, so I'm going to pretend that none of the others exist anymore. And Hwoarang did not join any stupid army! *snorts at the absurdity of the idea* That would really ruin my story. Maybe he became a citizen of the country he's going to college in... Yes... I think I like that idea... but I'm still referring to him as Korean, since that is his birth nationality.
Author's Note 2: I don't own Tekken or its characters, so don't sue me, but I can damn well ignore the parts of both that I don't like since I'm not even writing this for profit! *crosses eyes and sticks tongue out*
---------------------------------
Author's Note 3: Time for another secondary character! This one, unlike the clerk in the liquor store, will play a somewhat more interesting role. And NO... before you ask... she is not to be a Mary Sue, or Mary Jane, or whatever that contemptuous name for original female characters is... ^__~ you'll just have to keep reading to figure it out.
Author's Note 4 (lol): I just discovered I have ego problems... I never knew I enjoyed being positively reviewed so much! Keep it coming, and I'll try to do the same... Fair exchange, ya think? ^__~
---------------------------------
Hwoarang stepped out of the shower. He knew instantly that something was different in the house, in a negative way. *Demons of memory,* he tried to convince himself. He toweled off a little quicker than he usually did and slipped into the bathroom wardrobe, which was supposed to have some spare clothes. He located the light switch and stared at the extensive selection, seperated as it was by fabric. *Silk, cotton, polyester, OH GOD, he has HEMP CLOTHING!!* Hwoarang shook his head in amazement. "I didn't know you'd developed such expensive tastes, Kazama, though I might have guessed," he whispered aloud.
After a moment of reverent stillness he abruptly began pulling garments from their hangers and trying them on, careful to hang the rejects back up in their original place free of wrinkles. He settled on a tight-fitting dark gray T-shirt with black Celtic knots on the front and five elemental predators (Tiger, Wolf, Falcon, Shark, and Dragon) beautifully stylized in black and white on the back which particularly caught his eye; he wore it over a black fishnet shirt with long sleeves and a pair of oversized black cargo pants. His hair was brushed neatly and tied loosely at the nape of his neck with a piece of leather thong to keep it away from his face. He saluted his reflection in the full-length mirror on the back wall of the wardrobe, not knowing why he had taken such care, and strode, humming, into the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw *her.*
Eyes like liquid sapphire gazed coolly at him from across the room. A delicate, gloved hand brushed back a lock of tomboyish hair, so black it seemed blue in the light, from a pale, chiseled face. It was undeniably a female; her breasts, though not exactly huge, were well proportioned to her almost elfin frame. Her gray trousers, with their red suspenders and a white button-up belly shirt, outlined her feminine frame almost teasingly. She smiled at him. "So," she murmured distinctly (her voice was surprisingly deep and rich). "You are the King of Iron Fist Tournament. I've wondered if you'd kept your young figure and predatory grace; come now, I want to see a few moves."
He tore his eyes from hers and replied somewhat harshly, "I don't do exhibitions. I'm not into that-"
"Surely you could make an exception?" she asked sweetly. Her smile was clearly meant to be charming; it was. She stalked toward him on the balls of her feet which, he noted, were bare.
"Sorry. I don't think Jin would appreciate me kicking his furniture around," Hwoarang growled. *Surely she doesn't think I invaded his house without permission or something? Who is she anyway?*
Somehow he felt her focus sharpen. "Oh… I suppose not. Where is His Lordship anyway?" A light flickered just behind her eyes, veiled in blue.
"I honestly don't know, miss. I've been in the shower- AUGH!" He groaned as he caught a vicious uppercut in the stomach. The girl dimpled at him, cracking her knuckles through her gloves.
"I said, show me some moves, punk," she crooned. She tossed him some fighting gloves which had previously lain on the television, tapping her foot impatiently as he straightened slowly and pulled them on.
*Damn, she packs a punch…* Hwoarang sighed heavily and put his fists up. Instantly the girl was all over him again in a flurry of punches and kicks that almost sent him reeling. He hadn't even thought about doing a kata for almost a month, and he felt sorely out of tune with his body. His blocks came erratically, some too fast, some too slow, but he felt his balance gradually returning. He was forced to cartwheel over the coffee table. Hwoarang ducked a roundhouse and came up with his fist aimed for her solar plexus, lifting her almost a foot off the floor before she dropped over the couch with a groan. She growled but flipped onto her feet again as he sprang over the obstacle. She was met with a rapid succession of slapping moves meant to annoy rather than harm, then was thrown back slightly in preparation for one of the redhead's special moves. He performed the 'Hunting Hawk' swiftly and came down to earth gracefully. It hit perfectly, lightning fast, with such a controlled power behind it that the girl was thrown backward again.
She looked up from the Oriental rug on the floor where she'd landed with a satisfied air, pulling off her fighting gloves and gesturing forfeit before climbing onto the couch. She rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. "Perhaps a little rusty, but you did well enough. It'd be a close match between you and Jin." She smiled good-naturedly up at him.
"I'd know better than to try that now, anyway." *Close match indeed,* Hwoarang thought, remembering his first encounter with Jin and how they had fought to exhaustion, without either of them being able to land a winning blow. "But- forgive me for having to ask- who are you? You aren't dressed like a maid." He crossed his arms and was almost put off when she laughed aloud.
"So you're used to maids that fight you to see if you're still up to reputation? That's just great..." She laughed heartily for a long moment. "My name is Tora- and actually, I play several roles for Jin. I'm his occasional sparring partner, his cook, his masseuse, and his confidante." A tiny grin suggested she wanted him to at least think she was something more. Her voice became soft for a moment, serious, and she stared thoughtfully at her feet. "Jin always used to talk about you, Hwoarang. He used to talk about the demons he fought that night at the warehouse: they almost had control of him, but he refused to let them kill his grandfather's thugs. Then you put them all down... and Jin forced the demons to flee with his body instead of attacking you." She looked up again. "Even though I don't think he understands it yet, and I know for sure you don't, there was meaning to that night. I just hope you guys figure it out before your chance is gone."
"But- what's to figure out?" he asked, confused. His head had begun to ache again, in spite of the Advil's magic.
"That's for you to think about. I will give you a hint though- if everything happens as I foresee, we will soon have one more thing in common." She sat back on the couch, pursing her lips.