Chapter 5
The silver Cadillac limousine gleamed in the May sunlight, darting through the colorful sea of Hyundai and Kia cars crowding Seoul. Jin Kazama leaned back against the leather upholstery, watching cars nearly jostling each other like fish racing back to their spawning site. Wild and animalistic, those two words expressed everything Jin thought about Korean traffic.
Although it was moving at a good speed, many drivers revved their engines and flashed their high-beams - wolves growling and snapping white fangs at the flanks of their unfortunate prey. Jin felt his body lurch to the side, his head stopping just short of the window. A cacophony of horns sounded from behind like a flock of startled geese.
"Sorry, sorry," the chauffeur said as he steadied the car in the new lane. "If I had warned you to hold on, the space would have been gone before I finished." He turned to the window and yelled, "Ha! Take that. Those who leave space in traffic aren't worthy to fill them."
Yoji Seta was the only one among the group who seemed to be enjoying the trip. Of course, he had also been raised in Korea and was used to the harried attitudes of the native drivers - and thrived on it. Driving was his life, and he was the only one Jin could think of in his grandfather's organization who was good or crazy enough to drive through Asian cities and arrive emotionally unscathed. Anybody else would be shaking too much with either nervousness or frustration to drive, and consequently would probably not have a car to drive after being in wrecks many times over.
One of the bodyguards, Atsuo Oda, assigned by Heihachi to Jin as a precaution wedged his hands ever more firmly under his armpits. "Damn miserable country."
The car swayed, and Jin saw Yoji struggle slightly to regain control of the wheel. Jin glanced at the heavy man. "Oda, please."
"What? I just think -"
"Think what you want but don't say it in my or Seta's presence. We are in their country, and at the very least I want you to pretend you respect them."
"He ain't Korean -"
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. We are here on Sufu's account. Regardless of what you feel about the Koreans, I will not have you embarrass him while we conduct his business. That goes for all of you." He looked around at the rest of the group.
"Yes, sir."
Atsuo hunched his shoulders and drew his bulk in tighter. Perhaps it was shame, but Jin felt it was more likely some sort of resentment - perhaps at Heihachi for sending him to Korea, and at Jin for not really needing a bodyguard. Now was not the time to show weakness in leadership though. The last thing Jin needed was to have Yoji so upset that he wouldn't be able to navigate Korea's traffic, and while protecting Yoji may have upset Atsuo, Yoji's driving was more important to Jin's safety than Atsuo's bulk. Besides, the big man probably would be able to use his repressed anger to his advantage should the need arise.
Yoji caught Jin's eye in the rear view mirror and nodded his thanks. Jin accepted it with a nod of his own and returned to staring out the window. In a way, he could understand Atsuo. Korea was in many ways similar to Japan: the congested streets, the fast pace lifestyle, even the entertainment such as going to bars to drink and sing at the end of a business day, and yet, to the older Japanese generation, it was also like a distorted vision of Japan. It was what Japan could have been had it been divided in half by different ideologies, a state of constant hostility to those who had once been family.
It was difficult to imagine Japan being split, and Jin didn't even bother trying as Yoji turned off the loop - a highway that was designed to circle the city, but had been under constant construction for years. There were more important things to think about. Being sent to Korea, wasn't something Jin had expected. There was something grandfather wasn't telling him. He knew it had to be a test of some sort, but what was grandfather testing? Leadership? Keeping the peace between a Korean-born Japanese, and an Japanese who hated everything he saw in Korea? It didn't seem like something grandfather would care about.
"We're heading into the actual city now," Yoji said, "so there's going to be a lot people. Probably so many I won't be able to drive you up to the dojang."
"That's fine, Seta. Go ahead and park in the closest public area you can find, and we'll walk the rest of the way."
Atsuo muttered something about a "dojo", but Jin decided to ignore it this time. He had to stay focused - there was a reason for him being in Korea and the sooner he figured it out, the more time he could prepare. The slowest response is one in surprise.
"Looks like the street market's still in full swing. Just a moment." Seta edged the car ever forward, tapping the horn every once in a while when one of the shoppers didn't move fast enough. "Ah, there we go. Want me to come with you?" Seta asked as he maneuvered into a public garage.
"No, Seta. Stay with the car. We'll be back shortly." Jin patted his coat pocket for the third time that morning. The invitation to the tournament was still there; so was the nagging feeling that he was missing something important. Master Baek would be a superb martial artist, of that there was no doubt, but what made him special enough for grandfather to send Jin to personally deliver the message?
The marketplace was like a highway for shoppers. People pushing each other aside as they made their way to their destinations. In place of horns were dozens of voices haggling and, in the air, the smell of cigarette smoke, fruit, and freshly caught fish replaced car exhaust. One of the street vendors shouted out to him as he passed, waving an orange or tangerine. He smiled politely and waved a hand in front of his face to decline. Beside him, Atsuo gruffly used a shoulder to fend off the vendor who tried a similar tactic. Jin was grateful the other two bodyguards followed his example and not Atsuo's.
"Enough ta make ya sick."
"Oda, it's not all that different from the marketplace at home."
"Except this isn't home."
"Then treat it as such for now. I do not want to talk to you about this again."
Atsuo said nothing, but put considerably more power in the next shove of his shoulder when another shopper pushed against him. The Korean let out a sound of surprise and said something curt, but melted back into the crowd before Atsuo had finished turning. Those who had witnessed the exchange began to give Atsuo a wider girth, and the foot traffic began to thin out as they broke out of the street market crowd.
The dojo was on the corner of a quiet street. A few more steps and he could hand Master Baek the invitation and leave. Could it really be this easy? As they approached, Jin noticed a gang of teenagers lounging across the street. They seemed to be carefully placed ... perhaps students of the dojo?
The one in the middle stood out. It was more than the motorcycle goggles atop his fiery hair that swept back like the head feathers of a bald eagle, or the lanky body that seemed to have been stretched out by tae kwon do. It was the way the others flanked him, almost as though they were soldiers protecting their revered general on the battlefield.
"Hey, Hwoarang," one of the gang members lightly tapped the one in the middle before jerking his chin towards Jin's group. The other gang members seemed to awaken from a light slumber as they followed the first gang member's eyes and began rearing up to their full heights. The middle one, however, didn't move anything but his eyes, and didn't seem the least bit surprised at anything. He laid casually on his side, propped up by an elbow, but his eyes locked with Jin with such intensity that Jin had to tear his gaze away to concentrate on getting to the dojo.
Jin was at the stairway leading to the dojo's entrance when a voice called out from behind.
"Hey, pretty boy, you wanna learn tae kwon do, I can teach you."
Jin turned and grabbed Atsuo's shoulder before the large man could blindly throw himself towards the gang. "Don't."
"Oh, we've got a live one here," the gang leader said. "See how he snarls? What pretty teeth. Come. Come here, boy, maybe I've got a treat for you." The gang leader gestured with his forefinger, calling them to him as though they were dogs.
"Let go of me, Kazama-San. Your grandfather would never stand for this."
Jin released Atsuo who strode over to the gang. "I hear you're teaching tae kwon do," he said cracking his knuckles. "I'd like a demonstration."
"Of course, of course," Hwoarang said. "When all you've seen is that weak ass karate, the power of tae kwon do must seem unbelievable. I would demand proof too." Hwoarang pushed himself to his feet, clapping the dust from his faded jeans. "You got any money for lessons?"
Atsuo pulled a wallet from his coat pocket and dropped it at his feet. "You beat me, you can pick it up."
"Must think you're fast, huh. I'll tell you what: if you can block my punch then I'll show you more." Hwoarang rolled his shoulders forward a few times. "Ready?"
Jin saw the subtle shift of the gang leader's body, something Atsuo couldn't see because he was too close. Not even Jin's trained eyes could follow the kicks, only the tilt of Hwoarang's body told Jin which direction they came from. The first kick hit somewhere on Atsuo's left thigh, the second struck the hip, and a third came up and around to strike Atsuo on the side of the head. As Atsuo staggered to his knees, Hwoarang gave him a quick jab to the jaw, more of a shove than a punch, but it was enough to send Atsuo flat on the ground.
Hwoarang shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you're ready to learn tae kwon do yet. Karate is more suited for you people with no imagination." He had just picked up the wallet when Jin stepped in front grabbing Hwoarang's wrist.
"Hey, get offa me, pretty boy. The money's mine, fair and square."
"You cheated."
"How so? I said to block the punch, and he didn't. Never said the punch had to come first."
Jin tightened his grip and ripped the wallet out of Hwoarang's hand and tossed it to one of the other bodyguards. With both hands, he shoved Hwoarang back against his gang. "You disrespect us, and then try to cheat us ... maybe it's time someone taught you a lesson."
Hwoarang shrugged off the gang members who had kept him from hitting the ground and glared at Jin before recovering his composure and bringing back his lizard-like smirk. "Many have tried, none have succeeded."
"There's always a first time," Jin said raising his hands up to guard his body.
"Not this time though. Block the punch."
Jin took a half-step forward as Hwoarang flicked out his left hand. Tae kwon do had hand strikes, but its trademark and power was in kicking. Chances were the punch was a fake, an attempt to get Jin to step back where a kick could reach its full force. He felt the punch hit his forearm without any force behind it, and knew he had been right in his assessment; the punch had never been intended to hit Jin. Immediately, he dropped his right knee to the ground and brought his left hand down to block the front kick just below the kneecap. He shot his right fist out, driving it hard into the Korean's gut, doubling him over, before delivering an uppercut as he stood.
As Hwoarang reeled back, Jin took another half-step forward, planting his front foot firmly on the ground and pivoting his body. The roundhouse kick whipped Hwoarang's body sideways and back where he collapsed against the staircase he'd been lounging on only minutes before. Jin stepped out of kicking range and waited to see if Hwoarang would continue.
Hwoarang shook his head a few times and pushed himself up. "You're pretty good. Might have to start taking you seriously." He got back into a fighting stance. He held his hands like Jin, like a boxer, but his feet were much closer together and he seemed to be almost bouncing in place.
'Wasteful,' thought Jin. 'Eager and cocky. He'll attack - street thugs always do. Best to play defensively, block and counterattack.'
He watched carefully, waiting for an opening as Hwoarang continued dancing around. Sidestepping a low kick, Jin moved around Hwoarang's blind-side when a back kick slammed into his rib cage. Wincing, Jin took a step back, and another step back, unable to find solid footing.
The edge of Hwoarang's hand struck his cheekbone - it felt as though it had shattered. Jin reached out, trying to find something to steady him. As the ground rushed up to catch him, he saw Hwoarang stretch his leg up as though to kick the sun out of the sky. Desperately, Jin twisted, trying to move his body out of the way. The axe kick fell on the edge of his left shoulder, barely missing collarbone which was probably its target, and there was a loud crunch. In the instant that he felt his arm go limp, Jin instinctively lashed out with his other hand, catching Hwoarang just above the kneecap.
Hwoarang howled and hopped backward, trailing his leg behind him before collapsing to the street. Immediately, Hwoarang's gang and Jin's bodyguards rushed forward, dragging the two combatants apart and onto their feet like medics pulling wounded off a battlefield.
Jin gritted his teeth. It felt as though some dam in his arm had cracked and the pressure was pushing blood out of his shoulder, eroding the bone as it went. He clasped his working hand over the shoulder as though to hold it all together. In the background, he could hear Hwoarang yelling and screaming.
"Goddamn, get off me. Get off! I can still take him. Get over here, Jap, I swear I'll kick your ass back to your inferior country."
"Get back, punk," one of Jin's bodyguards said, shoving one of the gang members. They seemed ready to continue where Jin and Hwoarang left off until a guttural voice called from the door of the dojo.
"What is going on out here? Hwoarang? Hwoarang, get over here. Inside! All of you. How dare you publicly disgrace this dojang with your street brawling."
At the sight of the older man, even Hwoarang seemed to deflate. Firing off one last glare at Jin before he turned away, Hwoarang limped after the rest of his gang into the dojang and received a swat on the back of the head from Baek.
When his students had passed, Baek turned to Jin, gesturing for them his group to approach. His eyes never lost the narrowed look of a man staring towards the distant horizon at the sun. "I'd recognize those eyebrows anywhere. What do you want, Mishima?"
"Kazama," Jin corrected. "Master Baek, I come with business from my grandfather, Mishima Heihachi." He let go of his shoulder long enough to pull the invitation from his coat and hand it to Baek. "He requests the honor of having you participate in the third Iron Fist tournament."
"Kazama, huh?" Baek eyes flicked down paper, but didn't stay long enough for him to have possibly read it all. "Your grandfather has no concept of honor. You know that, don't you?"
"He took me in when I had nowhere else to go and trained me to look after myself."
"People do the same when training dogs to fight. They feed them and train them, and then send them out to get killed. So long as they get money, the people don't care about the animals they destroy. Is that honor, Kazama?"
With no reply, Jin turned his face away.
"Let us hope you don't follow your father or your grandfather's path. You carry on your mother's name ... perhaps you will carry on her legacy too. I will be at your grandfather's tournament." Baek gave a polite bow and left.