A/N: Finally got this one written! Sorry for the wait. I hope you guys and girls enjoy reading it, and as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! Also, there's a bit of a treat for anyone who likes pretty fan art. My cousin drew a kind of front cover sort of thing for the story, it's awesome and features cute army haircut Hwo. If you go to my profile, there's a link to the pic there.

NEVER EVER

We are beautiful fighters
There are definitely days
When we feel like we can't go on
But don't stop, don't give up

Chapter Seventeen: Determination

"Hello-o?"

Miharu's as cheerful as ever as she sing-songs her greeting, and I can't help but smile at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, it's me. I've just got a---"

"Xiao!" she shrieks, interrupting me. "How's things? You've had a match already, right? How'd it go? How much ass did you kick? How's Hwoarang? Has he had a match yet? Wait, wait, forget matches, let's talk about what's really important! Did you see Jin?"

"Calm down, Mi," I laugh, shaking my head and trying to ignore her last question. "Yeah, I've had a match. Yeah, Hwo has too, and yes, we both kicked copious amounts of ass."

"Great! I knew you would do! So, how's the competition? You think you can win this time?"

"Erm... well, I've got a match tonight, so I can try." I can feel warm reassurance running through me in response to Miharu's enthusiasm.

"Tonight? Against who? You worried?"

"Violet." I tell her. "He wasn't in the last tournament. I've never seen him fight before, so I'm sorta worried, yeah."

"Naah, no matter how he fights, you're gonna smash him!"

She sounds so sure, but then again she was just as sure two years ago, and I didn't exactly plough through all my opponents with ease. Even so, I can't help but smile.

"Man, I wish I could come watch you both, I'm so bored over here, Xiao! All I've been doing is studying. I can't believe how much stuff there is to get through! I'm never gonna pass these exams, not in a million years."

"You say that every time." I point out. I can picture her face as she carries on talking, see her eyes wide with worry and her hair tousled from where she's been pulling at it. She does the same thing every time exam season rolls around and things always work out fine. Me and Miharu are planning on going to the same university, so we'll both be taking the entrance exams come spring. Since if you fail you have to wait a whole year before you can take it again, passing it's sort of a big deal. Hence the whole hitting the books even though the exam isn't for a while yet thing.

"I just know I'm gonna screw up." she sighs. "And I've gotta swing by the library at some point cos I've lost one of my textbooks, and every time I go in I see people from school sitting there cramming, and it freaks me out. People who don't even need to! Like Hikaru, and since when has he ever took exams seriously anyway? It makes me worry that I'm not doing enough."

Hikaru's one of Mi's classmates, a cute, carefree type who she had a huge crush on a couple of years back. I remember us chattering on about him for ages over the phone, her swooning over his gorgeous green eyes, telling me how it was love and neither of them paid attention in Geography so they were obviously soulmates. I also remember exchanging amused looks with Hwo when Hikaru walked into the common room, Miharu's death glare defying us to make any type of comment. An unexpected feeling of sadness and longing overtakes me, like a gentle wave washing away the cheeriness Mi had sparked during our conversation up until now.

I suddenly - desperately - want to go home, go back to when me and Miharu would sit by an open window in the common room, the spring breeze fluttering through Miharu's hair as she excitedly told me the latest bit of gossip. I want to go back to when me and Hwo would skip class, when it was late in the autumn term and we'd walk together and he'd tell me I looked like a complete dork in my red oversized wooly hat, pull it down over my eyes and nose to annoy me. I want things to be as simple as they were back then. No tournaments, no demonic possession, no weird dreams or visions.

Miharu's still talking about her academic woes, and I almost resent her for fretting over such ordinary things. Things that seem so utterly minor and silly compared to the prospect of Jin becoming what I saw him as in my dream. But I can hear the agitation in her voice as she tells me she did two hours of study last night before realising she was revising things that wouldn't even be coming up on the exam, and I immediately regret thinking that way.

"Mi, don't worry." I try to sound comforting. "It's the last thing you want to be doing, right? Getting yourself worked up isn't gonna help. You need to calm down a little."

"I know... I know. I just wanna do well, Xiao. I want people to be proud of me, you know?"

"Yeah. I know."

"Sorry for going off on one." She sounds like she's smiling. "Listen, good luck with your next match. I guess I'd better get to the library before it closes. Call me soon, okay?"

"Miharu, can I ask a favour before you go?" I feel guilty for asking her when she's got her own stuff to worry about, but I have to. "I've been doing some studying of my own, and there's one topic I'm stuck on."

"You're asking me for help understanding it?" she asks, dubious.

"Umm, I just wondered if you could maybe copy some stuff out and email it to me? I know you're busy..."

"Well if it's for these exams, it's something I need to know anyway, right?"

"Uh, kinda. I guess."

"No problem then. What am I copying out?"

The elevator doors slide open noiselessly, and I step out onto the glass roof of the building, gazing down at the floor far below; black and white tiles arranged in a checkerboard pattern, illuminated by warm lighting. It'd be a long fall if the glass shattered. Better not entertain thoughts like that, I suppose. I'm sure they wouldn't let people fight up here if it wasn't safe. Right?

There's definitely more than enough space to move around up here anyway. I gaze around the arena, noting the time as displayed on the huge clocktower opposite. It's two minutes shy of seven p.m, the night sky covered with inky clouds. Violet's already here, leaning on the railing and staring at the cityscape. He's a sharp dresser, all silk shirt (violet in colour, naturally) and pinstriped waistcoat. His matching trousers ruffle in the strong breeze. An impressive stone lion stands proudly nearby, mouth open in a roar. There's a statue just like it at school, and I brush off the pang of longing that flickers in my chest. If someone'd told me a week ago that I'd be standing here at the fourth Iron Fist Tournament wishing I was back at school and taking lessons and being told off by English, I'd have laughed in their face.

"This match is scheduled to begin in sixty seconds." the PA system announces, and I make my way towards Violet.

I'm trying to figure out why he looks so familiar as he does a few warmup kicks, and I bow with a nervous smile. Usually, I can gauge when someone's gonna make a move by watching their eyes for that telltale split second gleam, but Violet's wearing expensive aviator sunglasses so I don't have that luxury this time. Just before the bell rings, a gust of wind whips my pigtails around and ruffles my clothes, and I'm glad I chose my tracksuit for this match instead of the dress.

So quickly that I hardly register the movement, Violet leaps into the air, his foot lashing out at my face. I somehow manage to duck in time, diving to the left and rolling to my feet, glancing over my shoulder to check he's not in pursuit. Nope, he's still in the same place he was when he landed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, the city lights mirrored in his glasses. He's waiting for me to make the next move.

Something's pulling at the back of my mind, I can almost feel my focus unravelling, and I force myself to shove it aside and concentrate. There's no way I can allow anything to distract me less than thirty seconds into battle. That'd lead to me crashing out spectacularly, Violet doesn't look like the type to pull any punches. Not like anyone here would, really. I charge towards Violet, the glass roof rattling as I race across it. He's probably expecting me to jump or maybe just charge into him, but I come to a stop a millisecond before we collide, spinning out of the way of his incoming fist and seizing his outstretched arm. Flipping him over comes as second nature after all the sparring with Grandfather in the months before the tournament.

Violet recovers in a flash though, springing to his feet and catching me in the ribs with his boot. I almost take a tumble, but manage to right myself, sucking in a breath at the pain. He swiftly follows up his attack, his foot snapping forward and striking me under the chin. It catches me completely by surprise, and hurts like hell. My hands come up to my face automatically, and I lurch out of the way of a second kick, trying to shake off the daze. The glimmering horizon swims before my eyes for a second, and I blink rapidly, bringing my arm up to palm away another kick aimed for the side of my head.

My vision sharpens again, and I drop into the Phoenix stance, narrowly avoiding the fist aimed at my face. Violet attempts a low sweep kick, just as I figured. Before it can connect, I spring upwards, one foot slashing through the air towards his head. He avoids it easily, but the second kick hits its mark with a satisfying crunch. Violet staggers back, pulling his broken sunglasses off and tossing them over the railing.

Again, something tugs at me, the same sort of feeling as you might get when you see someone you vaguely recognise, but you just can't remember where from. Sweeping the sensation aside, I wait for Violet's next move. Now I can see his eyes, I feel much more confident, although I do feel sorta guilty for smashing his Armani shades. They've gotta have cost far too much.

Maybe he's really annoyed about it, because he dashes forward into a sliding kick, knocking me clean off my feet and sending me crashing to the glass ground. I smack into it elbow first, a stabbing pain whizzing up my arm, but quickly roll to my feet, ignoring the insistent throb. Violet deftly sidesteps my flying fists, and before I can turn or react, his arm locks around my head. As I struggle to twist out of his grip, he leaps forward, taking me with him. I see the floor rushing up to meet me, crying out as he slams my face into the glass. For a few seconds I'm still, trying to deal with the shock and the sheer pain and to remember how to breathe again, and he rams his foot into my side. My body jolts with the impact as he kicks me over and over, and I try to bring my knees up to protect myself from the assault.

I need to roll to the side, jump to my feet and gather my strength. More than anything, I need to get out of harm's way, to ignore the white spots in my vision and get back in the fight. I roll onto my back with a groan, a warm trickle of blood escaping my mouth, and force my eyes open. Violet is standing over me, and the look in his eyes, the eyes that I was so sure I needed to see, tells me everything I need to know about him, what I feel like I already knew. There's a fierceness in his expression. His eyes gleam with determination and the desperate need to win this battle, to get further, right to the end, to face Heihachi Mishima and come out victorious.

I roll out of the way of another well aimed kick and rise to my knees, trying my hardest to disregard the fire blazing in my side and gulp some air back into my lungs. No matter how determined or how desperate Violet is to win, whatever his reasons are, I can't let it end like this. There's the beginnings of a smirk on his face as he watches me taking in shaky breaths, and when he throws the next punch at my face, I can tell by his expression that he thinks it's gonna finish things. He's got no doubt it'll hit its mark. But I block, gritting my teeth as his fist slams into my forearm, then throw myself into a cartwheel to avoid his followup kick. Hardly the most graceful move; my body travels in a messy arc thanks to the fact that I'm trembling with pain, but at least it gets me out of range of Violet's heavy boot.

I've landed facing away from him, and he rushes towards me, his foot arcing through the air for another high kick. It's the opportunity I was hoping for. I slam my elbow into his unprotected stomach, praying it's enough to force him back. He growls, doubles over, and my foot strikes him in the face, sending him staggering. It's not strong enough to knock him to the floor, but I'm not giving up. I won't. Adrenaline surges through me as he starts to recover and straighten. No. I can't allow him time to react. I pull back both palms, slamming them into his stomach as hard as I can. His back hits the railing with a sickening crack, and then as he crumples to his knees, I gather my remaining strength for one last kick, putting my entire weight behind it. It catches him in the side of the head and he gives a pained groan as he goes tumbling over sideways, the glass shuddering with the impact of his body.

I somehow keep my defensive stance up even though I'm shaking and tears are blurring my vision as I stare down at him. Violet struggles to get up, rising slowly, and I watch, the adrenaline that was buzzing through my veins just seconds ago fading rapidly with every passing moment. His mouth is trying to form words.

"This... can't... I have to..."

He tries to move towards me and falls to his hands and knees with a thud, shakes his head. Both of us are silent.

"Ling Xiaoyu wins!"

The loud announcement makes me give a violent start, and just that slight jerk of my body sends pain spiking through me. Violet doesn't move, and I stand over him awkwardly.

"S-sorry about your glasses. I'll uh... buy you some more..."

We are beautiful fighters
We cried just a little tonight
But we girls are fighting
With a brand new tomorrow

--- Beautiful Fighters, Ayumi Hamasaki