Disclaimer: I don't own any parts of the Tekken franchise. All copyrighted materials belong to the appropriate owners. This is a non-profitable story, written purely for entertainment.

Author Notes:

Big thanks to beryllium40, Mi jung ha, and Hatori Fujiwara for the reveiws. :)

Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero

.:A Tactless Tales Production:.

Chapter 5

The Final Training Hurdle…

Asuka pulled in the golden petals' sweet scent through her tingling nostrils. The smooth inhale was long and drawn out, savouring every tinge of the flower's glory with a very subtle suction. Enchanted lungs threatened to burst into flurries of pretty, yellow ribbons. She held her lung capacity tight in her throat, relishing every second, before releasing the collection of emotion in one, relieving exhale.

The aftertaste tingled pleasantly in her nose. Her lips stretched into a satisfied gesture. She knew visiting this portion of the estate would do wonders for her already brilliant morning!

Blue skies lightened up with each step of the young, rising sun. The morning air felt chilly over her features. It wasn't nearly as cold as it could've been however, since the early shower's aura was still warm around her.

An outdoor shrine like this wouldn't have hurt to have at home, she wished. This small, outside section boasted a circular Jacuzzi at the centre of the ring of prosperous plant life. It comforted her, not only to be there, but to know that not all of Hwoarang's winnings were misused. Over the previous night's dinner, he and Master Doo San explained to them how they brought together their semi and quarter-semi final rewards to purchase the mansion.

Asuka had advanced to the semi finals too, scheduled to fight Hwoarang - who ended up not appearing. Unlike him, her earnings were dedicated to the expensive revamp of her father's dojo and she was persuaded to secure the remainder of the prize in a savings account. It wasn't the flashiest way to show for her success but it was probably the smartest.

Her fingers delicately pinched one of dozens of dandelions. They had plenty; they wouldn't need this one, she told herself as she stepped into the Jacuzzi's bubbling warmth.

The glass door behind her slid open. Ling Xiaoyu stepped onto the grass in a pair of pink bunny slippers. They appeared to have been weaved from the same woolly material as her morning robe, which happened to be the same colour as well. The robes certainly lived their purpose, having been bought for the specific comfort of the mansion's guests.

The Chinese girl walked drowsily toward Asuka, black locks spread in a mess over her shoulders now that they were free of hair bands. Asuka counted three yawns from Xiaoyu before she finally found a seat opposite to her, burying her shins in the water as she had. Rocking her petit body back and forth, Xiaoyu rubbed her palms together then granted them a hot breath.

It was evident to Asuka that the teen wasn't exactly a morning person. "You should take a shower, it really helps," she suggested, twirling the dandelion under the tip of her nose.

"Mor--" Xiaoyu was interrupted by her fourth yawn. Her upbeat, chirpy nature had yet to take to her eyes, leaving them tired and puffy instead. "Morning to you too," she finished. "Gimme a break. Not all of us like to wake up before the sun does."

Asuka smiled. As far as she could remember, she always preferred mornings to nights. "I grew up like this!" She chimed. Xiaoyu simply looked on, almost as if she was bored. Asuka contemplated turning the liveliness down a notch. Apparently, non-morning people hated that about morning people. "So, if you don't like it, why wake up so early?"

The dark-haired girl shrugged her shoulders wearily. "If I was at home, three more hours would have to pass before I'd even consider waking up." Her hands stayed in the soothing shelter of the robes as she spoke. Asuka imagined the cool air was more severe to somebody who hadn't taken a shower or a bath. "But it's just not the same here. I mean, it's great and all, but it's … different. Not in a bad way. I guess the different surroundings must bring about a different behaviour in me."

"That makes sense," Asuka agreed. She felt just about the same during most of her time in the mansion. Russet eyes looked down to the spinning, yellow petals in her grasp. But not when she was outside. The good thing about nature was that once one found it, they could bask in its presence almost immediately. For Asuka, the comfort of home wasn't restricted to a single, hand-constructed house.

"You play for your school's hockey team, don't you?"

Indeed she had, but, "how did you know?"

"Your uniform." Xiaoyu finally remembered where she first saw Asuka. Even before the fifth tournament was announced to the public, the two of them had met on the ice field. Xiaoyu could never forget the face of the girl who put her out of the regional school league with an inadvertent club to the shins. But that was a long while ago and she had gotten over it - and so had Asuka apparently, if she failed to recognize her from anywhere other than the tournament. "Our team played your team."

"Really?" The high-pitch of surprise rang in her voice. "Whoa, I totally forgot all about sport once the whole tournament fuss hit school. Sorry, I can't recall seeing you on the field. Don't take it personal. I hardly remember anyone's faces, especially when they're being sheltered with protective gear. But you say you saw me?"

Xiaoyu nodded. In the single day she personally got to know Asuka, she seemed like a responsible person. Not someone who would injure a member of the opposite team, feel really sorry about it at the time, and then forget about it the next minute. The helmet was no excuse. The teams would always have mandatory handshakes at the beginning and end of the game, where they'd look each other eye to eye.

Still, she didn't want to believe Asuka was a heartless person. Besides, she had gotten over it a long time ago, hadn't she? She wouldn't bring it up now of all times. "Yeah, I remember you. You're an excellent player."

"Wow, thanks," Asuka smiled happily. "Most of the girls on the team are either too uptight or too jealous to spare compliments. I'm sure you're a pretty good player yourself. So, who won the game?"

"… Your team." To Xiaoyu's discomfort, Asuka seemed a little too happy. She didn't like the way the conversation was making her feel. "Anyway, you think Hwoarang stands a chance against Master Doo San today?"

Asuka briefly frowned at the sudden topic change. "We better hope so. It's the only way Master Doo San will let him come with us. We need the help. I just hope he's motivated enough to win."

Oh, he was motivated enough alright, Xiaoyu believed. After all, she did promise him her body, once he helped them ensure Jin was safe and sound – and not a second sooner. She could tell by the look in his gawking eyes across the dinner table and down the corridors that his motivation was in healthy supply. "In that case, we should have nothing to worry about. Look," she said, pointing to the skies. "The sun's almost up. We should get ready and go support him."

Asuka nodded. She stood up and fixed the flower she picked between straight folds of her brunette hair. Out of courtesy, she helped her Chinese friend to a stand. Together, they treaded back into the mansion, letting the waves settle to a calm surface. Xiaoyu headed for the shower.

Asuka looked back before shutting the glass door. She wished all mornings for the rest of her life could be this pleasant. She poked the flower in her hair and gave another smile before she entered the house, sliding the door behind her.

ooOOoo

It was always the waiting that Hwoarang despised. Of course, the silence didn't help any either, often waking his other senses to things that'd better remain trivial.

The surface beneath his bare soles felt smooth and icy cold. Thankfully, his toes wouldn't have to fidget above the torturing chill for too much longer. The blissful sun just reclaimed the highest seat in the sky, its loaded beams salvaging the terrain with a brilliant glow.

He could hear nothing, even as his ears searched the distant vicinity. And there was practically nothing nearby that could produce a notable noise. The outdoor practise arena was purposely detached from the main home, plotted on the farther outstretch of the spacious backyard. In principal, the designers' envisioned this spot to be free of visual and audible distraction, thus providing a fitting arena for interested combatants. But at a time like this, distraction was exactly what he needed.

Dark grey eyes wondered to the clear arena's circular border, hungry for anything stimulating. The spectators' seats seemed interesting enough. They were engraved into the circular boundaries much like the seats one would expect to find at a soccer stadium, except a lot fewer and only at two opposite sides of the pitch. They were a deep blue to match the 'mountain' theme the designers were going for. Looking from the outside, a viewer could easily mistake the skilful craft for a genuine, bluish-gray, snowy mountain; not knowing the interior was the open space Hwoarang and Baek Doo San were currently standing in.

Hwoarang's gaze stumbled back to his mentor at the sudden grunt that scratched his throat. He had a single eye peeled open to keep watch of the young Korean's deeds. Hwoarang fell silent at the inspection, bowing his head and shutting his eyes once more.

The semi-meditation session that his mentor insisted on prior battle did anything but calm Hwoarang. The anticipation was agonizing, and his thoughts always strayed to unrelated things. He didn't understand why they couldn't just get on with the battle. After all, in a street fight, there was no time to spare for such an unbearable practise. One need only shut his eyes in front of his opponent for a split second to find himself staring at a hospital ceiling the time he'd wake. So why even bother practising it?

"Ready?"

Was he ever!? He didn't think his master's gruff voice could've come any sooner! They must've been meditating, or in Hwoarang's case, pretending to meditate, for hours. He nodded at the question and opened his eyes with much pleasure.

"Are you sure?" Baek didn't want any excuses for a flawed form. "If one minute is not long enough we can resume with the --"

"I'm ready," he reassured, ignoring the lack of confidence prickling in his gut. He lifted his gloved fists to a ready position, but when his mentor hadn't done the same, he calmed down. "Is something wrong, master?"

Baek shrugged his head toward the stands. "I thought you'd like to know your audience has joined us."

And sure enough, Asuka, Xiaoyu and Panda were seated when his gaze revisited the stands. Assuming his mentor did have his eyes closed, which was a safe assumption to make, meant he must've sensed their presence with some mechanism other than vision. Hwoarang started to re-think the importance of meditation…

"Now," Baek arched a knee and extended his arms. "We shall begin."

Hwoarang raised his fists again, lacking in confidence even more than he was before. He eyed his mentor's stance intuitively, detecting a faint bounce in his left knee every third second. Knowing Baek Doo San however, it probably wasn't a weak point at all. His keen eyes continued to the search the maroon combat gear for an opportunity. His opponent must've been doing the same thing since he hadn't initiated an opening attack either.

Unexpectedly, Baek dropped his arms and resumed a casual stand. "Attack me."

For words expressed so calmly, they invoked a compelling wave of terror within him. The fact that his master's arms hung almost idly to the sides, and with his uncaring shoulder directed at him, only intimidated Hwoarang even more. It hinted that his mentor was prepared for anything he could possibly throw at him - and didn't even have to be in his ready stance to do so. This was going to be a different kind of battle, the red-head realised, clenching his fists tighter.

A corner of Baek's upper lip lifted, forcing a peek of the gritted teeth caging his impatient snarl. "I said attack me!"

Hwoarang's feet rushed into motion, pushing him forward, almost against his will. He just hoped the counter wasn't going to be a painful one. His right foot treaded into open air, tilted horizontally at the end of an extended leg. The boost from his pre-run had gathered enough speed to carry him forward through the air. He let out a wild battle cry as his attack neared the still target.

Panic moistened his brow at the fret of learning his Torpedo Kick had yet to make contact with anything solid. His opponent's cold eyes slid into view for the briefest of seconds before a rock fist crossed paths with his right cheek, shuffling his face to the side against his neck's comfort.

His lips bounced off the floor. The trembling touch of a finger identified a stressful spec of crimson. His stare widened, remembering the devilish look in his opponent's eyes. His mentor was rightfully a monster on the battlefield, but Hwoarang had never before experienced that twisted determination in his eyes. Besides, this wasn't a battlefield but a training ground. It appeared as if something was troubling his mentor and he was taking it out on him. The emotion packed behind his punch didn't belong there.

"Get up," he ordered calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

What was wrong with him? Hwoarang couldn't put a finger on it.

"Nobody's forcing you to do this. Back out now, if you wish," he hissed, concerned that his apprentice hadn't lived his command immediately. "But if you must go, give me the comfort of your success before you do. I can't have you disgracing my name, or my dojo's, any more with another loss ... or yield. Further more, what damage do you think you can inflict on him when you cannot even lay a finger on me?" He paused. "Now, get up or stay down, I haven't got time to waste."

Hwoarang grew to a stand wearily. His shoulders were slouched from the effects of the attack. Yield? He thought in disgust. He left the tournament because he had gotten what he went for, not because he was afraid of his next opponent.

That single word made it all clear. It gave him the definition of his mentor's bitter eyes. When his master first learnt he pulled out of the semi final round, he was extremely furious to say the least. He seemed to have developed a burly hunger for money as he aged. Hwoarang never understood why. After he and Doo San put what they had won to buy the mansion, his mentor grew more relaxed to the idea of him forfeiting the tournament. But at seldom odd moments, the disappointment would come rushing back to him as he fantasised on how much bigger his wealth would've been if Hwoarang proceeded to win first place, not to mention taking ownership of the multi-million Mishima Zaibatsu. Hwoarang believed this very fight was one of those moments.

"Attack me."

Hwoarang wiped his lip with the back of his blue cut-out gloves. He was determined to make his second attempt worth something. He wasn't going to quit. He was going to have another rematch with Jin. And this time, he knew exactly how he'd force him to put up the best fight he had. His master, and his accompanying greed, would be nothing more than stepping stones.

But his punch was cut short of its destination, grasped in hook-like fingers that dug above his knuckles and beneath his wrist. It was too frustrating; those eyes were spared his punch when it was only inches away. That would drop to the least of his problems however, as a left knee crashed into his ribs. He doubled over, wrapping his arms around the pain. He must not have screamed loud enough since his opponent found it necessary to punish him repeatedly with sharp kicks the belly.

"Face it. When it comes to him, you'll forever be second best," he heard the torment breathed into his ear as he cringed in foetal position on the ground. "You'll never be able to defeat him. Not unless he pities you. And you know why he pities you?" The word 'pities' was burnt into his conscious, as a cigarette would be smouldered into an ashtray, every time he heard it.

His eyes shot open, a gasp escaping his lips at something his master whispered in his ear.

Baek walked away from the downed Korean. No further had he gotten five steps away before he turned around just in the nick of time to stoop beneath an angry high kick. Hwoarang's attacks were fiercely quick, but incredibly predictable to the master of his craft. He avoided and parried every kick and punch before burying a strong fist in into his apprentice's injured abdomen.

Hwoarang dropped to his knees with a barely audible gasp. It was no use just getting angry, he realised, struggling to hear his own thoughts over his heavy breathing.

He's just a stepping stone… he kept to repeating himself … just a stepping stone … just …

He knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and shut his mind to all but one thing. The pain was definitely there: pulsing around his stomach, itching in his lips and face muscles, spitting on his pride. But the less he directed his attention to it, the more his conscious was able to overlook it. His heavy gasps reduced to faint stutters, cold breaths moving up and down his throat, then nothing. He understood.

He could see.

He opened his eyes.

"Wait," he shouted out to the man he sensed striding away. That's right, he sensed him.

ooOOoo

Asuka grinned sheepishly as a jumble of money notes were dumped on her lap. One defiant leaf of the currency missed her knees, gliding to the stadium seat a level below instead. She cocked a brow at Xiaoyu expectantly.

"Oh get it yourself!" The Chinese girl feinted anger. It was bad enough she had to pay her, now she wanted her to run her errands too?

Asuka simply stuck her tongue at her in response. "A bet is a bet," she reminded her, more for her own joy at winning than for information. "He's a lousy fighter. I saw him get his butt handed to him by Lei yesterday. Placing a bet on him in a battle against Master Doo San would be the equivalent of throwing money straight into the dustbin!"

Well, she could have told her that before they made the bet, Xiaoyu thought; she giggled to herself at what Asuka said – she didn't realise she just equated herself to a dustbin. What she didn't agree with was that Hwoarang was a lousy fighter. She'd seen him fight in three tournaments after all. The most obvious explanations, to her, were that he had either grown rusty after the fifth tournament, or Master Doo San was simply that impressive.

A stray part of her was sad that what she promised him wasn't enough to push him to victory…

She hurried to face her panda that was tugging at her pants from the other seat besides her. Panda pulled a note from her pink wristband and gave it to Xiaoyu with instructions. Oh great, Xiaoyu thought, more money for her. She put the money in Asuka's lap.

"Oh? For me? Thanks!" She placed it at the back of the notes she was counting. "What was Panda's bet again?"

" … That Hwoarang would come and hide under your skirt."

Asuka chuckled at that. She wished she could understand what Panda was saying without Xiaoyu's help. She was extremely smart for a panda bear and apparently witty too; having pinpointed two of Hwoarang's famous traits in her single comment: both his cowardice and perverted tendencies. She'd seen the former on the rooftop with Lei, and the latter well, almost every time she spoke to him.

"Looks like the fight is over," Xiaoyu pointed at the two men locked in eye contact at centre stage. All that was left was for them to bow to each other. Seeing as Hwoarang hadn't landed a single hit, it was safe to say he lost. "Well, Asuka, looks like we're down one travelling partner…"

That was the first thing that could bring a frown to the brunette since winning the bet. Even in the short time she got know Baek Doo San, she could tell he wasn't the type of man to back down from a decision once he placed it. Hwoarang lost and that meant he couldn't go with them. It was final.

A stray part of her was sad that his promise to help her was cut short so soon…

End of Chapter 5