Honesty and Cowardice

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I will have this finished soon, I promise. I’m estimating about three more chapters to go.

Thanks to the reviewers and to Jaremy for betaing. You have my eternal gratitude.

7:00am, Osaka, Outside Asuka’s Father’s dojo

“Explain. Now,” Asuka demanded, an air of authority in her tone.

Her father leant onto his walking cane, and shook his head.

“Asuka, I understand you’re - ”

“No, you don’t!” she interjected, balling her fists. Every single bitter thought she had been feeling for the last month seemed to up and out of her lips at that moment. So this is what she went to Tokyo for? Was she that much of a nuisance to be kept in the dark?

“Calm down,” he said, and he too, spoke with the air of authority so similar to Asuka’s that she couldn’t help but obey his instruction. Immediately, she felt uncomfortable at her actions. She had waited two months for a trace of news about her father’s disappearance and now, there he was. He was standing before her, unharmed, unaffected.

“Otousan…” Asuka whispered, and rushed forward into his arms.

“Asuka!” her father hollered in surprise, as she clumsily knocked his walking cane to the ground.

“Oh… sorry,” she grimaced inwardly. She retrieved the cane and handed it back to her father, who still appeared surprised at her sudden gesture.

“Same Asuka… rash…always spontaneous…” he muttered, shaking his head.

Asuka took a step back and tried to clear her head, something she was nearly always incapable of doing.

“So… where did you go, Otousan?? Why did you leave so suddenly? You weren’t in the hospital, you didn’t leave a note! I thought you had been kidnapped. That detective,” Asuka paused, taking breath, trying to grasp at the name, “Lee – Lei? Detective Wulong said he took a personal interest in this case, and he told me to go to… where did you go?”

“I could have asked you the same question,” her father replied.

“What?” Asuka, who was pacing around the yard, suddenly halted. “I went to Tokyo, to stay with Jin. That’s what Detective Wulong - ”

“Jin?” he interrupted bluntly.

“Yes,” Asuka said, impatiently.

“Not… Kazama?”

“Of course… I was told… well, actually, I kind of figured it out,” Asuka immediately felt sheepish, unsure that she should impart her calculating scheme. After all, she had done many rash things in the past, but abandoning her father’s dojo and flying to Tokyo to uncover the truth about her family’s secrets was definitely not something she felt would go without punishment.

“Figured what out?”

“Well…” she resumed her persistent pacing, “Why I don’t look like any of you! Why I’m like you said- spontaneous and always finding trouble. It’s because… I’m adopted, aren’t I?” She talked quickly, as if speaking incoherently would somehow make it easier to hear.

“I beg your pardon?” Her father re-gripped his walking cane, appearing highly affronted.

Asuka barged on, feeling as though there was nothing to lose now.

“Lei – Detective Wulong – he said there was a special bond between Jun Kazama and I – Jin and I, as well – and I figured it out. I’m her daughter aren’t I? And Jin is my brother.”

There was a moment of stiff silence – or perhaps several minutes- as Asuka waited with bated breath for her father’s response. He continued to look affronted at her sudden address, and she, for some reason, felt encouraged by it.

“Asuka…” he spoke slowly, “I don’t know what special bond this detective was talking about – and in any case, I wouldn’t trust his opinion, especially given how he felt about my sister, Jun – but he is clearly mistaken, because - ”

“How he felt? But - ”

“Jin Kazama is not your brother.”

8:00am, Xiaoyu’s house

Hwoarang’s eyes snapped open suddenly as if he had been hit by a bucket of cold water. He had fallen asleep in the most uncomfortable position: in a swivel chair; his head against the desk and a gigantic book ajar on his knees.

He looked round to see how the other two had fared through the night. Xiaoyu had collapsed on her bed and was now entwined with the biggest and most ragged looking creature he had ever seen. He wondered why anyone would ever make something so ugly into a toy. With a somber sigh, he thought of the plushie he had won Asuka and wondered what had become of it. She had probably tossed it into the back of the cupboard. Or used it for a punching bag and ripped the stuffing out of it. The latter thought amused him.

Miharu had fallen asleep sitting upright, her head against Xiaoyu’s bed and a laptop in her arms, cradled like a baby. They had spent the night trying to find a means of getting to Osaka, the most inexpensive way possible. It had taken an hour to even go through with this plan, in which Hwoarang had not participated but instead, thought of how incredibly ridiculous this situation was and that he shouldn’t be here anyway. Then Miharu pointed out that only one of them needed to go to Osaka to find Asuka; she suggested Hwoarang go, and Hwoarang suggested he go home.

The next three hours were spent finding an airline to Osaka; but unfortunately, a storm had swept over the city (which they could have eluded, Hwoarang observed in irritation, if they hadn’t spent so much time bickering) and all flights were delayed well into the morning.

Hwoarang had decided hours ago, he would simply feign sleep until he was sure Xiaoyu and Miharu had fallen asleep themselves, and then take off before they noticed. He could not bear to simply walk out and have Miharu reap more evidence that he was an “uncaring, dropkick” (her words) who didn’t care about Asuka, at all, because, on the contraire, not only was that not true, but it caused him to picture Asuka kicking his ass for giving up on her. At first, he had pictured her cute, sad face crying at his hopelessness, but he knew very well that was an entirely uncharacteristic reaction, so he settled for the latter.

Unfortunately, his plan failed when he realized that the pair of teenage girls were resistant to, not only adamant airport service assistants, the weather, the impossible, but also exhaustion.

So there he was, eight o’clock in the morning in a pink-wallpapered room containing two mad Japanese schoolgirls (whom he detested more than any other kind, in the world), annoyed that he had let himself fall into this mess.

He picked himself up, comforted by the thought that at least now he could leave and not feel like (more of) a coward.

He had just removed the thick book from his numb knees when he heard the telephone on Xiaoyu’s bedside table cry.

He froze, thinking that surely this would startle the girls into awakening. When they did not stir, however, he felt sure it would be safe to leave. He had just crossed to the door, when he felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he should answer it? What were the chances of it being Asuka on the phone, in trouble?

Though the chances of Asuka being in trouble are slim… he thought, rationally. A kind of tug-of-war against reason battled inside, and finally, he decided it was best to wake Xiaoyu up. The question was, how to do it.

Finally, he resolved to prod her on the shoulder gingerly. When she did not respond, he prodded her a little harder.

Thump! His response was a backhand to the eye.

“Ouch, what is your problem!” he retorted. “And what is it with girl’s hitting people in the eye…” he added, though in an undertone.

Hwoarang backed away, feeling very unrewarded for his good deed. He could have left without telling her, but noo… you had to be the nice guy and wake her up, he thought with a bitter scowl.

“Whaatzhappened?” Xiaoyu yelled unintelligibly, bolting upright. Her cell phone slid out of her front pocket, where it flashed an epiphany before Hwoarang’s eyes. Or at least, an opportunity of ensuring he did not appear to be a total coward in this situation.

“Your phone’s ringing,” he said bluntly, massaging his eyeball.

“Huh?” Xiaoyu muttered, rubbing her eyes. She appeared very close to falling back asleep. Below them, Miharu had, thankfully, not awakened.

“Your telephone’s ringing,” he repeated, gesturing towards her bedside table, “Can I borrow your cell phone?”

“Aii… yes… sure…”

As Xiaoyu pulled the phone for the handset, Hwoarang, quick as a flash, snaked the pink cell phone and headed for the doorway.

Xiaoyu had contracted into a ball on her bed, as she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello…”

Below her, Miharu finally awoke.

“What? Okay. Okay… I understand. Is everything…? Okay. I will. Be safe. Bye.”

Miharu looked up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Who was that?” she croaked, looking around the room.

Xiaoyu bolted upright and babbled excitedly:

“Asuka! She’s okay! She wants me to get - ”

But her excited demeanor quickly shifted to a look of disappointment.

“…Where’s Hwoarang?”

The pair glanced at the empty doorway, through which they knew Hwoarang had passed, out of this mess, and out of their lives.

“I swear to God, if he hasn’t just gone for a whiz, I’m going to kick his ass.”

The timelines in these scenes are a little mixed up, but you’ll understand later.