Lol. Here we are, finally XD 'Better Than Me'. Hope I didn't keep you all waiting too long!

Any who, enjoy the sequel to 'Just Like Me'.

If it is in normal style, then it is speech.

If it is in italics, then it is thought.

If it is in bold, then it is the individual's natural tongue.

If it is in underline, then it is Devil.

Chapter One: In Between

Journal entry:

It hurts.

It really does…

Not… not the injuries… Not any of that crap…

Just sitting here, alone, at the top of this church… Don't ask how I got there because I won't tell you.

I've sat here everyday for the last year and a half, when the killing loneliness required treatment.

What a treatment, hey? It makes it worse, and that's fine. I'll just isolate myself even more.

I kept a sharp look out, always, for that red hair on that motorbike.

I thought I saw him once or twice… But my mind plays tricks on me.

Always deceiving.

Only Seong-Hada and Nas-San know I'm up here. Only they know.

Sure, the others know I'm gone, but they assume I'm just in some other alleyway…

I can't go back to the hide out. And I won't. I only go there to get food, some clothes…

Then I come back here. Always up here… through rain, hail, shine, storm…

To waste away.


The man looked to Seong-Hada, pursing his lips in thought, "Not at the moment… This is extremely difficult to understand. It's very… abstract."

Seong-Hada rested his head in the palm of his hand, taking in a shaky breath, eyes starting to cloud over with tears once again. She was like his big sister. It was… hard to try and help her, "She hasn't spoken since our leader, Hwoarang, left. He was drafted into the Korean military. They were best friends. She hasn't said anything that happened at the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 3, she hasn't said why she had such cuts on her body, why there was a massive hole in her roof… Nothing. I… I really wish I knew more."

"Perhaps Hwoarang could provide more information?" the man inquired, sitting in the leather chair.

He shook his head rapidly, "No Mr. Burton, Nas-San and I have already tried calling him or just reaching him so he can help us… As in to like… ease her pain, or at least understand her to the level he did… We tried and failed, and I doubt you'd get through too. He… sort of made enemies with his superiors about a year and a half ago… And all communication links have been severed. To and from him."

Detective Burton nodded, flipping over to the next page.

Journal entry:

Fuck I feel crazy.

I saw him. Just now. No really…

Okay, maybe not… I think I need glasses, because this is the third time this has happened.

Always that red hair on a motorbike… turns into a figure of my imagination.

Told you I think I'm going crazy.

It's either him, or the other one… Always one of you two…

I miss your deep, brown, mysterious eyes, and your soft, black hair, koidito…

I went back down today… said hi to Seong-Hada and Nas-San… they were happy to see me.

Unlike some others.

Fucking Ki-Yerr and Mijj-Dala…

"Where'd you run off to? Come back for some food again, aye? Fucking scavenging bitch!"

I tried calling out for help… but my voice left.

Besides, I think Han-Geong was in a deep sleep, and the other two had left to thieve.

Chang-Sun and Jung-Keun… they always do that. Can't fucking blame them either.

Still… I just took it. All of it, without a scream, without a word. Then I left.

I wanted it. I wanted them to hurt me, so I could waste away faster.

I look back at my wounds now… They're scabbing and they hurt like fuck.

The Blood Talon would've killed them in the blink of an eye. In a heart beat. In half a second.

He would've taken their knives and cut their heads off with them.

I can even hear him in my own head right now…

"Sadistic bastards!"

Screaming at them, asking why they were so motivated to fight me, punch me, cut me, hurt me now.

I told you I never trusted those two.

Abuse… is like a drug. I guess it's like ice, you could say… Helps you waste away.

I'm an addict. Even when they're not there… She and I are making my mental state worse.

This is so fucking emo.

But it doesn't matter anymore, does it?

We don't care anymore.

"She says darling in this sentence…"

Seong-Hada wiped tears away with the back of his hand and leans across the table, looking at the journal, particularly at the word the detective was pointing at. He looked from the word to him, "Koidito?"

"Darling, in Japanese."


Mr. Burton leant back in his chair, the chair squealing as it moved, "Did anyone know about the violence?"

"N-no, sir…" The 19-year-old Korean looked from the table to the detective, "None of us… I didn't even know until now. When I get back, I'm so kicking them out of the gang. Attacking their second in command… And a girl too. Fucking hell…"

"So far in all the entries, I have noticed that Razer is writing as if she is two people. Why is that?"

He replied honesty, "I don't know. Hwoarang would."

"Then we need to get in contact with him."

"We can't!! I've fucking tried!!"

The detective nodded and placed the diary on his desk amongst the other pieces of evidence before standing out of his chair, walking around the desk and opening the door, "Please come by again tomorrow. We will need to burst open this case as quickly and efficiently as possible. Your help has been appreciated."

"Th-thank you for taking up the case," A small smile formed as the trembling youth breathed in.

"My deepest condolences for your situation."

Seong-Hada nodded before leaving with folded arms, the door being gently closed behind him. Detective Burton walked back to his wooden desk, sitting on the end of it, taking up the diary once again.

Journal entry:

I called Forrest Law today. I needed to talk to someone, and I needed someone to listen.

Neither of them are here anymore… All I have is her really…

And it often gets to a point where I don't want to listen to her. Like now.

Forrest told me that everything would be okay. He said he was there for me.

Who'd have known that someone with such annoying whoops in battle is actually a really caring person?

He told me everything would be okay. He said only two more months until he gets back from the army.

That's eight weeks. Eight weeks of sitting up here by myself, waiting for that motorbike.

Forrest also told me not to give up hope on the other one.

"He'll come back next tournament, I promise."

Right… If he only knew what I knew in regards to that guy.

If he only knew koidito was dead. Everyone just thinks he's missing…

I miss you…

Oh God… Please not now…

Just leave me alone…

He went to close it with a sigh, noticing scratches on the bottom of the page, when a picture fell out of the next page. He picked it up and observed it, seeing Razer herself and two other boys. There was the red haired one frequently described and associated with the motorbike, and the black haired one referred to as koidito.

Hwoarang and Jin Kazama, both from the last King Of Iron Fist Tournament, like she was.

He paused, seeing her smile, and smiling himself. It was a shame something happened to someone so young. She was happy with these two people – the best friend who had always been with her, as Seong-Hada had described, and the new friend that obviously neither Seong-Hada or Nas-San knew about. Crush, perhaps?

But that was two years ago, and this is now.

The detective slipped it back into the diary before placing it back on the table. It was quitting time.

He slipped out of the room, locking the door behind him, seeing that the rest of the office was practically empty. There was one receptionist, who appeared to have been cleaning up the desk, and was now watching the television in the back corner, just as he now was.

"Inquiries into Razer Athane's suicide attempt continue. Miss Athane, shown here in combat against fellow participant Lei Wulong, was seen to be jumping off the top of a Christian Church last Sunday evening. Two days following the event, she remains alive and in intensive care."

"Isn't that your friend or somethin', man?" a guy asked, elbowing a fellow soldier.

Hwoarang just stared at the idiot box that was perched in the corner. He had dropped the fork, oblivious to its crash, to its screaming bang onto the plate, and just stared, feeling his sienna eyes well with tears. He could feel himself shaking, he could feel his attempt to calm himself down by breathing… but nothing was working.

Suicide attempt.

He stood up and left the kitchens, feeling a few fleeting glances be thrown in his direction. Whether they knew that they had been best friends or not, just about everyone knew he had been to the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 3, and therefore, knew her to some extent. He made his way to his room, slammed the door behind him, and began packing vital things immediately with the strong, unquestioning intent of leaving.

The Blood Talon stopped temporarily for a moment, looking out to the door, wondering if he should. There's only a short time until he has to go, until his completed his military service. Should he just stay here and wait? Maybe he should try and get a letter sneaked out again… His superiors wouldn't be happy if he went AWOL.

Since when did this become about the superiors? Fuck them. They all hated him anyway.

His hand found his way to his chest, where through the material, he grasped the rocket pendant. Eight years now. The silver had dulled, and a few times he had found some polish and attempted to touch it up, but despite everything, he still kept it on. He wondered if the locket he got her was still hanging around her neck.

"…I'll be there soon, Raze. I promise," Hwoarang released his grip and returned to packing.

"She has been said to be in a critical, but stable condition. With the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 4 coming up in two weeks, one can only imagine that the 20-year-old Greek will not participate so she can heal." He knew the stupid piece of technology was lying. Of course she'd fucking participate, wounded or not.

Two years, hiding here, away… feeling her.

He felt the body hit the ground, the willingness to feel numb, for the last two years…

Just like she felt him 'die', like she felt the bullets shred her own body.

A direct link. One he appreciated too, because it strengthened his will.

But as it strengthened his own… it obviously weakened hers, to the point where this problem happened.

He realised the update had finished. Turning his attention away to the TV, he refocused on the punching bag before him, raising his fists, yelling out in anger and frustration with every hit. Frustration at everything.

Two weeks until the next tournament. Two weeks until he can approach her again, show her that he's still alive, that he didn't forget her. Two weeks until everything was as it was two years ago. The same faces, the same places… but different minds, different personalities.

It was unsettling yet welcoming for him. He wondered how Heihachi was. Did he feel remorse yet?

Better yet, did he leave her alone? Was she unbothered?

The 21-year-old Japanese man allowed the last kick to fly before turning away, grabbing his things, heading out of the dojo, leaving the old building, returning to the modernised world filled with towering skyscrapers.

Author's Note: -waves- Hi again. So, we have a new character in this fic! Detective Burton. Yeah, he'll be popping up a lot in it, so here's a picture of him so you can see him better in the fic. Just copy the link and paste it into your browser: Yes yes, that is a Gundam shirt XD!

And because I seriouslyyy got bored a fair while ago, here is Seong-Hada for you all. Again, just copy and paste the link into your browser:

Anyway. Bed time for me –rubs eyes- Hope you enjoyed the first chappie :)