Difference between revisions of "MVR Round 2 P3"

Revision as of 21:50, 4 April 2021

R7

2 years ago.

"Wing Chun, Shun Zhang."

"Wing Chun, Wen Zhang."

We entered our respective stances, our hands inches from each other, our eyes hyper focused.

I can do this.

I stepped in, pushing Wen's hand out of the way and went for a feint, but Wen had already predicted this and deflected my other hand before it could even land. Wen closed the distance and brought his hands up, shoving me back and unloading his Chain Punch, catching me on the chest and the side of my face as I instinctively stepped back.

His legs are open.

I launched a leg kick, but Wen was faster, deflecting my kick with the inside of his foot and kicked me in the side with the same leg.

I stumbled back and brought my hands up in my form again, stabilizing my balance.

Wen smiled as he brought his hands back up, assuming his stance.

"Are you really going to lose to the little brother, Shun?"

"What did you just say?!" I snapped, as I charged, launching a strike to his face, then his midsection, but both attacks were dodged. I launched another strike at Wen's side, but Wen managed to catch this one, and began snaking up my arm elegantly.

"Shit!" I yelped, as I tried to defend myself, but Wen had already grappled on to me.

"Augh!" I shouted, as Wen struck me in the side of my head, then my ribcage, then used my arm and threw me onto the ground, unloading another Chain Punch against the side of my face.

"I win." Wen said, as he cleanly got off me, brushing his clothes.

I stared at the ground.

"You-"

"Sorry, Shun. But I guess I get the savings. Have fun dealing with our psycho father."

I watched as Wen walked away. He had already taken my job from me. He had taken our savings too.

I had no money, no prospects.

I looked back at our run down house. Dad was yelling at Mom again, threatening to divorce and kill our pets to survive.

"Wen, please. Take me with you. Take me-"

"Sorry, Shun. But it's every brother for themselves. That's what it means to be human. That's what Dad drilled into our heads since the day we were born. You were just too soft to admit it. I'm not gonna waste another opportunity to escape from Dad and this family."

"And Ming? Yun? You're gonna leave our cats behind too?!"

A tear ran down Wen's cheek as he kept a stoic expression.

"That's just how harsh this world is. I'm leaving this family and all the shackles behind. Even if it means destroying the elder brother to do it. I can't live with Dad anymore. I can't live with the guilt. I'm leaving it all behind."

"What if it doesn't work out. You're gonna be all on your own. I'm not gonna be there with you anymore!"

"Maybe. But unlike you, I am a full Shaolin Warrior Monk. I have what it takes to be a Kung Fu Master and open my own school. With this money, I can. I have a whole future laid out for me once I become older and my skill becomes greater. You spent your days in the Temple procrastinating and skipping classes. All you had was a half assed background in the staff as a Shaolin Disciple. The only style you still remember is Wing Chun. And I still beat you with that style despite not even practicing it for years."

Wen called the coach as he stepped inside. I ran up to it, banging on the glass.

"Wen! WEN!"

Wen put his hand on the glass, right before mine.

"But don't get me wrong, Shun. I'm going to miss you. But as what Dad always said."

The driver began to start the cab as Wen drove away, leaving me with our crazy family.

"Mo ban fat. Shun. No choice."

After Wen had left, I dealt with Dad for another year. That's right. My father was abusive and psychotic. I found myself having to resist the urge to strike him, because if I did, I would end up doing something I would regret. I would spend the long days and long nights putting up with Dad's outbursts. Resisting the urge of violence as he threatened to throw away Ming and Yun. Mom defending him, telling me that Dad didn't mean the things he said.

Wen and I always had each other.

For the longest time.

Until that day Wen had left with all the savings and the job offer. Wen and I were disciples in the Shaolin Temple since the age of eight. But despite being brothers, we had very different fortunes.

Wen was a skilled prodigy. Every kung fu style he learned, he perfected.

When Wen and I were in the temple, we picked up Wing Chun to try to impress the monks and get their attention. So we could learn from them.

Wen demonstrated his aptitude in Wing Chun, and his impressive speed amazed everyone in the temple. The monks said that Wen possessed the spirit of a true master. And many of our fellow Disciples said the same thing. Wen was acknowledged, and learned from many of the monks, his skill only ever kept increasing. He mastered the staff, bare hand. The dao. The spear.

Me on the other hand, I guess I just wasn't cut out for kung fu. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember the forms. No matter how much I practiced, I kept forgetting. I was slow, and inflexible. I was clumsy.

But the one thing that I seemed to have going for me, was for some strange reason, I was built very differently from Wen. While Wen had an athletic build, my body grew muscles at a rapid pace. And with these muscles, the power of my strikes were far superior to the Disciples. I was able launch an entire training dummy across the room with a single punch. I was able to break concrete blocks with my bare hands. A single side kick was able to uproot trees.

My sheer strength was what allowed me to keep up with the others in the Temple. But it wasn't enough to appease the monks and get them to notice me.

Because kung fu wasn't just about pure power. And pure strength.

You needed to be precise. And you needed to have technique.

And technique was the one important thing that I didn't have.

At some point, Wen and I returned home from the temple. Wen had become a Warrior Monk, and I... well...

I was still a Disciple. In fact, it was so bad, that I was with the foreigners in China, because my skill was considered at their level. The Shaolin Disciples had given me a nickname.

"Gwai Jai Shun."

White Boy Shun.

Because I was always with the foreigners. Since day one. And even after all those years.

A few months later, Dad and Mom moved to my birthplace. Nara. We were staying, renting out a busted ass basement. We all had to sleep in one room. The bathroom was busted, and we ended up having to dig a huge hole out in the woods to piss or shit whenever we needed to go. And it always had to be done in secret.

Because like what Dad had always said.

Mo ban fat.

No choice.

"Damn it all." I muttered, as I kicked at the rocks along the pathway. It was night time.

"Shui jai! Go ahead and leave! I never wanted you for a son!" Dad shouted at me when I told Mom that I was going out for a walk.

"That old bastard." I growled to myself, as a couple of citizens yelped and backed away from me. I walked into the forest, as I stared at a nearby boulder.

I imagined the boulder had my Dad's face on it. I made a fist with one hand and wrapped it with my other, lifting it into the air and facing the boulder.

"Shaolin Wushu. Shun Zhang."

The boulder didn't respond. Thankfully.

My eyes widened as my vision turned red. I yelled a battlecry as I stomped forward, launching an open handed strike at the rock face. The boulder crushed from the sheer force of my strike. Cracks forming as I yelled, launching another strike. And another. And another. I wanted to destroy that face. I wanted to bust it open. I wanted to destroy him.

I spun around and fired off a back kick as the boulder exploded from the force, hurtling into the darkness as I yelled.

The face was gone from the boulder, but it was still there. On the ground.

"Piece of SHIT! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" I screamed as I went low, punching the ground. Over and over again. My chain punch, bashing the ground. Dirt flying as I began to dig deeper and deeper.

"RRRRAAAAAGH!" I roared.

Kung Fu.

Was about precision. Controlling your breathing.

It was about learning to harness your emotions.

But right now, I was letting it all loose.

Suddenly, I stopped. Something was here. I felt it.

"What-"

Quiet. Boy. Your body is now mine. A voice said as I felt something evil swarm me. A red energy.

"Who are you-"

There is no need. You will cease to exist. Your body is truly amazing. Your strength is incredible. Your rage is immense. Your mental instability. Everything about you is perfect.

"Perfect? For what?" I stammered, as sweat poured down my face.

The yokai chuckled.

FOR POSSESSION.

R7

"Hiiro, just confirming, the duelling event's at 8 tonight, right?"

Yes, Shun-sama.

I stepped into the festival, cloak around me covering my face as I went to check out the main event. Several martial arts masters, sifu's, were seating in a large stadium together, their disciples standing by their side.

We only need to take down three masters to win Boss Lok's approval.

I stepped into the crowd, as I watched the masters face off. There were a ton of styles being introduced, as I watched the masters trade blows, the crowds going crazy.

"Waa! Master Guan's Southern Dragon Style is incredible! The best of defence and offence."

"Master Yin's Style is the best, in my opinion."

I watched as the masters continue duelling.

Boss Lok sent me to this festival to challenge the kung fu masters who were in the Chinese Benevolence Circle. The point was to show everybody here who was in charge, which gang was the strongest. To add onto its reputation, as one of Lok's fighters.

"Zhang. You will fight the masters. Severely injure at least three."

The gang members shuffled uneasily.

"Three? One after another?" One said.

"One master is hard enough."

Lok put his huge hand on my shoulder.

"I do not doubt the fighters I have chosen. Shun Zhang. Use the darkness in you. This is your calling. You are the Red Circle's Beast. Show them your power. Show them true fear."

My hand made a fist as I watched the duels continue. Guan Sifu had attracted the most people in the crowd with her style. Other masters were also attracting new prospects, but Guan was by far the best.

Shun-sama. We should make our move soon. If we fight the masters too late, they will say it was because they were worn out.

"You're absolutely right." I said, as I stepped onto the podium.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" One of the crowd members grabbed me from behind.

I turned to the guy and in one swift motion, shifted my body, sending him flying back into the crowd.

I went back to the stage and climbed onto the podium, facing the masters as they stared at me.

"Who is this?" One of the masters said.

"A ruffian?"

I regarded everybody in the circle. They were masters with styles that were different and unique in their own way. But I knew for a fact that none of them stood a chance against Hiiro.

Because while these guys were kung fu masters in their own right, Hiiro Hataka was in a class all on his own.

And I had the skill of Hiiro and his powers in the palm of my hand.