Fan Fiction ❯ White Reflections ❯ Chapter 1

Title: White Reflections

Series: Soul Calibur

Authors: Sephira jo (sephirajo@yahoo.com) and Cap'n Dampeal (capndampeal@lycos.com)

Rating: R (for violence, angst, adult situations and the like to put it bluntly me and Cap'n Dampeal don't write for the kiddies.)

Part 2/?? (prologue counts as a part)

Archive: With Permission only

Disclaimer: We don't own this game! Namco does! If we owned it, the characters would be seriously fucked. 'Cause we like to mess with characters minds. Oh yeah. ^-^

Seung Mina awoke with start, aware only that a sound like thunder was responsible for wrenching her from deep slumber. She sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

"MINA!!!!"

Mina winced-the sound like thunder had been her father. Racking her brain, she tried to remember what on earth she had done this time to incur his wrath. Since that last incident there had been no proposals of marriage. And right now she had no reason to be planning another adventure.

"MINA, GET OUT HERE!"

Well, there was no stopping the old man once he was set on something. In that respect, her beloved Daddy was much like her. Resigning to the fate of a confrontation with the great master of the Seung dojo, Mina rolled off her bed and dressed as fast as she could, her father's booming cries booming cries growing steadily nearer as she fumbled into her armored red vest and split fighting skirt. She was just fastening her last earring when the door to her room slid open with a bang.

"Mina!" he shouted, and man, did he ever look angry.

"Yes, Daddy?" Mina said sweetly, using the same tone of voice she always employed to win over her father.

"Come with me," he said harshly, spinning around and walking away from her, "now."

Mina shrugged. So Daddy was having another mood swing, huh? Bouncing to her feet, she followed after him, wondering what it was this time. She hoped it wasn't another marriage proposal-she didn't know if she could take another one of those. She had no interest in any of the stupid village boys. There was only one person who had ever made her heart flutter, but he kept leaving her behind as he went out on great adventures.

Seung Han Myong stopped outside the sliding door to the room where the dojo's heirlooms were kept and shot Mina a glance that told her that he expected a full explanation for whatever trouble lay inside. Mina returned the glare with a quizzical gaze, thoroughly certain she had no idea what that trouble that might be. Han Myong flung open the door to the room with a bang and moved aside, allowing Mina to step inside.

"Explain," was all her father said. Mina looked around confused- everything seemed in its place in the softly lit, rose-colored room. Scarlet Thunder was there, sitting proudly in its place. The other weapons were all there as well, shining in the sunlight that filtered into the room. Then her eyes fell on the carved, mahogany display where White Storm should have rested. Should have.

"WHAT THE!?!?!" Mina screamed, realization quickly crashing down on her. White Storm was gone. Mina looked back at her father, who still awaited an explanation from her. "Daddy, White Storm is gone!"

"Yes, Mina, I know that," her father said tersely. "Care to explain?"

Mina shook her head violently, "Daddy, for once it's not my fault, I swear!"

Han Myong raised an eyebrow, "You mean, this dojo's missing a weapon and for once it isn't the fault of Seung Mina?"

"But Daddy! I-" the young woman stopped, clamping her hand over her mouth in shock as the memory returned quickly and painfully.

Yun Sung was sitting in the starlight, looking so put-out that Seung Mina couldn't bear to watch him. Anger roiled inside of her. She stomped to the weapon room of the dojo and, yanking White Storm off its holder, took it to the courtyard and approached the young man.

She came to stand in front of him, arms akimbo, the sword hanging at her hip. She cleared her throat to catch the attention of the despondent student of her father. Yun Sung looked up, his misery reflecting in his eyes. Mina felt disgusted.

"How long are you going to keep sulking!?" she shouted, "You are still such a baby," she said, dropping White Storm at his feet. She turned to walk away and spoke over her shoulder. "Look at yourself in that sword and think things over," she explained as she strode angrily back to the dojo.

As she left, it never occurred to her that he wouldn't put it back. After all, Yun Sung never did anything adventurous. It just wasn't like him at all.

"He took it! That baby took White Storm!" Mina screamed, turning around and running out of the weapon room before she even saw the look that registered on her father's face. Racing through the dojo, she flung open the door to Yun Sung's room and, sure enough, he was gone. Seung Mina was livid. Did he really think he could get away with it?! She stalked back to her room and quickly prepared a travel bag. Her mind set, she strode toward the gates of the dojo.

"Mina!" The voice of her father halted her; she turned around. Seung Han Myong stood behind her, holding Scarlet Thunder in his hands. Before she could say anything, her father tossed her the zanbatou; she caught it easily. "You forgot that," he said.

Mina looked at her weapon, then up at her father, "You're not stopping me, Daddy?" she asked curiously.

Her father walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. If Mina didn't know any better, she would have sworn that he smiled, "Mina, you've taught me the hard way that I'd never be able to stop you. Just be careful."

Mina threw her arms around her father, "Thank you, Daddy!"

"Just make sure you bring back White Storm and Yun Sung in once piece," her father said, embracing her back, "and yourself too, Mina."

I will, Daddy, she promised silently as she turned away and walked out into the world, this time unhindered by the guilt of a runaway. She would bring back White Storm. She would bring back Yun Sung. And she would get to have another grand adventure. Now, she thought, if only Hwang were here to see this.

Hong Yun Sung galloped his horse hard, as if by doing so he could outrace the sinking sun and fly the 200 remaining miles to Yöngyang on its last rays. Kiri had other ideas, however, and slowed to a halt outside an unfamiliar village without any regard to Yun Sung's frantic kicks. The small mare huffed loudly, then promptly dipped her head and began to nibble at the sparse grass at the side of the road. A few scattered villagers, returning to their huts in the village after a long day in the fields, stared openly at Yun Sung.

"Not here, not now," he pleaded with his nonrespondent mare. "Alright, fine. We'll stop here for the night." He finally urged Kiri back into a walk.

When Yun Sung slid off the mare's sweat-slicked back, he nearly collapsed into the stall at the village inn's stables. He groaned, wiping the sweat from his dirty hands onto the thighs of his even dirtier pants. He smelled like horse and a million miles on the road, although he had only put 140 miles-3 days-between him and the Seung dojo. He handed the stableman a coin to care for his horse, then patted his purse and staggered into the inn's tavern.

The characters in the tavern were a dirty lot, villagers just beginning to trickle in from the fields. They sat stooped around low tables, only looking up from their sake cups to stare at Yun Sung through the dim haze. The barkeeper could not fill Yun Sung's request for water-he had only sake to offer. Yun Sung was apprehensive of the alcohol at first, but it turned out to be almost as weak as water anyway. It did well enough in wetting his parched throat and, after a couple of drinks, the villagers' stares no longer agitated him.

"So, what's the news in this village?" he asked sociably. He suddenly felt very grown up, drinking with working men in a bar! His inquiry brought slow jaw movements to the stout man sitting across from him.

"You'd ask something like that… at a time like this? Don't you know that a battalion of the Japanese army is marching this way? They could overtake us tonight… or tomorrow… we're all dead men," the man replied, gesturing unsteadily at the room in general. Yun Sung sat up sharply, the warm numbness of the sake melting away in an instant.

"Wha… what do you mean? I mean… if that's true…. Man, how can you be sitting here, drinking, when your village is going to be crushed! Shouldn't you be running away?!" He scrabbled up to his feet, his hand moving unsteadily to the sword that hung at his hip.

"Run away? To where?" grumbled another man. "Everything we have is here-our fields, our families. We might as well put up one last stand with what few fighters we have left."

"But if you fled, at least you'd have your lives!" Yun Sung persisted, incredulous at the villagers' fatalistic attitude.

"It's no use, lad," sighed the first man. "They've trampled us before and they'll do it again as they make their way West."

"Have you looked around, boy?" piped up a third man. "There's nothing but desert outside of the fields we've planted and tilled with our own blood. Better to die a quick death as the end of a sword than starve in the desert." Yun Sung's head spun. He couldn't believe he was hearing this.

"Then… then what about your families? Why aren't you home with them?!" He realized he was almost shrieking, but he couldn't stop himself.

"My wife's at home with the kids," sighed the first man. "I can't stand the look in her eyes anymore… like she knows I can't protect her or our children… can't stand those eyes until I've had a few drinks, that is."

Japanese soldiers. Invading. Here. Soon. Yun Sung slammed a few coins on the bar counter and tore through the back door that led to the stable. He, for one, planned to flee.

"Kiri, Kiri! We have to go," he whispered nervously to his horse. He suddenly did not feel like a grownup at all, just a frightened little boy. "This village is a deathtrap," he breathed as he flung the saddle onto the mare's back and cinched it tightly. He coaxed the bit of the bridle into her mouth, then leaped astride and snatched the reins between trembling fingers. The stableman stared at him as if witnesses a murder. Yun Sung didn't care. He kicked Kiri into a trot, then galloped her out of the stable and into the night.

"Gods, gods," he swore as Kiri's hooves thundered on the hard dirt road that divided the village. He clenched the reins in one hand, White Storm in the other. He suddenly regretted taking the weapon… he suddenly regretted leaving the dojo at all. Now he was in completely unfamiliar territory in northern Korea with Japanese invaders perhaps only a day's ride away! He was in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the very war that Hwang had left the dojo to fight!

Yun Sung's stomach suddenly lurched at the thought of Hwang. Hwang Yun Sung Kyung, his one-time idol, now rival. He was fighting to protect villages like the one Yun Yun Sung now fled. If we were to surpass his rival, he could not run away. He must fight as well.

"Kiri, where are you running to? Can't you see it's just desert out there? We have to go back and fight the last stand."

"I thought you were gone already," a man grumbled as Yun Sung burst back into the tavern.

"Guys, you have to get off your sorry asses and prepare to fight! If we're going to make a stand against the Japanese army, we need a strategy!"

"Hey, kid, I think you've had a few too many cups of sake…."

"I am a warrior from the Seung dojo in Chili-san," Yun Sung continued, ignoring the comment. He heard some shouts of encouragement and proudly went on. "You'll need to go home and gather what weapons you have, including farm tools. Now, obviously we can't win against an entire battalion with mere pitchforks, so we'll need to lay a trap outside the village."

Suddenly, he realized that the shouts were not so encouraging. Neither were they coming from within the room.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. Then everything began happening at once. The tavern emptied around him, leaving him in the wreckage of upturned tables and shattered sake cups. The soldiers-how far away really were they? He dived into a corner behind the bar counter, cowering as the world came crashing down around him.

He didn't know for how long he hid there when the shelves of sake bottles shattered above him, raining liquor and shards of shards upon him.

"What's this?" grunted the solider.

"Stay back!" Yun Sung warned him, waving White Storm menacingly… or was that just the shaking of his hands? The Japanese soldier just laughed. He took a final swig from a bottle of sake and threw it down on the young man in an explosion of glass.

Yun Sung shielded his face from the shards, then rose from his crouch to strike at the soldier. The man knocked Yun Sung's unsteady thrust away with a grunt and a vertical strike with his katana. Yun Sung ducked back behind the counter, avoiding the blade. Heart pounding and adrenaline screaming, he then launched himself up into a leaping strike, hurling himself over the counter and slashing at his opponent. They both tumbled onto the dusty floor of the tavern. Yun Sung scrambled to recover, but found himself trapped beneath the soldier's heavy bulk. He screamed and slashed out again. Finally, he hefted the man off and rolled to his feet. He lifted White Storm in a final strike, then realized that the man was already dead.

Blood poured from the dead man's chest wounds, pooling on the dirty floor. It was smeared all over Yun Sung's white clothing as well. A moment later, Yun Sung added regurgitated sake and bits of kim-chee to the mix as he heaved the contents of his stomach.

"Gods, I killed him. I…." He had only sparred in the dojo, never taken a man's life. He crawled back behind the bar counter and curled into a ball, fits of choking tears interspersed with vomiting.