Moon.recs - Blog Posts

ㅤㅤ ⌗ takata mashiho ―︎ piece of cake

sypnopsis ―︎ in which mashiho’s significant other attempts to give him a little surprise & bake him a special treat for his birthday. keyword: attempts. it shouldn’t be that hard, right?

genre + pairing + word count ―︎ 2k words worth of fluff, angst, & a little bit of comedy for the birthday boy !! bf!mashiho x gn!reader

director’s notes ―︎ at this rate, i never proofread my stuff lmao 💀 this wasn’t requested, but it’s mashi’s birthday & i was inspired to write a short little something <3 the middle is a flashback, incase it’s confusing,, and i rushed the ending a little bit because it was getting lengthy, but i hope you enjoy it!!

Keep reading

impulsive : h.js

word count | 1.1 k

pairing | joshua hong (svt) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) / includes | food mentions, kissing (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour(ish), university au, established relationship au, joshua’s flirty in this idk what else to say <3

summary: in which you help your boyfriend with yet another one of his 2am impulse decisions.

a/n: happy birthday @joshuas i lob you berry berry much and so does joshua!! i said most of what i wanted to say to you on discord so i won’t ramble hehe <33 wishing you a very lovely day and i hope you like this ;-;

Finals week has truly driven everyone insane, your boyfriend far from exempted.

“Why that face?” Joshua whines upon seeing the appalled look you send his way. “This can’t be worse than what happened last week.”

You’d really rather if he didn’t bring up the past Monday when you came home to him and Seokmin slurping up ramen at the dining table after their study session. Perfectly innocuous, until your gaze lowers to quickly find their feet dunked into a tub of ice water.

They claimed it was so they could enjoy their ramen better, you claimed that side effects of studying Science Communication for five hours straight include insanity.

“It’s 2am, we’re both in a state of studying-induced delirium, and you want me to dye your hair? Now?”

“Yup!” Joshua chirps, much too hyper for someone at 2am. He slides off his chair and hurries into your bathroom, emerging seconds later holding a box. “I already bought the dye,” he says, nudging the box closer to you, “I just need some help to make sure it’s applied evenly!”

You glance between the box and the blonde hair sitting atop his head, a result of yet another impulse decision caused by cramming just a week ago. “You sure, Shua?” you ask, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m sure,” he reassures. “Plus—this is a time for experimentation! And it’s just hair!”

“Well, yes, but I meant you trust me to do it for you? What if I burn it off?”

Joshua hardly seems fazed, his head thrown back slightly as he lets out a hearty laugh. “You won’t, baby. It’ll be fine, though you’re not allowed to leave me if I end up bald.”

You snort at his lighthearted jest, choosing to scan the instructions printed on the box instead of meeting his eyes as you admit, “Don’t worry, I’ll still love you even if you’re an egg.”

“Even sunny-side up?”

“Don’t push it.”

“She’s staring at me.”

“Lovingly!”

“It’s creepy! Flip it over, please!”

“You’re the bossiest hairdresser ever,” Joshua jokes, but he does as you request anyways and turns his phone over so the screen faces up instead. “You’re so mean to her,” he pouts at you through the mirror. Her, as in the bunny splayed across his phone case. Admittedly, it can be cute on some days, but at 2am when you’re squished between Joshua and the wall of your bathroom with the flickering bulb—you make a mental reminder to buy a replacement one—its beady eyes seem to follow your every movement.

Either that, or the pungent stench of hair dye has already killed off a few of your brain cells and is making you see things. You definitely have a newfound sense of respect for hairdressers after today.

“I think we’re done,” you inform, giving his sectioned hair one last check to ensure the dye is even before helping him put on a flimsy shower cap, and you can’t help but think how it makes him look a little like one of those lunch ladies in the school cafeteria. “What now? The box said to wait half an hour.”

“We—” His stomach lets out an answering rumble before he can finish his thought, prompting you to stifle a giggle as he looks up at you with a sheepish smile. “Well, I guess now we know what we can do.”

Ten minutes later, you find yourselves huddled around the stove and slurping from a pot of steaming ramen, bowls out of the question because no one wants to do more dishes than necessary at such an ungodly hour.

“I can’t believe we’re eating ramen this late,” Joshua comments, his tongue peeking out from between his pink lips to catch the drop of broth threatening to dribble onto his chin. “My face is gonna be so swollen tomorrow morning!”

“What a tragedy that’d be.” Your reply is disinterested, partly because you can’t bring yourself to care all too much when you’re spending the next few days cooped up in your apartment anyways, and partly because you know your “hunk of a boyfriend” (his words, not yours) will still look better than ninety percent of the human population even with a puffy face.

Besides, you added two eggs in there for protein, so if you convince yourself hard enough you might just believe it’s healthy.

Being his personal hairdresser and now risking a puffy face—you suppose these are the things you do for Joshua Hong out of love.

“Will you be paying with cash or credit?”

Despite the halfhearted roll of the eyes you receive, the corners of Joshua’s lips curve gratefully. Gone is the blonde, now replaced by an ashy brown with just enough warmth to complement his pretty features perfectly. You’re surprised it turned out even, more surprised by how incredible he looks with the new colour.

“Very funny, baby.”

“I’m dead serious. Cash or credit?”

His gaze meets yours in the mirror, the corners of his lips curving up seductively. You know he’s being playful, at least for the most part, but the sight still has your heart taking flight and fluttering around in your rib cage. “What about I pay in kisses?”

Your smile mirrors his in mirth. “Mm… tempting, but no.”

You don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he gets up from the chair and brings a hand up to his hair, his smirk growing when he realises you’re enraptured by how the brown strands pass between his elegant fingers.

“What if I make it a really good kiss?” he murmurs, letting his soft lips graze the shell of your ear. The ticklish sensation has goosebumps rising on your skin in an instant, and an invisible fire burns a scorching path up your neck towards your cheeks.

A giggle bubbles up from your chest as he backs you against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, his arms easily wrapping around you to pull you impossibly close. Warmth radiates from him when he leans in and rests his forehead on yours, eyes dripping with adoration and love boring into your own. “Well?”

“Just kiss me, Joshua,” you laugh.

And he does—eyes fluttering shut, finger crooking underneath your chin to tilt your head up, lips stretching into a sweet grin before he presses them to yours. He kisses you tenderly, softly, as though you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen in his life. Perhaps you are, just as how he is the most treasured presence in your life.

So you kiss Joshua back with just as much enthusiasm, and hope he feels the endless bounds of your love.

a/n: :hehecat: i hope this is shuawife approved <333 thank you for reading and if you liked this please consider leaving some feedback :’)) it helps me a lot as a writer 💗

5:27PM : Your head is in his lap, and he strokes a piece of your hair from your swollen, damp eyes. You look so small and vulnerable in his lap, little, silent sobs coming from your mouth and hiccups making your head bounce on his legs.

But Hyunjin can’t bring himself to care, because you look so broken. From your diamond tears to the bloodshot eyes that puff from the sheer amount of crying you’ve done, he thinks his heart breaks every time he looks at you. Clad in baggy, comfortable clothes and hair pushed messily back, you don’t care how you look around him, especially not at this moment.

All he can do is run his long fingers through your hair, the strands gently falling back with each stroke of his hand. He rubs your ear gently and scratches the skin behind it as he hears your cries calm, knowing it’s somewhat soothing you. Your breathing is still erratic, sure, but your eyes are opening and you're not shaking anymore. Anything is better than before, he thinks, and he uses his free hand to wipe some of your tears away.

Suddenly meeting your skin, he notices your face is way too hot. Of course it is, it’s the middle of July and you’re wearing the fluffiest, thickest tracksuit bottom and jumper you could possibly get. But he doesn’t dare move to fix it.

It’s as though you’re a sleeping kitten, little and precious and the dread of disturbing your slumber is greater than anything. Apart from the fact that you’re not sleeping, you're crying, and he can’t bare to leave you alone. You don’t deserve to be alone.

Making a mental note to sort out your rising temperature later, he quickly swipes his thumb underneath both of your eyes, hand softly moving down and cupping your jaw while his thumb rubs over the expanse of skin. Until he can feel that you have somewhat caught your breath, he continues like that, and then moves down to your own hand. There’s one that’s not gripping onto his shirt like it is the most important thing in the world, and he entwines your fingers with his.

You immediately squeeze it, and he smiles down sadly at you when you do it. However, your eyes are on the hand that’s linked with his, and the way he brings it up to his lips and presses a fleeting kiss to the soft skin. Hyunjin doesn’t think he has the capacity to worry about your breathing in this moment, as all he can think about is the fact that his heart is beating out of his chest and he might have a heart attack.

You’ve always been affectionate with each other but kissing your hand when you’re sobbing over your stupid ex who broke your heart? That wasn’t the close, friendly affection you were used to.

But the feeling of your hand loosening from his shirt takes his mind off of it momentarily, and he watches your every move. He sees the way your hand moves to his wrist, the one that is stroking through your hair, and removes it from where it is. However you don’t place it down like he expects. Without a moment's hesitation, you bring it to your own, puffy and red lips, and place the most heart warming, delicate kiss on his skin that he has ever felt.

You’ve both put together and shattered his heart in one small action, because he’s staring at you both confused and overjoyed, clueless as if he has no clue what to do next.

He doesn’t need to know, because you know for him. You know that he has had your heart for a long while, even if you caught on embarrassingly late, and that Hwang Hyunjin is your forever man. He’s the one who comforts you when you feel lonelier than ever, he’s the one who never fails to buy you a valentine’s day gift because ‘he doesn’t want you to be sad if you don’t get one’, and he’s the one who has helped you when you never knew you needed it.

There is no one else’s arms you’d rather be wrapped up in when you feel so lost, so you let the moment continue. Whatever you are, whatever you do. That can all come later. For now, you and him being there together is the only thing that matters, and you both know much rather live in the moment if that’s where you both were.

CHANCE

pairing: lee felix x gn!reader

genre: fluff, f2l, highschool!au but not properly established

cw: they share a bed, not proof read and written in one sitting at 10:30pm °-°

wc: 1.7K

a/n: i can’t lie i do genuinely love this fic a lot, it’s silly and small but i think it’s sweet and he is too! please like and rb if you enjoy, feedback is very welcome and all is appreciated <3

Fatigue is a fatal thing. Clouding thoughts and forcing you into decisions you really should’ve thought more about—it seems so normal yet the danger that comes with it is sometimes inevitable. Like waking up with last night’s makeup on, or missing your stop on the bus because you just happened to rest your eyes.

Fatigue takes over your body on the night everyone is cuddled up in Felix’s living room. Friday night brings a buzzing atmosphere and the sky is an almost vibrant navy colour; the moon shines particularly brightly and it’s hard to resist sneaking a glance at it every five seconds. The boys are all focused on his game console (apparently it’s the newest one, you and Minho seem to be the only ones not that interested) and the sight is pleasant to see. Wrapped together in blankets, bowls of food both hot and cold scattered around for you to share. The sight of Jeongin’s face lighting up when he finally scores a point. The host looks around his living room with a smile on his face—everything is perfect, and he doesn’t even care that he has a test on Monday morning he needs to revise for.

In fact, he’s so totally enarmed in happiness that the only thing that brings him out of his trance is the feeling of a weight dropping on his shoulder. It wouldn’t have been a big deal hadn’t it been you, but of course, it is your hair that brushes softly against the skin of his neck before you quickly spring back up.

The suddenness of the movement catches his attention, and his head and body spin around to focus completely on you. Baby hairs messily frame your face and your eyes are slightly puffy and desperate to close there and then, but he can tell you’re forcing them open as you try and keep yourself awake. His heart pounds in his chest when you flash him a grin, and it’s irresistible not to send one back. He looks like an angel—the sun reincarnated—but he thinks you’re the prettiest person to walk the earth.

In fact, he’s so sure of his thoughts that it makes him sick. Sick in the way that he knows you are best friends, in fact, you were friends with Chan before you were ever friends with Felix, and sick in the way that he knows trying to change that dynamic could ruin everything.

Love is so delicate, and so cruel that he questions whether such a thing can exist, because surely if it did, it’d be much easier for him to wrap your exhausted form in his arms and lull you to sleep himself. Of course, it’s not as hard as it seems, but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know anything, and that’s what makes it such a scary thing.

Felix quickly snaps out of his thoughts and realises he was lost in his mind once again. Your body is slumped facing his, the right side of your face squished against the pillow of the sofa while you watch his face. Really, you’re not doing too much else, but the feeling of just being able to look at someone and feel immense comfort is an unexplainably lovely feeling in itself. You’d be quite happy to sit and exist with him like that for many moments longer, but as the blond pulls the blanket up to cover your shoulders, he leans in closer.

He doesn’t catch the way your breath hitches, but he certainly notices the way his own gut churns as he leans in.

“Do you need to go to bed? I’ll take you up to go early so you can get some rest.” He asks, whispering the offer in a way so kindly that you’re more focused on how dreamy he is than the fact he’s said the words you’ve been waiting on all night—you can finally rest, after what feels like a lifetime of trying to keep yourself awake. When a look of relief washes over your face and you gently nod at him, Felix decides it was worth the uncomfortable and intrusive butterflies. He’s never seen you look so pleased to accept an offer, but when you clumsily get up and stumble over your own feet, he knows how much you want to just sleep. He giggles, too: you look like a newborn puppy.

Telling the boys he’s taking you up, the blond wastes no time in jumping to your side. He doesn’t realise how he’s looking at you as though you’re his entire world, nor does he realise how his hand naturally snakes to the small of your back to give you soft comfort and support as you groggily drag your feet up the stairs.

He laughs when you cry about how you’re still wearing makeup, a little guilt creeping up his spine when you complain he’s “too mean” and that it’s a “serious thing”, but he knows he’ll take it off for you anyway. He doesn’t think he’d be able to sleep knowing he let you go to bed sad with stained eyes.

Every touch on your face is the most careful and light touch Felix has ever done. He’s so incredibly caring with the way he wipes at your eyes, one hand swiping the cotton pad while the other holds your jaw. The thoughts of how easy it would be to kiss you and how amazing it would feel to finally have your lips against are being brought to the front of his mind, and every time he shoves them back with pink ears and hot cheeks. However he doesn’t stop looking after you. His hands still wipe and caress your skin attentively and he still reaches for his moisturiser which he knows you adore the smell of (you let him know once, and now he puts it on every time he knows you’ll be somewhere).

Soon he’s practically carrying you into his bedroom. It shouldn’t make him as flustered as he is, but it’s weird to think that his arms are wrapped around you and pulling you close to his body as you walk into his bedroom. His parents aren’t even home—just his two sisters keeping the friend group company—but it still feels like he’s doing something he shouldn’t.

Those thoughts are easy to dismiss when you fall onto his mattress with a pleased sigh, the noise falling from your lips unconsciously and sending his mind reeling. You look so cute, quickly snuggling your way under the thick sheets and nuzzling your head into the pillows. Although you look comfortable enough, Felix feels almost inclined to tuck you in, his hands automatically reaching for the edges of the sheets that don’t quite cover your body and to the pillow that could be a little fluffier.

But he freezes. Your warm hand wraps around his wrist and his body goes still. “Stay with me.” You mumble, words hardly coherent but he hears them clear as day. You want him to stay with you and that could mean so many things but he’s only thinking of one, and soon he also thinks you can read his mind because you’re pulling the corner of the midnight quilt up and tapping the off-white sheets next to you.

Climbing under the covers is a natural response, he thinks. Felix thinks it’s even more natural for his arms to cradle your limp body after your own find his waist, cuddling into his body before going still. Along with the stillness of your body comes the shallow and steady breaths, and you’re asleep within minutes.

Perfect. He thinks everything is perfect and doesn’t care that someone will definitely come searching for him in an hour or so when they realise how long he’s been gone. Right now, all he can do is admire you, the curve of your nose and the dip of your cupid’s bow and every single detail that makes your face so loveable. He imagines the way you look when you first wake up in the morning, but gets shy when he imagines you waking up in his arms.

They’re all the scenarios from daydreams he has when he should be focusing on whatever the teacher is saying, but suddenly he realises they could become realities. He could wake up tomorrow and still have your arms wrapped weakly around his torso, feel your breath against his exposed chest and admire you as the golden sun leaks through the window. Still, he wouldn’t be able to kiss your lips and laugh when you ask him not to because you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. He can’t tickle you until you’re out of breath to wake you up and then end it with his head resting on top of your stomach, head tilted towards your face so he can watch the smile that paints it prettily.

There’s so much he wants to do and so much he can’t do and it’s driving him insane. Almost as though his hands are mere centimetres away from the thing he’s trying to grab, he’s never felt closer to having you than now. In fact, the situation you’re in would’ve been almost completely unreal to him just the day before, but now he’s got it and he doesn’t want to let go.

You manage to make him want to stay up until he physically cannot just so he can savour the feeling of being here with you. But fatigue has its ways, and spreads onto him like a contagious disease. He can feel his heart slow as his breathing matches yours, and his eyes start to shut before he even wants them to. Tomorrow, maybe he’ll make you breakfast and cook in the kitchen with you before anyone else is awake. Perhaps you’ll get up before him but stay still in his arms because you like it just as much as he does. There’s still a chance, and Felix decides to bet on it.

After all, he can’t confess to you in your sleep and expect you to reciprocate the feelings. Instead he settles for a kiss on the crown of your head, and one over your messy hair that he doesn’t care feels uncomfortable against his lips.

Having you here, right now, is better than having you never, he decides. The chance of getting you in the morning is better than the reality he’d face if he backs out of it all now and leaves you alone, empty in his bed. You’re worth taking the chance for, Felix thinks, and he’d happily bet on it again and again if it meant eventually, he could have you just like he wanted.

YOUNG-LUV.COM

— watanabe haruto

PAIRING ▸ Snowboarder!Haruto x Fem!Reader

GENRE ▸ fluff, lowkey crack, enemies to lovers

SUMMARY ▸ When your best friends—Riki and Shota—bribe you into going on a snowboarding trip with them in exchange for a video game item you’ve had your eye on for a while, you agree to tag along. But when they leave you at the top of the mountain, you start regretting your decision.

WORDCOUNT ▸ 2.70K

DISCLAIMERS ▸ strong language, haruto says some pretty mean things to y/n (i.e i didnt think you were that weak) but it’s out of love dw, y/n is a little rude and overly competitive (she’s a hot-tempered Valorant player, what do you expect?), non-snowboarders will probably not understand the terminology or the movements that are described but that’s okay seeing as it hold no value to the story itself

TAGS ▸ @soobin-chois

a/n: big thanks to the wonderful @strwbrymlkes for proofreading and helping me come up with a title, muah ily nari bae <3

"Wait guys don't just leave me here-!"

You don't even get to finish your sentence before your so-called best friends, Riki and Shota, turn their backs to you and glide down the mountain on their snowboards.

Oh fuck I'm fucking screwed.

Your body goes rigid when you realize that the boys just left you here, on top of a mountain, with a snowboard and no knowledge of how to use it. The worst part? You don't know how the hell you're going to get down. Yup, definitely screwed.

Now, how on earth did you even end up here?

Well, you have those two idiots to blame. It started this morning when both of them had spammed your phone with calls and messages, begging you to come join them on a snowboarding trip. You, who hates the cold and doing anything that demands physical labor, said no. The boys knew that much, but the trick up their sleeves was something that you couldn't resist.

"We'll buy you the reaver vandal in any color you want."

When you'd arrived at the ski resort, your friends had failed to teach you the basics of snowboarding before forcing you on a chairlift. They'd explained that there was a slope further away that was beginner-friendly so you didn't think anything of it. That is until you realized that to get to said slope, you had to take a black diamond track aka one of the hardest tracks at the resort that started with a very steep descent.

You weren't dumb, so obviously you refused to go down there seeing as you hadn't yet learned to even move with a snowboard strapped to your feet, let alone turn and most importantly, stop. Riki and Shota eventually gave up, ultimately deciding that your stubbornness was something they were never going to beat and instead went off without you.

And that's how you ended up at the top of a mountain at a ski resort with a heavy snowboard in your hands, and your dignity at stake. All because of your stupid obsession with Valorant.

Curse you, Riki! Shota!

You plop down on the white snow, undoing the bindings that glued your foot and the board together. You didn't know what to do. Tears were threatening to blur your vision and at this point, you were so thankful you had your goggles on so that no one could see how much of a mess you are at the moment. Seconds turn into minutes as you watch skiers and snowboarders alike get off the chairlift and race down different trails, joyous cheers coming from them when they start sliding down the mountain.

You fidget with your board, doing and undoing the bindings as to not look clueless to passerbys who, despite your efforts, pitied you for looking so lonely and miserable. You stop once both your feet are strapped in, a long sigh slipping through your lips.

"Well well well, fancy seeing you here." Your head snaps up at the familiar voice. Your breath hitches when your gaze meets the one person you despise the most; Watanabe Haruto.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You spit, the hopelessness you felt earlier turning into annoyance as a cocky grin tugs at his lips.

"I should be asking you that. Besides, you're not the one who's known as YG High's best snowboarder." At his remark, you roll your eyes and for the first time since this morning, you wish you didn't have your goggles on so Haruto could see that his arrogance is nowhere near flamboyance. "So?"

"So what?"

"You didn't answer my question. Why are you, L/n Y/n, of all people here snowboarding?"

At this point, you feel like a gazelle trapped between a pride of starved lions. You stop to think about your next words, grunting when every excuse you'd made up in your head didn't sound one bit convincing. So for a moment, you let your pride slip through your fingers like sand and force the words out of your mouth. "I was promised something I've been wanting for a while if I came here but now my friends abandoned me and I don't know anything about snowboarding."

Your gaze is trained on the powdery snow beneath your feet until laughter resonates from the boy who's standing in front of you, looking down at you as he has the time of his life seeing the one person he enjoys teasing the most in a situation where your pride can't save you. The weight of the death glare that's pointed at him finally settles when Haruto stops giggling like a madman. He almost gasps, wondering when the hell did you take your goggles off.

"Very funny, Watanabe. Now if you're going to continue then I suggest you do so when I'm not around, I'm so not in the mood right now."

He straightens, arms crossing as he lifts a brow. "Are you really going to let a little mishap like this get the better of you? Seriously, Y/n? I didn't think you were that weak."

His words make you livid. The competitive spirit in you makes it hard for you to stay calm as you send daggers at him, fists clenching so hard you're almost sure your palms are stripped of any blood flowing. Haruto knows how to make your blood boil and you despise him for that. He knows that provoking you by questioning your skills and your pride makes you pissed like no other. Your voice comes out like venom when you wipe melted snow off your face using the back of your gloved hand. "Shut up. I’m nowhere near weak.”

Haruto smirks in contempt. "Atta girl." Only one of his feet is attached to his snowboard. He didn't have time to strap them both in for the sight of your figure sitting in the snow next to the trail map had seized his attention. So the boy places his free foot on your board, in between the bindings, arm outstretched.

You hesitate for a moment before accepting it, wondering if this was a ploy to further make fun of you. In the end, you take his hand and in one swift motion, you're up on your feet. Not exactly gracefully, seeing as you almost face plant forward though luckily, Haruto is there to catch you. You can literally hear him smirk in satisfaction seeing you already struggle, but you decide to play it off.

Without a word, Haruto drags you to the edge where the surface starts to angle down. For a second, you panic, seeing how steep the slope actually is, and Haruto can tell when your grip on his hands tightens. "Don't wuss out on me now, Y/n."

"The hell makes you say that? I'm everything but a wuss." You hiss, but you know he thinks otherwise. Still, the boy simply shrugs and moves directly in front, facing you as his board slides down perpendicularly to the mountain.

"Turn your board like mine is."

Okay, that's easy. Done.

"Put most of your weight on your heels— Stop leaning your torso back that's why you're falling," Haruto says as he helps you up. Something in the back of your mind tells you that this isn't the only time you're going to be falling today.

"Bend your knees and control your weight." You do as he says, groaning when the board slowly turns parallel, and opting to drop on your bottom to stop yourself.

Haruto lets go of you to slip his goggles back down, then doing the same with your own before helping you back up. He can tell you're already discouraged. As he tries to find something to say that will bring your determination back, a kid—around seven years old—comes speeding down the hill, skillfully switching between his toe and heel edges.

"See that, Y/n?" He jerks his head to the little kid, making your eyes follow in that direction. "A tiny ass kid is better than you. Why don't you go ask him for some help, huh?"

That's all it takes for you to get back up on your feet, this time paying a lot more attention to how much pressure you put on each heel. You find that leaning more towards one foot turns your board completely straight against the slope, so to counteract that you dig your weight into your opposite foot.

You look up at Haruto with a satisfied smirk only to meet one of his own as he slowly slips his fingers away from yours. He slides down to a flat part of the trail, watching with crossed arms as you slowly join him. Okay, this isn't so bad, just balance out your weight and don't lean back.

When you get to the boy, he only nods in acknowledgment before clapping his hands together. "Right so you seem to be getting the hang of this quite easily— I don't know how the hell you did that cause it took me a good two days to master heel edge." You have trouble deciphering what he mumbled at the second half but you just decide to brush it off with a shrug.

"What's next?" You're getting impatient now, wanting to get down as fast as possible and redo the trail without anyone's help in typical Y/n fashion. Stubborn and in denial that you sometimes need it.

"Now try ridding down with your board parallel to the slope."

Your eyes widen, and you fight back a gasp. "Are you crazy? That's way too fast!"

"You'll be fine as long as you're able to switch to your heel edge when you need to slow down."

"But-"

"That kid from earlier was doing it, so I don't see why you can't, Y/n. Unless you're a wimp, hm?"

Alright, that's it Watanabe fucking Haruto. I'd like to see you get your ass kicked by me in a Valorant duel after this.

A sharp breath leaves your lips as you start going down at a pace that's a little too fast for your liking, so in a semi-panicked state, you whirl your board around to that you're on your heel edge. Unfortunately, you must've done it too quickly because you end up on the ground, tumbling down the hill a few times before gathering the strength to stop yourself with your arms. Now you're laying on your back and you can hear Haruto approach from the distance.

What you didn't expect, however, is him coming to an abrupt stop, thus spraying you with snow.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that Watanabe!" You yell, sitting up and grabbing a handful of snow that you throw at him, but sadly miss.

The boy is laughing and that makes you want to whack him with your snowboard right here and now. Your anger blurs the fact that he's making his way down the mountain, and you only realize when he yells from a distance.

"Then come catch up to me! I bet you won't even be able to!" And just like that, Haruto turns a corner and disappears from your sight.

Oh, fucking hell he just left me here. Traitor.

That's when you decide to get revenge on Haruto for your not-very-pleasant snow shower. You get up on your feet and ease into the right position, leaning towards your front foot until you reach the turning point and try your best to stay calm. You start by pulling your back foot forward slowly to get on your heel edge, internally celebrating when you manage to stay steady.

And so with adrenaline and blood pumping in your veins, you adjust your goggles before continuing on with your quest to absolutely destroy Watanabe Haruto.

In the meantime, Haruto arrives at the bottom where he meets up with two blond boys. They share a quick side hug before the taller of the blonds speak up. "How's Y/n doing up there?"

Haruto smirks, "She's a surprisingly fast learner."

"Are you sure you didn't just bully her into being good?"

"Aye, Riki you know I'm not like that."

"Yeah right." The other boy, Shota, mocks the older.

"Fine, maybe I did. But hey, you weren't kidding when you said she's one hell of a competitive person. I compared a seven-year-old to her and it felt like she was gonna kill me." Haruto shivers at the thought of your deadly glare from earlier.

Shota laughs, patting the elder's shoulder. "She's a Valorant player man, what do you expect? And by the way..." The boy leans his weight on Haruto who groans, knowing exactly what he was going to say. "That PS5 you promised us for getting Y/n to come here, we're still waiting for it."

"Yeah! We didn't go through all that trouble for nothing!" Riki chimes in and he and Shota share a look.

"It's on its way to my house. Come get it tomorrow, kids." At that, the younger two jump around in excitement, hugging each other as they yell words of victory for attaining their game console.

Haruto chuckles happily. Just then, he hears a voice—your voice—shouting from the distance to "Watch out!". He turns around, but unfortunately isn't quick enough to move out of the way. Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion when you fail to break. You crash into Haruto's chest, sending you both toppling over. You don't even notice the boy instinctively wrapping his arms around you until you land atop of him, who lands on his back.

"Woah— Y/n? Are you okay?" Haruto asks. When he doesn't get and answer he starts knocking on your helmet. He relaxes when you respond by groaning and tapping on his arm to stop. Normally, you would've already been back up on your feet, pushing away the boy who somehow ended up being your savior today. Except your body doesn’t cooperate. Your arms don’t have any more strength in them, legs shaking from being in a squatting position the whole time. You are such a mess but that only makes Haruto’s heart flutter even more than it already is.

Your eyes close automatically as your body goes limp against Haruto. It feels nice just laying there. The sensation is as satisfying as reading a book on a rainy day or getting an Ace in Valorant. You let yourself just stay there and you almost doze off, wanting to reclaim the energy you spent getting down the mountain.

Haruto doesn’t know how to react. Who would when your crush is literally laying on top of you? His stomach tingles with what he can only assume are butterflies. He just lays there, internally panicking. After a few moments, though, he relaxes. Okay, this isn’t so bad… Yeah, this feels nice actually.

“I’m so tired.” You mumble into his neck and in return earn a chuckle, his hands rubbing up and down your back.

“Make sure to have a bottle of painkillers on hand, tomorrow you won’t be able to move properly.” His voice resonates right into your ear as you listen, half-asleep.

“I owe you one, Watanabe. Even though I hate to admit it, I really do. Name anything and it’s yours.”

“Then how about a date?”

You’re about to answer when you hear a pair of hushed voices a little further. “Quick Shota take a picture of them and post it on the school website! Y/n’s gonna try to bribe us to take it down and we can ask for Fifa 22 in exchange!”

Suddenly, you don’t feel tired anymore. In fact, your energy level only goes up when you spring up to your feet. You look down at Haruto, “If it’s a date you want then fine. But first…” You snap your gaze over to your two best friends. Their faces are drained of mischievousness when you kick off your bindings and start running after them.

“You traitors! How dare you abandon me at the top like that! GET BACK HERE!”

win | yang jungwon.

or, high schoolers beating each other up? what's new?

synopsis: The God of High School, an annual all-styles tournament with no limits to time and weapons used during battle comes to Seoul with a bang! Our first contestant is Yang Jungwon, a prodigy disciple of the renewal taekwondo style. While the boy looks as harmless as a sheep, he strikes with the strength and fury of a dragon, smoothly slithering around his opponents to deliver the final blow with his powerful kicks. With zero losses and a single draw, who could possibly outmatch him in a fight?

cast: taekwondo!jungwon x capoeira!fem!reader ft. huening kai, sunghoon, jungkook, ateez san, aespa winter, tbz eric, and more ig

genre: action, sports, mild to moderate e2f2potential l

wc: 19.4k

warnings: profanity; graphic imagery of blood, injuries, and violence bc it's a martial arts fic cmon

a/n: heyyy! i guess this will be my first fic here! i originally wanted the jake fic i was working on to become my comeback fic, but here we are. heavily based on the god of high school webtoon! ngl ending's a bit rushed but eh it's my first attempt at writing an action-heavy fic!!

© orpheyeux 2022. please do not repost, translate, or cross-post my works onto other websites or forums.

​​In the corner of the park, right past the garden of tall, oak trees and vast greeneries, lay a place for the brave—if that's what you could call them. People of all ages and nationalities gathered in this very corner to either participate and feel the rush of adrenalin that coursed through their veins in each match, or to simply watch humans regress into their animalistic instincts. There was no place for wits, smarts, or logic once one entered this realm of anarchy. All human beings were equals before the freshly cut grass fields, with only one thing to prove,

Strength.

Jungwon pushed past the zooming crowd, who cheered and screamed at the sight in front of them. Rows of heads blocked his vision, but there was enough space between them to take a peek at the action he was supposedly missing. Curling each bone in his feet, he craned his neck upward, holding all of his body weight in the tip of his toes. Resilience was one of the attributes he honed as a child, so he supposes the trait could come in handy to watch a backdoor, underground fight with his friend.

"So, is this the God of High School tournament?" Jungwon asked the person right next to him, who currently drowned himself in the herd of people that were too engrossed in whatever unfolded at the very moment. Sunghoon jerked his head too quickly, feeling a snap and a crack that momentarily tore through the loud, rowdy audience. He had a puzzled look on his face, and Jungwon took it upon himself to inch closer to his ear, then proceeded to repeat his question by screaming right into his ear canal.

"What the hell?!" Sunghoon exclaimed, flinching backward. He took his palm to his ear, using his free arm to regain momentum. Thankfully, his hard-earned skills and natural balance came to his aid, and he quickly recovered from a near fall. Jungwon rolled his eyes at his friend with a hint of jealousy, admiring the graceful way he kicked himself back into standing position. In the world of athletes, the body's movement was the main language. Even if Sunghoon and Jungwon were from entirely different disciplines, he could still appreciate the subtle displays of kinesthesia that he's grown to notice throughout his daily life.

"Are you gonna answer me or not?" Jungwon asked again, wondering if his friend had a hearing problem. Even if Sunghoon could effortlessly move his body to the rhythms and melodies of a song, his default expression was a blank space with lips pressed into a thin, straight line. It would usually take three to four calls until he finally turned his head, wearing the same, inattentive look on his face.

"Right," Sunghoon replied. "This isn't the official GOH, but most of the contestants that end up appearing on the tournament are scouted here."

"So, is this like, a preliminary thing?"

Sunghoon shook his head, keeping his head tilted in a direction where he could still see the current fight unfold. When Jungwon glanced below to check if his phone was still there, he was bewildered by the toughness of Sunghoon's feet. One would think that a martial artist would easily win against a figure skater in an endurance contest—but now, between Jungwon and Sunghoon, the victor was as clear as day. While Jungwon had to take a few breaks between his endless tiptoes, Sunghoon had been staying in the same position for at least thirty minutes before he lost his balance.

"It's an informal competition." Sunghoon finally said after a moderately long pause. His head was now completely towards the two fighters in front of the makeshift arena—one was a burly, foreign man who looked like a typical wrestler in a fighting game, and the other, a young girl who was three-quarters his size.

"People can just step on the field and start fighting each other until someone either forfeits or gets knocked out."

Sunghoon began pushing forward with a quick nod, elbowing whoever blocked his way. Jungwon followed, muttering quick, incoherent apologies while nagging at his friend to be more careful.

When the last row of people cleared up, Sunghoon looked back to Jungwon with a vibrant sparkle in his eyes. He's never envisioned someone like Sunghoon to gain interest in something so violent, but perhaps the world of martial arts was an enigma to those that weren't a part of it. For Jungwon, however, this was his typical Tuesday. Of course, he had to follow a set of rules at the dojang; wear your head guard, no pushing, and kicks are only below the shoulders. Nevertheless, that did not alleviate the violence that would often ensue if one were to get too comfortable. He's seen it in the bruised, black eyes, broken arms, and sprained ankles that his colleagues would sustain. Sometimes, these injuries were inflicted upon others by him—which usually made the acids of his stomach twist and turn with overwhelming guilt.

"Now this," Sunghoon started out of the blue. "This, is gonna be interesting."

Now that the two of you were in the front seat, the difference in size was amplified tenfold. If he were to make a good guess, the man was probably almost two meters tall, carrying the bodyweight of an elephant made of pure muscle. The thin straps of the spandex that hugged his body looked as if it were to snap with one, single move when he flexed his arms. This man was clearly a professional fighter—one that probably made television appearances in the U.S., smashing chairs and bodyslamming any poor wrestler who was unlucky enough to become his opponent.

On the other side of the arena was you, someone who didn't strike anyone as a martial artist. In the naked eye, you had the face of a typical teenager in high school, with no visible signs of excessive exercise that marked every fighter. Those that boxed had a higher muscle concentration on their forearms, evident in the veiny texture of the skin. People who practiced kick-heavy forms of martial arts like him had thicker thighs that carved out the shape of a horse's shin.

With you, however, Jungwon was hopeless. Even if you wore the summer uniform, he couldn't see any sign of muscle development in your arms. He tried to squint his eyes and take a closer look, but to his disbelief, you had the exact same arms as his sister—who was more brains than brawns. Since your legs were covered with sweatpants that went under your skirt, he couldn't complete his impromptu evaluation of your fighting style.

Could it possibly be taekwondo?

You rolled the hem of your sweatpants up to the bottom of your knee, using something that looked like volleyball knee pads to stop the fabrics from falling during your fight. Jungwon took this as a chance to take a quick look at your calves to see if he was right. Much to his utter surprise, your calves weren't protruding out of your lower legs. This was unlike any taekwondo practitioner he's ever seen! Even the lightweights like him had some levels of visible calve muscles.

Was she a kickboxer? I heard that it's slowly getting popular among women. He thought, watching your every move.

Now, you held a wide leg stance, bending your back to each side of your thigh for a good stretch. You twisted your spine as far as you could, giving the illusion that your body would break him half. It was harder to tell the type of martial art one practiced through stretches, since the stretching regimen was relatively consistent for most fighting styles.

Sumo wrestling? That can't be. As far as I know, only men can sumo wrestle.

Now, the referee was seconds away from blowing his whistle. The entire crowd was suddenly submerged in a silence so deadly that one move would echo across the whole park. In this level of quiet, Jungwon could swear he could hear the heartbeats and breaths of everyone around him—inhaling, exhaling, then stopping still. There was no reaching his friend, who was utterly hypnotized by the scene in front of him.

In one second, the whistle will be blown. Nobody in the crowd knew what was going to happen. One of the first fights in the park grounds that yielded an unpredictable result was to unfold this very second. Sure, it seemed evident that the macho man would crush your bones—but this was the park, where everything was possible. If a thirteen-year-old judo practitioner was able to knock an extremely tall, muscular man who excelled in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, then anything was possible.

Some people placed their penniless bets on your victory, while others performed the mental gymnastics of envisioning a scenario in which you, the underdog, lost this match. Jungwon was one of them, and in his mind, you were clearly set for a crushing defeat. With no visible muscle definition and no clear fighting style, he was confident in his judgment as a professional fighter that you had no odds against your opponent—who had the body of a trained and experienced wrestler.

The high-pitched whistle sounded like a gunshot, bouncing back and forth between the narrow canals of Jungwon's ear. Although his ears were ringing, he didn't need his hearing to see you in action.

Quick. Your first move was a cartwheel followed by two kicks that launched you right above the macho man. In a blink of an eye, your heel made contact with the top of his head, launching his entire body back to the ground. The whole park shook with a tremor stronger than an earthquake upon his fall, and you flipped your body mid-air, using your heel again to kick his spine. Jungwon listened carefully, swearing he's heard a crack and a splatter from the large, burly man.

The crowd roared in an instant with vigor, breaking their vocal cords with each move you made. Sunghoon bit off his thumb's nail as soon as you landed the second kick, tasting the metallic notes of carnage in unison with the consecutive, brutal attack you launched whenever the macho man tried to stand up.

"Can the Slovenian Slaughterhouse stand up?!" The referee, who was wearing a suit for this somewhat informal occasion, said in an announcer's typical, obnoxious voice.

"Everyone! Can the Slovenian Slaughterhouse stand?! Up?!" He repeated, bending his frame down to the man who lay flat on the grassy ground. His question was met with uproar, followed by a harsh ball of spit to his face.

"Now I'm fired up,"

The Slovenian Slaughterhouse slowly cracked each of his knuckles, making cautious steps to your smug, standing figure. You gave him a playful smirk, keeping your eyes locked on both of his arms. Jungwon knew the look on your face too well, because it was one that he himself had whenever he fought.

It was the look of boredom.

He's gonna try to swing at me with both arms from above, you said through your gaze. Even if you weren't directly looking at him, the gleam of your side profile properly communicated your gift to Jungwon. The Slovenian Slaughterhouse's first two moves were the dead ringer for him—he was too predictable, almost like an open book that you thoroughly read more than once.

The macho man rushed to you at full speed like a bull, and you easily dodged through each of his attempts to encircle you in his arms. Here, your body was as light as the red cloth that triggers the madness in the bull—and mad he went. There was no tactic to his movements anymore; he was simply flailing his arms wherever you went.

Using the gap between his waist and his arm, you slipped your foot inwards, using the bone of your instep to deliver a painful blow to his ribs. As if that weren't enough, you then kicked your legs down in a gliding position, sliding under his legs to trip him. Before he could react, his face passionately kissed the cold, prickly grass that waited for him to consummate their tryst.

He quickly got up and started flailing his arms at you again. Resilience was to be expected for a man as muscular as him. However, you matched his manpower, never running out of breath despite constantly running in circles around him. In fact, you looked too relaxed—as if fighting a man made of hard muscle was something you did the moment you woke up.

In one fell swoop, you dodged another one of his encirclement attempts. Instead of your usual kicks, however, you propped your palm on the ground in a handstand that sent your heel straight to his jaw. You uppercutted him with your foot, and now, you were spinning your legs in a frenzy, hitting both sides of his ribs at once. When he caught one of your legs, the audience cheered at the supposed turning of the tides. This was the moment the Slovenian Slaughterhouse was supposed to flip your body to his neck to bust all the bones in your body. A moment like this was supposed to be the call for a bodyslam—or perhaps a chair to your face. After all, this fight was a free-for-all; there were no rules to follow, and the Slaughterhouse could just uproot a tree and throw it to you if he pleased.

Instead of seeing a WWE-styled slam dunk, Jungwon bore witness to one of the many moves you've exhibited in this match that gained his utmost respect. While simultaneously dodging his heavy punches, you took your lower leg to his shin. Naturally, he lunged at where your foot was—albeit a tad bit too late. While he was able to snatch your ankle, you used this as a ladder to launch yourself to his head.

"Aaaaand Miss Ballerina over here did a fake! A FAKE!" The eccentric referee-announcer repeated, now taking the role of a commentator. Jungwon tried to break away from the fight to check on Sunghoon, but his eyes were glued to the arena. More specifically, you were the only one that entered his line of sight. The Slaughterhouse's veiny biceps were a mere blur to him, and instead, each second of your kicks froze still in highly defined frames.

Jungwon's mouth was agape. He was too stunned to speak. While onlookers and audience members watched the entire picture, all Jungwon could do was stare at your footwork and your stance. Your kicks weren't that of taekwondo or any martial art he knew, and your form had an irregularity to it that wasn't present in East Asian martial arts. Kick-heavy styles from the region, such as taekwondo, karate, and kung-fu, all focused on accuracy and rigid form-keeping. On the other hand, yours almost looked like a type of dance instead of martial arts.

What the hell is this? Breakdancing?

In a last-ditch effort, the Slaughterhouse yanked a streetlight pole in the park's pavement. With nothing but pure bloodlust in his eyes, he lunged the pole right next to your body with a loud thud, leaving a small crater on the grass. Such erratic moves were ironically predictable; the Slaughterhouse finally realized someone as supposedly small and defenseless as you weren't taking this seriously. In a sense, anyone would be seeing red in a fight where their opponents openly mock them—just as you were with your quick steps and acrobatic attacks.

Acrobatic?

The Slaughterhouse tried to swing the steel pole at you again. This time, he nearly missed, only taking a few strands of your hair that got stuck in the broken curvatures of the pole's end. Everyone was now on edge, not knowing who to root for. For someone like Sunghoon to keep his focus throughout the entirety of the fight was a commendable feat. Jungwon, though, already had a solid idea of who the victor would be. It was all too simple now—especially after you've revealed your fighting style through arbitrarily planned kicks and endless cartwheel combinations.

It looked as if the Slaughterhouse had successfully hit you from a certain angle. To everyone's surprise, you spun in the air and landed on the pole. Before he could move his arm, you pushed your weight towards him, taking flight to land perhaps one of the most gracefully executed headbutts of all time.

This was it. If he could stand up from what you've just done, then he was not human—he was a slab of meat waiting to be beaten and kicked until he rots.

The referee—who was also the announcer and commentator of the match—riled up the crowd to perform the countdown to his momentary slumber. Sunghoon snapped his head in Jungwon's direction, exhilaration written all over his face. Did you see that?! He asked through his eyes. Jungwon simply nodded, watching you roll your sweatpants back down to your ankles. You approached the eccentric referee and held your chin up high. The Slaughterhouse has now been slaughtered.

With a new perspective, Jungwon saw the match for what it truly was: unfair. Although the tale of David and Goliath became a moral one in greater society, David was seen as a shameful cheat in the world of martial arts—for who in their right mind would bring a sling to a sword fight? In a fight that called for strength, your sling was speed. Sure, it wouldn't count as cheating since you technically used your hand-to-hand combat skills, but the mismatch in your fighting styles definitely secured your win.

If you wanted a proper victory, you needed to fight someone who had similar specialties and quirks as you.

"TEN!" The entire crowd chanted. You tried to stifle a yawn, knowing that he could never wake up from your final move. Jungwon knew this as well, and proceeded to push beyond the barriers of the arena.

"NINE!" Sunghoon tried to stop Jungwon, but he was frozen. The fight's aftermath was still imprinted on his head in total clarity with a bewitching quality to it. He didn't know if he was still in the present or not, but all he knew was that he wanted to see a fight like that again. With this in mind, he let his friend go, anticipating what the next round would bring.

"EIGHT!" Some of the crowd stopped their chant at this number, trailing the relatively small high school boy with their eyes. He exuded the same air of confidence and calm as you with each stride—with his chin held high, his hands loosely swaying from side to side, and his chest slightly puffed up in assurance. You had a hunch that he would be your next opponent, but you waited for the announcer to publicize your victory.

"SEVEN!" Once Jungwon had arrived right next to the Slaughterhouse's unconscious body, he took his fingers onto his neck, shaking his head in the process. You nodded in agreement, folding your arms at the unexpected turn of events.

"SIX!" The referee, who was also an announcer and a commentator, continued with the countdown. Everyone ceased their lullabies to the Slaughterhouse, this time watching the young boy stand up to bow to you formally. He took his blazer off, tossing it to the side. A small smile appeared on your lips as you watched him roll his school pants to his knees, telling you with his actions that he was a kicker.

"FIVE!" You returned the formality with your own show of politeness, taking your hand out in front of him. He shook his palm from side to side, saying that he would only shake yours after the fight. When you questioned him about it, he simply shrugged, giving the referee the cue to continue the countdown.

"FOUR!" Now, it was just the referee's voice who continued while everyone's eyes gleamed in anticipation. Sunghoon was seen in the first row of the arena, standing right by the boundaries of the ring. He watched in shock and concern at his friend's display of bravado. Secretly, he was rooting for his friend, even if he knew it was the wrong thing to do.

"THREE!" Jungwon took the spot where the Slaughterhouse once stood. Speaking of the Slaughterhouse himself, he was being carried onto a stretcher by a group of ten to twelve personnel—who also wore the same neatly-pressed suit as the referee.

"TWO!!" The staff doubled in number, carrying the same monotonous expression on their face. They effortlessly had the stretcher without seemingly grunting in pain, and before the referee could say the final number, the two fighters had already gotten into their respective positions.

"ONE—"

As soon as the referee reached the last number, Jungwon sucked his breath in. This was his first informal fight, and yet his body acted on impulse. With a blink of an eye, his leg was as high as your head, landing a kick that sent you flying to the other side of the arena. As he expected, you used his strength to propel yourself to the ground, doing a handstand to land two spinning kicks on his right shoulder and upper jaw. The crowd cried a bloodthirsty roar in unison at the sudden match—which was abruptly….

Stopped?

"Woah, now!" The referee exclaimed, stumbling back until he fell to the ground. The crowd's initial exhilaration transformed into disappointment and complaint at the sudden interruption of the battle. Chants of boos and disgruntled grumbles filled the air in an instant. Sunghoon took this commotion as a chance to leap out of the arena's boundaries, running to where Jungwon was being held.

A tall, blonde man in nothing but wide-legged sweatpants held both of you by the top of your heads, suspending your bodies mid-air. A radiant, otherworldly glow appeared from behind him, expanding until it engulfed the entire arena. Through the corner of his eyes, Jungwon could see the glow manifest into a heavenly beast of unknown origin.

How?

A burning sensation overwhelmed his entire body now. His arms and legs felt as if they were tightly tied down together, squeezing his whole body until everything inside of him came out of his mouth. In an instant, the thrill and adrenaline that coursed through his veins turned lifeless, draining him of all his energy and power. Through his exhausted pants, he could see you struggle against something that looked like a snake's scales aligned with a bright, scorching flame.

"Kai, what the fuck?" You shouted, using whatever was left in you. The man known as "Kai" heaved a sigh and retracted his hands, catching both of you in his arms.

What the fuck indeed?

"We were just getting started!" You continued, kicking and fidgeting against his firm grasp. Jungwon remained still, knowing that any attempts to fight back or launch a sneak attack were futile. One thing that the dojang implemented in him was assessing when his opponents were too strong. Thanks to this, he was able to find a place with his current mentor and avoid any pointless fights that could have rendered him with a permanently damaged leg or two.

"It's the GOH," Kai replied. He gently placed Jungwon back to the ground, muttering a string of quick, cute apologies while scratching his head. There was a big smile on his face that made him shine, prompting Jungwon to close his eyes to protect them.

The stark contrast between how he handled Jungwon and you almost made him burst out in laughter. After Kai patted him on the shoulder and sent him back to Sunghoon, he then proceeded to puff his cheeks, angrily stomping in the direction he hurled you. Your groans were equally enraged as well, and Jungwon watched from the sidelines as his once level-headed opponent threw a children's tantrum.

"Wonnie-yah, let's go," Sunghoon muttered, keeping his eyes on the odd duo. "We've seen what we needed to see."

"What do you mean?" Jungwon retorted. His feet remained glued to the arena's grassy surface, failing to budge. It was Sunghoon who usually zoned out, but now, even he couldn't drag Jungwon back down to earth.

The referee—or announcer, perhaps commentator?—was left in a puzzled, dazed state, and he quickly fumbled for a megaphone nearby. As soon as he announced that today's match was over, the whole crowd dispersed at once. While some lined up to greet you, Kai kindly brushed them off with a smile and a giant, fiery snake that hovered about the two of you. To think that Jungwon survived something so bizarrely inhuman gave him a confidence booster. He was right to think of your match with the Slaughterhouse as an unfair one—assuming that, like Kai, you had something supernatural within you.

"You there," You called, ignoring Kai's incessant nagging. Folding your arms together, you slowly trudged in his direction. Once you reached the two boys, you gave a quick nod of recognition to Sunghoon, then placed your hand on Jungown's shoulder. You leaned your body forward, lips hovering right next to his year.

"I'll fuck you up,"

With that, you slithered your hands into your skirt pocket, waving goodbye without looking back.

"J-Jungwon?"

Slow pants turned to quick breaths, and it took all of his strength to hold back. Before Sunghoon could grab his arm and drag his friend out of the arena, Jungwon lunged forward in three separate turns. A gust of wind blew past your direction in the first turn, splitting some of the trees in the surrounding area in half. In the second, the arena's grassy surface was cut into a large crater, revealing the dark soils underneath. In the third and final spin, he kicked up a small tornado in the air, watching its cylindrical swirls grow bigger and bigger with each second.

With a sudden, animalistic urge, you dove to the ground with the support of your palms. You followed his pattern of threes, kicking three times to produce a wave of blue lightning that tore past his tornado.

"Didn't I tell you to knock it off!"

In the exact same outcome, Kai summoned his behemoth of a snake, letting it run loose to wrap its fiery body around the two of you.

"I knew you had a charyeok," You spat, failing to contain the rush of excitement that overwhelmed you.

"Is that how you defeated the Slaughterhouse?" Jungwon mockingly asked, watching your face contort from a joyous delirium to that of pure anger.

"Excuse me," You retorted, feeling the electricity build up around you. Even if you knew that Kai was too strong, your body acted on its own, mustering up a field of concentrated lightning around you. Kai's own charyeok immediately evaporated into thin air, launching his body back tenfold.

"Do you think that I'd waste this on someone who fakes being strong?"

Each step you made towards Jungwon rippled with a ribbon of bright blue lightning. The currents in your body were all concentrated on the protective field that surrounded you like an angel's halo, rumbling and crackling as you moved forward. Now that Jungwon was free from the fiery snake's grasp, he decided that this was the perfect time to show the true purpose of practicing taekwondo.

While most believe that martial arts were created for self-defense and combat, their true purpose was beyond the human imagination. In fact, one could say that to master any type of martial art was to throw away whatever it meant to be human—restrain, control, and reason. It was only then that worthy disciples reached a level where they failed to be called humans, animals, or a species-being anymore.

What being could possibly exceed an earthling?

That's right, a god.

"Master Yeogdeung, I grant you my prayer," Jungwon whispered under his breath.

Gusts of wind that gathered around him elevated his body mid-air, enveloping him in a cocoon of rapid air currents. With one, whispered sentence, Jungwon manifested into a tempest. If you were the lightning and thunder that crackled with fury, he was the storm and downpour that was waiting to unleash an endless season of destruction on earth. It was almost too perfect of a match—which was a fact the two of you knew too well. Jungwon, a disciple of the renewal taekwondo who signed a contract with the god of the wind, and you, a girl who traveled all the way from Seoul to the Southern Hemisphere in search of a man made of thunder.

Kai yanked Sunghoon away from the scene before a streak of lightning hit him, and gathered all the strength he could to call his charyeok back.

"What's that…?" Sunghoon asked, eyes frozen in a mixture of terror and fascination. A string of clouds emerged from thin air, building up into the image of a beautiful, giant woman in traditional Korean robes. She stood behind Jungwon, creating half crescents made of concentrated wind supporting each kick he launched towards you.

"It's a charyeok," Kai explained, jutting his chin towards the giant snake that reemerged from him. "Those who are strong enough usually have the opportunity to bind a contract with a god, just like the two of them—and of course, me!"

Kai spoke about the supernatural phenomena in front of them in the most natural, comforting tone, setting Sunghoon off even more. It was too difficult to see the fight in its full form, because all he could see was a large tornado covered in lightning. Your bodies were nowhere to be found, trapped within the arena the two of you had built for each other.

"So you're telling me that martial artists all have this crazy power?"

Kai's response was enough for Sunghoon to realize that it was not the case. In a string of dolphin-like chuckles, he shook his head and wiped a tear that came out of his eye.

"You're either born in the right bloodline, chosen by your mentor, or have practiced so hard that you're basically a walking meat sack of power."

The large, rumbling tornado disappeared with one blink, and now, your bodies were visible to the human eye again. This time, however, the two of you were knocked out on the floor, bodies covered in scratch marks and bruises. The hems of your pants were completely torn off from below the knees, demonstrating the fiery violence that ensued. When Sunghoon tried to look closer, he could see a few scorch marks throughout your bodies, and some parts of your clothes burnt to the crisp in blackened ashes.

To both Kai and Sunghoon's surprise, there was now a third party present between your sleeping bodies. A tall, muscular man covered in tattoos walked towards Jungwon's limp and lifeless body, picking him up to hoist him over his shoulders. He craned his neck behind the two spectators, nodding his head as a greeting. Kai attempted to nod back, slowly unfreezing his feet to run to your body. Sunghoon remained still, stuck in a paralysis that stunned him deeply.

"Huening Kai, the jiu-jitsu practitioner from team Brazil, right?" The man asked. "Or was it Kai Kamal? I'm sorry, I'm not too familiar with foreign names."

Jungwon remained perched on top of his shoulder, body hunched like a haystack. Once Sunghoon came to his senses, he gathered his feet and sprinted towards the man. In an automatic response, the man lowered Jungwon's body to a height where Sunghoon could easily check his well-being.

“Renewal taekwondo master Jeon Jungkook….” Kai replied, failing to contain his enthusiasm as he carried you in his arms. "It's such an honor to meet you!"

"Your Korean is good for a foreigner," Jungkook calmly stated. Although he seemed approachable, Kai could notice a chilling undertone in the way he spoke. It was like he was being tested or evaluated, and Kai quickly brushed his thoughts off to entertain the conversation.

"I'm actually half-Korean and a Korean resident. I just trained in Brazil because, like this girl, we practiced Brazilian fighting styles." He explained, slightly shaking you to emphasize his point. "The dojos in Seoul were not good enough, so we decided to go to Brazil to further our abilities."

Jungkook slowly nodded his head to every word, leaning closer to extend his hand out as a formality. Kai was shocked by the sudden gesture and realization that he may be taller than one of the most prominent fighters in Korea. Nevertheless, he nervously shook Jungkook's hand.

"Well, see you at the GOH," With that, he bowed his head down, waving goodbye in the process. An unconscious Jungwon was slightly swaying with Jungkook's every stride, followed by Sunghoon, who awkwardly ran along. He deeply bowed to Kai, then proceeded to run towards the taekwondo duo.

"Wait,"

Leaping out of Kai's arms, you weakly attempted to jog to the disappearing trio. Jungkook turned back in time to see your ragged form approaching him. He gave you a soft smile, hoisting Jungwon up to a comfortable position. Although he wasn't aware that the two of you were conscious when he stopped an all-out, catastrophic disaster from ensuing between you, he took the safer route of pretending to have met you for the first time.

"Is he competing?" You asked, pointing at Jungwon.

"I haven't told him about it yet, but yes, he is," Jungkook replied, patting Jungwon's back in the process.

"Well," You started, collecting your breath from the fatigue that weighed you down. "Tell him that he has no chance of winning against me when he wakes up,"

"Will do," Jungkook said with a smile that revealed his neatly aligned teeth. In a final wave of goodbye, he turned around and beckoned for Sunghoon to follow. You and Kai stood side by side, giving your respects to the trio as they walked out of the park.

Once they were out of sight, Kai gave you a brutal hit on your shoulder. Then, he took your arm to circle it around his shoulder, hoisting your body weight onto his grip to support you.

"What the hell what that for?"

"That, was for being arrogant to the Jungkook's disciple!" Kai exclaimed, baffled at your ignorance.

"Who cares if he's Jungkook or whatever's student!" You retorted. "I'm gonna beat the shit out of him at the GOH. Mark my words!"

In response, you received another cold hit from Kai.

"Language!"

The sun was setting, dyeing the park's greeneries into a shade of autumn. Even if it was still summer, the sounds of the cicadas slowly died out into the city's white noise, drowning in the zooming of cars and the chatter of bystanders walking along the pavement. You slowly retracted your arms from Kai's shoulders, who gave you a concerned look.

"I'm fine, see?" You said, pointing at your legs. Although they were clearly bruised up, the fact remains that you were able to walk—albeit moderately slower than usual.

Kai would usually scold you and insist on helping you back to the training center, but this time, he watched your face suppress any expression of pain that showed on your face. Before meeting Jungwon, you used to be the type of student who lazily got through each sparring session back in Brazil. You would skip classes and training as much as you could, calling your classmates weak and unworthy. This attitude remained intact until Kai delivered you your first loss in a street fight in Sāo Paulo, which prompted you to follow him to his father's school. Then, you suffered through your second loss in an instant K.O. from his father, who came from a long line of capoeiristas.

Each defeat you suffered at the hands of his family members only fueled your desire to grow stronger—and then, here you were. At thirteen, you gained your charyeok through rigorous training with his father and his older sister. Then, you were able to freely control your charyeok at fifteen, beating Kai's former record of mastering his own at sixteen. Now, you were seventeen, with enough strength to rival and outmatch Kai if you pleased. Though you rarely sparred and fought with him anymore since he changed fighting styles, you still acknowledged his power and had a deep respect for him.

Sure, you were still arrogant, but seeing another person instill the same motivation that got you to where you have now reassured Kai in some weird way.

In this same park, you've finally found yourself a worthy opponent.

A week had passed since Jungwon's fight with you. Jungkook had briefed him on his official participation in the GOH, giving him a neatly folded envelope sealed in smooth, velvet wax. The insignia labeled on the seal was something he's never seen before, and he slowly opened the envelope to find an invitation with his name and his charyeok written in traditional Korean ink. Below his name was several signatures from seemingly important figures he's never heard of, and the name of his dojang with Jungkook's quick signature was listed at the bottom of the invitation.

"They called a few days ago," Jungkook said. "Usually, there are a few rounds until the team tournament, but you're a special case."

"What do you mean by special case?" Jungwon asked, slowly making his way to the seat in front of Jungkook's office. His mentor tilted his head and looked through the circular window above the room. There was a reluctant pause in his speech, and he chose his words carefully.

"Well," Jungkook started, slightly scratching the nape of his neck. "There's been an accident with one of the members of Team Seoul, and the organization contacted me to get in touch with you."

"Was the accident that bad?" Jungown retaliated. Upon seeing his mentor nod his head, he heaved a shaky sigh.

Jungkook slid another piece of paper towards him. It was the detailed profile of the previous competitor. Judging from the district listed on his address, he seemed to be of a different dojang. The type of taekwondo he practiced was also left unspecified—which never happens during tournaments or official matches. Whether it's the Olympics or the ITF, organizations were always obliged to list down an accurate description of each competitor's fighting style. That way, it would be easier for the judges to score movements based on assumptions and knowledge of the subcategory of the fight. While basic information such as his weight, height, and date of birth was listed, Jungwon couldn't find a name listed anywhere.

"He's a spy," Jungkook interrupted. "He accidentally used Northern ITF taekwondo in the preliminary rounds, so he was immediately disqualified."

"I thought any fighting style was allowed in the GOH?" Jungwon retorted, remembering the countless times Sunghoon and his friends had overhyped the tournament.

"You can technically use Northern ITF, but it makes a huge difference if you're an active spy for the North," Jungkook replied, keeping his gaze on the profile's picture. Jungwon knew that he wasn't getting any more information than he was told, so he left with a quick bow.

The following day when he came back to school from a few days of rest and training, Sunghoon immediately filled him in with whatever he's missed. Since he witnessed the aftermath of your fight, he filled Jungwon in on everything that happened— about how you and Kai were referred to as "Team Brazil," the moment Jungkook showed up, you waking up faster than him, and how he believes you and Kai are going to compete either as a team unit or as solo acts at the GOH semi-finals. It was a Tuesday, and it was his first day back after regaining consciousness from his fight with you.

“Your mentor—Jeon Jungkook, was it?” Sunghoon asked, sipping a box of coffee milk by the classroom windows. “He talked pretty highly of Kai, the blonde guy with the huge snake,”

Quickly glancing over to see if there were any teachers around, he covertly used his blazer and the curtains as a shield to cover his phone. Jungwon leaned closer, reading the profiles that were listed on the GOH’s official website. At the top of the News section, he saw his profile appear in bold letters, right under a sub-heading labeled Team Seoul.

“Look at you!” Sunghoon mocked, zooming into his friend’s face. In retaliation, Jungwon took his phone out and had a video compilation of Sunghoon falling in his skate programs.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“Good luck finding a video of me getting kicked in the face,” Jungwon teased before tucking his phone back in his pocket.

When Sunghoon hovered to Team Brazil, he first found Kai’s official profile, listing his fighting style and “power level.”

Kai Kamal Huening

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu

Power: Lvl 24

No wonder he was strong, Jungwon thought. Although Kai had the face of a harmless, gentle angel, Jungwon’s first impression of him and his charyeok made a lasting assumption about his ruthless combat skills.

“The guy’s really nice, you know?” Sunghoon added, zooming into Kai’s photo. “He saved me and took care of me for a while when you and that girl went full out.”

Your profile was right next to Kai’s, with the exact sizing and format of his stats and basic information.

“So that’s her name,” Jungwon muttered, eyes focused on the picture in front of him. There was nothing special about your face that revealed your expertise in martial arts. You didn’t look too harsh, but you also didn’t look completely frail. If Jungwon were to describe you, the word “balance” would pop into his head. Your gaze had a sharp quality to it—as if you were dissecting the camera with your eyes, seeing the mechanical innards of the machine in one look. The way your lips slightly curled up to a subtle smile also made you look a little approachable despite your open display of arrogance during every match.

“Pretty, no?” Sunghoon asked, nudging his elbow on his friend’s arm.

“If only she’d fix that attitude, she’d be okay,” Jungwon replied, rolling his eyes. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about what you looked like. What mattered to him the most when it came to you was the very thing that was currently in full zoom.

Capoeira

Power: Lvl 17

“Capoeira, huh?”

“It’s a really unique type of martial art from Brazil,” Sunghoon answered, taking his phone back to quickly type a few strings of words on a search engine. Once the first page of results loaded, Sunghoon clicked on the site at the top of the list.

There was a photo of two men in nothing but wide-legged sweatpants—similar to the one Kai wore when he appeared out of the blue to stop your fight. One held a handstand position while kicking the air, and the other had his body in a bridge position. Jungwon briefly skimmed through the article, scrolling through while collecting a couple of keywords that gave him a general idea of your fighting style.

Acrobatic. Dance-like. Musical. Diverse. Agile.

“She was the same girl that fought when I went to the Park for the first time.” Sunghoon interrupted. “I was just so mesmerized by how she infused elements of dance into her fighting, that I wanted to show you to see if you knew anything about it—you know, since you do taekwondo.”

Jungwon pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to remember all he could about your movements. You often ran and staggered in circles, making heavy use of tricks and feints. Your kicks were a two or three-step process of a feint followed by a propelled blow that is often supported by the feint you did prior. Instead of backing away from an opponent, you either slid below them or cartwheeled above—both positions often leading you to an advantage. Unlike taekwondo or karate, your kicks weren’t a single unit, where the kick is somewhat isolated from the rest of the body. Instead, you kick as if it were a combination or a dance routine, following a non-existent rhythm that guided you when you spun around the ring.

“She kinda looks like you when she fights,” Jungwon blurted absentmindedly.

“What do you mean?” Sunghoon retorted, tilting his head in confusion. He slipped his phone back into his pocket after checking the time on the wall clock in front of his classroom.

“You know how you jump and spin a lot in figure skating?” He asked. “Kinda like that, except she’s not on ice, and she’s hellbent on beating you up.”

“Honestly, I never understood martial arts, but after seeing her practically breakdance as a way to beat someone three times her size, I guess I can see the similarities between my sport and yours,” Sunghoon replied with a small, soft smile.

Before Jungwon could say anything back, the school bell rang. Since Sunghoon was a year above him, their classrooms were on entirely different floors. Before he went running back upstairs, Jungwon asked Sunghoon to send him the entire roster to the GOH—which he did once school ended.

Upon a quick search online, he realized that all the people who made it to the semi-finals were charyeok users. The power levels displayed on their profiles could initially be interpreted as a measure of physical strength, but upon seeing the moderately significant difference between you and Kai’s power levels, he realized the numbers were an aggregate approximation of the strength of their charyeok. Out of curiosity, he checked his own profile to see what the organization concluded.

Yang Jungwon

Renewal Taekwondo

Power: Lvl 9

With that, he shut his phone and heaved a deep sigh. Until now, he had never used his charyeok unless he was training with Jungkook, who was the current holder of the Jowangsin charyeok. Jungwon understood that he was no match for his mentor in terms of physical abilities alone. Jungkook’s bare kicks were powerful enough to fry atom particles in the air, and his excellent kinesthesia aids him in securing every victory he’s ever achieved in his entire timeline as a professional athlete.

It was only through the Yeongdeung charyeok that Jungwon was able to land his first direct kick to Jungkook. Surely, this victory should make him feel accomplished, but instead, he the exact opposite. Jungkook didn’t need to rely on his charyeok to dispel Jungwon’s consecutive barrages of tornado-laced kicks. In fact, the only time Jungkook had shown his charyeok was to demonstrate what it did after Jungwon awakened his ability.

In the world of humans, he was too strong. All of his fights as an athlete resulted in a predictable victory owing to his heightened senses as a charyeok holder. However, among those who mastered and honed their charyeok, he was nothing. Sure, he reached a point where he could wield his god whenever he pleased, but it was never enough. No matter how hard he trained with his god, he couldn’t have a proper fight with his mentor.

“It’s not that I think you’re not there yet,” Jungkook started. “My charyeok’s just too violent, you know? What do you think would happen to you if I didn’t hold back?”

Jungwon couldn’t give his mentor an answer back then, and now, he doesn’t think he could give one at all. A part of him understood the risks that came with fighting someone like Jungkook. Not only was he a prodigy in taekwondo, but he was also the first from the dojang to awaken a charyeok. Adding to that, he had tamed and mastered his god in record time, only taking two years to wield and manipulate his ability fully. Jungwon still had trouble synchronizing his body with his god, and instead of the usual problems of losing control, he simply disconnects with his charyeok out of the blue. At times, there were moments where he couldn’t even call or summon her at will.

However, Jungwon still felt that he needed to experience the complete experience of fighting other charyeok holders. The fight with you was the first time he’s coordinated with his charyeok to such a seamless degree. You weren’t in the same level as Jungkook, but you were arguably better than him when it came to wielding your charyeok in battle. He hated to admit it, but you were the stronger fighter between the two of you, not through physical strength or tactics but through the fluidity of your movements—especially when you wielded your charyeok.

“Hyung,” Jungwon called, eyeing a bored Jungkook overseeing the regular batch of students in his dojang. Some of the students clad in dobok jerked their heads in the young boy’s direction, eyeing him with a puzzled expression. Mouthing the word ten minutes, he pointed to the ceiling, then waved his hand off. This was the usual signal Jungwon needed to run to the rooftop.

The last time Jungwon visited the rooftop was three years ago, when he had just awakened his charyeok. He couldn’t tell his family that there was a giant god in following him wherever he went, and none of his friends in school would have believed him if he had told them about it. His taekwondo lessons also became a painful chore of restraining his strength to make sure nobody got hurt. The only person who approached him during this tumultuous time was his mentor, Jungkook, who told him he could see the celestial woman hovering behind him.

That afternoon, Jungkook eased his worries and explained everything he needed to know—what a charyeok is, how to "borrow" its power, and ways to fully harness it without straining the body too much. This was also the first time Jungwon had seen Jungkook's charyeok. In the marmalade glow of the autumn sunset, Jungkook raised his leg in a typical high kick, where a string of red flames emerged from his trajectory. Then, a beautiful woman dressed in metallic plates of armor appeared behind him, covered in red, fiery ribbons that erratically flowed in seemingly random directions. She carried a spear wrapped in the same red ribbons that flowed around her body, is three-pronged tip sharply crafted with what looked like fire concentrated into shapes.

"This is Jowangsin," Jungkook said, taking the spear that the spirit offered. He then proceeded to demonstrate how he fought with his charyeok, using a combination of taekwondo and spear-wielding. From a certain distance, Jungkook looked just like you—except he was engulfed in flames. He didn't look like he was fighting anymore, but rather, he had the grace and poise of a dancer. Each move was expressive with the right amount of power and violence, and the spear seemed like a third arm that fluidly spun around at Jungkook's will.

Since then, Jungwon had tried to devote all his training and time to perfecting his charyeok. However, whenever he tried to synchronize his body with the god, there was always a disconnect between them that either compelled him to exert too much of his energy or barred him from using his abilities in the first place. He still didn't know the root causes of this issue, and even consulting Jungkook resulted in zero answers. His fight with you did shed some light on what should be done, but he didn't know where to begin if he wanted to reach you and Jungkook's level of mastery.

"What's up? You haven't called me that in a long time." Jungkook's voice suddenly emerged from behind. He was still wearing his dobok, albeit with a loosened belt that revealed the results of his dedicated training.

"You see why, right?" Jungwon retorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes out of habit. "I slipped up once, and now the entire dojang's gonna ask me what my connection to you is."

Jungkook let out a hearty laugh, giving Jungwon a friendly pat on the back. He was aware of the so-called "favoritism" that existed between him and Jungwon. Still, it would be hard to reveal their connection as charyeok holders in a sea of regular taekwondo practitioners. Adding to that, Jungkook started out as Jungwon's senior at the dojang before becoming his mentor, so to him, it was alright for Jungwon to slip up and call him hyung from time to time.

"Is this about the GOH?" He asked. Jungwon slowly nodded, eyes staring at the bright sunset that embraced the city they called home. His face was unreadable, but being with Jungwon for so long made him understand that his disciple's head was swarming with loud, incoherent thoughts in this state.

"Nervous?" Jungkook asked again, knowing that Jungwon wasn't much of a talker when he was like this.

"Hyung, are you sure they didn't mess up or anything?" Jungwon replied after a long, well-thought pause.

There was a huge gap between my power levels and the other contestants, Jungwon wanted to say. Although he was sure he wasn't intimidated by the difference, it certainly had him thinking about the process of his placement. The data showed that all of the fighters who made it to the semi-finals had to go through a preliminary free-for-all round of fighting to the death. To have him suddenly slip into an important match with a relatively low power level made him feel guilty.

"You saw the invite, no?" Jungkook said, facing his disciple. "It had your name handwritten and sealed with wax."

"Yeah, but why do they want me to compete? Shouldn't they ask you?" Jungwoon retaliated after another pause. He stuttered, making sure that every word he chose was the right one.

"Is this about the girl?" Jungkook asked, trying to piece whatever he could in the recent events that played out. Ever since Jungwon's fight with you, he'd been either eager to improve, or on the verge of giving up. Coupled with his sudden invitation to compete at the GOH, he has been feeling pushed to an odd dilemma of self-improvement and utter futility. There were instances where Jungkook could see Jungwon in one of the larger private rooms of the dojang, channeling his strength into his charyeok. Then, there were also the few days of Jungwon missing practice, idly sitting at home or revisiting the Park to watch a match or two.

"Aren't you excited to have a rematch with her on a bigger stage?" Jungkook asked again, taking note of Jungwon's silence.

"I was, until I realized she's fully mastered her charyeok," Jungwon replied, kicking his legs back and forth with the breeze.

"How can you tell?"

"She looked just like you when she wielded it."

The two were now practicing kicks together in the open air. They watched as their shadows merged into one, with each swing at each other, exchanging basic side kicks.

"Also," Jungwon paused between his movements, watching his mentor block his front kick. "You wouldn't have interfered if she wasn't dangerous."

"In what way did she resemble me?" Jungkook continued, nodding his head at the explanation given to him. He returned Jungwon's front kick with a powerful reverse turn, followed by a back kick that pushed Jungwon far enough for him to fall back on the floor.

"She never broke a sweat or looked tired, even if she looked like she was consuming so much energy," Jungwon explained, pushing his body weight back up. He whispered the prayer that allowed him to summon his charyeok, then slowly gathered the winds into one, large tornado that circled around him. Jungkook did the same, unleashing his own fiery aura.

"Anything her charyeok unleashed felt like an extension of her body, as if she was the one controlling her god," Jungwon said between his windy kicks, watching Jungkook effortlessly dispel them with his streaks of fire. He lunged at his disciple, watching fire come out of his soles as he continued to kick from all angles.

"Sounds like you're beginning to realize what you're lacking, Jungwon," Jungkook said, taking the spear from his god's hands to equip it. This was the first time Jungwon had seen Jungkook use the spear in their sparring sessions, and he realized this was the moment he was supposed to be waiting for.

A serious fight with Jeon Jungkook.

"That's why I'm asking you why they chose me." Jungwon retaliated, preparing himself for whatever attack was waiting for him. Although he's heard Jungkook's stories, he's never witnessed Jungkook wield it in battle aside from the demonstration he showed three years ago.

Before Jungwon could create a barrier made of wind, the spear was already hovering right next to his right cheek. There was a slightly painful, burning sensation that tickled his face, which intermingled with the small droplet of blood that trickled down to his chin. He wanted to move—to kick his opponent, but his entire body didn't budge. His feet were stuck in a static-induced rigor mortis, with each step feeling like a million particles stabbing his nerves at once.

It was the exact same phenomenon that took place when he fought you.

Sure, through Kai and Sunghoon's eyes, the two of you were fused in a thunderous tempest. However, he was immobile inside the cocoon of wind that Jungwon had built. No matter how much you attacked him, he would just shelter himself in layers of wind, not knowing how to fight back. He tried to raise his leg in a kick, but all of his muscles gained a sudden stiffness that disobeyed his head's desire to defeat you. In this complicated game of tug-of-war with himself, all he could do was engage in a war of attrition, waiting until your lightning would finally break his barriers of wind.

It took Jungwon some time to admit it, but it was for this reason that Jungkook had to interfere and stop the fight. If he were a little too late, Jungwon would have ended up electrocuted to death.

"Don't lose focus, Jungwon. Have you forgotten the basics?" Jungkook interrupted, waking Jungwon up from his train of thought. After what felt like a complete stop, his lungs seemed to cooperate again, taking in all the oxygen that they missed.

"Wouldn't they want someone like her? Or you?" Jungwon uttered, averting his gaze from his mentor.

"Are you saying you're not up to par with her skills and abilities?" Jungkook replied, dispelling his charyeok. He walked towards the space next to Jungwon, taking a seat on the concrete floor of the rooftop. He beckoned for Jungwon to do the same.

"I'm not…."

"It sounds like you are," Jungkook interrupted, giving gentle pats onto Jungwon's back.

"It's just…. I'm too good for taekwondo, and then I'm not good enough for charyeok holders. Where am I supposed to go when I can't really fight in either?"

Jungkook slowly nodded at every word, trying to comprehend his disciple's troubles. After all, it was his job as a mentor to guide him, and one of his responsibilities was to work with his disciple to dispel any troubles or concerns that he might have.

"Jungwon," Jungkook started, clearing his throat and facing him with a keen eye. "Think about it this way; a charyeok is yours, even if by definition it's a power you borrow from the gods."

He summoned Jowangsin again, watching her attempt to give him her spear. With a snap of his finger, the woman transformed into a being of fiery, red ribbons, untangling her previous form to form a ball of pure energy.

"The very basic form of power is technically from a god, but you can shape that power into whatever you like." He explained, turning the ball of energy back into the beautiful giant woman that Jungwon was familiar with. Even in the afternoon dusk, where the sunlight had almost disappeared into the violet night, Jowangsin's ribbons of flames glowed intensely.

"Your wind charyeok is, then, an essence of who you are."

"Who I am…?"

"Trust me, I used to be like you. I was an excellent taekwondo athlete, but once I got my charyeok, I realized that there were so many people that were stronger than me." Jungkook continued to explain, seeing a little bit of himself in the boy. Both of them were strong in their own right, but it just took some more time and experience for Jungwon to understand that. After all, he was still a teenager—there were many years for him to figure out whatever the word strength truly meant.

"I was able to master my charyeok at a younger age than usual, but it was no use because the more I grow stronger, the more I realize that there will always be someone above me no matter what."

"Say, you grow stronger than her," He said, referring to you in emphasis.

"Who's your next target? Her mentor or teammate?"

Jungwon slowly nodded, widening his eyes at the disappearing sun. Night finally came along, engulfing the city in artificial neon lights and flickering stars in the navy sky. He closed his eyes to feel the breeze, envisioning a scenario where he won against you at the GOH. The initial victory would taste addictively sweet, but there would be more competitors with a higher power level or physical strength. Who knows? He might have to face off with Kai at some point after winning against you—or maybe, he would go face-to-face with his own mentor, who he knew was leagues stronger than any competitor at the GOH.

"When you'll compete at the GOH, you'll mean tons of people that are way stronger than you." Jungkook interrupted, verbalizing the simulation that Jungwon had in mind. "That's just how life is—and in a sense, that's how having a charyeok is."

"So instead of treating it like an enemy, try befriending it, since it's technically you in some ways."

Jungkook gave his disciple a quick, warm hug and a smile. After waving goodbye, he went back to the dojang to look over the night students—who mainly were training for the Olympics or major national competitions.

Now that Jungwon was alone, he shut the door to the rooftop, breathing in the soft, cold breeze of the summer night. A chill that felt like a touch was felt on his shoulders, and he closed his eyes in thought. Soon, a tornado slowly began to manifest behind him, blowing his hair in all directions. He then opened his eyes and saw his god standing in front of him.

This is me?

He tried to perform a basic front kick, and the god mimicked his every move. The more kicks he launched, the more momentum the god gave him, turning each of his attacks into a strong, windy force. One kick struck the nearby railings, which was immediately destroyed on impact.

"We're gonna be with each other for a long time, huh." He whispered, dispelling his charyeok. As he headed back down to the dojang to go home, he began to look forward to meeting you on the ring with a new and somewhat improved relationship with his charyeok.

There was another week left before the GOH semi-finals. Taking Jungkook’s many suggestions to heart, he began jogging every morning. He would run all the way up to the bridge, usually adding weights to his sweatpants for an added challenge. With each lap, he’d try to activate his charyeok, testing the limits of his energy and endurance as he jogged with a giant, invisible woman that only he could see. He was never a fan of cardio, but he began to experience its miracles on his third day of rigorous training. He was able to fix his awful sleep schedule, he had better control of his breath whenever he’d exert moves with his charyeok, and he felt that his overall synchronization with his god was improved. The results were even better when he woke up earlier to go for his daily run.

The skies were darker, carrying a chilly breeze that jolted Jungwon awake. At this moment, Jungwon realized how efficient the human body was. If he was cold, his legs started to run faster, creating enough warmth for him to remove his jacket halfway through the course. He would then continue to run until he’s reached his checkpoint—the Han river.

In a city like Seoul, he knew there were a couple of others who had already started their morning run. At first, he would shyly tuck his head down and focus on his energy levels, but now, he had the courage to muster a slight bow or a quick greeting to whoever passed by. Sometimes, he’d be courageous enough to take breaks with some of the older folk, sitting together on a bench by the river to share a hot cup of tea. After that, he would pretend to run further off-track, sneakily looking for a hidden spot by the riverbank that he marked as his own territory.

Here, with a certain guarantee that nobody was watching, he would begin to shadowbox. Jungkook was busy with the dojang after being appointed as the new sabum, and there was no use calling Sunghoon when all he’d probably do in a sparring session was a clean double axel. Thus, he started practicing his moves in this wooded area, careful not to knock any trees down with his powers.

“I figured this’d be yours,” An all too familiar voice emerged from behind. You stood a few feet away from him, using your free hand to point at the dirt-ridden tracksuit jacket that was tied around your waist. Instead of greeting his intruder, he spun a few kicks that knocked some benches and a nearby trashcan over. As he’d predicted, you remained still after his attacks, idly carrying a book on your left hand while extending your leg in a blocking position.

“Stalker much?” Jungwon retorted, breaking your block with a roundhouse kick. You used the side of your arm to stop him, keeping your eyes on your book.

“Not really,” You said, gently lowering his leg back to the ground. Closing your book, you let it rest between your skirt band, lifting your chin to face your potential opponent. Instead of conjuring up another attack, you instead plopped yourself on the grassy ground, surrendering yourself in a long stretch.

“I just wanted to see how your training is going,” You added, jutting your chin to his water bottle. Jungwon picked up a light note of concern on your tone—which he immediately brushed off to the back of his brain. He dispelled his charyeok and jogged towards it, taking the spot next to you once the cool, metallic cylinder was in his hands.

“Is it to gather information on me?” He asked after taking a quick gulp of water.

“What, no!” You replied, vehemently shaking your head. “Where’s the fun in knowing your opponent before the fight?”

You flimsily untied the sleeves of a dirtied jacket from your waist, straightening it out before tossing it on his lap. He took it back with a disgusted look on his face, as if to blame you for the particles of dust and mud that decorated his once pristine jacket.

“Thought so.” He muttered, smoothening out the sleeves. “You play tricks on your opponents in the ring, but you don’t seem like the time to scheme your victory.”

“Well, I didn’t think that an overconfident prick like you would be out here training your ass off.” You retorted. “Are you that scared of me?”

There was a slight pause before your mocking question—a reluctant stutter that was rare for someone like you. Despite your smug smile and holier-than-thou persona, it was relatively easy to tell how much of it was a lie when Jungwon was right in front of you, with no martial arts or battles in mind. Every bit of your confidence and self-assurance in the ring was as real as it could be, but there was always a playful tone to your taunts.

Here, however, you were just a high schooler with a weird way of carrying books—with no kicks to show off and no punches to throw. It was hard for him to contain his laughter after coming to the realization that without martial arts, you were a little awkward. Your self-righteous insults fell flat because your tone was too shaky, and it was evident in your face that you genuinely wanted to check up on him from the aftermath of the Park.

In another life, the two of you may have met as friends—though that was a scenario that Jungwon could never imagine. Given your natural arrogance, he would probably find something other than martial arts to fight about with you.

Are you that scared of me?

The question repeated within his head. Sure, you wanted your question to sound like a joke, but Jungwon was able to pick up the subtle hints of doubts and concern that plagued your voice. In an instant, his hearing was heightened. Everything from your rapid heartbeat, to your labored breathing, all the way to the way you scratched the surface of your nails—everything was in complete clarity.

Now, he was back inside the cocoon of wind he’s made for himself at the Park, helpless against you. To say that it was fear meant admitting he was afraid of you. Some might call it fear on the surface, but Jungwon had the intent to break out of his paralysis and fight back. The eagerness to move and launch a kick was present, but there was just something that prevented him from taking the necessary steps to fight back.

Admiration? No, that can’t be, Jungwon thought. If he had admired your skills as a fighter, then that should have made him want to fight you even more. He should have been filled with all the motivation and passion in the world to taste defeat in your hands, knowing that he was able to do so while witnessing the full extent of your abilities. That was what he currently felt about his mentor, and whenever they sparred, he’d readily anticipate an injury or two at the expense of feeling the true kick of a taekwondo master.

Awe, that’s it.

“If I said yes?” Jungwon replied to your question after a pause that felt too long.

“Well,” You started, lifting your gaze to the foliage about you. You listlessly counted the spots where the sunlight seeped in, then stopped after feeling the dizzying effects of staring at the sun for too long.

“I definitely wouldn’t feel good about your answer.”

“How come?” Jungwon interrupted a little quicker than he’d expected, which caught you off-guard.

The thing about Jungwon that always intrigued you was how difficult he was to read. It wasn’t to say that his face was expressionless, but rather, the opposite. Each emotion he conveyed was layers of complex emotions and nuances combined into one look, which always left you puzzled about his true feelings. You’d like to think you were good at telling people’s emotions apart, but now that you’ve thought further, the skill mostly came from living in a country where everyone was direct with what they wanted or needed. After spending too much of your time in a different culture, it was difficult to adjust to a city life where indirectness and subtleties were the norms.

“The last thing I want is to come off as intimidating or whatever,” You explained, trying to string the right words into a single sentence. “That’s not what fights are supposed to be.”

“Then what should an ideal fight look like?”

“Are you trying to get intel on me so you’d get the upper hand?” You joked, attempting to alleviate the suddenly severe atmosphere.

“You’re the one that started getting all gushy and sentimental first,” Jungwon replied with a slight smirk on his face as he watched your mouth turn agape with embarrassment. “And no, even if I did get intel and prepared for your attacks, it’d just take away from the thrill of being in the ring.”

“Anyway,” You interrupted, clearing your throat.

The ideal fight? You thought, thinking back to your first loss against Kai. Coincidentally, the two of you had a similar background in practicing Brazilian martial arts in Seoul. In your case, you’ve reached a level of mastery that all the schools in Korea couldn’t match up, leading you to fly yourself out to the birthplace of capoeira impulsively. Your parents initially had qualms about sending their twelve-year-old child to another country, but upon seeing you defeat your burly teachers with simple kicks, they quickly bought you a ticket and sent you off at the airport in fear.

On the other hand, Kai had a long familial history with capoeira, so he flew back to Brazil in hopes of becoming the next heir to his family school. This was where he met a version of you that was much more pompous than who you were now, threatening to beat everyone on the streets up.

In a way, Kai’s kick to your ribs was the first instance of experiencing a pain so unbearable that you’ve decided to become stronger to save yourself the experience of feeling that level of hurt again. Throughout your years as a martial artist, you hypothesized that this pain could only be canceled out when the other felt the exact same sting on whatever body part they were hit. Each kick should be reciprocated with an attack of the same strength and power—or else it wouldn’t be a fair fight.

“I mean, as you’ve said, the nature of a good fight is how unpredictable it’s supposed to be. Like, an amazing fight has to have so many twists and turns that the audience can never guess who’d win or lose in the end.” You said, a wave of overwhelming nostalgia washing over you. In the back of your head, you could see Kai’s father in the capoeira school, heartily laughing at you and Kai’s intent to fight to the death. Even if you were supposed to be back in your home country, you’ve spent too much time in Brazil to consider it your true home.

“Is that why you decided to join the GOH?” Jungwon asked, anticipating your answer. You gave him a curt nod, keeping your eyes on the bystanders that increased in number. The sunlight was getting stronger than before, and you briefly glanced at your smartwatch to check the time.

“Honestly, I didn’t really think much of it when I got invited,” You said, keeping your eyes on your smartwatch to turn a reminder off. “I was already living a pretty decent life in Brazil, I was already working as a professional capoeirista, and I didn’t see a single reason to come home.

Jungwon widened his eyes as you spoke, attentively listening to your story. Going pro at their current age was a rare occurrence. Still, it wasn’t too uncommon—some of the professional athletes in martial arts started professionally competing at around fourteen or fifteen, and those who wanted to compete in the Olympics started even younger. Jungwon began his own journey into professional taekwondo at fourteen, then prioritized sports over school from then.

What caught his interest in your story was your life abroad—how did you get by? Did you have to learn the language to go around town? Was it dangerous? How was it any different from Korean society? All these questions ran inside his head, but there was no chance to ask them. His pride was still on full display, and god forbid he showed any interest in your life experiences. Knowing you so far, you would use this as leverage and mock him about being “obsessed” with you.

“Then why did you decide to compete?” Jungwon asked too bluntly. You returned the sentiment with an over-exaggerated expression of hurt, holding your arms close to your chest as if you had been hit. You stopped your charade as soon as an older woman began quickly walking towards the two of you, threatening to strike her cane down at Jungwon. While you tried to convince the old lady that it was only a joke, Jungwon immediately set a reminder to move his training spot to a much more hidden location.

“Truth be told, I only tagged along because Kai really wanted to compete.” You said between jagged breaths and a sigh. Once the old lady was out of sight, you returned to your seat next to Jungwon, fixing your school uniform’s skirt before sitting on the grass.

“But hey, I did have fun! It took a while to get here, but the people I’ve defeated on the way was, in a sense, what I’m fighting for, I suppose?” You tried to explain, only to have Jungwon’s look of skepticism send waves of doubt in your language abilities.

“You know? The thrill of just… kicking, and punching, and doing all these cool stunts that make the crowd go crazy.”

Your breath hitched with each word you spoke, remembering the fights you’ve had to this day. Some enter the world of martial arts to pursue physical strength, while others may do so to preserve an endangered tradition. Most usually fight for money, and a few view it as an art form more than a sport. You didn’t fall under any of those categories, but it would be hard to explain your reason for fighting to anyone without being perceived as a bloodthirsty, violent animal.

It was honestly elementary; you just loved fighting.

“How about you? Do you have something you wanna fight for?” You asked out of the blue, doing your best to change the topic smoothly.

While Jungwon’s face was always unreadable, it was clear that this question rendered him in a state of deep thought. He sustained a low hum, slightly rocking back and forth to the rhythms of his hands swaying his water better. You tapped your fingers along your thigh, staring up at the trees that blocked the sunlight again. Through the corner of your eyes, you saw Jungwon bite his lip in hesitance, as if he had something he shouldn’t say in mind.

The silence between you two was tense. Each time you brought your eyes back down to say something, you were always greeted with Jungwon’s pensiveness. In what felt like hours, your mouth would open up, and then close in on itself over and over again. The more you tried to change the conversation topic, the more he closed his eyes to succumb to an unbreakable state of deep thought. So, you did the only thing you could at the moment and patiently waited for him to give you an answer.

“Well,” He finally started. “Unlike you, I didn’t really choose to join.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, jerking your head in his direction. The GOH, to your knowledge, was a competition that didn’t force its competitors to join. One had the option to reject the invite and go along with their day, and you’ve heard stories of candidates choosing to opt out of the tournament through their own means.

“I was personally handpicked by the officials last minute.”

You stood still in silence, mouth agape at the sudden confession. Many thoughts and emotions were going through your head, and you could tell that Jungwon interpreted the complex look on your face for what it was—an amalgamation of anger, shock, and disbelief.

Handpicked? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Special treatment? Unfairness? What about the others who got KO’d and spent days recovering in the hospital to heal their bodies from all the injuries they sustained in the prelims?

All these thoughts were running rampant in your head, but in the end, you simply sat down in silence, having the same complex look on your face. Lashing out at him wouldn’t do, because it was clear to you that he didn’t choose to compete.

“That’s why I don’t think I can give you an answer, because frankly, even I don’t know what I’m fighting for,” Jungwon said after another pause, slowly averting his gaze from you to his feet. You closed your mouth and stood up, slipping your book out of your waistband. You tossed the book onto his lap, then proceeded to start stretching your legs out.

O Lobo do Mar.

He couldn’t understand the language it was written in, but he could tell that it wasn’t English. There were stressed letters that littered the introductory page, and some letters had tildes which he called “curvy line thing.” When he tried to give the book back, you took your hand up and told him to keep it and search for a Korean version online.

“Mad?” He asked with a bitter laugh.

“Slightly frustrated, but totally understandable.” You replied, continuing with your stretches.“I personally think the fairest way to decide the replacement was to hold another match with the people that got fourth and fifth place respectively, since the top three competitors are the ones who can advance to the semi-finals.”

“Was that how it was like when you competed?”

Jungwon was now joining you in your stretches, keeping the book that you gave him in his pocket. To prevent it from falling, he zipped his pockets up, enclosing his house keys and phone on the other.

“Yeah, they had all the major Brazilian cities have an all-styles battle royale type of match where the last three people get to move forward to the nationals, and then the winners there get to fly to Seoul.”

“Did people actually die?” He interrupted, trying to keep his form from your brutal accounts of the preliminary matches. “I mean, you did say it’s a battle royale,”

“No, the organization has these things called bio-nanoparticles that support the cells in your body, so you don’t get any major injuries.”

“And this,” You stopped, showing him a thin smartwatch strapped onto your wrist. “Is the bracelet where you can see either your opponent’s or your own stats and whatnot, so you don’t have to keep refreshing and to check the main website for updates.”

You showed him how it works, tapping into the system to show your current stats. You then showed him what happens when you activate your charyeok, adding an extra element called “GP” that replaced where your power levels should be. Although Jungwon was listening, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your wrist, which contained your smartwatch and the bracelet. Before you explained your situation, he initially thought you were trying to brag about owning two smartwatches.

“You’re probably gonna get yours some time soon, since you’re profile’s already up.” You said, using the watch to scan Jungwon. “Not gonna lie, I thought your power levels would be a bit higher,”

“Probably a glitch or something,”

“Yeah…” You sarcastically replied, showing him a comparison of your stats and his through your bracelet.

“By glitch, I meant your power level,” He corrected. “I refuse to believe that you’re at seventeen, while mine’s stuck at nine.”

“What the hell is a power level anyway?” He asked, trying to discredit the stat system of the tournament. In response, you openly tried to hold your laughter, poking fun at his honest display of bitterness at your level gaps.

“To the audience, it’s kind of like a measure of physical strength. For us, though, it’s a way to measure the strength of one’s charyeok.”

“So you’re saying everyone in the semi-finals has charyeoks?” He asked. He didn't expect his initial hypothesis to be correct, but now that you've explained the power level system, everything made sense. What legal competition thrives off teenagers beating each other senseless unless they had magical powers to keep themselves alive? That way, the organization won't be charged with homicide if ever the arena becomes a five-second slaughterhouse.

“You’d think an all-styles tournament with no time and weapons limitations would sustain itself with regular humans?” You replied as if an all-out tournament with teenagers possessing supernatural powers was the most natural thing in the world. He tilted his head in bewilderment at your answer, and you pinched your nose in frustration to explain what he needed to know about your kind. You said what was exactly on his mind, but he still couldn't grasp his head around it. If the bio-nanoparticles kept competitors alive, then wouldn't it be more entertaining to have humans test their body's limits and use their physical strength all throughout the fight?

“Charyeok holders are known to have a much higher injury tolerance than the ones who don’t, so the bio-nanoparticles are really just there to make sure we don’t end up dying on the ring.”

“Well, that’s boring,” He sharply spat, puckering his lips in disappointment.

“So homicide’s a better source of entertainment?”

“Better than having you stalk me.”

You bit your lip too hard, feeling some of the metallic taste enter your tongue. There was a reason Jungwon was an enigma to you, and it was this exact moment that made you aware of his allure. He would tell jokes and insults the same way he’d tell facts. It wasn’t to say his voice color was monotonous, but rather, he would deliver absurd sentences in such a natural way that it added a deeper layer of complexity to his character. You didn’t know if he was trying to be funny, or if he meant was he said, and it was that type of intrigue that struck him as an oddly entertaining boy at the Park.

“Please don’t be disappointed, but,” You professed, raising the pitch of your voice. You bowed your head and held your hands together in a prayer. Bystanders began giving your standing figures a quick glance, curious to see two young teenagers enact the very example of a flowery youth.

“This is actually my way to school.”

You lifted your head up with a bright smile, making your best attempt to conceal your smugness. Using your chin, you pointed at a large building in the distance on the other side of the river. Students donning the same school uniform as you began to walk towards a nearby bridge, and he scanned the area to see a couple more students taking their bicycles on the streets.

“Then where’s your school bag?”

“You mean this?”

With a snap of your finger, a barrier of electricity surrounded you. A giant man with long hair tied to a braid emerged from behind you, carrying what looked to be your backpack. You took it from him with a smile, then dispelled your charyeok as soon as your bag was dangling onto your shoulder.

“Don’t you have better uses for your charyeok?”

“And don’t you have to get better at using your charyeok to have a chance at winning the GOH?” You snakily replied, using your index finger to poke his chest.

“That’s what this precious training was for, until you came to waste my time.” He retorted, aggressively attempting to clean the place you touched.

“Ouch, I wouldn’t really call me being here a waste of time, though,”

You called your charyeok back, demonstrating a weaker rendition of your lightning-infused kick. Jungwon watched as you perfectly controlled the trajectory of the lightning, watching it hit a distant vending machine to produce a drink for free.

“If you wanna get better at using your charyeok, cardio isn’t really enough.” You said, using your elbow to point at the book in his pocket.

“Endurance is a key component of mastering your charyeok, but there’s a lot to it, such as meditation exercises, locking yourself in a dark room for an entire month, acupuncture, and more spiritual mumbo jumbo.” You explained, hoisting your backpack’s strap onto your other shoulder.

“I’m not really a superstitious person per se, but a lot of the amazing charyeok holders know how to astrally project so they can actually talk to their god,”

“So you’re saying I need to watch YouTube videos on lucid dreaming to get better?” He interrupted, giving you the usual look of skepticism and doubt with a hint of mockery. You pinched your nose in response, attempting to hide the growing urge to start a fight with him.

“That’s oddly specific—but no. I’m not saying you have to get an Ouija board and summon your god, but I am saying that some alone time, breathing exercises, and at least three hours of meditation would benefit you—you know, since your main problem appears to be a lack of spiritual connection with your god.”

While Jungwon retained an aura of calm and disinterest on the surface, he was mentally taking notes of all the tips and suggestions you’ve listed out. Unfortunately, most of them were exercises and tactics that Jungkook had already told him about, but acupuncture and astral projection seemed interesting enough to try out.

“Well, I’m gonna be late for school.”

With a quick wave and a middle finger, you leaped out of Jungwon’s supposedly “secret” training spot. Without looking back, you picked up your pace and darted towards the nearby bridge. As he watches your figure disappear among the foliage of the trees, he takes the book you gave him out of his pocket. Using his smartwatch, he quickly put the book title through a search engine and added a Korean translation to his wish list.

Perhaps he finally had something to fight for at the GOH.

The day of the GOH semi-finals began in the COAX basement. Overall there were five Korean provinces, and four international groups were competing. The complete roster was now available on the GOH’s official website, and Jungwon almost threw his phone in frustration when it was announced that Team Seoul was up against Team Jeolla. Team Brazil—which was only Brazilian in terms of fighting style—was currently scheduled to fight Team Thailand.

“They look pretty strong, no?” Sunghoon said, scrolling through the profiles of Team Jeolla. Jungwon impatiently tapped his feet, pacing back and forth within his designated waiting room. He didn’t know how they allowed Sunghoon inside, but it probably had something to do with him being a professional figure skater or ridiculously handsome.

“No offense to Team Jeolla, but I wanted to fight against Team Brazil,” Jungwon spat, his paces getting more and more erratic.

“Why do you wanna fight them so badly?” A cheerful voice emerged from the distance.

“Fight her so badly,” Sunghoon corrected, keeping his eyes on his phone.

A man with short, blue hair peeked his head from the wall, failing to contain his bright smile. Jungwon stopped in his tracks and beckoned for him to come in, only to regret his decision immediately. The man leaped from his position to embrace Jungwon in a tight bear hug, spinning him around before letting go. He then proceeded to take the spot next to Sunghoon, extending his hand out enthusiastically.

“So who’s this girl we’re talking about?” The man teased, eyes practically glued on Sunghoon’s screen. “Is our Wonnie in love?”

“Hyung,” Jungwon started. “Have you ever felt the need to beat someone up before?”

“Sounds like you’re in love to me!” The man retaliated, standing back up to pester his junior even more. Sunghoon watched the two bicker in confusion, trying his best to avoid being roped into their business. He collected himself from being flustered a few seconds ago, realizing that he might have spoken informally to someone potentially older than him. He took his phone and skimmed through the GOH website on a quick whim. Once he found the profiles for Team Seoul, he looked for the photo that matched the unknown man right in front of him.

Choi San

ITF Southern Taekwondo

Power: Lvl 19

Upon viewing the large gap between San and Jungwon’s power level, Sunghoon gulped in mild fear. It was difficult to tell how muscular San was in casual clothes, but after looking at his profile, he began to see the fruitful results of being a martial artist. Compared to Jungwon, San was muscular. Although the muscle definition wasn’t too prominent, visible signs showed his physical strength. For one, he didn’t need to flex his arms to pronounce his muscles—the veins and humps were somewhat visible from the start.

What baffled him even more about the man was his cheery, upbeat demeanor. It was almost as if San and Jungwon had swapped spirits—a mismatched duo that complemented each other in a team setting.

“Guys, we’re gonna be late,” A clear, female voice sliced through the commotion of the waiting room, entrenching the small space in complete silence. A short girl leaned her back on the doorframe, idly twirling her sheathed sword around.

Kim Minjeong

Winter Huntress Sword Style

Power: Lvl 12

“What do you mean?” Jungwon asked, prying himself off San’s grip. Minjeong shrugged and pursed her lips, using her sword for support. She then took her phone out, reading what was on the screen out loud.

“Teams should be in the arena by 1:30 P.M.,” She said, then projected the time on her smartwatch.

“Also, why is he here?” Minjeong scoffed, lazily picking her sword up to unsheathe it. The boy in question quickly bowed and said his goodbyes to Jungwon and San, then proceeded to run back to his seat as fast as he could.

“You didn’t have to be so mean, you know?” San said, picking up a crumpled jacket from one of the seats.

“If we get disqualified for inviting an outsider into the waiting room, then that’s you guys’ problem.” The girl retorted, attaching her sword to her belt.

“Who was there already?” Jungwon asked, fixing his school blazer. Minjeong beckoned for them to follow her, and the three began walking to the main arena.

“Jeolla, Gyeongsang, Chungcheong, Jeju, Thailand, and Japan.” Minjeong replied, counting each region with her finger. “I said I was gonna pick you guys up, so we’re technically fine, and one of the commissioners have told me that Team China are still on their way from the airport, so their matches have been rescheduled for a later time.”

“What about Team Brazil?” Jungwon suddenly interjected, failing to contain his eagerness.

“What about them?” Minjeong replied, confused at his enthusiasm over a team they weren’t competing against.

“Don’t mind him, Minjeongie,” San interrupted, nudging his elbow into the boy’s arm. “He just has a huge crush on the girl in that team.”

Upon hearing this revelation, Minjeong immediately snorted, bursting into a mad fit of laughter. Some of the staff and nurses began to look in their direction, eyeing the girl as she continued to howl like a hyena. San tried to calm her down, but each attempt at alleviating the situation made her chuckle louder than before.

“You? Having a crush?” She uttered between breaths. “That’s got to be an omen of some sorts!”

In the end, Jungwon resorted to using his charyeok to knock both his teammates out. Accordingly, he used the winds to propel them to the arena on time, arriving one minute before what was written on the schedule.

By the time they arrived in the backstage of the arena, some of the teams were already in their respective seats, either stretching, training, or idly passing time through their phones. Jungwon dragged both their bodies to their own seats, which had a large placard on top of three chairs. Much to his chagrin, Team Brazil’s chairs were right next to theirs. As of now, it was empty, but Jungwon could foresee the bickering and countless fighting they’d resort to once the team arrived.

“So you’re up against that guy, huh?” San suddenly spoke, his face practically rubbing Jungwon’s cheek. Using his tall nose, he pointed at the row of chairs adjacent to theirs. Their placard had the hangul for Team Jeolla written in, and each chair’s occupants seemed rather friendly. Instead of the usual nervous bunch who excessively stretched before each round, or the aloof type who kept to themselves, Team Jeolla had to be silenced by the staff more than three times because of how rowdy they could get.

The boy that San was referring to had a magnetic allure to him, which expanded whenever he laughed or smiled. He seemed to be the loudest of Team Jeolla, constantly running around or playing pranks on his teammates. Sometimes, he could also introduce himself to the other groups—although the results were somewhat mixed. Some of the competitors, such as those of Team Thailand and Team Jeju, happily received his presence. Others would either mutter awkward greetings or pretend to be on their earphones, which didn’t seem to bother the boy.

“We’re gonna be fighting each other, right?” The boy said, now in front of Jungwon and the rest of Team Seoul. San joyfully shook his hand and proceeded to entertain him, while Minjeong remained asleep from Jungwon’s attack. Using San’s distraction, Jungwon quickly slipped his phone out to check Team Jeolla’s profile, starting with the person in front of him, who promptly befriended San.

Eric Sohn

Judo

Power: Lvl 15

“Judo, huh?” Jungwon muttered to himself. He took a quick glance at Eric, who now had his arms wrapped around San. They were both going back to Team Jeolla’s seats, where the other two team members patiently waited. Another rowdy episode—this time, including San—ensued, and Jungwon slipped in his earphones to calm his breathing before the match. If Team China’s schedule were the only ones that changed, then that meant Seoul vs. Jeolla would be second.

Now that he’s thought about it, Team Thailand was also absent from their seats. Everyone apart from Team Jeolla was deeply ingrained on their phone screens, which were horizontally held.

Match 1: Team Brazil vs. Team Thailand (1:00 P.M. KST)

Taking his phone out again, he quickly logged onto the GOH website as an audience member, checking the livestream that was currently being hosted. On his screen, a tiny version of you was elbowing a man’s abdomen, then kicking him to the corner of the ring. You weren’t using your charyeok yet, but Jungwon had heavily underestimated your physical strength. At the Park, it was somewhat difficult to tell how strong you truly were because your tactics against the Slovenian Slaughterhouse relied on many feints and quick dodges. However, you were on the offense in this current match, constantly propelling yourself to either kick, elbow, or headbutt your opponent.

He quickly logged out of the livestream to search your opponent’s profile,

Yongsin Wongpanitnot

Muay Thai

Power: Lvl 16

Despite the almost non-existent gap between your power levels, you were entirely on the offense. Yongsin probably fell to the ground more than enough times to disqualify him from the match, but he surprisingly got up to continue the fight. This time, he had finally revealed his charyeok, summoning a giant, serpent-like creature that crafted up a storm in the arena. However, instead of manipulating the wind, the serpent sent a downpour of rain in your direction, crystallizing them to ice before they hit you. Some of the tiny, frozen daggers were able to hit you, but you barely flinched, continuing with your barrages of kicks and cartwheels. Then, you manifested your own charyeok, hitting the ground with a jolt of electricity that ultimately rendered Yongsin unconscious.

The countdown began, and Jungwon gripped his phone tight. This was nothing like the sneaky, yet fair fight you upheld at the Park. Sure, you often relied on tricking the opponent into landing a hit, but it was still a fair fight because you gave your opponent a chance to attack you. David allowed Goliath to show his strength and skill before defeating him with a sling, and that was the level of respect and sportsmanship you had in the fights he’s seen you appear in. Even when Jungwon was immobile and frozen within the cocoon of wind he created, you still gave him a chance to try and hit you while simultaneously giving your all.

On the other hand, you were completely off in this fight. Instead of giving your opponent a chance to breathe, your attacks were too consecutive in pattern. Another one followed each kick, and another one—until the poor guy’s face couldn’t be recognized anymore. No matter how much blood came gushing out of your current opponent, or how many of his bones you’ve practically turned to dust, you continued to beat him to a pulp with such intense hatred and violence. Right now, an eccentric announcer was already starting the twenty-second countdown. After you’ve electrocuted your opponent over and over again with your charyeok, you continued to beat him senselessly. The crowd went from rowdily cheering to silently judging your every move, murmuring whispers of suspicion until the entire audience played a game of telephone.

The referee had already reached ten seconds, and you were still on top of your opponent. Jungwon tried to zoom into his phone screen, and your once playful eyes were now dyed in a bloodlust that couldn’t be considered human. Each punch you threw was an automatic trigger that repeated until someone could come and manually stop you from committing murder on live television. With the gradual silence of the crowd, it was easier to hear the grotesque noises of the human body suffering through every injury imaginable. Yongsin’s excessive coughing, coupled with excruciatingly painful cries for help, struck a chord in Jungwon.

Automatic trigger, manual stop.

“Is this the person you had a crush on or whatever?” Minjeong suddenly asked. Although she was still groggy from Jungwon’s attack, the fear in her system was visible enough to shake all her senses awake. Her breath hitched as she watched your fight on Jungwon’s phone, and each sad punch caused her to flinch back into her seat.

“I get that she’s really strong, but—“

Before Minjeong could finish her sentence, Jungwon was already by the exit leading into the arena’s ring. He tossed his phone on Minjeong’s lap, darting towards the exit. Everyone backstage tried to stop him, but it was difficult to catch up to someone as fast as a hurricane. Using his charyeok to maneuver past hallways and staff members, he arrived in the main ring in no time.

“Hey, Sunghoon,” Jungwon suddenly appeared beside an empty seat next to his friend’s. After trying to hold back his screams of shock, he nodded to Jungwon.

“What do you think will happen if someone suddenly jumped on the ring?”

Sunghoon hummed at the question, finally answering with a shrug. Jungown heaved a deep sigh, setting his sights for the ring. There were only five seconds left before the match ended, and it was now or never.

Amidst the twists and screams of pain from Yongsin, and the announcer narrating every act of violence that came out of your body in the same, obnoxious tone, Jungwon launched himself in the ring with ease. When the announcer reached the number two, the entire crowd succumbed to a deadly silence, eyes piercing Jungwon’s back.

“Isn’t that Team Seoul’s Yang Jungwon?”

“What’s he doing there?”

“I heard he only got the special recommendation because he’s the Jungkook’s disciple,”

Low murmurs and hushed whispers turned into a loud cacophony of noise. In the blinding spotlight, Jungwon saw your hunched figure as two suited men held you back from attacking your opponent even further. Compared to the calm, yet haughty version of you that he knew, you were currently a wild animal needing immediate sedation. There was now a red glint in your eyes, and with enough struggle, you successfully flipped both men in one move, breaking their bones with two heavy kicks. Several cracks sliced through the whispered tones of the audience, prompting everyone to glue their eyes on the brutality that was unfolding.

“Looks like I’m getting disqualified, huh?”

In an instant, Jungwon pushed the referee to the side and sent you a kick that landed you on the other side of the ring. Your body continued spinning despite hitting the rubber surface of the ring’s borders, and you quickly kicked yourself back up. Everyone’s bracelets began beeping, and they checked to see that Jungwon’s power levels had dramatically increased.

You stared blankly at your opponent, cracking the bones of your neck from side to side. Jungwon kept a distance, examining your current state. Your uniform was covered in your opponent’s blood, your hair was disheveled from the violence that ensued, and the red glint in your eyes glowed with an eerie yet magnetic allure. He remained skeptical of his conclusion, but now, he can confidently say that you didn’t know who he was in your current state.

Your charyeok was no longer that of the blue, tribal man covered in neon streaks of lightning, but was now a majestic, white wolf with the same glowing eyes as you. Crackles of red lightning covered your entire body, and each step you made towards Jungwon shook the entire arena, rumbling it in an earthquake that brought the spotlights crashing down onto the audience. The crowd’s cries of fear and panic ensued as soon as the lights exploded, engulfing the entire ring in a pitch-black darkness. Amidst the state of chaos, a burst of unnatural, piercing laughter emerged from behind him, followed by an electric shock that immediately sent unbearable waves of pain into his body.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?!”

With nothing to see in front of him, Jungwon snapped his head towards the voice. A bright, ball of light emerged in the distance, and he saw another suited man who had a sleek bowl cut. He quickly dispelled a large jolt of red lightning with a barrier of pure, white light, carrying Jungwon off to the side of the arena. He tilted his head and looked behind him through the suited man’s light, only to see more suited people emerge from the darkness. They began activating their own charyeoks, and Jungwon’s eyes widened at a familiar figure who was now covered in an aura of fire.

“We’ll deal with this, so go home, Jungwon. Please.” Jungkook said, twirling the spear in his arms.

Instead of heeding the suited people’s word of advice, he ran towards you, stopping your electrifying kick with that of his own. As he pushed your leg down, an immense wave of power overwhelmed him. Each kick grew stronger than the last, and the beeps in his watch signaled his rising power levels.

Jungwon’s senses were heightened to a degree of clairvoyance, and now, he can see through all your erratic moves. Whenever you missed, you let out a blood-curdling cry of frustration that sounded inhumane, almost as if a demon possessed you. Through heavy pants, you kicked another streak of red lightning in his direction, watching as it wrapped itself onto his body. You then raised your hands up and clenched them to a fist, sending shocks of electricity right into his veins.

Instead of breaking free from your grasp, Jungwon used the abundance of electricity that entered his body and pushed it back in your direction with one of his tornadoes.

I guess I have no choice, huh?

“Jungwon wait—“

Before Jungkook could stop him, Jungwon let his body ease into position one. He felt the winds gather around him, endlessly circling and levitating him higher and higher into the air. From a distance, he could see the majestic wolf’s fangs biting into your head, fueling your current bloodlust.

In position two, he launched himself even higher, whispering a prayer to call his god. Feeling the sudden burst of power that entered his body, he immediately darted towards where you were in a speedy barrage of kicks. All his mentor could do was watch as Jungwon unleashed the forbidden technique of renewal taekwondo.

Yang Jungwon

Power: Lvl ???

GP: ???

In a flurry of consecutive kicks that was too fast to trace with the human eye, the commissioners watched your body—or rather, the giant wolf behind you—being beaten to a pulp. You were currently levitating in mid-air, helpless to the windy kicks that struck each pressure point within your body. The other members of the organization got into strategic positions, finding an angle to release you from the possession of the wolf.

“Whatever you guys do, don’t hurt Jungwon,” Jungkook warned, taking the spear and aiming it at your body.

“What about the girl?” The man with the light spheres asked, releasing a bright beam from his palm.

“Judge B, the task is to take down the Raiju, and if she dies from this, then it’s a necessary sacrifice that must be made,” A suited woman emerged from the distance. She activated her own charyeok and took her eye on the scope of her gun, carefully aiming at the erratic beast behind you.

Before the commissioners could move, your body flew to the ground, creating a large, deep crater that rumbled across the entire area. Although your body twitched and moved around, the red gleam in your eyes disappeared. Right now, you simply looked like you were in a night of peaceful, deep sleep, steadying your breathing back to normal levels.

Jungwon descended down from the air and then collapsed next to your body. The giant wolf was now rampant, and the rest of the commissioners began their attacks. Jungkook took the time to carry the two of you back to the main hallway and called for a nurse, instructing them to let their bodies recover in the intensive care unit.

“The two of you are a handful, you know?” He muttered, tapping both your cheeks before running back in battle.

When you woke up, the first thing you heard was the distorted beeps of a heart rate monitor. When you tried to get up, an immense pain resonated in your abdomen, causing you to fall back into the comforts of your bed. The smell of chemicals and antiseptic overwhelmed your nose with a hint of citrus. Craning your neck to your left, you saw a familiar book on top of the bedside drawer. The cover’s illustration was that of a sailor’s silhouette turning a ship’s helm.

O Lobo do Mar.

“You’re finally awake,”

A distant voice pierced through your ears. You looked up to see the blurry outline of a boy clad in a school uniform, carrying a bouquet in his hands. He proceeded to bow in your direction, walking past your bed to replace the wilting flowers on a clear, glass vase with that of his own. With each inhalation, you could feel a citrusy aroma overpower your senses, and you guessed that it came from the vase.

“My mentor told me that citrus is good for recovery,”

The boy proceeded to drag a chair from the window right next to you, poking your cheek a little too harshly. A deep dimple pierced his cheek as he smiled in your direction. You returned the sentiment with a wide grin of your own, which gave you enough strength to sit back up and endure the pains you were feeling all over your body.

“You gave me my book back,” You said with a weakened voice. His smile grew wider upon hearing you speak, and he rested his head on his shoulder.

“It’s pretty cruel of you to give me a book in a language I couldn’t speak, you know?”

You gave him a bitter laugh in response, only to stop as soon as the pains rushed into your stomach. Jungwon rushed to your aid, but you waved him off. He returned to his seat and gave you a cooled water bottle, which you took with gratitude. As you twisted the cap, you craned your neck to the window, watching a part of the city’s formerly beautiful skyline in ruins. Several construction cranes lifted steel and concrete into the air, and you listened to the sound of bulldozers rumbling across your room.

“What the hell is going on?” You asked in confusion.

“Well, you’ve been asleep for an entire month.” Jungwon slowly replied, taking his water bottle out of his bag. “And a lot can change in a month.”

“What?!”

He stood up again, closing the curtains to your hospital room. Heaving a long, drawn-out sigh, he proceeded to pull a newspaper out of his bag, folding it to your convenience. As you skimmed through the article, your eyes widened in disbelief.

SEOUL IN RUINS: COULD THIS BE THE APOCALYPSE?

MYSTERIOUS RED LIGHTNING APPEARS FROM THE COAX BASEMENT, HUNDREDS DEAD UPON IMPACT

“D-did I—“

“No, you didn’t.” Jungwon interrupted. “It was the organization that mostly took care of things.”

“The ones who hosted the GOH?” You asked. Jungwon nodded in response while taking another sip of water.

He then proceeded to fill you in with everything that had happened during your sleep. This information was technically classified, but Jungwon’s mentor-student relationship with Jungkook allowed him to gain access to the main details of the following events.

Although the organization couldn’t find the reason for your sudden possession, they concluded that the Raiju chose you based on your fighting prowess and a lack of earthly desires. Considering how most of the competitors were usually in it for the money or a specific goal in mind, it was either you or Jungwon who would have succumbed to the Raiju’s wrath.

He then revealed that the purpose of the GOH was to find worthy competitors to train and eventually defeat both the Raiju and the rival organization that summoned the beast into Seoul.

“What the hell is a Raiju?” You asked. Jungwon shrugged his shoulders in response.

“I don’t really know a lot about anything that’s going on right now, but Seoul’s been in a bit of a chaotic situation since,”

You tried to stretch your body higher in an attempt to see what was going on in the city, but instead, another wave of pain washed over your body. Jungwon took your arms and wrapped them around his shoulder, leaning your body weight into his as he guided you to the window. At first, you slapped his hand off and tried to stand up again, but after your third or fourth try, you reluctantly surrendered to his support.

Upon glancing down at the window, a visible expression of shock and confusion stretched your lips into a thin line. There were more homeless people than you could count, begging on the streets or sleeping on cardboard boxes. Shops were closed, and the concrete roads were all decorated in large cracks of disrepair. Buildings were on the verge of collapse, and dangerous rubble had adorned each block.

“So, what now?” You muttered under your breath, watching the city with a helpless pity.

“If you can stand better, I guess the next thing to do is fight again,” Jungwon replied in a natural tone.

“That’s not something you should say to a recovering patient!” You retorted, attempting to contain your laughter.

Amidst the ruins of the city and your current, fragile state, you began to feel an intense passion that ached inside your chest. If you were your former self, you would have sprung back into health, sending endless kicks in Jungwon’s direction as he returned each with a windy variant of his own. Although you’ve fought a lot of people in the past, it was Jungwon who always returned to ask you for a rematch or treat you like the rival you’ve always wanted to be. Kai and his family treated you like a disciple, and all your other opponents had forfeited upon realizing their lack of strength against you. While being someone’s rival can sound rather tiring, you have always wanted the kind of rivalry that was infinite—just like the one you currently had with Jungwon.

From the strength of his current grip, you could tell that he’s gotten stronger than before. The air around him also seemed to calm down, lacking any of the self-doubts he had when you ran into him on your way to school. It was the perfect, subtle self-confidence in his stride and demeanor that made you feel a lot weaker than you currently are. Had Jungwon caught up to you? Did he already surpass you in terms of strength? Was he better at wielding his charyeok now?

All these questions swam inside your head, but you knew that you couldn’t get the answer in your current state. You didn’t know how long it would take until you’d be able to walk without Jungwon’s support, nor did you know how much time you’d have to dedicate to regaining the power and strength you formerly had. Who knows? Maybe you had to start from square one again, learning the basics of capoeira to reach your former peak.

Despite all the doubts and uncertainties you had in your head, you knew none of that mattered when it came to your rival. Whether you’d take weeks, months, years, or centuries to recover, you understood deep down inside that Jungwon would be there waiting to fight you again. So, for now, you took his arm and gave it a firm pat, facing Jungwon with a heartfelt smile. He returned it with the same level of affection, piercing his cheek with his deep dimple.

At this moment, in the reflection of the mirror, both of you acknowledged each other as destined, eternal rivals, forever blessed to fight each other in the ring.

taglist— @jitaros @zhongriot @floraljae

SEE YOU SOON. (NRK)

⊱ REQUESTED BY: @rinhyun (💌)

⊱ SYNOPSIS: Whilst watching your friend walk away to chase his dreams, you realized this was the first time such simple words like "see you soon" felt so heavy to utter.

⊱ TYPE OF WORK: oneshot/fic.

⊱ GENRE: angst, unrequited love, childhood best friends to long distance friends.

⊱ PAIRING: nishimura riki x fem!reader.

⊱ WORD COUNT: 1.6k+ words.

⊱ WARNINGS: usages of japanese terms (honorifics and nicknames such as kaa-san, etc.), this is set around the time before the events of i-land.

⊱ AUTHOR'S NOTE: i decided to fit your idea into a more realistic trope (since riki leaving for korea actually happened in real life), i hope you'll like this! credits to my beloved ren @mygnolia for beta reading this for me when i felt like my writing skills have rusted REN IS THE TRUEST MVP IN MY HEART ☝️ /lh

There were a lot of perks that entailed being Nishimura Riki's best friend; or 'bestest friend', as he'd like to call you jokingly.

One of them was that you would need to have a strong immunity to his tendencies of pulling pranks on you; most of them were harmless and somehow, you never minded them.

Whenever Riki would pull little pranks on you, the way his eyes crinkled into crescents as laughter bubbled up from his mouth like soda pop often made you look at him with a fond yet exasperated look.

Besides the occasional pranks, the other perk was getting to listen to him talk on and on about his dreams — of course, the latter was a given.

Everybody knew Nishimura Riki was ambitious; the vigor as he reached out for his dreams, the glint in his eyes, the passion in his heart.

Riki had always been there in your memories. You were his best friend since childhood; you still remembered the first time you met him, shyly hiding behind your mother's legs when she introduced you to the boy that would end up becoming your dearest friend for years.

Riding a bicycle for the first time together, jumping in puddles together, discovering music together… watching Riki join a dance academy whilst you tried your best at studying.

Yet, even someone like you stood meek in comparison to his desire to shine on a stage. You thought that if you pretended the feelings weren't there, they would go away — but they didn't, they never did.

You tried, you really did; but how could you look away when he always gave you that stupid grin? When he always bought extra snacks for you after school because he knew how hard you've been working? When his laughter always sent butterflies flying around in your stomach?

Even after all these years, you couldn't look away.

You knew he didn't feel the same way, but staying beside him was already enough for you. But deep down, you knew; one day, Riki would travel away to chase his dreams and leave.

And you were right.

The sound of luggages being dragged around and the rustlings of people getting up from their seats felt like a taunting ambience to your ears. You could barely register whatever announcement the voice from the intercom was saying. Your mind was buzzing with anticipation, and it was not the good kind.

"(Y/N), you alright there?"

The feeling of a hand resting itself on your head brought you out of your daydream. You almost forgot that the very same boy who had been occupying your mind was here, sitting right beside you.

Riki peered into your face with a raised eyebrow, he was actually a little concerned when he noticed you hadn't been talking as much as you usually would.

Weird, he couldn't place his hands on it. Was there something bothering you? Were you not feeling well? He wanted to ask, but his lips were too frozen to move.

It was unusual of him, Riki was known for his straightforwardness, after all. But for some reason, there was this weight inside his chest that prevented him from asking you directly. He didn't know why either, but you looked so... sombre.

You lifted your head to look at him with a rueful smile as a response. "H-huh? Yeah, I'm okay." That bleak smile of yours didn't sit well with him, you could tell. You didn't mean to make him worried, you were just too immersed inside your thoughts.

But today was supposed to be one of the happiest moments in his life. You didn't want to let your feelings ruin that for him… maybe, it wouldn't hurt to pretend for his sake, would it?

"I'm just kinda sad to see you go, you know?" You put on your best smile, the best one you could muster whilst ignoring your aching heart.

Although, in all honesty, you didn't know whether you said them to reassure Riki or you were just beating around the bushes about your own conflicted feelings. It truly is hard being in love with your own best friend when he's leaving for another country, isn't it?

Riki seemed convinced by your little act, however, he returned your grin with a smile of his own. But before any of you could say anything more, the intercom cut through — this time, with an announcement that shattered your mask of happiness for a split second.

"Good afternoon, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight JL2157 to South Korea. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready for departure. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes. Thank you."

If a few moments before, the light left in your eyes was barely flickering; then, that light was now gone completely.

"Oh, that's my flight." Riki muttered quietly, looking down at the watch on his wrist while the other hand grabbed onto the handle of his luggage.

It's really happening, he's leaving.

This was the moment Riki was waiting for his entire life. You, as his best friend, should know this better than anyone. Yet, why… just, why does it hurt so much?

"Seems like you have to get ready to see me on television soon, huh." Riki stood up from his seat with that same smile on his face. Excitement, elation, and nervousness — all of them were so evident on his face, so evident to the point it pained you.

You didn't even know if you could keep up this facade of happiness any longer. A feeble nod was all you could manage to give to him.

"Riki-kun, there you are!"

Just in time as Riki's mother, the same woman who you grew to look up to ever since you were a kid who always tripped on the stairs, came hurrying towards the both of you with hasty steps.

She had gone to the restroom for a while, leaving you and Riki alone only minutes ago. But those brief moments between the two of you were already broken by the announcement earlier.

Although you might've underestimated her hasty pace, because in just a blink of an eye, she was already engulfing Riki in a tight hug.

"Kaa-san— oof!"

The aforementioned boy let out a suffocated yelp from the embrace, yet he returned his mother's affection all the same. "Make sure you text us when you get there safely, okay?" She planted her face onto his shoulder with a sniffle, almost as if she was holding herself back from crying.

"Mm, I will." Riki's voice was a reassuring whisper. But your eyes were too busy gazing upon his face one more time, silently etching his features into your memories.

Who were you kidding? You had done this exact thing hundreds of times before. But this might be the last time you did so when he was still within your reach. You didn't even realize you had been staring at him until Riki held out his fist towards you.

A friendly gesture that was always a tradition between the two of you — such a shame this might be the last time you would do this after a long while.

"Fistbump?" Riki tilted his head to the side, that same soft smile playing on his lips as he signaled towards his extended fist.

If only this weren't such a poignant moment, you would've teased him; you would've said that having a smile on his face was a foreign look.

But you could barely even gather the strength to smile back at him right now, much less tease him whilst you were already trying not to break down and let your feelings for him explode like a bursting dam.

At least, one fistbump wouldn't hurt.

"Fistbump," you affirmed, bringing your fist to collide against his own for one last time.

"This is the final boarding call for passengers booked on flight J2157 to South Korea. Please proceed to Gate 3 immediately."

It was as if time itself was urging the farewell moments between you and Riki to come to an end, you hated it.

Riki glanced over to the crowd slowly moving towards the said gate, bringing his luggage closer to his figure before turning to his mother. "Kaa-san, I'll text you on the plane. Tell the others goodbye for me, okay?"

"And (Y/N)," he turned to you next, almost taking you by surprise when he did so. But you were even more taken aback when you felt a sudden flick on the center of your forehead — Riki was snickering like a scheming gremlin upon invoking that flabbergasted expression on your face.

"It's nice to see your goofy face before I go."

Even at this sort of moment, he still found the time to joke?

You couldn't help the way the ends of your lips began to curl into a small smile, tinted with a hint of nostalgia. Well, that's the Riki you knew.

You rolled your eyes at his old forehead flick tactic, but that smile on your face couldn't manage to fool anyone.

"See you soon, yeah?" He seemed content upon seeing the smile on your face, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

See you soon, he said. The concept of the word 'soon' had always been far too vague for your liking. It could mean weeks, months, years, any of them — even if you ticked off your calendar day by day, you could never guess when.

See you soon, he said. But when will that 'soon' come? What will become of you and him by then? Would you still stay the same as you were now? Maybe, maybe not.

Riki wanted to become a star, he always shone like no other on the stage. Meanwhile you wanted to live with a sense of sonder, embracing life as it came and went. You and Riki lived in two different worlds, it had always been that way.

See you soon, he said — and what else could you do besides agreeing? You're supposed to be his best friend, after all.

"Yeah... see you soon, Riki."

Such harmless words had never felt so bitter on your tongue before.

© meraniki. do not repost, plagiarize and translate. likes and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

moments like this

juliet’s masterlist

set in early-august, 2021; a few hours after the events of bonding moment

note: the gif is mine!!

warning(s): mentions of hickeys (IT’S GOING TO BE PG TRUST ME 😭), swearing

summary: juliet attempts to introduce chan to one of her favourite movies. it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

a/n: EVERYONE HEAR ME OUT IT’S NOT THAT BAD IT’S MORE FUNNY THAN ANYTHING I PROMISE 🧎🏻‍♀️ IT’S 98% WHOLESOME AND FUNNY YOU’LL SEE 💀😭

“You’re not paying attention.”

Warm lips reluctantly leave her neck. “I am,” Chan defends, “I’m just paying more attention to you.”

“Mhm, sure. What colour was Andy’s dress in the last scene, then?”

The arms wrapped around her waist shift slightly to secure their hold. Juliet wriggles around a little to get more comfortable in her position, where she’s sat in between Chan’s legs on his bed with her back pressed to his chest.

“Are you seriously quizzing me right now?” he whines before gently nuzzling into her neck, pressing several kisses on the skin to show he’s not really upset.

Juliet laughs as her hands find his clasped ones placed over her stomach, aimlessly tracing random patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m just joking, you don’t really have to answ—”

His competitive nature, however, forbids him from letting this go without proving her wrong. “It was black and white, wasn’t it?”

“Nice try, but that was a trick question. She was wearing trousers.”

She relishes in the way the smug smile on Chan’s face drops, and he lets out a loud groan against her skin. “You’re so mean to me,” he complains childishly.

“I said you didn’t have to answer it!”

“You knew I still would because we’re both too competitive for our own good! You reverse psychology-ed me!”

“I don’t like it when you accuse me of something I clearly did.”

Juliet giggles at the little hmph he lets out before deciding to spare him and turning back to the movie, going back several minutes to catch up on the parts they missed during their banter.

It’s only been a few minutes when she feels Chan chuckle against her neck, prompting her to shoot him a questioning glance over her shoulder. “What?” she asks with playful suspicion.

“Nothing,” he says, an endeared smile playing on his lips. “I just think it’s cute that you’ve watched this movie so many times to the point where you can mouth along to every line.”

“It’s a good movie,” Juliet mumbles in defence, folding her arms across her chest, “and the costuming is just so amazing. The fact that this movie was released fifteen years ago and most of the outfits would still be considered stylish today just proves how timeless the costuming is.”

Chan laughs quietly before pecking her cheek. “Okay, my little fashion nerd.”

“I’m literally going to leave.”

The arms wrapped around her waist tighten protectively. “I’d like to see you try. Now go back to your movie.”

“My movie? You’re the one being enlightened, you know,” Juliet mutters incredulously, but does as he says anyways. After all, Anne Hathaway waits for no one.

But it’s when she feels the first few nips just behind her ear that she reluctantly pulls her attention away from the screen, slightly pulling away from his embrace to sit up straight so she look him in the eyes directly. “What are you doing?” she asks, hoping her cheeks don’t betray how flustered she’s getting.

Juliet’s jaw clenches at how Chan blinks at her with feigned innocence. How dare he. “Nothing, baby,” he coos, “just watching the movie. Why, did something happen?”

“That’s… that’s bullshit,” she mumbles, not liking how her words fumble over one another. The pink tinging her cheeks only makes Chan even smugger, and he finds himself overcome with adoration and love.

“You’re adorable.”

“And you’re horrible,” Juliet grumbles halfheartedly, bottom lip subconsciously jutting out to form a small pout as she settles back into his arms and resumes the movie, “what if I had a public schedule tomorrow or in the next few days?”

Chan’s lips find her neck again. “I knew you didn’t, though,” he says, smiling into her heated skin when he feels her body relax, head leaning back to rest against the crook of his neck.

“Will you let me show everyone you’re mine, baby?”

“You were right,” Chan says as the movie comes to an end and the credits start rolling, “it is a pretty good movie.”

He’d expected a triumphant “I told you so” from Juliet, or maybe an endearing mini rant of her favourite parts of the movie now that she didn’t have to hold back in fear of spoiling it for him. But much to his confusion, he’s met with complete silence.

“Minnie?”

No response.

Chan slowly turns his head to face Juliet, his concerned expression instantly melting away into a fond smile the moment he gets a better look at her face, promptly realising she’s fallen asleep against his chest with her head still tucked into the crook of his neck. When or how she managed to doze off, he doesn’t know, but what he does know is that the sight of her relaxed features, void of the stresses that come with their job, has pure love blossoming deep within him, like flowers blooming across a vast meadow until all he breathes is lovelovelove.

“And you said I was the one who didn’t pay attention,” he tuts playfully, carefully moving Juliet onto her back so she can be more comfortable. He switches off her laptop, placing it on his nightstand where she can easily find it in the morning before leaving his bed temporarily to flick off the lights.

Despite Chan’s gentle movements while he tucks her underneath his covers, Juliet stirs as he smoothes the duvet around her sleeping figure, not having entered into a deep sleep just yet. Her eyes flutter open to blearily blink up at the silhouette of his body, illuminated by the city lights filtering through the window.

Chan freezes. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he soothes, hoping his hushed voice is able to lull her back to sleep. “I’m just adjusting the covers.”

Juliet leans up slightly, using her elbows to support her upper body as she looks around the dark bedroom. “Weren’t we… watching the movie? What happened?”

Chan can’t help but chuckle. She’s just too cute. “It just ended. I put your laptop on my nightstand, you’ll see it in the morning.”

“Oh,” she says, her sleepy brain still rushing to process his words as he climbs in to join her under the warm covers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I fell asleep.”

“‘S okay, don’t apologise. You’ve been busy,” Chan smiles reassuringly, arms wrapping around her to pull her closer to his chest. Juliet savours the warmth, immediately curling into his side and nuzzling her face into the silky material of his pyjama shirt. She thinks, as his hand rubs comforting circles on her shoulder, that it’s these moments that remind her to appreciate the small things in life. Idol life is hectic, a constant race against all odds and time; slowing down is not always an easy feat to accomplish, nor is it something people like her can afford to do all the time.

Moments like these are rare, and perhaps it’s this reason that makes her cherish them more, makes her want to hold onto every second she can possibly get. They breathe solace into her soul; they remind her that it’s okay to be human, to enjoy life— because life can still be beautiful even if it’s a frenzied, tumultuously mess ninety-nine percent of the time. Sometimes that beauty doesn’t come easy, which makes her all that more thankful when it does.

“Chan?” Her voice is quiet, but it rings clear as day in the tranquil stillness of the room.

His hum follows shortly after.

“I love you.”

She can’t see his face, what with that darkness and her head tucked under his chin, but she can hear it in his voice as he kisses the top of her head and says, “I love you too. Let’s get some rest, hm?”

Juliet nods, muffling a small yawn behind her hand. The soft caresses on her shoulder and steady beating of his heart underneath her work in tandem to lull her to sleep, and within minutes she’s out like a light.

Chan peers down at her when her breathing evens, smiling lovingly at her peaceful expression as he brushes strands of blonde hair away from her face to tuck them behind her ear. He presses his lips to her forehead. “Good night, my little rose.”

It could be his eyes playing tricks on him, but he swears he sees the faintest of smiles cross her lips.

“Good morning, unnie!” Juliet chirps as she slides into the passenger seat of the company car.

“Good morning,” her manager Eunjung smiles, waiting for the girl to buckle her seatbelt before starting the car to take her back to the dorms, where she can get ready for her lessons and comeback practice in the afternoon. “You’re in a cheerful mood, sleep well? Did you eat yet?”

“Yes to both,” Juliet responds, pulling down the hood of her sweatshirt now that she’s in the privacy of their car, “Channie ordered pancakes from this place close to their dorms. They were really good, we should go sometime with the boys if we’re in the area, or even for a girls’ outing between the two of us.”

The older woman laughs, “Sure, that sounds good. You know that you only have schedules in the afternoon, right?”

Juliet hums in affirmation, switching to the calendar app on her phone to check her plans for the day. “Yep, I just have my Japanese lesson after lunch and then comeback practice, though I might go to the company earlier with the others to work out. Sannie keeps whining that I never go with him these days,” she says with a fond smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eunjung says as they come to a stop at a red light. She glances over at Juliet, only for her eyes to widen into the size of saucers before quickly averting her gaze. “A-anyways, I’ll text Sungjin after I drop you off to let him know you’re tagging along when he picks up Sannie, Yeosang, Jongho and Wooyoung later.”

Juliet frowns slightly at her manager’s strange demeanour. “Unnie, are you okay? Why are you acting weird all of a sudden?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

It doesn’t convince Juliet one bit, not when she can clearly see the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the older woman’s lips.

Jongho’s making coffee in the kitchen when she returns to the dorms.

“Your favourite member is back,” Juliet announces as she waltzes into the kitchen, making a beeline to the sink so she can wash her hands.

“I’m overjoyed,” he responds flatly without even looking at her.

“Please, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jongho dismisses casually, but she knows the feeling is mutual from how he’s suppressing a smile. Tsundere things. He lightly shakes the coffee pot at her, “Anyways, you want some? I made a lot.”

Juliet wipes her hands off on a towel before she turns around to face him. “You know my answer,” she says, already reaching to grab a mug from one of the cupboards. Unfortunately for her, someone (read: the tall ones) decided to put her favourite mug on the very top shelf, treating Jongho to a free comedy show as he amusedly watches the girl stand as far as she can go on her tiptoes in an effort to reach the mug.

Groaning in frustration, Juliet shakes her head aggressively when her much shorter hair starts falling in her eyes; the movement has Jongho freezing on the spot as he catches glimpses of purple among the blonde.

“Juliet,” he says slowly, “what’s on your neck?”

“Wait, I almost got it,” Juliet grunts, feeling her fingertips finally wrap around the glass handle. She yanks the mug down from the top shelf and shows it off to Jongho with a victorious smile. “Got it! What were you saying?”

“I said, what’s on your neck?”

Juliet huffs at the sight of his narrowed eyes, her free hand reaches up to feel around her neck. “Yeesh, what’s with the look? I don’t feel anything…”

Sighing, Jongho taps on his phone to set it his camera to selfie mode before holding it up to her face. “See for yourself.”

Shooting him a questioning look, Juliet moves her hair aside, and it’s then when she finally realises what Jongho’s referring to, having completely forgotten about the purplish splotches dotting the skin behind her ear.

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, no sound emitting from her as she tries to find the words, and it finally dawns on her why Eunjung had been shooting her those weird glances in the car.

“Th-that’s why unnie was looking at me like that!” she wails, “why didn’t she tell me?”

Jongho only levels her an unimpressed stare, wanting nothing more than to permanently wipe the image of the hickeys on the neck of someone who he considers a little sister from his mind. “She probably thought you already knew and didn’t even try hiding them from her,” he snorts, “who just forgets that someone gave them… those—those things?”

“I was tired!” Juliet defends, internally panicking at the thought of her upcoming schedules. “I even promised Sannie I’d work out with him later! I can’t do that now or I’ll sweat off the concealer! And what about when we all have to practise together for the comeback later? What am I gonna do?”

“I mean… they’re gonna notice sooner or later, but maybe you should put up the hood for now until we think of a way for you to tell the others.”

She does as he says immediately, roughly tugging on the strings of the hoodie so the hood is now snug around her face, only exposing a small oval around her eyes, nose and mouth.

“Not like that,” Jongho says exasperatedly, “that’s so not subtle. Just… hide them discreetly.”

“Hide what discreetly?” San whistles as he walks into the kitchen with Seonghwa, Yeosang and Wooyoung. He lets out a snicker at the sight of Juliet with her hoodie tightened all the way around her face. “What’s with the get-up, Julie?”

“N-nothing! Just cold.”

Jongho groans at the pathetic excuse, shielding his face with his hands from second-hand embarrassment.

“It’s August,” Yeosang points out, wholly unconvinced. “What’re you hiding?“

“Who said I was hiding something?”

“You’re being oddly defensive,” Wooyoung muses, sharing a look with Jongho upon quickly connecting the dots, “could it be that someone left you a… special something?”

His hint helps Yeosang and San figure it out almost immediately, both collapsing into each other as they burst into a fit of cackles.

Juliet blushes. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Clueless, Seonghwa’s eyes dart between all the members present in the room from Juliet’s embarrassed expression, to Jongho’s unimpressed one, to the ‘WooSanSang’ trio who practically have tears rolling their faces from laughing so hard. “Uh, can someone fill me in? I don’t get it.”

“Nothing! Nothing happened!” Juliet denies over the laughter, “nothing to fill you in on!”

Jongho sighs. “Just tell him, Julie. You can’t hide for much longer. Maybe he’ll even help with Hongjoongie-hyung.”

Seonghwa blinks confusedly. “Me? Help with… Hongjoong? How? And why?”

Letting out a frustrated groan, Juliet aggressively loosens the hoodie around her face, yanking her hair back to show the oldest member the bruises behind her ear. “This happened,” she grumbles, “now will someone please help me cover these up and figure out how to tell the others?”

“Is he a vampire or something?” San howls, “I don’t think even concealer can fully cover those up!”

“Hongjoong-hyung’s gonna freak out when he sees,” Yeosang snickers, still leaning onto Wooyoung for support while the younger boy continues to wheeze with laughter.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa gapes at Juliet in what can only be described as horror and shock in their purest forms. “I—y-you—Chan—”

“Julie, I think you broke him.”

taglist: @ateez-elena @shinyddeonghwa @skzfairies @nayuyeons @bat-shark-repellant @1-800-minji @hyuncore @atinymonster @mythicalamphitrite @slytherinthedms @atzaria @yunascular @ggukkiedae @woopetals @m00niesk7 (feel free to send an ask/dm to be on/off the taglist <3)

cannot tag :( @nikfigueiredo

a/n: i haven’t posted a written scenario for julie in so long whhshwjs 😭 but i was finally able to finish this after submitting my term paper 🥲 also julie’s manager finally has a name ahsjhajs it’s about time bc that woman puts up with too much of her chaos 😭💔 f’s in the chat

thank you for reading and feedback is always highly appreciated hehe feel free to chat with me and lmk what you think 💗 take care besties!!