Words in italics are translated from a language other than English.
Excepting the fact that most patrons are of Asian descent, the inside of a San Francisco Japantown bar looks strangely similar to any other bar's interior. Keori looked again at the slip of paper in her hand and scowled, drinking her sake and wondering why in the nine hells she had come here. That her biological father wasn't here was obvious; there wasn't a Caucasian face in sight. She shoved the paper with Daniel Nielsen's last known address back into her duster pocket and thought about what to do next.
Across the bar, I Suroe sat with his good buddies, Yun Ch'òlsu, Noe Chònggu, and Ch'oe Nabi, occasionally eyeing the woman sitting alone at the bar and idly wondering what the best course of action would be for getting a piece of her. The foursome had been bumming around San Francisco for the last five months and with the exception of beating down some would be teen punk street muggers, had seen no action.
"Right?"
I shook himself out of his increasingly disturbing fantasy and looked at Yun.
"Ng?"
"I said, we haven't really gotten anywhere here in San Francisco. If nothing turns up we should go to, oh, I don't know, Australia, or someplace."
"Good idea, Ch'òlsu," Noe popped in. "The people here are more business-types than anything else. We have found no one to challenge us, no way to improve our skills here. We should move on."
Ch'oe nodded.
Yun continued, "We've been here for five months, and there's nothing to do here. I'm bored. Suroe-ya, You with us?"
Suddenly, I's brain had a complete breakdown. The neurons attempted to fire and failed, the electrons overcharged, and all logical thought in his mind was defenestrated. I had an idea. Standing up with a flourish sufficient to knock over his beer, he flayed his arms in five directions at once and turned to his comrades to declare his intent.
"Gentlemen, perhaps you have found nothing to do here, but I see something at the bar that I would very much like to do. Watch this."
Keori glanced at the person coming toward her. Oh, him, the one who had been ogling her for the past hour. Well, maybe she would let this guy buy her a drink. Hey, if he was a local, maybe he could even help her find her father. May as well give him a chance.
"Mòri-ga ap'ùbnikka?"
Keori blinked. That wasn't Japanese. The man took a deep breath and tried again in English.
"You have headache?"
Keori, puzzled, shook her head 'no'.
The guy grinned at her, elated.
"Then let's fuck."
Back at the table I had just left, the remaining three Korean men looked at one another in a mixture of horror, amusement, and blase.
Noe looked at I and asked, "What does that idiot think he's doing?"
Yun shrugged and answered, "I dunno, but it could get good."
Ch'oe grunted and went back to his soju.
Keori's memory flashed through scenes from her childhood: Her maternal grandfather beating her mother, her stepfather snubbing her, her half-brothers teasing her, the other children whispering behind their hands, her mother's tears as she gave Keori a picture of her father and telling her the story of the brief autumn encounter during which Keori was conceived. The voice of her sensei telling her, "Your life is your choice. No one else can make or break you. You decide how it goes." Keori had vowed herself to chastity until the time was right, and this... this clod thought he could have her just for the asking?
"SUKEBE!!!!!"
In the brief second it took I's words to register in Keori's brain, a fist flashed toward his face. The contact brought him painfully to the floor. He looked up to find a katana at his throat and a wakizashi pointing to the spot between his ribs. The bar went silent except for Keori's furied gasps.
"You...you...stupid pig! I'll teach you what your mother did not."
Yun looked at Noe apprehensively. "He's had only one beer, right?"
Noe cringed. "Yup. He doesn't stand a chance."
Ch'oe looked up from his soju at I lying on the floor and raised his right eyebrow.
I looked at the much-infuriated woman on top of him and wished she wasn't so angry. This could have been so nice...
She tossed her head in a motion I took to mean "Get up" and moved away a little. Keeping the swords in their places, the woman backed I up against a wall, then in a swift succession of moves kneed him in the groin, kicked him in the chest, then brought the hilts of both swords crashing into his temples. I slumped to the floor, out like a light.
Keori slid her swords home in their sheaths, threw a bill onto the bar, and walked out, stepping delicately over I's unconscious body without a backward glance.
Yun looked at Noe, who nodded. Together they picked I up off of the floor, and carried him out of the bar. Ch'oe followed silently, walking out to the Peace Pagoda and folding his jacket into a pillow, laying it on the bench. Yun and Noe laid I down on the improvised gurney, and waited.
Sometime later I groaned and tried to sit up. His head felt like he had been run over by several caravans of tractor-trailers, and the only thing he could remember was those blue eyes flaring at him before getting knocked out. He moaned out, "Where'd she go?"
Yun slapped his forehead in disgust. "She's gone, man. She walked out of there right after beating the crap out of you."
I smiled and slipped back into unconsciousness, still wishing for those blue eyes and other endowments. Please, God, he prayed, let me get to see those again before I die.
Keori grabbed her earphones out of her jacket pocket and marched down the street, fuming. Black Sabbath roared in her ears as she fought hard to keep from crying. All this way she had come and for what? So some drunk in a bar could treat her like a cheap whore! Men!
'They're the same everywhere you go, they want only one thing.'
Keori stopped at a bench in Golden Gate Park after a long and furious trek through San Francisco. Wishing for a tissue, she reached into her inner jacket pocket and pulled out....a scoresheet from the gameroom in Rack 'Em Up pool hall nine blocks away. Sighing heavily, she looked at the pencil marks.
'I just can't win.'
She blew her nose anyway.
At the afore-mentioned Rack 'Em Up pool hall a slightly inebriated man started a fight with his buddies over who had taken the scoresheet so as to avoid losing and having to pay for the drinks. However, that particular brawl has no bearing on this story.
Keori looked up from her meditations after what seemed like a mere forty five minutes but was actually a solid two hours. The sky was darkening, and the signature Bay fog was rolling in.
'Damn. Guess this means I have to go find a place to stay for the night.'
The now-calmed swordswoman rose from her sitting position beneath a very large eucalyptus tree, and for the first time wondered where the hell she was. There was no scenery around her that she recognized... how on earth had she gotten here? And how to get back? Keori looked around for a path, a landmark, even a garbage can would be nice, but there was nothing, not even the sound of the birds twittering their vespers. She oriented herself so that she faced Northwest, and started walking in her long, even strides. Wryly, she thought, 'And if nothing else, eventually I'll hit the beach. There should be a hotel or something near there at some point. I wonder how I got there in the first place; I don't remember. I really have got to start walking with my head up; maybe I'll actually see where I'm going... what the hell? That can't be right.'
Somehow Keori had walked in a circle; there was the same gargantuan, twisted eucalyptus tree again, with the patch of grass squashed by her meditating body. She stopped, shook her head, re-oriented herself to Northwest, and once more began walking. A faint humming noise filled her ears and a soft bluish-white light crept up on the edges of her peripheral vision. Keori stopped and looked around wildly, feeling the first twinges of panic before forcing herself to breathe slowly and relax.
'I am in control of my surroundings. I am in control. I am in control of my surroundings.'
That particular train of thought ended with the sound of chanting not far behind her.
Keori gave up trying to relax and found that her feet had taken the liberty of running frantically through the park. She thought she heard the chanting voices break into hysterical laughter, but didn't turn around to find out. Not until she hit the street could she convince her body to slow to a walk. After walking about two blocks, Keori saw the sign for the bus and sat down to wait, shaken.
Whatever that was, it was definitely not something she wished to experience again.
Five months later the Korean quartet had relocated to the port city of Pusan and taken up residence there. For the most part the four of them were happy to be home but disturbed at having been forced to take their art underground. Ch'oe's "Sòn'injangdo," a bizarre bastardization of T'aegwòndo with professional wrestling, was popular among the street fighting crowd, but apart from that none of them had seen any action. That was when Yun was overcome with a sudden and unexplainable urge to go to Songt'an. Seeing nothing better to do the four of them did so. After arriving in Songt'an the four Koreans sat down for drinks at the Yòngch'òn nightclub.
Yòngch'òn was a club popular among the Americans at nearby Osan Air Force Base. The main draw was what the Koreans referred to as "Hosùt'esù" or "Hostesses." The Americans called them "Juicy Girls." The reason for this is the process by which the clubs made money. A beer was only 2500 won or $2.50. But if a customer bought a drink, called a "Chushi" or "Juicy" from one of the older waitresses or "Ajuma", which cost about 10,000 won or $10, for a juicy girl, the girl would be friendly to the man for a time. However one point must be made absolutely clear: Juicy girls are not prostitutes. There is nothing sexual about what the Americans refer to as "The Game."
At any given moment a juicy girl is dancing on a stage at the front of the club. This will become important later on.
Ch'oe had spent about 100,000 won on juicy girls alone.
"I'm bored!" I complained
"We all are," Yun replied, "But there's nothing we can do about it now. We've been to five countries and still nothing. I'm starting to think we really are the best fighters in the world."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Noe scolded, "You know perfectly well there's better fighters out there. We've just got to find some way to make them take us seriously."
"Ajuma! Maekchu han-byòng-do!" I called to the waitress.
"Watch," Noe said. "Agasshi," he said to Ch'oe's juicy girl, "Do you like martial artists?"
The girl looked confused for a bit then said hesitantly, "Ne."
"Good, Noe said happily, "Now, if I told you this guy right here was a T'aegwòndo master, but only when he's drunk, what would you think?"
"I'd think you were crazy."
"Thank you."
"You see," Noe said to the group, "Even the hostess doesn't take us seriously."
"Oh, come on!" I shouted, "We can take on anybody in this bar!"
While bragging I swung his arms wildly, accidentally striking an American soldier and causing said soldier to poke himself in the eye with a bottle of beer. The soldier was not pleased.
"Hey!" he yelled in English, "Watch where you're swinging dumbass!"
I paused. He turned to Noe and asked, "What does 'dumbass' mean?"
Noe explained.
I paused again. "Ajuma! Soju! Han-byòng!"
The waitress brought a bottle of clear liquid to the table which I chugged. The other three Korean men stood behind their friend.
"You want a piece of this?" the American said as eight additional Americans stood behind him.
"We don't want to fight," Noe said to the Americans.
"Too bad, Adashi, cause we're fighting whether you want to or not."
The Koreans and the Americans stared at each other until one of the Ajuma ran between them screaming "No fighting! No fighting!"
The lead American shoved the Ajuma out of the way and turned back to the Koreans. His first sight was the hand of Ch'oe rushing forward to give him a Mandible Claw. The American screamed in pain as the Koreans rushed forward.
Noe struck first, grabbing the large, spork-shaped staff he carried with him. He managed to take out three Americans before one of them rushed him with a chair. Noe blocked the chair with his battle spork and kicked the American who recoiled in pain but stayed up. Noe threw a smaller spork at his opponent which penetrated the American's thigh causing him to collapse in pain. Noe followed up with a spork shot to the head.
I taunted two Americans, drawing them to the table where he downed the rest of the soju. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and spit the liquor into the flame. The soju ignited into a fireball which set the two Americans ablaze. The two ran out of the club in a panic.
Yun was set upon by the three remaining Americans who had him backed towards the stage. Yun rushed the first one with an extraordinarily fast flurry of punches. As soon as the first was down he shoulder charged a second and pointed his open hands towards the floor.
"Noet'an!" he screamed as he and the dazed American were propelled upward by the force of Yun's ki-blast. Yun shifted his weight in such a way that the American crashed through a nearby table.
The four Koreans surrounded the last American who seemed to have lost the will to stand. I lit a cigarette. Ch'oe peered over his sunglasses, raising his eyebrow. Noe rested his spork against a table and crossed his arms. Yun hunched over and assumed a chimpanzee-like stance.
"And then there was one," Noe said to the frightened American.
"Ch'òlsu-ya!" Noe said turning away. "Ch'um ùl ch'ura"
Yun hooted in a simian fashion and leaped toward the American and began dancing on the quickly incapacitated combatant.
While the four fighters helped the management clean up the mess, Ch'oe's juicy girl called them over. Thinking they could use a break the four of them followed the girl.
"You're all very good," she said, "What if I told you one of you could participate in a tournament in which the winner will recieve any prize he desires."
"We'd ask what the Ajuma put in your drink," I replied sarcastically.
Ch'oe nodded.
"Wait," Yun said, "If there's a chance this is true then I'll fight. Just tell me when and where."
"When is now," the juicy girl replied, "Where is here."
"Well that was nice and cryptic," I grunted.
"Yòngch'òn?" Yun asked. "The tournament is here?"
"No," the girl said with a giggle, "Follow me."
The four fighters stood around a large glowing circle in the middle of an alley. Yun and Noe looked at it in interest but Ch'oe and I were more than a little hesitant.
"How did you find out about this?" Yun asked the girl.
"I got a message in a dream that a martial artist who fought like a monkey would come to the club and that I was to bring him to this alley. I thought it was just a crazy dream until you four showed up and defeated those Americans."
"Well," Yun said, "I suppose this circle has something to do with it. I guess if I step inside something will happen. Mabye it'll take me where I need to go."
"You've been watching too many sci-fi movies," I muttered.
"If Ch'òlsu is going, we're going with him," Noe said.
"We are?" I asked, surprised.
Yun stepped into the circle and vanished from sight.
"Ya!" I said before he and Ch'oe were shoved into the circle by Noe.
The four arrived in the Focal Point, where one of Charnel's puppet bodies took them directly to the Sportsplex.
After five months of unsuccessful searches in Washington state, the California coast, and Las Vegas Keori had gone to Hawaii to search the Naval records at Pearl Harbor for any clue she could find of her father's whereabouts. Unfortunately, Keori being illegitimate and a Japanese citizen, her birth records failed to mention the name of the man involved in the whole process. Circumstances like this often cause untimely delays in the beaucratic processes of the Best Navy on Earth. As a result, Keori was left at a microfiche terminal in the Veteran's Affairs Office, wading through piles of tape dating from 1977 to last month.
'Dammit, I'll never get through all this! 'Let the journey begin,' my ass.'
With a sigh, she sat back and rubbed her eyes. She had been searching these records for the last five days, and only one entry on Daniel Nielsen had surfaced. Last known address, 1986, San Fransisco, California--the same one Keori had started with, with no success.
'Is this really worth it?'
Keori looked at her watch and yawned. Six hours of hard research deserved a little reward; after all, all work and no play... and wasn't there a bar somewhere close by?
Keori unceremoniously dumped the reels of tape in a box and turned the projector off. Grabbing her jacket and backpack, she turned off the light in the dusty room and hurried out.
Waikiki is not that bad of a place, Keori thought as she sipped her margarita at the corner table. The drive here from Pearl Harbor was not that long, and the entertainment industry offered a wide variety of choices. Parking could be better, but hey, this is Hawaii, right? So happily the Japanese woman sat, contentedly working on her drink. The thought popped into her mind that practicing and meditating on the beach would be a new experience for her, and where better than Paradise? Keori rose from her table, paid for her drinks, generously tipped the bartender, and left. Walking 4 blocks to the beach was nice in the warm evening wind, and the sound of the waves nearby was relaxing. Keori found the strip of sand that signified the start of the beach park, and walked toward the rocks. Strange, not many people were out tonight. Usually there were tourists, military making jerks of themselves, and couples out for a stroll, but tonight there was just one older couple sitting on a blanket, and a man playing frisbee with his dog.
Keori reached a suitable chain of rocks, took off her jacket and sandals and rolled up the cuffs of her jeans (combat boots really aren't practical for a tropical island) to reveal a surprisingly muscular body clad in black tank top. She stretched and surveyed the waves. Closing her eyes, she began to go through the movements of the first kata. After half an hour of three kata and two pinion, Keori lay down on the rapidly cooling sand and closed her eyes. She was hovering on the edge of sleep when she heard the same faint humming she had heard back in Golden Gate Park. Keori sat up and looked around; the beach was deserted. The only movement came from behind the rocks a few yards away--a soft bluish-white light gently pulsed there. Keori started up and grabbed her things, but realized that she wasn't afraid, just curious. She pulled on her sandals, shoved her arms into her jacket, and put on her backpack before going to investigate.
Behind the rocks a softly glowing circle throbbed; Keori looked at it, and after a moment began to back away. She was stopped by the sound of a strangely familiar, American accented, male voice calling, "Keri-chan..."
"Keri?" No one had called her that since she was a child, not since her older step-brother had rather unceremoniously changed her name from "Keri" meaning "Enchanting Clever Person" to the less than dignified "Keori" meaning "Hairy Garbage." Much like the "Boy Named Sue" in the old American song she took the name as an obstacle to be overcome, deciding that she'd use the name Keri again only after proving herself. Since then she'd been using the name Keori (but spelled as "Keri" with an extra, meaningless kanji inserted.)
She stared into the glowing circle at a pair of blue eyes identical to her own looking out of the circle. The mouth below those eyes crinkled in a smile.
"Here I am, love. God, you're beautiful just like your mother..."
The voice trailed off, and the eyes disappeared.
Keori heard her own far-off voice screaming, "No! Papa..." right before she jumped into the glowing ring.
Keori landed in the Focal Point, and immediately looked around at the Sportsplex Plaza. Where was her father? He had been right there. More to the point, where was she? A small being scurried up to her and chittered.
"Oh, good, you're here! About time, the tournament starts in a few days. Now here are the rules: one, the mountain area is where you have to stay at all..."
Keori let the thing chatter on and tried to make sense of what had just happened to her. She had been on the beach, seen her father's eyes looking at her, the ring... was this all just a particularly vivid nightmare or a fierce hangover? No, Keori thought, I never get hangovers. She pinched herself, and yup, it hurt. So, not a dream.
The thing stopped babbling and asked, "Any questions?"
"Where's the bar? I could use something hard right now."
At the bar in question, The Blue Gecko Bar and Grille, the four stooges (not to be confused with the Two Stooges) sat in a boat floating in the middle of one of the many water holes outside the main building. I's innate [BOOZE] sense having kicked in as soon as the "first round on the house" announcement was made, the four Ajòsshi made record time in getting from the Sportsplex to the Blue Gecko.
Or, at least I, Yun and Ch'oe made record time... Noe was distracted by the two people the first three mowed down on their way to the bar, but he joined his partners in crime soon enough.
Naturally they had progressed far beyond the "first round" in a matter of minutes.
"It's been a good day." I said nursing a bottle of Soju.
And so three plus one shitfaced Koreans sat in a small craft in the middle of the Blue Gecko Water Hole as the oversized bartender dragged two unwilling customers onto the bridge directly above them.
Let us backtrack a few minutes so that we may know the reason for the manhandling of the two.
In the main dining room of the Blue Gecko Kyo Hokushin and The King in Yellow (sporting a lovely magical amulet around his neck) sat across from eachother and their respective female companions, Kim and The Golden Queen (with a similar amulet), discussing strategy for their upcoming battle.
Or they would have been discussing strategy had The King not made some random off-hand comment about Kim... something about her looking "Good enough to eat."
This statement could be taken two ways, one perverted the other simply disgusting. Naturally neither interpretation sat very well with Kyo.
The half-Japanese nomad grabbed his Cthulhoid partner by the collar screaming, "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"
"It means what you want it to mean," The King said cryptically with an evil smile.
Kyo threw his partner against the wall and grabbed a baseball bat from his backpack. He advanced on the unholy fighter with a look of death in his eyes. The King responded by catching the bat between his hands and slamming Kyo face first through a table.
The King was about to make some comment when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and found himself staring directly into the groin of the suddenly stupidly oversized bartender.
"Uhm... hi..." The King said pathetically.
Which brings us to the present day as the bartender dragged Kyo and the King out to a bridge by the backs of their collars, followed closely by Kim and The Queen, and followed not-so-closely by a crowd of fighters, led by The MultiMediocre Knight and NeoVid, who decided to follow and watch.
The King struggled a bit saying only "But he attacked meeeeeeeeeee...." as the bartender booted him into the horizon.
In the water hole below the bridge, Yun Ch'òlsu had removed white squares of cardboard and red markers from his infinite jacket-space and passed them out to his compadres in the boat. As they watched The King in Yellow arc overhead and skid face first along the ground just outside the archway the reason for this made itself known.
Ch'oe was first, holding up a square of cardboard with a "9" written on it.
Yun followed calling out his number, "P'al," holding up an "8."
Noe followed with a "P'al," and also held up an "8."
"Yuk-chòm-i," I said holding up a sign which read, "6.2."
The other three looked at him, Ch'oe with a cocked eyebrow. "Yuk-chòm-i?" Noe asked inqusitively.
"Bad landing," I offered by way of explanation.
The other three nodded as Kyo made his way over the water hole arcing above the archway before hitting the ground in a rolling motion and rolling into the Sportsplex, stopping upside down with his face planted in the Sportsplex wall.
All four makeshift judges held up signs bearing the number "10."
"Ship," Yun said.
"Ship," Noe said.
"Mooooooooooo," Somebody said.
Once again the entire group turned their attention to the drunken master sitting to their right.
I looked just as confused as the rest of them. "I didn't say tha..."
********KERSPLOOSH********
The crowd laughed out loud at the suddenly waterlogged Koreans hanging on to planks of wood that may or may not have been a boat at one time or another.
"And it's a Cowton Bomb on the Korean Street Posse," NeoVid announced as (\/)ajin wiped the tears from his eyes, doubled over with laughter.
The newly named "Korean Street Posse," tried to hold back their own laughter as they swam to shore. Upon reaching a floating island they realized something was amiss... or rather someone was missing.
"Ch'òlsu-ya!," Noe called out, "Where are you?"
I and Ch'oe looked around and began calling to their missing entrant.
"Ch'òlsu-ya!"
"Yun-sshi!"
"Moo!"
"Ook Ook!"
The Posse stopped cold in their tracks and turned around to see...
...Yun Ch'òlsu, in full "Riot of the Monkey", riding a cow to shore.
"So iya?" I asked.
"So iya," Noe answered incredulously.
The Koreans led the cow, which had apparantly fallen out of Kyo's backpack in mid flight, and the frantically hooting Yun onto the bridge where the crowd was waiting and applauding. I and Ch'oe continued on as Noe stopped to talk to NeoVid who was barely able to control his laughter.
"Korean Street Posse?" He asked the agent of Chaos.
"You guys remind me of the Mean Street Posse."
"Explain."
"Well there's a scrawny one, one with a beer-gut, and one who looks like he should know how to wrestle."
Noe turned this over in his head. "So would that make Yun Shane McMahon?"
NeoVid thought about this for a second, "I don't know. You're the smart one from what I've heard... maybe you're Shane."
Noe shuddered and decided he'd heard enough.
As Kyo attempted to teach himself how to walk again he smacked directly into Ch'oe who caught him easily and stood him up.
Noe walked up to the dazed and confused fighter and jerked his thumb towards I and the de-monkified but still straddling the cow Yun.
"Is that yours?" Noe deadpanned.
As soon as the situation had been sufficiently explained and the cow returned to its rightful place, I returned to the Blue Gecko to meditate. Meditation for I Suroe consisted of acting out the song "Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall." I, as the case turned out, was a practitioner of "Maekchudo," a manic conglomeration of T'aegwòndo (Tae-kwon-do) and Jackie Chan style Drunk-fu.
"I am king of world," I shouted in what was barely recognizable as English. He stood on a barstool in a manner which seemed to defy the ten bottles of beer he had imbibed in the last hour. The three other Korean gentlemen gathered in a loose semi-circle and forcibly yanked the inebriated one to the ground.
"How many has he had?" Yun asked in Korean.
"Just ten longnecks," Noe said from behind the stool, "I can't figure out why he's acting like this."
"Cause I want to," the object of their conversation responded, "I'm feeling playful tonight. We're on our way to the top, my friends. If this doesn't give us the challenge we've been looking for, nothing will!"
"What's this we business," Noe asked, "Ch'òlsu's the only one fighting."
"Then what are we here for?" I asked.
"Moral support," Yun deadpanned.
The three sat their ten feet tall and bulletproof friend on his stool.
"Maekchu! Han-byòng-do!" I screamed in the general direction of the bartender who, as it turned out, didn't speak a word of Korean. The man behind the counter looked at the three sheets to the wind Korean and blinked.
"One more beer!" Noe translated.
The bartender sent a bottle of OB sliding down the bar towards the four men...
...who watched it pass by, fall off the edge of the bar and shatter on the floor. I wasn't the only one who had been drinking.
The quartet blinked in unison.
"Han-byòng-do!" I and Yun shouted simultaneously.
At a table across the room Keori laughed in spite of herself. Her thought processes went something like this:
'What is that idiot doing?'
'Wait, I know him! He's the dipshit who hit on me in San Francisco.'
'One more? Hasn't he had enough?'
*snerk*
After that she broke down laughing. The sight of four martial artists chasing after a runaway beer was quite amusing.
Noe and Ch'oe caught the two bottles which Yun and I were unable to get their hands on. I mumbled a thank you to Ch'oe and lifted it to his lips. After he was smacked by Ch'oe, who grabbed the bottle out of his hand, opened it, and returned it to I, he prepared to drink, but was distracted. Distracting I from alcohol is no easy feat, but a blue-eyed Asian woman could pull it off.
"Aigu!" he said putting the bottle on the bar, "If I'm not back in ten minutes, don't wait up."
I got up and staggered over to the object of his desire.
Yun, Noe, and Ch'oe followed his gaze to see what could be so amazing as to make their friend put down his beer. What they saw made their jaws drop.
"Is that..." Yun half-asked.
Ch'oe nodded and took the bottle I had abandoned. Yun and Noe glared at him then looked at eachother. The trio sighed, said "Aigu" and took off after their companion.
Keori looked to see that which she hoped would not happen happening. I Suroe was staggering toward her.
"Shimatta," she mumbled, putting a hand on her wakizashi.
No one ever claimed that I did not learn from his mistakes. The direct approach did not work with this woman. He knew this. So he decided to serenade her instead.
He cleared his throat and sang an American song he remembered from his time in California:
o/~ Why don't we get drunk and screw o/~
Keori buried her head in her arms and tried not to laugh hysterically. She got the distinct feeling it would have been just as bad in Korean. Getting angry at this poor inebriated soul would just be wrong. Live and let live; he would pass out soon.
I's song faded when he saw his vision holding her head with her eyes closed and laughing silently. Good, she was enjoying herself! Now that progress was made, time to pour on the charm.
Keori felt the seat beside her shift slightly, and then the pressure of an arm across her back. She looked up into the googly eyes of a very blended I Suroe, and moved away a few inches.
I moved with her.
Keori got up to leave.
I grabbed her arm. "Kaji mase-" he began.
I's plea for Keori to stay ended abruptly with a sharp slap in his face and blue eyes sparking fury that would send any average sober man running.
Unfortunately for the not-so-happy pair, I was neither average nor sober by any stretch.
"Do not touch me. Ever!"
The four-minus-one Koreans apprehensively looked at the scene developing around their friend. This woman had now twice refused I, and beat the snot out of him once already. The threesome knew that as drunk as he was, I would not let this one go by. Too much pride was at stake. Yun looked at Ch'oe, who nodded. Ch'oe looked at Noe, who closed his eyes and shook his head. The three of them made their way to their friend.
I was furious. This woman had just slapped him. He was being polite, suave, sincere, and not only had she rejected him, she had slapped him like she was some cute little schoolgirl! This disgrace could not go unpunished. I let go of Keori's arm, leaped to his feet, and put up his dukes.
Keori laughed.
"You drunk as skunk and want to fight?"
I punched her in the nose.
Keori put up a hand to touch the blood now running onto her lip.
Before she could make a move she heard a voice say "Excuse us," then found her path blocked by a large, rock solid, Korean man while two others, a tall one and a skinny one with glasses, grabbed her opponent, sat him down forcibly, and quite literally poured her sake down his throat.
"Oi!" she yelled, "That my sake!"
The two said something in Korean to I, patted him on the shoulder, and dove behind the bar. The big one joined them.
The drunk fool shot up and screamed "Manse!!!"
Keori assumed a defensive posture as I rushed forward.
Later on no one could swear as to what exactly happened in the ten minutes that followed I's exclamation. Patrons would recall a blur of punches, kicks, slashes, grunts, war cries, breaking bottles, and breaking furniture that ended with a woman lying on her side on the floor holding a Wakizashi dripping with Kahlua, and a man standing above her with one foot on her neck.
I spoke first, "Enough?"
Keori grudgingly nodded from the floor, "Yes."
I took his foot off of her neck and stepped away.
Keori slowly got up and walked over to the sink behind the bar. She picked up a somehow-undamaged towel, ran it under the flow of water, and held the soothing cloth up to her face to clean off her injuries. (Among those later listed by a doctor who really wished he had stayed home that day were two black eyes, a cracked nose, and a bruised jaw.)
She then felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to face the bartender, who stood a good four feet taller than her, holding I Suroe by the back of the shirt.
"Oi..." was all she managed to get out before being dragged out forcefully with the expected crowd of rubberneckers following closely.
After the crowd had filed out a voice under the bar said, "Ta kkùt'nass'ò?"
Yun's face poked out then shot back into hiding.
"Ne."
Yun, Noe, and Ch'oe crawled out from under the bar, and stood up to survey the damage.
"Aigu..." Noe trailed off into silence as he looked at the devastation.
Broken glass littered the floor, the bar's karaoke machine was no longer recognizable as such, and neither Keori nor I were anywhere to be found.
The trio ran out the front gate to find Keori standing up woozily attempting to shake the dirt out of her hair with I resting against the Sportsplex wall.
He was smiling.
"Are you all right?" Yun asked, helping him to his feet.
I laughed, "I feel great! That was what I have been waiting for! Finally, a woman who can keep up a decent fight!" He walked over to Keori, who eyed him warily.
Her wakizashi had done some damage; I had an enormous horizontal slash on his forehead and bruises were beginning to form around his own eyes and nose. He washed the blood off with a towel Ch'oe had managed to smuggle out of the bar and faced his opponent holding out his hand. Keori hesitated for a minute before taking his hand and shaking it firmly.
Noe had a thoughtful look on his face. Turning to Yun, he whispered something to the tournament-hopeful. Yun looked surprised, then gradually a smile broke out onto his face. He nodded to Noe, who spoke up.
Noe smiled encouragingly. "You're here for the tournament, right?"
A silent nod.
Noe's smile got bigger, and he put his hand on Yun's shoulder, pushing him forward "How'd you like Yun-sshi here as your partner?"
Keori's eyes widened. She fought alone, by herself, no one else, me, myself, and I.
Noe added, "You are good. You fought I Suroe when he was drunk. Only a fool or very good fighter does that. So how about it?"
Keori stood and looked Yun over. He seemed strong enough. Mabye he was a bit skinny, but he had shown a decent amount of speed by being the first of the three behind the counter, and agility by vaulting over the top of the bar rather than going around the side as the other two had. Keori also reasoned that if he was the one chosen for the tournament then he must be the best fighter of the group. If he was better than the drunk moron she had tangled with then he would certainly be able to do well enough in the tournament.
"OK," Keori said.
"Great," Noe said smiling.
"Yun-san not speak for himself?"
"He doesn't like speaking English."
"Why not?"
"Cause-ù I'm not good-ù at it," Yun said slowly.
"That's OK," Noe said putting his arm around both fighters, "We're gonna take this tournament by storm. Yun and... Yun and..." Noe paused as he realized he didn't yet know the name of this lovely yet deadly combatant, "What is your name, anyway."
"Yama..." she hesiteted. Did these four need to know her real name?
"Keori," she finally responded.
"Y2K!" Noe shouted.
"That's a stupid name." I said in Korean.
"Pabo! Speak English when Yamamoto-sshi is around!" Yun scolded.
"Sorry," I apologized, "But that still stupid name."
"That is true," Noe said thoughtfully, "We need an interesting name. Something that will get us remembered in the tournament!" He thought back to his conversation with NeoVid, "How about The Korean Street Posse?"
"She's-ù not Korean," Yun deadpanned.
"You have a better idea?" Noe inquired.
"The White Dogs," I said drawing a smack from Ch'oe.
"Kimch'i and Sushi," Yun threw out.
"We met in bar," Keori suggested, "So we call Team Sake."
"The ROK and Sake Connection," Ch'oe suggested.
Everyone looked at Ch'oe.
Noe started laughing.
"I like it," Yun finally said.
"Me too," Keori added, "But I don't get it.
"In American wrestling there is a team called the Rock and Sock Connection. Sake, of course, comes from your home in Japan. ROK is from R-O-K or Republic of Korea. It's what the Americans call a pun."
Keori and Yun both just looked confused and nodded.
As a public service Yun Ch'òlsu presents
A MINI KOREAN GLOSSARY:
ADASHI: A mispronunciation of the Korean "Ajòsshi," a term of address for men similar to "Agasshi" or "Ajuma," which is common among Americans. Even the Korean speaking Americans can't figure out where this mispronunciation came from.
AGASSHI: No English equivalent but similar to the Japanese "Oneesan" or "Ojochan" as used when speaking to a non-family member. It is used to address young women under the age of 30.
AIGU: A generic term of displeasure which, depending on the situation and the speaker's tone of voice, can mean anything from "Oops" to "Oh shit!"
AJUMA: A term of address for older women similar to the Japanese "Obasan."
CH'UM ÙL CH'URA: Dance a dance (as a command)
-SSHI: A generic title, similar to the Japanese "-San"
"TA KKÙTHNASSÒ?: Is it all over?
WHITE DOG: A mixed drink consisting of soju, liquified yogurt, and "Saida," a Korean drink similar to 7-Up or Sprite. The soju and yogurt have very weak tastes and so the entire concoction tastes like sa'ida. In this author's opinion it is quite good.
SO IYA...SO IYA: Literally "Is that a cow?"..."That is a cow."