Cho's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Two nights left before the tournament. Cho could make the red lightning come when he was angry. He could not make it come on purpose. If he walked into those fights and his power only answered rage, he'd freeze, and they'd break him. He needed someone to push him. He went to the only person he trusted with that. Woo Jung met him at the lot where they usually trained. Before Cho knew about any of this, he'd taught Woo Jung how to move past the stiff Krav Maga he'd grown up on. Now the student stood loose and ready, waiting for his mentor. Cho told him everything. The sparks. The tournament. The problem. "So you want me to make you mad," Woo Jung said. He didn't flinch. He rolled his shoulders. "I can do that." They went at it. Woo Jung jabbed, danced, landed a slap across Cho's ear. Cho's temper jumped. Red snapped up one arm, bright and fast. He reached for it, tried to hold it. It died the second he calmed. "Again," Cho said. Sweat ran down his neck. Woo Jung came harder. He clipped Cho's jaw, caught a necklace, nearly tore it. Cho felt the old heat, people grabbing, deciding, taking. The lightning roared up both arms. And it vanished again. Anger lit it. Anger was the only key, and he couldn't carry anger into every fight. "It's not working," Cho said. He dropped his hands. "It only comes when I lose it. I can't win like that." Woo Jung stopped bouncing. He wiped his mouth and looked at his mentor straight. "You taught me something," he said. "When I came up, I only knew one thing. You told me to stop forcing the move and feel what the fight needed." He tapped his own chest. "You're forcing it. Stop being mad. Just want it." Cho stood still. He breathed. He thought about the bike in the alley, two flat tires, no chain, and how his hands had just known the work. No anger. Just steady wanting. He held out one hand. He didn't picture the man grabbing his necklace. He pictured the quiet instead. He wanted the light, plain and simple, the way he wanted a stripped bolt to turn. Red crawled across his palm. Soft at first. Then it held. No rage behind it. Cho curled his fingers and the lightning bent with them. He opened his hand and it stayed, humming, waiting on him. Woo Jung stepped back. "There it is." Cho let it fade on purpose. Then he called it back. On. Off. His, now. He had two nights and a power that finally answered. But as the sparks died, he remembered Kai's warning. Something was hunting people close to him. He'd just lit himself up like a flare in the dark, and he had no idea what had been watching.