Monsta X - All In

Before - Chapter 12

   Hyunwoo's POV

   Uppercut here, side kick there. A sprinkle of hammer fists too. Man, this fight was easier then expected! Now, if we could just throw the enemy off completely...

   Wait, what was Hoseok saying? Staying together?

   Well, that made sense, but still; I had a premonition about something. Was it me or -

   Oh crap.

   They were going to target someone, weren't they? And it was Hyungwon, right?

   I broke free from my opponents and sprinted to the younger boy, trying to shield him from the upcoming barrage of blows. It wouldn't be good if one of us got severely injured compared to several of us with smaller injuries. The others did the same, attempting to group up.

   Even so, I knew that it wasn't much use. Hyungwon had been caught off guard and was avoiding the attacks as best as he could, but we couldn't get to him sooner. After some time, his white clothing was almost lost in the sea of black shirts.

   One man tried to pull me away from the mob, but right then and there I saw Hyungwon's face. It was bloodied and battered - physical appearances were always to easy to discern - but I could not simply put the actual countenance into words at that time. I still can't now.

   It was one devoid of any more hope, one that was restless and haunting. It was one that believed in nothing else except for resolution with death.

   Death, a terrible thing. The word could make the brightest tremble, the term could force the kindest to be corrupt. The thing that took father away, the thing that I loathed so much right now.

   I wasn't going to let death come and take my companion!

   After that, I didn't remember much; all that remained in my memory was screaming and dark murkiness. But I did recall sweat, anger, and blood lust - an unsatisfied craving to punch, to fight, to retaliate.

   I only knew calm rage, only saw bright red, only felt calm, clear anger.

   After the inferno ended, the only thing seen was a mass of black on the ground. The hit men  were all unconscious on the ground, taken out by many blows.

   Why did these wounds look so familiar?

   Staring at the mess for a few seconds, I eventually realized who the cause of this was.

   Of course.

   Flashbacks of past memories came to me - the red sparkle of that thick liquid on walls, the tangy smell, the crunch and thump of mass, the burn of muscles.

   I was the oldest in the group, the protector. Though my personality was usually laid back, when I got angry, I got angry.

   After all,
  
   My street nickname was...
 
   "Fighter."