To Be Saved From Oneself
A/N : I do hereby swear that Namco owns exclusive rights to Tekken and its characters.
Please note that this is my first Fic EVER, so I would greatly appreciate your sympathy
and support in the form of reviews.
Chapter I: The Prince of Darkness Reflects On His Life
Kazuya Mishima was spread-eagled on his large four-poster bed, surrounded by wealth and opulence. Luxurious
crimson drapings were drawn over his bedroom windows, and rich silk tapestries were affixed to his oak-panelled
walls. He was practically lying in the lap of luxury.
And yet, Kazuya was a world away from all that comfort. He did not appear perturbed by the gathering gloom(for it was getting dark outside), nor did he make any effort to turn on his bedside lamp. In fact, he seemed to be in a
trance. His usually piercing gaze was fixed on the ceiling , and his eyes, strangely glassy, failed miserably in reflecting the inner turmoil behind them.
Kazuya slowly replayed the day's events in his mind. The first of August had passed without incident. His thirteenth birthday had gone unacknowledged. His hateful father, whom he loathed with a vengeance, had been determinedly ignoring him the entire day, a tactic he usually employed whenever he had an unpleasant surprise up his sleeve.
Kazuya slipped his hand underneath his shirt and gingerly traced the scar that defiled his young flesh. Really, he
thought, he should not be complaining that his father had left him alone. For once in his life, Kazuya had not had to
feign sleep as his father barged into his room before dawn, had not had to feel the old man's vice-like grip closing around his wrist, his callused hand chafing his skin, his gruff voice harshly demanding him to get up. But most importantly, Kazuya had not had to endure another one of his father's heated tirades, in which he would curse fate
for giving him such a weakling for a son, lament the loss of his wife and put the blame entirely on Kazuya's shoulders.
Kazuya vividly recalled trying to talk back to his father, once, several years ago. It had been his first and last time.
"You wish that our places had been changed. That I had died and Mother had lived," Kazuya had accused, his voice
ominously calm."Yes, I wish that," his father had promptly replied, with emphasis on every word, his tone even colder than Kazuya's.
Kazuya shifted to his right side with a sigh, his first movement in a long time. His eyes focussed on the chair beside
his bed. Sitting on top of it was a family heirloom that Heihachi prized as much as Mishima-ryu karate, and perhaps even more than his own son. It was a chess set; the pieces were carved out of ebony and ivory, and the chessboard was of deep mahogany inlaid with gold. It had been in the family for many years.
Kazuya smiled ruefully. Chess played as great a role in his life as the intensive training he received from his father.
His grandfather, Jinpachi, had been an undefeated champion, and had taught Heihachi, who in turn passed the knowledge to Kazuya. Kazuya had already competed in more regional chess tournaments than he could care to
remember,and somewhere downstairs, the Trophy Room held evidence to confirm his triumphs.
The Mishima family's obsession with karate and chess greatly inhibited Kazuya socially. When he was not attending school, he was either training with his father in the family dojo, or practicing chess tactics in his father's
spacious study. Being thus incarcerated did have its advantages, however. He was well-occupied, distracted and
did not possess the luxury of wasting time. He had never smoked, drunk alcohol or experimented with drugs.Those were vices he was determined to avoid, and he was surprised and more than a little disgusted at how many 13 year
olds had succumbed to their effects.
Kazuya's thoughts shifted to school, and he sighed again and rolled onto his other side. School was another dimension, and yet it was an ordeal. His cold sarcastic demeanor, and his withdrawn reserved nature, combined
with his extensive knowledge of karate ensured that he would remain friendless. His peers were too intimidated by his
presence. He was unapproachable. His grades had been reasonably good; he was achieving every subject and seemed to have an aptitude for languages. That had changed rather abruptly, courtesy of his father, of course.
Lee Chaolan. Kazuya clenched his fists at the mere thought of him. That filthy little street urchin, that wretched
freak of nature! Kazuya wanted to roar at his father and cuss him for naming the boy "your(Kazuya's) replacement in family and business". The unjustness of it all made Kazuya's blood boil and more hatred suffused his heart.
During the course of the month of June, Heihachi had grown even more distant towards Kazuya. He took frequent
trips abroad, much to Kazuya's satisfaction , who was able to concentrate on his schoolwork. Then, when Kazuya was doing splendidly, Heihachi dropped the bombshell. He brought his new son home, expected Kazuya to treat him as an equal and watched from the sidelines as Kazuya silently struggled to absorb the impact of this latest blow to his dignity.Kazuya, numbed, grew careless and in one fell swoop, everything fell apart; his end of year results were abysmal.
Kazuya grimaced, remembering the beating he had sustained when his father had seen his results. Now on his way
to 8th grade, Kazuya realised that, if his father continued to torment him, he would be sneaking into high school with the skin of his teeth, a thought he found to be greatly depressing. His grandfather, Jinpachi, had stressed the importance of a good education to a young Kazuya, and had made the boy promise that he would excel scholastically."Gomen nasai, ji-sama; I have failed you," Kazuya thought, his eyes shut tight.
Lee, on the other hand, was doing remarkably well. He had been couped up in the Mishima household less than two
months and was already beginning to get the hang of the Japanese language, albeit he still spoke with a heavy Chinese accent. Kazuya was told that, come September, Lee would be starting 7th grade, as he was twelve and intelligent enough to handle secondary school.
Kazuya vaguely wondered whether Lee's intelligence was overrated, or whether there was something wrong with his own intelligence these days. Not that there was nothing wrong with me to begin with, Kazuya thought wryly,
and a snide voice deep in the recesses of his mind declared its approval.
Kazuya let his eyes sweep the room, for lack of anything better to do, and he noticed the bright new gi that lay folded on the chair, underneath the chess set. It was similar to his other gi, really, the only difference being that it had his name in kanji, and the Japanese flag sewn on the back. Kazuya suddenly remembered that he would be
representing his country at the annual Cultural Festival, held at the Tokyo Cultural Centre. He would be starring in two events: martial arts and chess. Heihachi, who usually declined invitations to the Festival, had been eager to accept this time, as it would be Lee's first public appearance. The "appearance" was scheduled for the following
evening, and Kazuya smiled impishly at the thought of Lee making a mockery of himself before the whole world.
For his part, kazuya was unconcerned; he was certain that he would be the victor of any bout, for his father had always disparaged foreigners, particularly Westerners."Gaijins are undisciplined," Heihachi had said disdainfully,"they are flimsy and would crumble easily under pressure." Kazuya smiled inwardly; he would just have to see for himself.
A/N: It was really long, wasn't it? Sorry, I hope I didn't bore you. It's a slow start since I had to get
some things established first. None of the other chapters will be this long, if you don't want them to be.