Good Intentions

(A/N: This can be seen as an independent story or as a sequel to "Different", another Tekken story I wrote.  Enjoy!)

            This sucks.  It can't get any worse.  I, Jin Kazama, powerful martial artist, future champion of the King of the Iron Fist tournament...

            ...Has a flu.  But not just any flu.  It's the nasal congested, ear plugged, muscle cramped, chest pain, and bedridden, I-wish-I-was-dead flu.  Who's the bastard that gave it to me, anyway?!

            Cough. " Kazama!" I heard a voice rang through the courtyard after school.  "Come here you...A-choo!"

            I walked to the middle of the field.  Hwoarang stood there, his limbs shaking as he towered in his fighting stance.  He sniffled as he talked; it's perfectly clear how congested he was.  "I'm gonna finish you off, Kazama..."

            That dumb idiot...That's what he is.  "What you should be doing is drinking some orange juice," I told him.

            He coughed up a loogie and spat it out.

            I shook my head.  "Maybe you should eat some soup, too."

            I knocked the bastard unconscious so he could get some sleep.  That poor fool should get some rest.  But he didn't have to give me his germs!

            A knock came to my door.  "Jin?" a female's voice called.

            "Yeah," I answered.

            Ling Xiaoyu walked in my room, her hands occupied with a tray.  "Are you feeling any better?" she asked.

            I shrugged.  "What do you have there?"

            She set up the tray's legs so it stood over my lap.  I sat up.  It was a bowl of sewage; I mean stew, a tall glass of orange juice in a Mickey Mouse cup, and my garbage tasting medicine in the corner of the tray.  I picked up my soupspoon and dipped it in the bowl.  No tentacles popped out at me.  She watched me eagerly as I slowly scooped a little bit.  I held my breath and took a taste.  The swill was almost sickening but I continued to eat it.

            "Is it good?" she asked.

            I faked my best Jin Kazama smile.  "Yes."

            She smiled. "Oh good!"

            Sure, I lied, but look how she reacted.  She was glad to help me out.  I ate half of the soup and took my medicine.  I finished down my orange juice; has to wash down the horrible aftertaste.  "Thanks Ling; for making me lunch and all."

            Ling took away the tray.  "No problem!  I'll make you dinner tonight then!"  She left my room.

            What horror...she might make me feel worse...

            I laid back in my overly king size bed.  I bundled up under the covers, pulling the comforter to my nose.  Ugh...my head is spinning and it hurts to blink.  I'm gonna kill Hwoarang...once I take a little nap.  I'm gonna...kick the crap out of...

            It was late at night when I woke up.  My stomach was growling fiercely.  I haven't exercised in a while; I pray that I'm not out of shape.  But I'm so hungry...I sat up, and threw my legs over the edge of the bed.  My slippers are waiting for me there.  I placed my feet in and got up to my feet.  I had a sudden head rush...damn, that hurts.  Slowly, I make my way down the stairs.  God, at this very moment, I hat this house.  It's too big...it's not even a house, it's a mansion.  Gramps had to be rich and buy himself a five-story mansion.  The least he could do is build a goddamn elevator somewhere!  Geez, some consideration here...then again, this is the same man who threw his own son over a cliff...His son...my father... I try not to think about it.  I once saw a picture of my father in my mom's drawer.  Sure, we look a lot alike, but that's as far as similarities go.  He was the very devil himself.  What the hell did my mom see in him?  My mother...she never deserved any of that.  I can still see her fighting off her fate.  It was a while back but the images are still vivid; so vivid, it hurts.  But I can't think about it now.  I'll have my chance for revenge.  It would be all in due time.

            Finally, I arrived on the first floor and walked to the kitchen.  I heard a soft humming and found Ling in front of the stove.  She was in her cotton yellow pjs with an apron on.  I watched her play cook, hurrying to each side of the kitchen, to the stove, then the fridge and through the cupboards.  I mean, she literally had to run.  The kitchen is the size of a classroom!

            She noticed me in the doorway.  "Oh no!  You shouldn't be out of bed!"

            "I'm okay, don't worry," I slid into a stool at the counter.

            "But--."

            "If I don't get up, I'll probably get fat and stay there forever." I looked around.  "So, where's Panda?"

            "Asleep along with everyone else."

            "Even Gramps?"

            "He left for his office earlier," Ling answered.  "He told me he won't be back until much, much later."  She poured some more soup in a big bowl.  She gave me a spoon.  "Here. I made wonton soup.  I hope you like."

            "Me too," I said.  I hesitantly looked at it.  I watched as the wonton rocks surfaced, with the undercooked beef strips sinking to the bottom.  The green onions and all the other vegetables were oddly cut into different sizes.  I scooped up a small wonton bun.  I placed it in my mouth, positioned the critter between my back teeth and chewed...hard.

            "How is it?" she glowed like a little puppy.

            "Good...real good," I managed to struggle between my silent cries of pain.

            "Really!  Let me try!"

            "No!" I protested.

            She picked up a dumpling rock with her bare fingers and popped it in her mouth.  After her jaw moved twice, she gave me a disgusted look.  She ran to the nearest trashcan and spat the swill out.  "Jin!" she exclaimed.  "That's horrible!"

            "What are you talking about?" I played my Jin Kazama smile.

            "Oh come on! Even though you're sick, I know you can tell how awful that food is!"

            "Well--." I stuttered.

            "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

            "Because for the past few days, you've done nothing but care for me," I began.

            "For all we know, I could be making you worse!" she pointed out.

            I decided not to comment on that.  She may be a girl but she's got a mean kick.  "Sure, your cooking tastes like sewer waste but..." I muttered, "your heart is in the right place and you have good intentions.  That's what's important."

            Ling's eyes softened.  A smile appeared on her face.  "Thanks, Jin."

            I nodded and smiled back.

            Morning slowly came and afternoon fell quickly.  Ling brought up my meals but kept our conversations to a minimum.

            "Good afternoon, Ling," I greeted.

            "Hi," and she turned away, a sad look in her eyes.

            I let her be until nightfall came.  It was very dark.  I found my way down the staircases, constantly reminding myself to tell Gramps about our elevator-lacking problem.  I found Ling sitting beside the large fireplace. She stared at the flame that was glowing different shades of red, orange, yellow and blue.  I sat beside her.  "Hi Ling." Gosh, I sounded ridiculous; my nose was stuffed.

            She gave me a weak smile.  Uh-oh.  "Hey," she said.

            "What's wrong?" I asked.  She shook her head.  "Ling, I've known you for a while. Don't be lying to me, saying that you're ok when you're not."

            "I'm--."

            "You're always cheerful and talkative...I mean, you're like a battery!" I said.  "Now, tell me."

            "Well, the tournament just started," Ling said, "and I realized there'll be some day when we have to fight."

            Oh...so that's what's bugging her.

            "We're good to each other; we're really pleasant--."
            "Yah, we're friends," I responded.

            Her eyes lowered.  Did I say something wrong?

            "I realized that," she sighed.  "I just thought last night that...will we change after a match?  I never had 'friends' who I had to fight against."

            "We can separate our lives.  Right now, here in this house, is our social and house life," I explained.  "That's our tournament life.  They're totally different.  I don't want anything to mess that up, either."

            She smiled at me in the sweetest way she's ever done.  It made me feel better.  Sure, she cooks like she's out to kill someone, but her intentions are good.

            "You want some hot chocolate?  I know I can't mess that up," she offered with a smile.

            I smiled back.  "Sure. I'd like that."

...fin...

(Note: Here is my disclaimer.  I do not claim Tekken or its characters as my own, but Namco rightfully stakes claim on them.  The story was created out of my own severe boredom from physics and civics class because if I found nothing else to do, I would surely fall asleep.  The last thing I need is for my classmates watch me snore in the back of the room.  Thank you for reading and good day to you all...)