I am so sorry that these are short. But they're called drabbles for good reason. Anyways, read and review?
Disclaimer: To-wit... to-who... to-wit... to-who...
One
He watched helplessly as the day faded to black. Instead of air, he had started to inhale the smoky scent of gunpowder and burning debris that came with the advent of war. The skyline reflected in his eyes no longer spoke promises of bright dreams and bemused observations. It now bemoaned its grey ruins, its damage wrought by one man. And to think, it had taken one man to bring the whole world to its knees, screaming for mercy and grasping the edges of frayed humanity.
The sun bows its golden head in sorrow as it makes way for the night.
A former champion lets rage color his azure eyes and clenches his bruised fists.
His younger companion felt her blood freeze in her veins.
"Steve."
He looks down at her. Unexpectedly, her eyes well with salty tears as the wind ruffles her unruly brown hair. What hurt her the most was that she'd failed where it had mattered most. She had allowed her cousin to claim victory in the last tournament. It was because of her hesitance that he'd allowed himself to be corrupted by the darkness within him. For that single mistake of hers, she would have to pay the price.
To achieve salvation, one had to offer a sacrifice just as great.
Her life on this earth being measured by the second with each falling grain of sand through the hour-glass, she trembles and tries to think of worse things. If she hadn't chosen to offer herself, the chaos that had been unleashed would turn on itself and succumb to the plague it had created. The chances of hope would vanish with the sun and a punishment greater than the sin would be called for. If she didn't do what her destiny had commanded from her, the world as everyone knew it would be at the whim of a deranged tyrant. She had to do this. On a wing and a prayer...
But...
"I'm scared."
He held her quivering hand tight in his. The night would come but he could guarantee that he was no superhero. He too was only one man. A make-believe god wearing hidden scars beneath his golden armor. Perhaps Fate would ensure that he'd be crushed and ground into the dust like the rest who had fallen before him. Perhaps this was Life's way of throwing back everything he'd striven for in the past and mocking him for trying. Sure enough, he was terrified at what lay ahead of them... more tears, tragedy, horrific deeds of the enemy, complete and utter annihilation at most...
He held her hand anyway.
Two
She'd been having the same dream for the past two nights in a row.
There was a garden in her dream. In it, the grass grew long and wild, almost until they tickled the edge of her bare knees. There would be flowers strewn about, yellow roses, white lilies, pink carnations and many others whose names she wouldn't be able to recall. There would be some butterflies too... black ones. They'd flutter around her head in an erratic manner, as if trying to warn her of a pending danger. Strangely enough, she would always ignore them and move on ahead.
She would walk through endless fields of the same grass with the same flowers growing in it and the same butterflies to keep her company. The further she moved, the grass strands would keel over and brush the skin on her shins, begging her to remain still. Even the flowers seemed to become more agitated.
After a time, she'd feel something cold and hard dangling on her chest.
She would hold up the pendant and see her mother's eyes for a moment in the green jade. A lump of apprehension would rise in her throat but she'd continue on her journey.
All she knew was that she would not stop until she found it.
In due time, she'd reach a gate. A small rickety wooden one with a stile. It had been ages since she'd come across one like this. The Navajo may have only been her adoptive tribe but their urge to wander through an untamed land was now embedded in her blood. Ignoring the grass as it tried to pull her back down to the earth where she belonged, she opened the gate with a creak and forgot to look back...
She stepped into the sky.
Stars would glare down at her from the heavens, astounded that a mere mortal had dared cross into their realm. Beneath her feet, the world lay flat and still. Humbled by her new surroundings, she would remain as she was, confused and wondering, toying with the gem around her neck. Then, one by one, the stars would begin to dance to a rhythm unheard of in her time. They would swirl and spin until their lights bled out of themselves and into the cosmos. With the ascent of an electrifying hum, they would begin to chant. They would sing a wordless song of the future that would never be, wherein man would be the epitomy of his own demise and the spirits of the earth would reclaim what was theirs...
Realization would strike.
Her eyes would fly open and she would be back in the hospital ward. There would be nothing but deathly quiet with nothing save for the meek sounds of machines and his steady breathing to keep her awake.
It had been happening for the past two nights. Who was to say that the third wouldn't go as planned?
The quickening beeps of the heart-rate monitor startled her. Smiling weakly, he opened his eyes for the first time since he'd been brought in and raised two fingers up in a V for Victory sign for her to see for herself.
She brushed aside the stray red hairs from his forehead and kissed him.
Three
He could tell that Eddy Gordo was worried. Judging by the way that the Brazilian was pacing around with his arms folded, it wasn't likely the problem related to the issues at 'work'. He would know... he'd once been in that position. Different location, different time, same woman...
Judging from the look in his eyes, he felt very much the same for her. Maybe more, maybe less, it wasn't easy to tell.
A long time back, there had been a master and a student. The master had only seen the pretty young creature standing before him as a means of paying back what his own teacher had given him. The girl only wished to serve her aging grandfather well by learning the art of Capoeira from the man he'd come to love as a son. An understanding based on mutual trust had been formed. They would give only what they'd promised and take nothing back in return.
A year later, the trust blooms to friendship. It makes them both truly happy for the first time in years and they won't even think of asking for more.
Another year passes and the friendship simply isn't enough.
A fourth tournament, compounded by underlying currents of vengeance and wrath, forces the girl, now a woman, into the life of another man more brooding and less relatable. Yet they hang on, eventually survive. She leaves him for the master she was looking for, he wonders if he really should have told her.
Two months later, he still struggled with himself. She would smile reassuringly, brush his long dark bangs from his eyes and tell him that he'd do fine. In return, he'd brush her off and curse her for weakening the resolve within him. A spark of raw jealousy would reignite whenever he saw the two of them together. In spite of himself, he'd wonder what they would have been were it not for the third one that had reappeared from her past.
He'd lost. Jin Kazama had lost.
The night arrived and he'd let go of himself altogether. He'd smothered the memory of the warmth of her skin and eyes in layers of cool darkness he poured upon it. What he recalls next is the beautiful brutality of violence as he tore through the land, plundering it of the treasure he'd once been taught to respect. He threw away her gentle words and genuine laugh to the wind and shredded them to pieces so that he would no longer have to languish in their echoes.
The irony at which he'd used his influence to separate them again neither irritated nor amused him.
He watched Gordo remove a photograph from his wallet. Discreetly, he squinted for a clearer view and could make out the forms of an elderly man, Gordo and the woman they both constantly thought of. She was laughing in pure joy as the other two smiled at her and her skin glowed like amber in the tropical sun. Unconsciously, he traces the path on his arm where her hand had once caressed the tattooed skin...
Judging by the way Gordo sighed, neither of them would sleep well tonight.