In the Past

The boy's eyes ran wildly with calculation. Too many people favoring the same outfit as those people who wiped out his family. Their ages, facial expressions, even identities, skillfully hidden behind the black cloth masks. But the enemy would not escape, their actions would never go unpunished, that the boy once known as Miyatoshi Sanormo swore to himself. He would find them and destroy them all, without mercy.

Even a child as small as himself, trained in the basics of the Ningitsu arts could take down one assailant at least. But now there was not the time nor the place. Too many trained professionals, older than himself and possibly with more years of experience. Oh no, he would bide his time and use the art he was taught as well as he could. He allowed his eyes to take on an expression of fear for camouflage in body mind and soul was the first technique his father and sensei had taught him.

Yet the voice that spoke to him was strangely soothing. It could all be a trick so he would be prepared. But they would likely expect some of their ridiculous orders followed, just as his father did, no matter that they were murderers, so he would be listening very carefully, however skeptically. And yet the voice spoke and the words were different than the ones he could possibly have anticipated.

"Hello child," the one in command started. The boy instantly recognized his superior position from the way he rested at the center of things, where the Chi flowed most turbulently. Noticing such things lay at the heart of Ningitsu but for the boy they were second nature.

"My name is Hakaru Ayatoko, and I am the leader of this clan. The same clan as your, even though you might think the contrary. My men have arrived too late to save your family but at least early enough for salvaging your own, far more important life. Yes, I understand what it looked like to you. Men employing the Ningitsu arts seemingly responsible for the massacre of your family. And yet, I assume you can recognize this glyph?"

Hakaru raised his kimono sleeve and the familiar sign unmistakably rose on his wrist. The same one his own father proudly displayed. The same he was going to be entitled to once he grew up. The glyph of the Eternal Peace itself, free of unnatural material passions. He would wear one too, when he turned 18. It was his due. His more than anyone, his father promised, whatever that had meant.

Unbidden tears spilled down his cheeks and startled by this unexpected shame, he quickly wiped them down, trying at the same time to reconstruct what had happened.

He had come upon the scene of slaughter and saw...but his family was already murdered. All he saw was a group of ninjas, ready for the strike with their shurikens, and the dead bodies. He had assumed, and the glyph had to mean he had been wrong. How embarrassing. He lowered his eyes in acknowledgment of well earned shame.

As if Hakaru could read his thoughts, he chuckled and took his mask off, his understanding and gently compassionate face showing a partial smile. "So you have made a mistake eh? They say our Lord Protector Rayden made many himself in his youth, the least of them being the unintended creation of the Pin Shi mountain, blocking our passage towards the fabled men of knowledge in India. Let us just hope this would not be your greatest, eh?" the old sensei gently spoke and Miyatoshi perked up with a tentative smile of accepting beginning to blossom on his own lips.

10 years later

The two men strode quietly but confidently. Did they think that just knowing all the basic forms entitled them to walking without caution, Miyatoshi wondered with unvoiced contempt. Or perhaps the fact of serving a power greater than themselves made them forget about common sense. Not that this power would care one jot when they erred. The players in this game knew no mercy, only those who were useful to them were allowed special privileges. These two were only common foot soldiers and easily replaced, as he was about to show one of them. The other one was necessary of course, so that the plan would be accomplished.

He stroke swifter than Lord Rayden's lightening. The ninja didn't know what hit him, dropping down quietly, without any grace as befitted such a treacherous dog. But better to eradicate such thoughts in advance. For all he knew the Emperor's emissary could read them. He needed to get rid of old habits if he were to survive this preliminary secret round of Mortal Kombat..

The man he allowed to live started dumbly at him, until his lips very slightly curved in an anticipated smile. "So, you are the expected one then. Excellent, the Alchemist has been waiting. Although he didn't deem it necessary to tell us who to expect. As we don't share his abilities, mind telling me who you might be?"

Miyatoshi's answering smile was just as thin, even though the emotions stirring inside of him were quite deep and genuine. How remarkable. The Alchemist had some considerable and real powers that were legitimately frightening to all but one in this world and that one wasn't even mortal. Yet it appeared even the seemingly all powerful Alchemist liked to boast, showing off his advance knowledge of future events. His mystical powers aside, his rather human weakness would prove his downfall. The ninja did make many mistakes in his life, just as Hakaru had warned him, but this would not be one of them.

Miyatoshi's small and now unnecessary smile vanished, replaced by expression of gravity. So far it has been all a joke, allowed for by both sides. The real test was about to start. "Tell Shang Tsung, a warrior who heard of his powers, humbly wishes to serve him in any capacity, a warrior sometimes known as...Sub Zero."

Chapter 2

As could be expected things were never simple when one dealt with an emissary of Outworld. Evidently a regular door was too good for the Alchemist. When the messenger ninja guided Miyatoshi towards the entrance and they stepped through, a portal suddenly opened up. A green fog whirled around, its violent motions providing a suitable hint to the nature of the realm they were about to enter.

Not a realm in truth, but "a pocket world," Hakaru's words resonated in his student's mind. "Child, your mission may be noble but that in itself is no guarantee of its success, you must be prepared for anything. Your knowledge of what could be going on is of course paramount and I have taught you a lot about the inner politics of the Emperor's court, likely more than you would ever need to remember but there is one bit that is lacking and could bring about your demise.

Our sages had been able to foresee the impending attack of Outworld against Earth but only recently have we discovered Shang Tsung's trick. It turns out he operates in a pocket world of his own, adjacent to both the Earth Realm and his own Outworld. Our sources speculate that this way he can affect our world without being bulked by Lord Rayden and without too much interruption from the Emperor himself.

We suspect that the pocket world will be closer in structure to our own, so that sorceries performed in there could influence our realm, but we do not know that with certainty. I am afraid this is one step for which we cannot adequately prepare you..."

The memory waned away at Miyatoshi's mind. As a youth he had been worried about fighting in unfamiliar conditions, but not sufficiently to stop him in his efforts. He was a ninja and adaptation was a requirement for survival. After a while he got very used to the idea.

At the end it didn't really matter. Upon entering the pocket world, he noticed no marked differences from his own. Only the inhabitants of it working for the Alchemist varied. Some were still human looking while others clearly belonged to the Outworld races. One in particular drew his attention, bold headed with wrinkled pink skin and red eyes, carrying around two unusual knifes.

An alien indeed, but if he thought that would give him any advantage in a battle he was gravely mistaken, Miyatoshi considered with an inner dark smile. He was more than well equipped to deal with most any fighter.

Seemingly his guide realized that as well, trying to forge a friendly connection throughout the turbulence around. "The name is Sabashi Namakura," he loudly pronounced as if the sound of his own name somehow empowered him. Some of the ninja clans seems to subscribe to that silly notion as well, he heard, but never his own. Training was the only manifestation of power his people accepted and knowledge of the arcane forms. To rely on anything else would be suicidal for a ninja.

That was one more reason he was not impressed by his temporary companion and only briefly nodded in response to his "look for me when you are done" comment. Likely the man would be dead when Miyatoshi completed the series of trials here. At the end he didn't matter, none of the human warriors really did. Their practicing sessions betrayed their inaptness.

Then his gaze locked with another human ninja that came out of the inner chamber, accompanied by a burly partner. The second man was yet another irrelevant obstacle on the way easily eliminated. But the first, the ninja, he knew him by reputation and recognized his clan by his careful motions.

His mind didn't need to work hard to come up with the name at the sight of the yellow cloth and the hook serving the ninja as his weapon of choice. In the last days of his training Hakaru patiently instructed him about possible opponents.

"You will move like a knife through butter when faced with most humans. One name you must remember above all and be weary of though. Our rival clan likewise had a child abducted by the servants of Shang Tsung. In both cases the enemy clan was framed as the guilty one and it took the intervention of a Lightning Priest to reconcile our age old differences. At the end, old scores don't matter for Lord Rayden requires the best warriors under his protection to work as a single team.

Until the time of its official inception and our victory, both you and the other will work undercover. He will not know about you for his clan was annihilated completely and he embarked on this mission without your preparation. He will show you no mercy at the trials for he will be defending the already established position of the Alchemist's guardian. You must not show him any compassion either, his solitary cause notwithstanding, nor will you be able to spare too much if at all. He may not be as talented as his elder deceased brother, we heard, but never underestimate him. In fact you shall not lower your guard until the very moment you are convinced that the Alchemist is dead."

Hakaru had not asked if his instructions were understood such things no longer needed to be stated. The fact that he expanded such effort on the rival ninja was therefore unusual and stuck in his memory. There would be very many battles which he could win by simply using the Fighting Forms alone. But for the final round, he would use his special ability, and prove what no human fighter has been able to accomplish yet. That when need arose, Miyatoshi was strong enough to overcome the fabled Scorpion...

Chapter 3

Miyatoshi exchanged a look with his opponent and a brief second was enough for both of them to assess each other with special care. Their body language could not be read behind the ninja outfit, but the uncovered eyes were enough for that purpose

Behind the eyes flowed a large concentration of Chi and when directed by masters of their caliber, the energetic body sheathed inside of the material became visible. Fittingly then that the energy of Scorpion resonated the most with the element of Fire. Fate truly held a special place for both of them to arrange their encounter on the same path with such perfect symmetry.

Yet however fascinating it was to behold another such as himself, Miyatoshi withdrew his attention at once when the inner chamber opened up. Now that the passage was secured by his guards, Scorpion and the burly fellow, their charge decided to step forth. A simple formality in truth since his own power well outmatched both of his servants, but at the end it was such efficient precision that allowed this man to remain alive after 5 thousand years of uninterrupted service to Outworld and its emperor.

Not truly a man though. His expression of amusement notwithstanding, nothing about him was real. Shang Tsung may have resembled a Japanese fighter close to his middle age, so very similar to a number of fighting monks Miyatoshi had known, but he was infinitely different from them. So very inhuman that even his minion with the pink wrinkled skin appeared very comforting and familiar in particular.

It was common knowledge that the Alchemist supported his long life span by consuming souls of warriors defeated by him. He could and would take the shape of any of them upon need, making him an unusually difficult opponent. Of course the most dangerous aspect of his sorcery lay with the ability to open portal for the Emperor's power, but the full extant of his power remained largely unknown.

Miyatoshi would have to rely on his own training to survive an audience with the Alchemist and he believed he could do it so long as he took nothing for granted, which he had no intention of doing.

Shang Tsung's arrogant smile was perhaps the first test. It would goad many skilled warriors to murderous rage yet the ninja knew precisely what to do. Lowering his eyes in mock humility he waited for the Alchemist to speak.

"You have arrived to gain admittance to my army and I have agreed to indulge your desire, hearing much about your prowess. As always, there is only one test for a warrior's mettle, so get ready to prove your worth in the Arena."

Shang Tsung sat down on a high chair resembling a throne at the center of the room and all the fighters practicing their forms ceased their activity at once, clearing the area. Then the trials began.

Miyatoshi remained victorious time after time though it didn't seem like the battle would ever end. It didn't matter, his preparation was superb and he could resort to the lesser forms to save the surprise factor to the end.

The last two standing who hadn't participated yet were the two guardians of the Alchemist. Miyatoshi, understanding it wasn't over yet for him, remained in the ring and his patience was rewarded.

"Excellent," Shang Tsung spoke curtly. "In the final round you may prove your strength by overcoming the last challenge, my guardians. If you succeed, you will become one yourself. If you fail..."

There was no real choice implied in the Alchemist's words, but the ninja had already made one anyhow. Now he was following it up with all the skills in his possession.

The burly man came first and he was relatively experienced. His mistake was in misjudging the forms Miyatoshi had allowed him to see for the only ones the ninja could use. He was fighting a battle already won ever though each fighting session had to be treated as an independent occurrence.

It was a matter of minutes before he aimed just a bit too far from the solar plexus, his energy directed towards a wasted effort which Miyatoshi had adequately utilized in his own counter attack with a short fist to the side. The guardian toppled over and was finished when a swift kick to the throat crushed his wind pipe.

"Flawless victory," Shang Tsung commented with an indifferent smile. By rights, Miyatoshi should have been accepted already since there were two positions for a guard and one of them just became available. But the Alchemist only wanted the best, and the best in his mind would be able to resist the legendary Scorpion if only for a few moments.

Miyatoshi realized Scorpion would not make the mistake of his unlucky predecessor but he had a different type of surprise in store, even for him.

While the fighter moved to the center of the Arena and assumed his very well balanced fighting stance, the Alchemist spoke the final time. "My favorite guardian, Scorpion, must not be killed, there is nobody as qualified as him to take his position in my guard" With this uncharacteristically sparing order given, Shang Tsung concluded with the more traditional command. "Fight!" he exclaimed and Miyatoshi launched his first attack.

Chapter 4

Miyatoshi had planned his course of action very carefully and most deliberate of all was his preparation for his struggle against Scorpion.

He concentrated on mainly deflecting the blows and kicks, followed by the backward sweep of Scorpion's foot. Of course he put just a little bit of inaccuracy into his movement. He had been purposefully inaccurate all this time, so that his consistency of fighting could not be doubted.

None of the other fighters were able to utilize his imprecision. They were not masters of their craft and noticing such subtleties was beyond them. The man in the yellow black outfit was different and would see. He might not use his observation at once. He would probably choose to build up the pressure of attack first, Miyatoshi would have done as much in his position. All the same, he would be led to his victory without ever realizing it.

Miyatoshi thought he could still beat his opponent in a fight void of subterfuge, but this was not the time to test which one of them was better in earnest. He simply needed to win the quickest way possible and that way lay with multi layered strategy of fighting.

The fight continued and only a master would notice that Scorpion has been continuously gaining an edge in this exchange. Finally Miyatoshi's opponent decided to use the crack in the defense he was allowed to see.

With a sharp explosion of fists he broke through, forcing Miyatoshi to his knees and threw out his special weapon, the hook. "Get over here," Scorpion gruffly demanded, expecting the hook to embed firmly in Miyatoshi's body, effectively finishing the battle.

Miyatoshi was in a worse position, but due to his anticipation of the move, it failed to catch him unawares. He ducked under the hook and proceeded to build up his own Chi, readying it for immediate expulsion. While the hook, attached to a rope was moving back to his owner, Miyatoshi...

But he should not even think of himself this way any more. Identification with the name could make other identifications bubble up to the surface. From this moment on he would even think of himself as Sub Zero, lest his own mind betray him to the enemy.

Sub Zero moved his hands in a famous Chi Gong form, ending up with his two hands cradling an invisible ball of energy between them. That gathering of energy was accessible to all masters of Tai Chi.

His own ability separated him drastically from the rest of the martial arts practitioners though. Hakaru had showed him the secret frescoes depicting his forefathers in the same position he was taking now. They looked humanoid but were actually Cryomancers, able to transform Chi into a mystical freezing substance. Hakaru showed him how to accomplish the transformation and since this was one more skill he arduously practiced, Sub Zero was able to work the transformation within bare seconds.

Even before Scorpion's hook fully returned to its destination, Sub Zero finished forming the ball of energy and sent it towards his enemy, it manifesting in a blue color as it surrounded Scorpion's body, fully freezing him for a few moments.

Now he was vulnerable to any attack, but remembering the Alchemist's warning, Sub Zero simply looked at him, waiting for further instructions. Shang Tsung could see that his guardian was defeated as well and decided not to pursue the fight further.

"Sub Zero wins," he declared and as an afterthought added a compliment to his acknowledgment. "Superb," his voice intoned and however truthful his words were, it mattered not, for Sub Zero achieved his goal.

"So, the rumors were true. Lord Rayden had indeed allowed the offspring of the once proud Cryomancers escape to his realm. Excellent. I welcome you into my guard, Sub Zero."

Sub Zero humbly inclined his head in appreciation, noticing briefly that his rival was finally able to escape his prison of ice and threw a very cold stare at him, likely promising retribution. He would need to watch this one, but for the moment, his task was done.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to any of the Mortal Kombat characters I mention, all the rights belong to their respective owners.