The trees were massive. They towered over everything, completely covering the sky. There were no leaves – none – yet the canopy blocked light from seeping through so thoroughly that Sub-Zero couldn't tell whether it was day or night. Still, every once in a while, Sub-Zero would look up at the ceiling of twisted branches, and if he didn't know better he would have thought that some of them looked like they were moving. He did know better, though. He'd been here before. They were moving.

Occasionally, a path would form. Systems of roots would make way for him and his newly-found ally, an agent of the United States who called himself Kenshi. These trails led them to large, hungry mouths awaiting a fool to dine on. Luckily, when combined, Sub-Zero and Kenshi were not fools. They had been wandering in the forest for so long that Kenshi could sense when a path led to a living tree. Kenshi could also tell between day and night in the perpetually dark Living Forest. His sight was far better than Sub-Zero's, despite that – or maybe because – Kenshi was blind.

"Something is following us," Kenshi would tell Sub-Zero. "Someone is following us."

His warning alternated – Kenshi couldn't tell whether it was a beast or a human. Sub-Zero, a trained assassin – a hunter and tracker keenly aware of his surroundings, disagreed. Although Kenshi could sense things he couldn't, he was doubtful of the man's omniscience. Sub-Zero's life used to depend upon knowing whether he was being watched or not. He understood why Kenshi would make the mistake of thinking that they were being followed, though – the man had never been in the Living Forest and must not be used to the feeling of being watched by trees.

So much time passed by that the construct lost its relevance. There was no difference between a second and an hour. After a while, Kenshi stopped alerting Sub-Zero as to whether it was day or night. They rested when they were tired, and moved on once they were not. The only clocks they had were internal.

Sub-Zero heard the rustling of a tree stretching out a limb – a normal occurrence that most likely further tricked Kenshi into believing that they were being followed. Then, Sub-Zero thought he saw two little white lights among the trees. Eyes? No. Kenshi was just rubbing off on him.

"Did you see that?" Kenshi asked.

Sub-Zero was hesitant. Should he deny seeing anything? Kenshi was still undoubtedly wrong.

"Sometimes the trees have glowing eyes," Sub-Zero finally informed Kenshi and reminded himself. Glowing red eyes.

". . . Glowing eyes?" Of course. Kenshi couldn't see.

Time undoubtedly passed.

"It's here," Kenshi remarked when they sat down to rest. It was the first thing he had said in what felt like a long while.

"What?" Sub-Zero had no idea what Kenshi was talking about. He was focused on finding a way out of the forest.

"It's here, and it's anxious. I think it's ready to attack." Ah. The figment of Kenshi's imagination. Sub-Zero thought that Kenshi's silence indicated that he had given up on that idea.

Just then, there was slight rustling in the trees. Sub-Zero's mind, though the power of Kenshi's suggestion, played a trick on him – he thought he saw the white lights again. Then, he knew he saw a growing, brightening yellow glow.

The rustling grew louder, and the light suddenly disappeared in a flash. It sounded like a creature had jumped from a tree – and Sub-Zero finally figured out that Kenshi was right.

The eyes flashed again – wide – and not at Sub-Zero.

"S-sir?" A voice from the trees. "What are you – "

"Don't call me sir." A second voice cut him off softly; weary and resigned.

Sub-Zero couldn't believe that not only was Kenshi right about being followed, but also that the man hadn't detected the second creature.

"But Dairou –"

"Hotaru, I'm here to kill you." There was silence. Sub-Zero stealthily crept closer to the sounds to see if he could see anything.

Two men were facing each other at a distance. One was tall and impressive looking in complex, iridescent armor made even more epic by Japanese samurai flags. He stood like a deer in headlights, hands in front of him defensively; his face, while remarkably blank, could, upon closer inspection, be seen to betray mildly anguished shock - and the barest hint of panic. Sub-Zero doubted that this white-eyed man was human or the Outworld equivalent - Sub-Zero doubted he was normal. He had white hair, but his Japanese face was not old. He couldn't have been a god or a blind albino, either – his eyebrows were black. The other man could very well have been human. His receding hairline matched his tired eyes, hair very Manchurian in style, braid and all; he had a strange symbol on his head, but wore what looked like a variant of classical Chinese clothing. He was looking at the other man with what Sub-Zero determined was some form of regret on his face. All in all, Sub-Zero felt incredibly awkward, like an intruder looking in on this private confrontation.

"What did I do wrong?" The strange-looking one that the other had called Hotaru asked, still frozen in place, eyebrows furrowed upward in an earnestness that struck the ninja as unbecoming

"I don't know," sighed the middle-aged-looking Dairou (if Sub-Zero had heard his name correctly), with the slightest shake of his head.

Sub-Zero instantly knew what was going on: an assassin couldn't bring himself to kill someone he knew without giving them a chance. Sub-Zero was trained to recognize that the efficient death of the target was an assassin's first priority, no matter if they had a relationship with the target in the past. If they confront a target that they know, the target will not only be alerted to the attacker, but they will also speak back. The assassin will have a harder time killing the target for both physical and mental reasons.

"Then why – "

"It's a job." The assassin unsheathed a traditional Dao and, without approaching his target any further, went into a fighting stance. He was waiting.

The target slowly reached behind his back and then with a sudden jerking motion unhooked an ancient Japanese samurai weapon which Sub-Zero knew was called a Naginata. He then stepped back and thrust it out far in front of him. He was clearly going to attempt to keep his assailant at a distance. Sub-Zero saw the yellow light from before: Hotaru's hands were flickering dimly, almost like candlelight. It didn't seem like it was any kind of offensive attack. Due to the empathy that had been growing in him over the last ten years, Sub-Zero figured that the lights were caused by distress: this one was going to be off his game.

Then it started. Both were good fighters – Dairou leapt into the air, quickly chopping downwards. Based on the other's seeming unpreparedness, Sub-Zero was sure that this was going to be it – but a blur of yellow light proved him wrong. The Naginata, it seemed, had been a bluff, and it was quickly resheathed as Hotaru slid out of the way, somehow propelled by the light he emitted; he suddenly came to a stop where Dairou had been standing before. His shadow of light had barely begun to fade before Hotaru slid forward again, right hand glowing, his trail leaving what Sub-Zero could only describe as puddles of light on the ground. His punch was fast, confusing and surprising, but Dairou seemed familiar with the attack and rolled with it; while Hotaru slid back to his original position, the man who Sub-Zero surmised to be his former superior disappeared in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind the tall armored man's back. Despite his nimble eyes and body, even Sub-Zero was thrown off by their lightning-quick dance of trading places, but it was over just as soon as it had begun: Hotaru turned around as quickly as anyone could gather their bearings, but it was only to see Dairou's blade coming at his chest and to perhaps hear a quiet 'sorry.' It was too late: there was nothing Hotaru could do to stop it.

Right before his sword thrust through its target, Dairou froze in an aura of blue. His head was knocked back as if he took one in the chin, he doubled over in pain as if he had been punched in the gut, and he flew backward as if he had been kicked. Kenshi jumped into Sub-Zero's range of vision, running towards Dairou with blue hands. Dairou scrambled up from his felled position and leapt away as Kenshi aimed a flying sidekick at his head. Sub-Zero sprang to action – if Kenshi got into this fight, Sub-Zero had to back him up. While Kenshi was recovering from his miss, Sub-Zero charged at Dairou, forming ice crystals in his hands. He was abruptly halted by a barrier that suddenly appeared – Hotaru had brought his naginata down like a fence, and Sub-Zero slammed into the horizontal wood, knocking him to the ground. By the time he and Kenshi were both on their feet, Dairou had disappeared.

Sub-Zero, finding no trace of the assassin in the distance, looked down to find the blade of the Naginata pointing at his abdomen. Hotaru stared at Sub-Zero, and even though he had no eyes, it was an intense stare. His face was serious; intensely blank. Sub-Zero saw his mouth twitch downward ever-so-slightly.

"Are you okay?" Kenshi turned to the white-eyed creature and asked. Sub-Zero stared into the blank white eyes. Kenshi obviously thought that Hotaru was aiming his weapon at Sub-Zero out of fear, but Sub-Zero's experience as an assassin again meant he knew better.

Hotaru didn't answer. He didn't move. He didn't blink. For a split-second, his mouth twitched again.

Just as Sub-Zero was about to go into a fighting stance, there was a blinding flash of yellow light.

When Sub-Zero regained his sight less than a second later, Hotaru was gone. There were puddles of light on the ground, evaporating into the dark forest.

Sub-Zero squinted, and saw a zig-zagging yellow light in the distance.

The forest went back to its normal darkness.