Gripping Fragments
Prologue
Fandom: Tekken
Summary: Trying to remember about the past was like clutching shattered fragments of a mirror in your hand - the harder you grip it, the more drops of blood ooze out from the wounds - the more pain you inflict upon yourself. But asking yourself why do you have shattered fragments of a mirror in your possession is like asking yourself: "Why do I keep on remembering the past?"
Notes: Another Lee-centric fic - this time, sort of AU. I can't really guarantee that this would follow the canon storyline. OC all over, be warned. And can I just mention that will be multi chaptered?
Crash.
A young mousy haired girl nearly stumbled as she ran for her life, a pair of earrings tightly clutched in her hand. She was dressed in a ratty shirt with enough rips and holes for the article of clothing to be deemed unfit for use and a pair of ragged cutoffs. Her face adorned a few scars and bruises here and there, but nothing irreparable.
Unlike her pride.
She kept on running, completely disregarding the fact that she wore no shoes to accommodate her aching feet, or that the earth beneath her was covered in rough asphalt. Those men had been hell bent on catching her, after days of finally losing sight of them, only to find out that they had taken a break on searching for their target.
"Hey kid! Come here, you!" The taller one, the one with ridiculously bright red hair shouted at her as she ducked in a dark alleyway as she tried to catch her for a moment. She nearly collapsed on her knees as the weight of the fatigue settled on her shoulders. The kid didn't know that running from armed men would be this hard…
She spotted a huge trash bin in a corner, and ducked behind it as she heard footsteps approaching. She could swear it was the red haired man and his gang of thugs again - judging from the heavy breathing, the stink coming off from them (these idiots drink at such ungodly hours!) and —
In the darkness, she could make out a very faint outline of a small boy around her age. Like her, the boy was also crouched in the corner…. And it looks like he's in hiding too.
But what shocked her was the boy's scowl aimed at her.
The boy growled. What's his problem? The girl wondered. I hope he doesn't mind me hiding beside him…
"You. Get out. Now."
Once again, the girl was shocked. Not only he spoke to her, but that he can speak English. Judging from where she ended up, it looks like majority of the people don't speak her native language, let alone understand it…
She noticed how the boy's voice sounded a bit off when he spoke though - it was as if English was not his first language. Then again, this isn't America that she's in right now…
"W-what?" She whispered back fearfully, afraid that the boy might suddenly lash out at her and those idiots might discover her and the boy and might do bad things to them and —
"Told you. Get out."
She shook her head, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "T-those bad guys outside might get me and - "
The boy's scowl deepened with her words. "Not my fault. Get out!" He tried pushing her with all his might, but the girl persisted. A yell suddenly greeted them as the girl stumbled beside the bin, completely overwhelmed by the boy's sudden push.
"So you were just hiding there, huh, brat?"
Her eyes widened at the sight of the red haired man grinning at her. She whimpered. That's it, she said to herself. They got me, oh no!
The man grinned at the sight of the kid trembling before him. Good. Good. He inched closer, taking in the view. He could practically smell the fear emanating from the brown haired kid. "Now… Why don't you hand those pretty little things you have in your hand right now to Mister Gerard here so we could call it a day? I'm sure you'd like to get rid of them right now, don't you?"
She slowly backed away; slowly, slowly, until her back made contact with the cold wall. She whimpered. I'm cornered!
"Nowhere to run, little brat," the man cooed at her. "Nowhere."
"B-but, they're my earrings!" She tried reasoning with him, in hopes of him leaving her alone. "I found them - "
"I found them first, kid!" The grin from the man's face vanished in a moment. "Now give them to me unless you want to get hurt!"
The next moments were a blur for the little girl - there was suddenly a pale hand painfully gripping her wrist, a voice urging to give her the earrings again once aand someone viciously telling her to run.
"Come on, stupid! Run!"
She let herself be whisked away by the pale hand who clung to her wrist - they ran. They ran as fast as they could, and minutes later they finally lost sight of the red haired man.
She finally collapsed on her knees, one hand still clutching the earrings tightly she nearly got injured for. She didn't even have the time to observe her surroundings - her eyes were focused on the kid who saved her.
He had messy gray hair with the bangs parted at the middle. His irises assumed the color of a piece of wood she saw a few days back - dark brown bordering black. His features reminded her of princes from those fairy tales she had been hearing about - a delicately chiseled face, somehow pointy nose, pale skin…
His attire was somehow similar to hers - the only difference was that his shirt had patched spots here and there. His feet were clad in slippers that look as if they were going to give up on him sooner or later.
"You. Name?"
She blinked. How would she respond? As far as she knew she didn't have any name… What are names anyway? Aren't those the things people have? Didn't they use that to call each other, or…?
"I… I don't have any…"
The boy scoffed. He was obviously displeased. "Make one."
How would she make one? She doesn't know how…. Maybe she'd tell him this and ask him to make her one? Or at least, advice on what name she should —
A memory resurfaced in her mind. It was the day she first saw the earrings. There had been an elderly couple and a kid her age standing beside her, admiring an awfully intricate necklace beside the earrings. It was studded mostly with sapphires and diamonds. It caught her eye at first, before her sights finally settled on the earrings.
The little kid kept on repeating a word that goes along the lines of "Aoi! Aoi!" She frowned back then, not understanding the child. Why won't the kid just say blue instead? It's definitely much easier to say than what's he's saying now…
She made up her mind. From what she could guess, perhaps that word meant 'blue' or 'necklace' in the language he's speaking. She'll find out soon anyway.
"I guess you could call me Aoi…"
The boy nodded. "Lee. My name."
Reviews, constructive criticism and/or flames would be greatly appreciated.