Disclaimer – I claim no ownership of Tekken. As much as I would dearly like to.
This is a multi chapter/ficlet/drabble fan fiction focusing on the characters and interactions of Yoshimitsu and Raven. Each ficlet shall be AU and may occasionally vary in events and characterisation. Slash is present, but the majority of it is implied and can be read without the subtext. In some chapters, it shall be stronger. These will all come clearly marked.
Special chapter!tribute to Razor Athane.
Meeting
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They debrief him. Provide him with co-ordinates, a selection of their most elite soldiers, and orders.
The Manji clan have stolen a treasure most beneficial to their investigation. And as befitting fate, they too, shall steal it back.
Raven leads his task force, and prepares for the mission. On one of his previous assignments, he recalls a draw between himself and an elaborately dressed self proclaimed ninja thief. He swiftly makes the connection, and draws from it a stab of amusement. He can predict the enemy's attack.
The Manji lair is situated in a freezing oblivion, on a lone island simply dubbed "Kingan Isle." The snow is so deep it soaks the bottoms of Raven's boots, and even he frowns at the frosty bite clinging to the lingering chill. His men perform admirably, although they shiver and swear in secret, away from the reflective shades of their stern commander.
They find the opening at the foot of Kingan Mountain; a secluded gate decked in dozy firelight and red drapes. To Raven's confusion, there are no guards present. Anyone passing would merely deem this place a sacred meeting point; perhaps a temple for some ice hardy monks, maybe?
But Raven knows better.
He has always known better.
He warns his men not to let down their guard, and taking in his surroundings with a painstaking attention to detail, they penetrate the upper sanctum of the lair.
At first, the inside is dark; hung with a worrisome quiet.
Raven lifts his finger, and signals for his men to proceed into the cavernous hallways.
A careless recruit withdraws his gun from his belt. His fingers fumble, and in his confusion, his thumb finds the trigger.
It's as if someone has flipped a switch.
Incoming tsunamis of warriors emerge from the concealing clasp of shadow.
The Manji clan are a group of highly skilled solders, harbouring more combat knowledge then the Zaibatsu's personal elite, and it isn't long before Raven can see his men beginning to struggle. It is a forest of heaving bodies, of hopeless gunshots and cries cut short.
The ninja's are dressed in black, faces hidden by symbolic masks and bodies padded with heavy armour. They merge into the blackness with effortless ease, swiping out outstretched hands and hurling his men into the darkness.
Raven beats them down with his fists, although the troops keep streaming in nightmarish droves and he won't allow the very thought of surrender...
You need an entire army to infiltrate this fortress.
"What's all this, then?"
A grand voice, dense with instrumentality and a heavy dose of threat. A voice for Kings that hide as jesters.
He reaches for his shrunken, only to have a blade clank down upon it with such force it shatters. Yoshimitsu, famed leader of the clan, cranks his sword lightly against Raven's neck. The clumsy, richly toned heckler from his memory is not present here. The creature glowers at him with burning holes for eyes; two swollen suns that see to the back of his head.
"Fight with all you have," He whispers.
Pride is a rare indulgence for Raven, but he is suddenly seized with a volcanic urge to prove his skills to this man, and with a hiss of breath, his left hand dives for his blade. Metal clashes against metal in a rough reciprocation of his challenge.
His men are missing, he is alone, surrounded in a circle of enemy forces and duelling against a thing which seems to be neither demon nor human, but it as if he has been possessed by the ridiculous notions of old age honour, of the iron will and suffrage of the legendary warriors of past. Their memories and strength colours the air, woven into the crumbling walls of the old clan hideout, and Raven, for that singular fight, cannot resist it.
Before hand, they had battled to a draw. Now, Yoshimitsu is fuelled by the awe of his captive crowd, for it is rare for his brothers and sisters to witness their leader in battle. He takes on the foolish boy, secretly impressed by his poweress, but such things are not to be indulged long.
Raven is breathing hard – his sight is sick and dizzy and the world rocks as he is lambasted onto his back. A blade grazes the jut of his chin, and above him, Yoshimitsu is silhouetted by firelight; a gruesome saint of carnage.
"Thou didst quite well," He exclaims, a rumbling chuckle scuttling beneath his words. The clan members snicker at this display; the sound is tinged with an ethereal, drifting quality. Raven feels a growl crawl into his throat. He is under the impression he is being mocked, and on the floor, the first touches of sense begin to scurry back into his thoughts. His behaviour had been reckless, and although he hated to admit it, foolish.
"We thank thee for such wondrous entertainment," Yoshimitsu continues, spreading his arms in a mock bow. "It tis' been too long since myself and my men have encountered such skill."
Raven's lip curls.
"But..." Yoshimitsu's words are chipped with brittle impatience. "Thou hast seen enough."
Raven doesn't see him move, but something blunt impacts on the back of his head. Yoshimitsu and his men become lost in a cloaking of his senses.
When he awakens, he is back at HQ. They stammer at his questions, revealing that he was found wrapped in a heated blanket in the snow just beside Kingan Mountain. No entrance to any hideout was found, but someone had supplied him with food and water and dressed his wounds with extreme care.
He inquires about his men. They pale and say he was the only one to return.
A week later, reports filed by an investigator reveal the Manji Clan have recently relinquished their ranks with some highly trained recruits. On a raid on the Mishima Zaibatsu, Raven discovers one of these new elites fighting alongside the clan members. It is one of his old men, who glances at him curiously, but doesn't answer to name and refuses any recognition.
After that, Raven calls off all investigation into the Manji clan matters. He fights the memory of blood stirring calls to battle, of burning coals pulsating in silent challenge, and a rusty chuckle that chases his dreams in restless circles until it finally renders him sleepless.