Chapter One

"This is the life," Miharu Hirano pronounced whilst lying across a lounger by the pool. She wore a skimpy rainbow bikini and dark shades and caused an unusually large volume of men to walk on her side of the pool. Her body was blackened in places with ugly bruises as a result of the second Tag Tournament, and she regarded them with a terse thought as she oiled her pale body with sun-cream. "Nothing like relaxing after a good competition."

Ling Xiaoyu was on the lounger next to her in a simple white bikini, her liquid obsidian hair tied back in a simple ponytail, her eyes hooded by sunglasses as she enjoyed the dry heat and occasional splashes of water from people in the pool.

"Refill, ladies?" A male server slid surreptitiously by their side to remove their drinks.

"Erm," Miharu glanced at her friend before answering with a thumbs-up. "Yes, please—but can I have a Pina Colada instead?"

The server waited for Ling Xiaoyu, but after receiving no acknowledgement he disappeared, assuming she wanted another Sex on the Beach.

"Will you cheer up?" Miharu sat up and slid her legs off the lounger. "It's depressing watching the way you pine after him."

"I'm not pining." Xiaoyu snapped, with the first animated signs of life that hour. "I'm annoyed."

The brunette stood, tying her sarong around her hips. Her hair was loose and still damp around her shoulders from an earlier dip in the pool. The scorching sun felt good on her skin, a sensual caress as the server returned back with their drinks. She stared down at her friend, her misery evident from the thin, stern line on her pink lips.

"He does you no good." She said, dipping down into Xiaoyu's bag and dropping a book on her toned stomach. "Read this. Take your mind off of him."

Then, Miharu disappeared as she headed over to the pool bar where some of the other contestants were.

"If only it were that easy." Xiaoyu groused, picking her easy reader and shoving it back in her bag despondently.

Her week had been filled with Jin Kazama; she'd worked alongside him, she'd been swept up off her feet by him—true, because she'd fallen over in front of him—and now the tag tournament had come to a conclusion, there was nothing. Yet she needed more. She wanted more. Secretly she wondered if she should go up to his room like Miharu had suggested and say nothing but a simple hello—a simple hello without the praying eyes of the media or other contestants. Alas, she wasn't as strong as her fighting style suggested, and instead she chose to seethe by the pool from his lack of contact.

Her gaze raked the other loungers and cabanas through the pink tint of her sunglasses. The private resort was packed with competition fighters, tournament staff and their families. Many were attractive enough to warrant a second and third glance. It was lovely to see much a multi-diverse group of people relaxing and laughing with one another after such an intense week; the rivalries simmered down from the boiling pot they had once been, some more glorified and amplified to please the public, although for some genuine circumstances, it lay present underneath the smiles and laughter.

One couple in particular caught Xiaoyu's eye as she let them roam, because they reminded her of what she and Jin could be like. They were staff from the tournament, she surmised by their anonymity. The dark haired woman lay on her stomach, her upper half propped up by her arms and her legs kicked back playfully. Beside her, her gorgeous, tanned boyfriend stretched out on the lounger beside her, his head propped on one hand whilst the other stroked up and down her spine.

Exhaling harshly, Xiaoyu forced herself to sit up and ty her own sarong around her ridiculously slim waist. Then after another scan, she headed over to the bar where Miharu was engaged in conversation with Hwoarang.

"Finally," The auburn haired Korean said with a smile as he saw her approaching, "I thought it was personal."

Xiaoyu sipped her cocktail through its straw and shook her head.

"She's pining." Miharu offered with a sympathetic sigh.

Hwoarang groaned. "Again?"

"I am NOT pining!" Xiaoyu insisted vehemently with the straw still in her mouth. Secretly she was reeling with embarrassment that her longlining for a relationship with the Japanese man was being discussed with his rival of two years. "I am simply mad. Nothing more, nothing less."

The man snored unceremoniously "I call bullshit."

"Thank you." Miharu exclaimed triumphantly, as though that would make her friend see. "I've told her to find him if she wants to see him that badly. There's no way he'll come out here, especially with all these people around. You know what he's like."

"An idiot?" Hwoarang offered as she gaze Xiaoyu and her bikini an appreciative glance. "If a girl wanted to throw herself at me—I'd let her. You damn right I'd let her."

Xiaoyu ignored them as they openly appraised her relationship with Jin. She took the empty chair in front of her by the bar and sipped the rest of her cocktail whilst staring at the food menu, tempted to order a margarita pizza and fries. Finishing the cocktail, she placed it down on the bar and slid it in front of her, deciding to be good and not overload with carbohydrates.

"What are you drinking?"

Turning her head, she looked at the man who had spoken to her. She recognised him as Christie Monteiro's make-up artist, though she didn't know his name. "I'm not sure."

"Well why don't I come over and look at the menu with you?" He smiled, revealing a perfect white yet crooked smile. "Then I can buy you a drink?"

She watched him under the shelter of her sunglasses, her expression carefully schooled to give nothing away. He brought the hairs on her arms to stand with a cool shiver as he stared at her for a little too long.

"I'm…good, thank you." She declined, sliding off the bar stool.

Turning back to Miharu and Hwoarang, she could see the pair standing with supressed laughter as she caught their eyes. Glowering at them both, she ignored them and stalked back over to her lounger, absolutely certain she was in a foul mood and nothing would snap her out of it.

"Come on, Xiaoyu." A teasing voice turned her head.

Christie Monteiro lay supine across one of the loungers in a skimpy bikini. Her smile was friendly and her tone filled with laughter. The brunette lifted her sunglasses from her eyes. "What is with the face? Michael won't bite. He's harmless, really."

"He looks like he is in his forties." Xiaoyu offered with her tongue poking out.

"Thirty-six," She qualified with a laugh. "but I won't tell him you said that."

"I don't care." The Chinese girl rolled her shoulders.

Christie frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Come on." The Brazilian patted the vacant chair beside her. "Talk to me."

Resigned to talk, Xiaoyu perched on the edge of the lounger and rested her hands on her knees. Yet she didn't talk. Her gaze returned back to the couple who had migrated into the pool and were planting one another tender kisses as he carried her through the water.

"Is it Jin?" Christie offered with a warm hand on her elbow.

"Why are men so difficult?" Xiaoyu asked bitterly, turning her gaze away from the couple. "Why do they leave you guessing, or even unsure if your guessing is guessing?"

The brunette blew a strand of wayward hair off her face and leaned back on her elbows, casting her gaze up to the clear blue sky. "I'm sure men will say something of similar effect about women." She tipped her gaze back down to the teen. "What are you unsure of?"

"Him." Xiaoyu tossed her hands in the arm with frustration. "This week he has been all, 'Xiao!' 'Are you alright, Xiao?', 'Xiao', 'Xiao'—stupid Xiao—and now, and now it's ended, and where is he? Gone."

"Well…" Christine bit her lip. Their relationship was something she could only speculate on. It did appear like they were close, and that he did care for her, but it wasn't beyond him to sweep into the tournament and disappear just as easily. "Perhaps the Unknown has shaken him? Maybe that's why you haven't seen him this time. It was cruel whoever did that."

The entity of Unknown, personified as Jun Kazama. To say it had knocked Jin off his game was an understatement. The desperation and longing from such a stoical man was devastating to watch.

"Why don't you see if he is still checked-in to the hotel?" Christie gestured to the huge complex. "Then you two can have a good one-to-one chat without everyone else watching and listening in? I think you'll be waiting a long time if you expect him to come out here and find you."

"Mhm."

Christie reached across and rubbed her arm. "You know as well as I do that he does not display any sort of outward emotion—how can he with Kazuya and Heihachi? The moment we all leave this place and normal life resumes, they'll be after him."

"I know." Xiaoyu sighed softly.

"So I wouldn't wait for any grand gestures. If you want something from him, you'll have to go up and take it from him." Christie took a fortifying sip of her condensation-wet cocktail and shook the excess moisture off her fingers as she placed it back down on the table beside her. "You never know, he might expect you to instigate the first move."

"You think?"

"Sure. Some people who dominate in their everyday life don't want the hassle in their personal life."

Xiaoyu tipped her head back up to the hotel and its impressive vista. "You think?"

"Yeah. Go get him." Christie offered spiritedly. "I promise I won't say anything if anyone asks. It's about time you two sorted your shit out."

Trembling at the prospect, the 5'2 teen rose from the lounger and offered Christie a nervous smile.

"You'll be fine." The brunette said firmly, sensing her growing anxiety. "You need to do this. You need to know. Then you can stop torturing yourself."

Xiaoyu fastened her sarong even tighter around her waist to busy her quivering hands. She could feel a mist of sweat that had nothing to do with the sun dampen her forehead. Turning to the marble archway leading back into the hotel, she willed herself to take the first step forward.

"…you're not going, are you?"

"I will!" Xiaoyu said, her arms akimbo. "I am just gathering my strength, my resolve—"

"You want me to come with you, don't you?" Christie drawled.

"Please!"

The shade of the hotel was refreshingly cool and both teens groaned at the relief it offered as they stepped inside with their flip-flops clattering against the flooring. Xiaoyu had opted to wear a loose pastel blue dress over her bikini to adhere to the hotel policy whilst Christie traversed the corridor with her cheerfully, offering white smiles to all who stared at her.

"I am going to miss being fed four times a day." She said wistfully as they passed a member of staff pushing a dirty room service server. "I don't want to know how much weight I've gained this last week."

Xiaoyu threw her a dirty look as she looked at the nineteen year olds curvaceous and toned figure.

They were close to reception, when Xiaoyu veered off to the bank of elevators and jabbed the call button.

"I know what room he's in." She offered as Christie arched her brow.

"Stalker."

"From the tournament." Xiaoyu qualified loudly as Paul Marshall strolled passed. "Not because I'm some crazy super-fan."

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Xiaoyu pressed for one of the higher floors and waited as the doors drew to a close.

"You know, I had the hotel accidentally send me some fan mail earlier this week." Christie said conversationally as the elevator began its descent. "Which turned out to be a love letter asking me to elope in Scotland with him with an quite impressive dick-pic attached. Why you want to get that pierced, I have no idea."

Xiaoyu sagged against the brass railing, gripping it with white-knuckle force as white spots danced in front of her eyes. A wave of nausea rolled her stomach as the floors increased. A black ring encroached her vision as the elevator came to a stop.

"Oh my god." She breathed shakily as the doors opened, revealing an opulent corridor reserved for special guests.

"Xiaoyu?" Christie frowned as the Chinese girl paled, her trembling grip unwilling to release the railing. "Are you okay?"

"I can't. This is too real."

"Yes, you can." The Brazilian encouraged happily, prying the younger teens hands from the brass. "You're here, and you're going to do this."

"What if he says no?" Xiaoyu said with wide, worried eyes as they stepped off the elevator. "Then it'll be awkward, forever. I'll irrevocably blurred the friendship line into something we can't come back from. I'll never get to see him again."

"Nonsense." Christie said cheerfully, leading her by the wrist along the corridor. "I'm usually good at this, and you two are meant to be. I can feel it."

"I wish I shared your optimism." Xiaoyu complained.

She stopped outside the oak door of the room farthest left and Christie followed. Before knocking, the brunette took Xiaoyu in her arms and inspected her.

"Perfect."

"I look a mess."

"He has seen you looking worse." Christie said with a wry smile. "How many times have you tripped up in front of him this week? How many times have you been a perspiring, red-faced mess with your hair everywhere? If he can't handle you looking like a fighter you are then he doesn't deserve you."

The Brazilian swung Xiaoyu back round to face the door and took even steps back. "I'm going to go, okay?"

"Mhm."

"Xiaoyu?"

She looked at Christie as she walked backwards down the corridor offering a thumbs-up.

"You'll be fine." Her friend pressed for the elevator and the doors parted for her. "Good luck."

Then, she was alone.

Xiaoyu stared up at the polished wooden door for what seemed like eternity. Her palms were clammy and her mouth was dry. Scowling to herself at her inability to act, she thrust her fist up to the door and knocked as brazen as she dared three times. Adrenaline flooded her system, sending her heart into a palpitation-like frenzy as she fought the urge to turn tail and dash down the corridor before he opened the door. Then, she realised he wasn't answering. There were no signs of life behind the door. Disappointed, she knocked again.

Despondent, she turned away from the door and headed back down the corridor with her head hung low. Confusion and anger laced her blood as she tried to make sense of why he would leave without so much as a farewell. Yet, that typical of him.

"Stupid, Jin!" She kicked out at the white washed wall by the bank of elevators as it took its time to arrive.

Muttering profanities under her breath, she stood in front of the elevator as it finally ascended. A ding told her it had arrived on the floor and she jabbed at the button again to open the doors. When they began to part she took a step forward.

Her breath caught.

Jin Kazama was the lone occupant.