Disclaimer: I don't have time for this. Read the other one.
Rating: Back to PG-13, people- my mind is clean for the week.
The Tokyo International Airport was swarming with activity, as usual. Tourists and natives alike milled around in droves, carrying luggage, meeting relatives, scattering both near and far, throughout the immense building.
Nearly a speck in all the din, lost in all the noise, stood a man and a young woman, standing in a tight embrace, cheeks pressed together, as if oblivious to the noise and confusion surrounding them, so intent on their farewell that people around them paused to look.
They were an unusual pair. The man was tall, hulking, and muscular, with light, light hair, brows, and lashes covering piercing blue eyes. His face was lined with age and experience, his blonde hair streaked with silvery strands.
The girl however, was very young, and almost diminutive in comparison, barely reaching his shoulder. She had thick, sun-streaked brown hair that reached her shoulder blades, delicate, slightly Asian features, and light, gray-blue eyes, a washed-out color in comparison with the brilliance of the older man's eyes. She pulled away from him, and listened as he began to speak.
"Hitomi," the man smiled tenderly, pushing a lock of hair out of her face, speaking German in a thick, husky voice. "I...I am so proud of you. You've grown."
The girl smiled, rolled her eyes upward slightly, and answered him in the same language. "I know, Dad. You didn't have to follow me all the way to Tokyo, though."
The man smiled slightly. "Okay. So I went a BIT overboard there."
"Mmm-hmm. AND you pack for me, call the DOATEC headquarters to be personally introduced to the resident woman's chaperone, and have masses said on my behalf before leaving Germany."
The "masses" bit was what finally made the man crack a smile. "What, do you think I'd send my only daughter, who is ONLY IN HIGH SCHOOL, for that matter, fly halfway across the world and enter in a tournament called, of all things, "Dead or Alive," without offering up prayers for her safety?" He gave her a hug. "Godspeed, Hitomi. And never forget what I've taught you. I must go now- my plane leaves in a half hour."
"Goodbye, Dad." she kissed him on the cheek, and watched as he disappeared into the crowd.
Hitomi turned around again, hoisting her large Adidas duffel bag to her shoulder and picking up a light rolling suitcase with the other- they were her only pieces of luggage. She pulled her DOATEC inetiary out of her back jeans pocket, using her chin to hold it open. "Where to go, where to go...?" she muttered. It supposedly held a shuttle location to take her to Mount Fuji, where DOATEC headquarters were. Sticking the wrinkled pamphlet between her teeth, she headed for terminal five, running all the way. She only had five minutes before the shuttle left.
Dashing out the automatic doors, she skidded slightly on the pavement outdoors, looking around frantically- and then she saw it. A small, dark blue van with shaded windows was pulling out of the parking lot.
"Wait! Please!" Hitomi ran across the lot, dragging her case behind her, duffel bag banging against her legs. She reached the van as it was pulling out, banging her fists against the door. The driver slammed on his brakes.
"I'm going to the DOA competition!" yelled Hitomi. "Please let me in!"
The man took one look at her windblown hair, held up with butterfly clips, her Minnie Mouse baby tee, her battered Nikes, and her low-slung Gap jeans, then laughed. "YOU?" He attempted to pull out again.
"Oh, NO he didn't," muttered Hitomi, justifiably pissed. She yanked the door open- luckily it was unlocked- and stuck her elbow in it to prevent any undo door slamming. Yanking her thin, laminated DOATEC i.d. from her back pocket, she waved it in his face.
Muttering something intelligible in Japanese, he slammed on the brakes, put the van in park, and huffed his way out, grabbing her luggage and tossing it haphazardly in the back. In the meantime, Hitomi climbed in and plopped down on a seat, narrowly missing the hand of a young woman already seated there.
"Oh my God! I am SO sorry," she apologized profusely in Japanese. "I'm Hitomi, by the way."
The woman looked up, giving her an icy look, before tucking one strand of bleached, dyed lavender hair behind one ear and giving Hitomi a sardonic smile.
"No harm done." She gave Hitomi the once-over, making her feel even more insecure over her appearance- the woman, obviously a few years older, was wearing a pair of tailored black pants with a matching jacket.
"Are you Japanese?" she asked.
Hitomi blinked in surprise. So much for a polite introduction. "Well, half, actually. My mother is, but my father-"
"You didn't look it." The woman turned her head to look out the window, signaling the end of the conversation.
"Well, excuuuuuussse me," Hitomi said under her breath. She turned around to face the back, where two huge, hulky men were talking low in rough, guttural voices. Russian, she guessed.
Behind them, an even younger man with short, spiky black hair was stretched out on the seat with his legs wide open, dressed in jeans, a black sweater, and red Addias sneakers- he looked to be around her age, or a couple of years older. He was munching on a candy bar coming from a wrapper printed with Chinese characters. "Hello," she said when she heard a pause in conversation. "I'm Hitomi."
The two Russian men grunted acknowledgement of her statement. "Call me Bayman," said the older, huskier guy, who would have been quite handsome, save for a long, thin scar on his left cheek. "Leon," said the younger, in heavily accented Japanese. They then continued their conversation without a beat.
The guy sitting behind them gave her a curious look. "Jann Lee," he said. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but didn't- he looked out the window instead.
"Ooookkkaaay," Hitomi thought, her enthusiasm slightly dampened. She pulled out a Walkman, plugged in her headphones, and turned up the sound. She had a LONG ride ahead of her.
Rating: Back to PG-13, people- my mind is clean for the week.
The Tokyo International Airport was swarming with activity, as usual. Tourists and natives alike milled around in droves, carrying luggage, meeting relatives, scattering both near and far, throughout the immense building.
Nearly a speck in all the din, lost in all the noise, stood a man and a young woman, standing in a tight embrace, cheeks pressed together, as if oblivious to the noise and confusion surrounding them, so intent on their farewell that people around them paused to look.
They were an unusual pair. The man was tall, hulking, and muscular, with light, light hair, brows, and lashes covering piercing blue eyes. His face was lined with age and experience, his blonde hair streaked with silvery strands.
The girl however, was very young, and almost diminutive in comparison, barely reaching his shoulder. She had thick, sun-streaked brown hair that reached her shoulder blades, delicate, slightly Asian features, and light, gray-blue eyes, a washed-out color in comparison with the brilliance of the older man's eyes. She pulled away from him, and listened as he began to speak.
"Hitomi," the man smiled tenderly, pushing a lock of hair out of her face, speaking German in a thick, husky voice. "I...I am so proud of you. You've grown."
The girl smiled, rolled her eyes upward slightly, and answered him in the same language. "I know, Dad. You didn't have to follow me all the way to Tokyo, though."
The man smiled slightly. "Okay. So I went a BIT overboard there."
"Mmm-hmm. AND you pack for me, call the DOATEC headquarters to be personally introduced to the resident woman's chaperone, and have masses said on my behalf before leaving Germany."
The "masses" bit was what finally made the man crack a smile. "What, do you think I'd send my only daughter, who is ONLY IN HIGH SCHOOL, for that matter, fly halfway across the world and enter in a tournament called, of all things, "Dead or Alive," without offering up prayers for her safety?" He gave her a hug. "Godspeed, Hitomi. And never forget what I've taught you. I must go now- my plane leaves in a half hour."
"Goodbye, Dad." she kissed him on the cheek, and watched as he disappeared into the crowd.
Hitomi turned around again, hoisting her large Adidas duffel bag to her shoulder and picking up a light rolling suitcase with the other- they were her only pieces of luggage. She pulled her DOATEC inetiary out of her back jeans pocket, using her chin to hold it open. "Where to go, where to go...?" she muttered. It supposedly held a shuttle location to take her to Mount Fuji, where DOATEC headquarters were. Sticking the wrinkled pamphlet between her teeth, she headed for terminal five, running all the way. She only had five minutes before the shuttle left.
Dashing out the automatic doors, she skidded slightly on the pavement outdoors, looking around frantically- and then she saw it. A small, dark blue van with shaded windows was pulling out of the parking lot.
"Wait! Please!" Hitomi ran across the lot, dragging her case behind her, duffel bag banging against her legs. She reached the van as it was pulling out, banging her fists against the door. The driver slammed on his brakes.
"I'm going to the DOA competition!" yelled Hitomi. "Please let me in!"
The man took one look at her windblown hair, held up with butterfly clips, her Minnie Mouse baby tee, her battered Nikes, and her low-slung Gap jeans, then laughed. "YOU?" He attempted to pull out again.
"Oh, NO he didn't," muttered Hitomi, justifiably pissed. She yanked the door open- luckily it was unlocked- and stuck her elbow in it to prevent any undo door slamming. Yanking her thin, laminated DOATEC i.d. from her back pocket, she waved it in his face.
Muttering something intelligible in Japanese, he slammed on the brakes, put the van in park, and huffed his way out, grabbing her luggage and tossing it haphazardly in the back. In the meantime, Hitomi climbed in and plopped down on a seat, narrowly missing the hand of a young woman already seated there.
"Oh my God! I am SO sorry," she apologized profusely in Japanese. "I'm Hitomi, by the way."
The woman looked up, giving her an icy look, before tucking one strand of bleached, dyed lavender hair behind one ear and giving Hitomi a sardonic smile.
"No harm done." She gave Hitomi the once-over, making her feel even more insecure over her appearance- the woman, obviously a few years older, was wearing a pair of tailored black pants with a matching jacket.
"Are you Japanese?" she asked.
Hitomi blinked in surprise. So much for a polite introduction. "Well, half, actually. My mother is, but my father-"
"You didn't look it." The woman turned her head to look out the window, signaling the end of the conversation.
"Well, excuuuuuussse me," Hitomi said under her breath. She turned around to face the back, where two huge, hulky men were talking low in rough, guttural voices. Russian, she guessed.
Behind them, an even younger man with short, spiky black hair was stretched out on the seat with his legs wide open, dressed in jeans, a black sweater, and red Addias sneakers- he looked to be around her age, or a couple of years older. He was munching on a candy bar coming from a wrapper printed with Chinese characters. "Hello," she said when she heard a pause in conversation. "I'm Hitomi."
The two Russian men grunted acknowledgement of her statement. "Call me Bayman," said the older, huskier guy, who would have been quite handsome, save for a long, thin scar on his left cheek. "Leon," said the younger, in heavily accented Japanese. They then continued their conversation without a beat.
The guy sitting behind them gave her a curious look. "Jann Lee," he said. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but didn't- he looked out the window instead.
"Ooookkkaaay," Hitomi thought, her enthusiasm slightly dampened. She pulled out a Walkman, plugged in her headphones, and turned up the sound. She had a LONG ride ahead of her.