Chapter 6 – Suspicions Arise
Author's Note: I should get the next chapter up in the next week.
The morning sun gently shrouded the city of Tokyo in a golden shroud, causing the otherwise pale faces of the people below to finally hold some colour at last. Morris remained in the blackness of the shadows as awoke. He looked around. The porcelain white walls of the large, overpowering room gave him a very nasty case of agoraphobia. The dark of the underneath of the blanket held calming warmth as he curled even further into his comatose of comfort. He felt he deserved a little comfort after the madness that ensued in his nightmares. Images with nothing of them, the sounds distorted and incoherent. And then…
Don't! Please, for the love of all the heavens, anything but…
BOOM
The gunshot was a nasty touch on the whole thing. Morris wasn't quite sure of what he was hearing, but something about his nightmares of late gave him a clue. He curled even further into the blanket, half asleep and half awake, his nerves a wreck and his mind confused.
"Morris!" The slam of the door, the flurry of fabric and the sudden fact that he was now standing up did nothing to wake Morris up, though his mind certainly raced to find the solution to the disturbance of the warm, dark peace. He looked to Asuka, who was literally forcing his clothes onto him.
"Asuka, calm down, what's up?" He asked, with a mouldy sock in his mouth. Asuka pushed him into the corridor.
"Your fight. It's right now." She explained, jamming the cape around his neck, pulling it harshly as they got into the lift. Morris choked.
"And you didn't wake me up earlier because?"
"Believe me, I tried." She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out into the foyer. "If I told you I hit you with a brick, would you believe me?" Morris looked to her. She looked back but he said nothing, a smirk growing on his face. "What?"
"And how long have we been married?" He asked. Asuka rolled her eyes.
"Oh fuck you, I'm not doing this for fun, you know." She replied.
"Then why are you doing it?" Asuka didn't reply. Morris's smirk grew more. "Asuka loves Morris, Asuka loves Morris." He sang with the glee and maturity of a small child. Asuka snorted through her nostrils. "Asuka and Morris, sitting in a tree. F.U.C…"
"I think you've got more things to think about than the function of your dick." She murmured. Morris looked to her.
"Like what?" She dropped him. Morris heard her choke back a tear. "Asuka?"
"Morris, what's your problem?" She shouted, looking to him. "All the weird shit that's been going on with you! The Cloud Taste, the animals, the random bouts of strength, the nightmares, your mum. Sometimes you act as if you're fucking possessed, and when I try to help you, you simply blank, avoid giving a real answer and babble about how much you want to get into somebody else's pants! Please, if something's wrong with you, tell me! I want to help you!"
Morris stared back, unable to answer. He felt as if he had just been hit with a brick. Asuka fell to her knees, tears in her eyes. "Please, Morris. What's wrong?" Morris remained silent, completely emotionless. He wiped a tear away from her eye.
"Where the bloody hellfire did that come from?" He asked. She began wiping tears herself and pulled herself up, leading Morris to the arena.
"No, I'm sorry." Asuka explained. "It's just… you're so…" She had trouble finding a word, it seemed. "You flip, sometimes. You're joking away or you're fighting or you're licking the furniture and suddenly SNAP you've got a completely different attitude and you'll stare into space for hours on end."
"It's called emotion, Asuka." Morris said, looking to her, his smirk returning like a boomerang on an elastic band. "You know, that thing that we mere mortals have. I suppose you wouldn't understand, though." A harsh punch to the forearm made him wince.
"Oh really?" She glowered half-heartedly. Morris smiled.
"Get in-between me and my sheets and I'll show you a few other things we mere mortals know about." He said, causing Asuka to laugh slightly.
"A sex joke after a mere two minutes from waking up?" She asked. Morris looked around him as they walked into the marble arch that was the doorway for fighters into the arena. "Oh, and speaking of sex jokes, when you go in, don't say a word."
"Why not?"
"You'll see in a bit."
A field of stone. No rocks rose above the green less ground. The arena was heavy with artificial fog, a grey empty void that chilled Morris to the bone. The cracked cement and the lingering of broken glass gave the scene an additional depth of misery. No sound was made, even by the audience. The eerie silence was a heavy feeling. The dread of being alone. Morris gulped. He bent down, observing a small flower. Wilted, dead, alone. He lifted it upright with his finger. It simply fell back.
"Morris, you're cutting the circulation of from my hand. Stop it." He looked to Asuka, and then to his hand, which was white with terror and tightly clinging to her own. Morris relaxed and withdrew his hand. She bent down. "You alright? You've gone into that whole stare-into-nothingness thing again."
"Heihachi certainly loves making a big impression." He said. He looked around. Then he noticed something. "Wait a mo." He walked over quickly to a small rock.
"What is it?" Asuka asked him. He looked to her.
"It's a small rock." He said. Asuka rolled her eyes. "It's a very nice small rock?" Morris tried. Asuka punched his arm, which was pretty sore now, the amount of times Asuka had punched it. Then she saw something. A flicker of colour. A blood red cloth. She grabbed it. She looked to it. She held in a gasp and fell to the floor in terror. Black ink was stained onto it.
You better remember what I told you, Kazama Asuka.
Morris helped her up. "What's that?" He asked. Asuka looked to him.
"Just a bit of cloth." She said, discarding it and allowing the wind to take it away. "Nothing more." She peered into the fog. "There's your opponent."
Morris's jaw dropped to the floor. The sight that he stared at was like no other. He was sure that people like that didn't exist. He thought they were in the back of some fat old guy's mind, not a professional fighter. A body curved like the wind, skin as dark as the bark of the tree native to her lands, hair flying through the wind like a flag. Christie raised her eyebrow at Morris' dumbstruck face.
"What?" She asked. Morris looked to Asuka.
"Asuka, if I die, swear to me that you will make out with her over my carcass." He told her. He looked to Christie, and then noticed he was quite literally drooling. "I haven't even unzipped, and already I've already wet myself."
"I can't see why." Asuka mumbled. Morris looked to her, stunned. "What is so amazing about her?"
"She's built like a bong with two basketballs nailed to it and hasn't heard of clothes?" He suggested. Christie's face contorted with more and more anger.
"And you resemble a model of twigs and haven't heard of deodoriser or self restraint." Asuka replied.
"You, a hairstyle that looks like a roof and have never heard of moral consistency." Asuka was taken aback by this sharp attack from Morris. "Hi, I'm Asuka. Don't you dare look my massive and perfectly formed tits which I have emphasized with my bra-shirt and have unzipped my jacket to show off to the world. Stop punching people or I'll hospitalise you! Morris, stop having emotional outbursts at times, wah wah wah wah wah!" This he emphasized with his mouth opening and shutting in time with his own words.
"Hello, I'm Morris. I'm a noble guy, honest, the chronic drinking and the obsession with my non-existent sex life is simply a speech impediment of mine. Gee, a problem. What do I do? I know. If I can't drink it, eat it, spend it or sleep with it then I'll just ignore it."
"Bloody low, Asuka. That's really low."
"And you calling Xiaoyu a prostitute isn't?"
"Oh, come on, as if I was lying, she's nineteen and she still wears a bloody school uniform."
"And as if I was lying about you ignoring stuff and pretending they don't affect you when you're being torn apart."
"Lovely, Asuka, bring up a death in the family; why not stab my dog while you're at it!"
"How long have you two been married?" Christie asked. Asuka and Morris stared at each other bewildered for a good while. Asuka was the first to smirk surprisingly. Then Morris sniggered through his nose, trying hard not to submit. Finally, they both snapped, their mouths echoing the great trumpets of pent-up laughter. Looking back, the two had decided that it wasn't that funny, but it certainly broke the ice. The bell rang, unnoticed by Morris, who got a nasty and sharp bolt from the blue from Christie's thunderous kick that rocketed him across the field in shock. He remained still from the impact, before arising.
"So, you want it, you got it." He barely spluttered before Christie tackled him viciously. However, the shock impact wouldn't remain twice, for Morris stood and the initiative was lost. Morris replied the tackle with a strong double fisted attack, ripping through the air and hammering into Christie's belly from bellow like missiles. She lost her breath, and Morris gave her not a quarter of a second before his next strike came, a brutal kick to the shoulder as Christie fell onto her knee. She now was on her bum, her advantage of surprise lost. Morris stayed back, however. He had given a nasty trip to Julia when he was in Christie's position, and he refused to let his own tricks fool him.
His reluctance to press and his fear of a vicious counter was to be the weapon Christie used against him, however, as she flipped over into a handstand, her legs spread out like a helicopter's propellers. Morris laughed.
"What's the plan?" He asked. "Get a higher score at the Olympics than me?" Then she spun, her leg smashing his own into the air, his body twisting in the breeze. She pressed on, sending limb after limb after limb into the flailing airborne Morris, who was yet to land as her repeated strike held him aloft. She finally, after a good few seconds of relentless attacked, curled up into an upright foetal position and straitening her legs stiffly, rocketing herself into the air before she came crashing down onto Morris. He yelped in pain as his back strained to remain in one piece. He flipped himself over, but Christie was the manoeuvrable one of the two, hammering the tips of her toes into the ground, controlling her fall back onto the unready Morris. Despite the pain, he giggled slightly.
"I can feel your knockers." He told her discreetly. He was lying, but, as he expected, she jumped off in horror and screamed in disgust. Then Morris pushed off the floor with his arms, smashing his head right into hers, the initiative won by Morris once more. He then threw punches in her direction, some hitting the face, some the shoulders, but a lot more missing. He was dazed by the head-butt, which had filled his senses with noise, his ears were ringing, his eyes blurred, his nose blood filled and his throat gagging for air. He swung wildly, hoping that would mean that she wouldn't be able to get near until he got a his sense back into focus and could attack for real. Christie was in a similar state, Morris knew, but the lack of contact made him guess that she was conserving her strength.
Then he felt them. Four shock blows, Christie's body flying through the air, somersaulting and sending her feet into his head on all four strikes. First, bringing them down upon his head, the next her heels crashing into his bowed head, the third to the side and the last to shatter whatever remained of his senses. He stood somehow, unconscious of doing so, as his body went completely limp besides his legs, which danced to support his collapsing form.
Spike, this is a really…
"Spike?" He murmured, his feet letting go. He was on his knees. He looked up to Christie. He sniggered slightly. "Cleavage." He didn't quite realise he had said it, until he felt a slap and finally realised that he was bleeding, and bleeding badly. Christie remained completely untouched by blood, though some bruises were glaring through her dark skin.
Spike, no!
Morris looked for the source of the voice. He had heard it around him. It wasn't in his head, he was sure of it. Then he noticed for the first time that he was completely alone. The arena was completely empty. Then he saw them. Spike and his apprentice. She was still her same self, though Spike had a pretty scratch on his cheek. He had been fighting again, it seemed. Morris stood and made his way toward them, the pain of the action near breaking him. He looked around, and noticed that the arena was indeed there, but under construction. Great towers of scaffolding reached for the sky but were held down by stone and by brick. The stony ground was as cold as it was, or would be as were the case.
"Spike, I don't want to do this." The student moaned, her blindfold being tightened by Spike.
"Well, you need to know how important sensitivity is, and I think blindfolding is a funny thing to do." He said. He kicked her shin lightly. "Stance." He murmured. She suddenly folding herself into a defensive position. Spike stood back and drew a small cricket ball. He threw it at the girl as hard as he could, and it hammered into her. It bounced back. Spike looked to Morris and scowled slightly. "You again." He threw the ball again, not even looking to the target.
"What's up, sexy boy?" Morris said icily. He watched as Spike caught the ball, eyes on him still. "How was her date?"
"Eh, she said it was alright." Again the ball was cast; again the girl yelped in pain; again Spike caught it without a glance. "I'm more interested in what you have to say."
"I don't know what to say." Morris answered. This time, he caught the ball due to a bad throw on the girl's part. He didn't notice, it was just something he did. He passed it gently to Spike, who threw it like a thunderbolt. "You kill my mother. Simple as. Get over it. I did… or will, I'm not quite sure."
"How about a reason for it?" Spike said angrily. The ball was thrown by him with greater force now. "When I find out that in the future I'm going to do something horrible like that, I don't just 'get over it' and by the sounds of it, you still aren't. Or won't be, it confuses me, too."
"Fine, I'll admit that I'm not over it, but I know it was for a good reason." Morris replied. "She wanted… wants… whatever; I just haven't brought myself to hate her for it."
"Should you?" Spike asked. He caught the ball inches from his face. He looked back and smiled slightly. "Nice catch!" He shouted, throwing it back as fast as a lightening bolt. He waited. "That… wasn't as good." He looked back to Morris, who was still.
"… she did it to help me, but it was really stupid…" He murmured to himself. Spike softened slightly. Morris looked hurt. He walked over.
"Hey, dude, don't worry about it." He said. "Don't try to get over stuff when you're not ready to, ok? Just give it time." Morris looked up, catching the ball and throwing it back and a deliberate curve. It ricocheted off the ground and hit the girl's right side.
"It doesn't matter right now." He said. "I'm more concerned with why these dream journeys are happening. They always pop up just when I'm about to have my arse handed to me or during my dreams."
"Wait, they're helping you win fights?" Spike asked, throwing the ball back without a thought. "Then why are you worried? What's the problem?"
"I don't trust them." Morris answered. "I also think your friend Wang Jinrei might have something to do with it." Spike laughed.
"That old windbag? HA! What for? Sure, he's a moron and gives no iota for the welfare of others so long as his little feud with the supernatural, he's crazy you see, he sees devils and shit all over the bloody place, is over, but he wouldn't try to kill you through dream journeys even if he could. He can be a little cold, but he's overall doing it for others, and he's certainly not evil."
"Well what if he thought that I could stop a devil?" He asked. Spike's eyes filled with horror. He caught the ball but held it.
"What…" He asked. Morris bit his own lip, thinking of something to say.
"Well, I met this chick…" He started, but Spike had guessed already. He moaned, throwing the ball back angrily.
"A Kazama? Really? Brilliant, fan-tabby-dozy, the only people who buy into Wang's nonsense!" He growled. "Morris, I know the Kazamas well. I love the barmy lot, in fact, but watch out because when Kazamas are involved, there is bound to be trouble." He didn't catch the ball that smacked straight into him.
"Didn't see that, did you?" The girl shouted. "Spike, you're losing your sensitivity."
"I'm going to kill you…" He shouted back jokingly. Then he did what was in Morris's opinion a very strange thing. He ripped a bit of his shirt off and began to write on it with a Sharpie. He looked to Morris. "What's 'er name?"
"Asuka, though what has she got to do with any of this?" He said. "Last time I saw her, she didn't look as loony as Jinrei."
"Asuka with a 'u', isn't it?" Spike asked. Morris nodded. Spike then looked about himself. "You're fading." He said. Morris sighed.
"Back to a losing fight again."
"Will saying sensitivity over and over help?"
"Can't do any harm."
"Well, then…" Spike cleared his throat, only to look back and see that Morris was gone. He sighed. "See you later, then."
"Who are you talking to?" Came a voice. Spike turned. Heihachi's growl was recognisable even if he was underwater.
"The girl." He turned to see that the girl was waiting for a signal to be dismissed. "Go on then. Off wi' ya." She left. Spike turned around, getting into a fighting stance. "So, old man."
"I'm fifty. It's not that old."
"SO OLD MAN!" Heihachi's face went red. "You need more training already? You're losing your edge." Heihachi went even redder. "Worried Kazuya'll beat you badly?" Heihachi was now redder than a tomato covered in ketchup on a sunny day. "Setting up a whole tournament just to get rid of him? Hoping someone else will beat him, a better fighter than you?"
"You know, you should be glad that you're so important, otherwise I'd have you killed right now."
"Am I really that important? All we do is train and design arenas. Kazuya's no concern of mine." Heihachi was now an astonishingly beautiful shade of light purple. All of his willpower was committed to not killing Spike were he stood. Spike was brilliant for Heihachi. He kept tabs on Jinrei for him, and the best of all was that he didn't even think that the devil gene existed. A perfect spy. He thought he was defending Heihachi's wellbeing, or at least his corporate wellbeing, from a crazy old man who thought that devil existed, and completely oblivious to the fact that they do. And if he ever did find out, he'd probably just help Heihachi keep people like Kazuya from becoming devils anyway. It was a win-win situation for Heihachi.
Morris was not in a win-win situation. He found himself on his knees. He dropped his arms. Christie smiled, raising her foot.
"Two minutes. The quickest win I've ever had." She said. Her foot ploughed towards Morris dangerously.
Block, salute, trap, attack.
Morris had a routine that he followed religiously, the four steps of any counter-attack. Since he was five, he had used this method against his father, then people at school, then anyone who got too close. Morris told himself that he must never strike first. The initiative was not granted to the first to attack but the first to strike, as while aggression was the key to any fight, initiative and surprise were far more important. Morris could catch a ball before it was thrown. He did this until he needn't see what the strike was or where it came from, it was just sensitivity, the awareness of space, and Asuka noticed that his eyes were closed as the strike came for him.
Christie's leg was flung to the side, stomping onto the ground painfully before a rocket of a punch came howling in the space of her legs. She screamed in agony. Morris stood fully, smirking.
"Funny how it hurts so much even without a scrotum, isn't it?" He taunted. "Now if only I could think of a half decent pun to accompany that strike." Christie growled.
"You fucking prick." She scowled, charging for him. He curled his arm around hers and clashed with her chin. His arm was hurt, but he now had the ideal hold for a one handed throw and punch. He swung her around himself, dragging her to the ground, coating her face with dust. He stood tall as he could, locking her arm out, making any attempt to break out the hold require Herculean might. His fist punched the body lightly a few times, looking for a weak point. Then he found it. The connection between the shoulder and the neck had a great bruise across it. May have been hurt in the fight earlier, or in a previous fight. He punched with all his strength. Christie yelped once and slammed her free hand down in surrender.
"Not the quickest fight I had, myself." Morris said to the annoyed Christie, whose bloody and battered form was in great pain. He held out his hand. She shook it limply, disappointed for the stolen last-minute victory. Asuka ran to Morris.
"That looked nasty at points." She commented. "A quick fight, to be sure, but brutal. You look worse for wear than she does, you know."
"Eh, I've had worse beatings." He said. "She's hard to hit once she gets the first hit in, I'll give credit where credit's due. Now…" He turned to Asuka. "… when Jinrei babbles about devils, what does he mean and why would he want me dead over it?" Asuka looked to Morris.
"Morris, where did…" She looked around. She scanned the crowd for Jinrei. "Did Jinrei say something crazy to you? Did you see him?"
"No, I don't trust him, and I'd like to know what the term 'devil' means." Asuka shook her head.
"Look, Morris, Jinrei isn't a murderer. He'd never kill." She thought for a short while. "Everyone said that I should take his devil speak seriously, no matter how crazy it sounds."
"Do you?"
"… sort of. Some of my family takes it way too literally. It's a metaphor of such, my life on it. Remember when you said Jin had DID? I think that's what Jinrei means, his nastier devilish side."
"Spike knew Jinrei." Morris said. "He was brutally honest. Jinrei is nuttier than fruit cake followed by a bag of KP and a side order of Waldorf salad." Asuka looked as if she was going to laugh, but was still stern.
"You seriously think…"
"Nah. I think Jinrei's delusions of devilry have some truth, but he's blown it out of proportion. Jin does sound more monster than man from what you've told me, I wouldn't blame somebody for mistaking the two." Morris answered. "But for Jinrei it's further than that. I think he thinks that I'm part of some great scheme, and I think that if push came to shove, he'd probably kill me to supposedly save others." Asuka bit her lip. Her gut wanted to tell Morris about her little messages, but she thought that she would have to wait for the best moment. She considered the two options.
"Morris… I've got to tell you something. Something big…" She murmured. Then reconsidered it. "… but not right now. I'm going to wait for a better time for it." She said. Morris and Asuka looked to the featureless void. The crowds were dissipating, but they were mostly ignored by the two. They looked to a figure that stood there, watching them, waiting. The fog cleared slightly, and they saw a scowling figment of raw anger. It watched them. The hair was neck length, twisting in the breeze, a red bandanna holding it down. The once porcelain skin was now of a much redder skin tone, a dark Caucasian. The jacket was simple, the trousers simple, nothing of note, besides the expression. The expression spoke with a million words. A torrent of hatred, of anger, of broken pride, disgraced superiority. It was in a battle stance, arms with heavy cloth bands. The audience turned back. An official match was controlled. Brutal, sure, but tamed to a degree. Unofficial fights were not uncommon in the King of Iron Fist. Many were simply training fights, others the settling of feuds when one or both of the revenge-seekers had been defeated, or simple fights that occur over little or nothing. This, though, was something that was known to be destructive. It was a challenge. It was a revenge match like no other. It had no impact on the tournament, but it was exciting and brutal. All eyes remained on the figure.
"Morris." Xiaoyu said, unrecognisable without the frills and absurd fashion. "I need to practise for our fight at the end of the tournament." Her eyes hardened. Morris put a smirk on to give himself confidence, though in reality shook. She looked ready to kill.
"Shall we, little girl?" He asked. Xiaoyu hardened even more. Morris's smirk faded into fear. He suddenly thought that this was no girl.
"I've grown up."