Chapter Summary: A week after the funeral, Akira reflects on her father's murder, only to be consumed by her recurring thoughts.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tekken but I do own my OCs and plot. If you steal, be prepared to suffer.
Chapter Warnings: None, for now anyway.
Notes: I know it's short, I'm sorry, but it's a bit like an intro to Akira's changing behaviour…a bit like Siegfried in Soul Calibur. It will expand over the next few chapters (five, actually) and the warnings and rating will go up. (Don't worry about the mentioning of the hair dye either – it will make sense later on).
Extra Notes: Many thanks to SoulEmbrace2010 and Me-Be-Da-Mk-Fan14 for favouriting and reviewing my story, I appreciate it so much! *does a little dance* I've also got 1110 hits for this story on AFFnet, so keep it coming! It makes me SO happy!
Chapter 14 – The Darker Side will be up soon!
A Tekken Story: Through the Years
We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.
Charles R. Swindoll
Chapter 13 – A Change
So, there it was. My mother was pregnant with her third child from my now dead father.
"We were going to tell you," Mom said after we had left the crematorium," We Shinjuku after our anniversary…but…,"
Guess that explained why I had kept seeing Mom holding her stomach constantly.
I didn't go to school the following week after the funeral. Instead, I lounged around in my pyjamas, doing little things like my Art evaluation, or just generally helping Mum with tasks around the house. I ate very little, my appetite demolished, and rarely saw anyone outside the house during those two days.
The police hadn't found much either, which didn't help my frame of mind. The London detectives had established that it was most likely a murder – Dad had suffered from multiple lacerations due to blunt force trauma, and judging from the amount he received, he had been most likely attacked by a gang, ranging from five to eight people, and he had died from a heart attack during the night. They recovered eight sets of footprints going in, but only seven leaving – two were identified as Steve and Dad, leaving six unaccounted for. There were no eyewitnesses and closer CCTV footage they could find was two streets anyway. When they arrived on the scene, the door was unlocked, so no forced entry was applied, meaning that either Dad knew who they were or they disguised themselves as individuals that people trusted. There was still money in the safe located in the flat above the dōjō and no other valuables had been stolen, ruling out a robbery. The only real evidence they did uncover was a piece of blue cloth – cotton from a t-shirt – and a piece of black leather, most likely from a glove or a pair of trousers. The Japanese detectives hadn't done much better – they were looking in Dad's history to see if any enemies were behind the attack.
A dead end.
Most afternoons and evenings, when I had finished helping Mom around the house, or I thought I couldn't write anymore on my evaluation, I'd go out to the garden and sit on the wooden porch, letting my mind wonder aimlessly.
My father, a harmless, peaceful, good, family man, was dead, while criminals and murderers still walked on the Earth unpunished. It didn't seem logical. Why did he have to die? But, most importantly, who killed him?
A murder…it was planned…
Why? Who?
Who killed him? Why did they kill him?
Oshimaki Naoya, a martial artist, friend and father…
Why?
A father, a husband, a son…
Why did they kill him?
Pretty soon, I got sick and tired of overthinking and overanalysing it, so I decided to go for a walk to clear my head.
Everything had changed, I felt since Dad had died. When I came back from England…everything was different. The sun that shone down on me felt different on my skin…the breeze that gusted past felt different as it wove through my hair…the morning song that the birds would chirrup sounded different to my ears…
Everything had changed…and I didn't like it.
I never spoke to anyone now – not Ryo, Sakura, Jin, not Satomi or Tae or Ichigo, not Shin, not Xiao or Miharu, not even Mom or Hana…
All because my father was no longer with us…
I never spoke of feelings that prickled at my heart like a thousand needles…
What if someone else was experiencing the same feelings I was?
"Not friggin' likely,"
The whole family situation dynamics had changed too, I reflected as I entered the local pharmacy in town. Mom was now the head of the household, but with the new baby on the way, she couldn't step up to the mark. Suwabe Taku, Dad's best friend since the day he was born, moved in with us (temporarily, of course) as a "duty" to help us out (did I mention he was an ex-solider of sorts?), which, of course, had screwed everything up.
He could never replace him. Why the hell did he think he could?
Why? Who?
Goddammit, these questions were driving me insane!
How the hell was I going to find out who had killed my father and why?
Suddenly, I realised it as it exploded in my brain like blown-fuse when I slammed a box of black hair dye on the counter.
Whoever killed my father and for whatever reasons they did it, it didn't matter…
…They have to pay.