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The Chase

Julia had, in fact, done some research into the scientist of whom Jin had told her. Before their last encounter, she had E-mailed a hacker acquaintance, asking him for any information he could possibly find for her about the Zaibatsu's research. She had not spoken to said acquaintance since high school, however, and held out little hope for the endeavour. She was surprised, then, when, a few weeks later, she received a reply. Unbeknownst to Julia, her hacker friend had been enamoured with her for a good part of his teenage life, and was more than happy to spend a night burrowing into the vaults of the Mishima Zaibatsu's research to dig up some information for the pretty girl who had once been his partner for a chemistry project. Even the remembrance of adolescent infatuation was not enough, however, to penetrate the militant security of the Zaibatsu's database, and he was eventually forced to send her an apologetic reply attached to which was a meagre list of the staff who had worked on the project.

The list was not long – it contained only ten names. On scrolling through them, however, one caught her attention. Dr. Boskonovitch. She pondered over it for a few minutes. Why was it so familiar to her? Certain she had seen the name somewhere before, Julia racked her brains to think when, with no luck. Reluctant to fall back into the desperate struggle to help Jin, Julia closed her laptop, and left for the gym.

The day rolled past in a rhythm of cardio, meditation and shadow boxing. By the time she found herself sat in a restaurant with Asuka at dinner, she had all but forgotten about Dr. Boskonovitch. Asuka was discussing some important recent tournament fixtures. She stopped, though, seeing that Julia had become distracted.

'Julia?' Julia's eyes were fixed on her knife. She had been eating, chatting, listening to her friend, when suddenly it had caught the light, and all at once she was reminded of that moment, when she had seen, just as the light flashed from Yoshimitsu's leg, that there was a word written there. The word, she now realised, had been Boskonovitch.

Julia rose abruptly.

'Where's Yoshimitsu?' Asuka stared at her dumbly.

'Where's Yoshimitsu,' she repeated, urgently, 'Has he left yet?'

'I – I think so. I don't know. Probably.'

'Shit.' Whispered Julia, 'Asuka, I have to go. I'll square up the bill later.' Looking dazed, Julia picked up her bag and left.

She was barely aware of her legs moving beneath her as she rushed towards the mansion. Sprinting up the long driveway, past the main gate and to the entrance, she could feel her heart pounding inexplicably, for she was fit of course, and a run like this should cause her no significant strain. But she found herself terrified, determined, confused. All she knew at that point was that she must get to Yoshimitsu.

'Excuse me.' She grabbed a passing servant, 'Do you know where Yoshimitsu's room is?'

'Er, yes. But I think he left already.'

'Do you know where he's gone.' The servant looked at her helplessly.

'Do you know anyone who would?' Julia almost wailed at him in frustration.

'I – wait here.' He retreated into a back room, and returned a few agonising minutes later, to Julia, who was wringing her hands unconsciously as he reported,

'Now, I can't guarantee this is true, but one of the cleaners says she saw him leave about an hour ago. She says he was holding a ticket.'

'What kind of ticket?'

'I don't know. Could've been a train ticket, I suppose. If that's the case, though, he's probably already on his train – the station's only a fifteen minute walk. Or maybe it was a plane ticket.' The man glanced at his watch, 'If you go now, there's a chance you could catch him before he boards.' With a fleeting 'Thank you.' Julia was darting out of the mansion again, and hurling herself down the driveway to the town.

As she swung around the corner, dodging a small dog as she did so, Julia spotted a taxi. Within a few minutes they were speeding down the motorway, Julia's eyes flickering anxiously as she watched the number of miles to the airport tick down with each road sign that flitted past. The drive seemed to go one forever. Restless, Julia hopped from seat to seat, chewing at her nails and nervously brushing imaginary dust from her jeans. Finally they arrived.

'Keep it.' Julia shot over her shoulder as she sprang out of the cab, leaving a stunned driver holding a handful of change out to the open car door.

Racing into the airport, Julia's eyes frantically scanned the signs inside. Which gate would Yoshimitsu be at? Surely he wouldn't be hard to spot. She looked across the sea of heads, but there was no sign of him. For all Julia knew, he might be on a plane right now, or he might never have come to the airport at all. Despair seemed to well up suddenly inside her, but she fought it back fiercely.

I must find him. Was all she thought, I must find him. And she scanned her mind frantically, logically. Yoshimitsu was Japanese, so he would probably be on a domestic flight. Fourth floor.

Julia threw herself up the escalator, arriving in front of the departures' board. Only one flight left within the next hour, and it was boarding. In a last, desperate bid to reach Yoshimitsu, Julia sprinted towards the gate, her shoes skidding on the polished floor as she swerved between luggage and people. And there he was.

Julia almost cried out with relief when she spotted a glint of metal between the rim of a wide hat and a navy blue collar. He was wearing a long yukata, probably to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but his stature was enough for Julia to pick him out from where she was. Blindly, she ran towards him, because he was already there, at the desk, and past it.

'Yoshimitsu!' Julia yelled as loudly as she could. Every head turned, but Julia only saw one, and that was Yoshimitsu's. He stopped, and recognising her, stepped away from the procession of passengers.

She steadied herself against the counter behind which stood a baffled-looking flight attendant.

'Yoshimitsu.' She panted hard, and swallowed. 'Yoshimitsu. Do you know someone called Dr. Boskonovitch.'

The skull-like face remained unmoved. 'Please.' Her voice wavered as she tried to regain her breath enough to continue, 'Tell me how to find him.'

'I do not know the name.' He said.

'Yes you do. It's on your thigh. I saw.' Yoshimitsu's motionless face seemed to Julia to take on a sinister glint as he leaned towards her. Suddenly he grabbed her upper arm with cold mechanical fingers, and gripped it hard. The aggressive gesture was hidden in the voluminous folds of Yoshimitsu's sleeve. Julia's first impulse was to defend herself, but she stood still as Yoshimitsu said between set, gleaming metal teeth.

'I do not know any Boskonovitch. And neither do you.'

'Excuse me.' The voice of the attendant chimed in. She glanced uncertainly at Yoshimitsu, and it was obvious that she was trying to conceal her fear, 'The plane is about to leave. We ask that you board now.' Yoshimitsu released Julia's arm, which throbbed with pain, and turned silently away.

'Yoshimitsu, wait.' Julia dodged past the counter. She was surprised when the attendant tried to pull her back, but shook her off and grabbed Yoshimitsu's yukata fiercely.

'You don't understand. I need to speak with him. If I don't people will die.' But Yoshimitsu threw her back. She tumbled into the wide-eyed flight attendant. Julia saw the security guard take a step towards Yoshimitsu.

'No please, don't touch him. It was my fault. I just need to talk to him quickly.'

'There's no time.' Said the attendant, her voice peaking, 'The plane is leaving. Sir.' She placed a hand on Yoshimitsu's elbow to guide him forward.

'Yoshimitsu, please. I don't mean him any harm. But if I don't talk to him many people will be in danger. I'm not exaggerating. A force is coming, bigger than me, bigger than you. It's growing right now, and unless I can contact Boskonovitch, it will destroy us both, and god knows how many more.' Perhaps Yoshimitsu knew something of the devil gene, perhaps it was the desperate sincerity in Julia's voice, but he stopped and, ignoring the flight attendant, who it appeared did not understand English well, angrily urging him forward, he leaned to Julia's ear and quietly but carefully told her an address, followed by the words,

'He is an old, tired man, who does not want any trouble, and deserves his peace. If you, or anyone else disturbs him beyond one conversation, I will punish them.'

The security guard grabbed Julia's arm, and tugged her away, but she had it. She had the address.

Too dazed to even say thank you, Julia staggered away from the gate and collapsed into the nearest chair. There she sat for a few minutes, panting, as people milled and whirled around her. When she had caught her breath enough to think, Julia felt as lovers do after an argument, when a doubtful glance is exchanged, and then they come together all at once, clumsily kissing and crying and regretting every word they said. But she was alone, in an airport, unheeded by the passing strangers. In her eyes, though, every little lie she had told to herself about not caring for Jin, the armour she had so carefully patched together had been torn away, leaving her naked and ashamed in her love, so passionate, so desperate, so painful.

And she knew then that there was no going back. For her own protection, she must undertake her task alone, but she would undertake it. It seemed suddenly and starkly inevitable that she would do it, despite everything, despite Jin's lies, because for the past hour or so, from that flash of light, to the moment the security guard grabbed her arm, all that had existed for Julia was Jin, a figure alone in a bleak white world. Love had bleached Julia's mind, and she had no choice but to see only Jin, and to love only Jin and to fight tooth and nail to save him. That was all.

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Next instalment, The Eighth Fight: A surprise fixture leaves Julia's tournament hopes in the balance.