"Hey, Crankurt, what's up?" Ken Masters' voice spoke cheerfully from the other end of the line. "The long flight's been kicking my ass, and all I wanna do is get up and move about. Sucks what adrenaline can do to you, but with a big fight coming up, you can hardly blame me."

"I can understand, Masters," Cranky replied. "You're about to get a fight, but not in Las Vegas as scheduled."

"Holy shit," Ken gasped, "you don't mean …"

"I just got word," Cranky continued, "that Guile has taken out Balrog, the first of Bison's bodyguard panel. Your plan's working."

"That's great to hear! Wow … I just … I'm shocked."

"Look, Ken, I want you to watch out." Cranky's tone lost all carefree pretense as he started speaking in a lower, more serious tone. "I can't confirm it, but rumors are running rampant that the bodyguard panel has been outfitted with the Shadow Technology. You know, that shit they put into Kenny all those years ago."

"I haven't heard about that technological devil spawn in awhile."

"Yeah, and with the improvements Katarina's made towards the work, who knows what else it can do now."

"How'd you find this out?" Ken's voice was wavering, cracking with fear.

"Chun Li's been looking into the deal with Colonel Wolfman. You're being redirected straight to Madrid, where the second battle of the four final rounds is to take place. After that, assuming you put Vega in his place, it's off to Bangkok for you."

"Is Guile meeting up with me in Spain?"

"No," Cranky replied, shaking his head. "He's been put out of commission. The fight with Balrog has taken a toll on him. Technically, Guile's been disqualified along with Balrog. It's as if the match ended in a draw."

"Enough to take Guile out …"

"That's why I'm warning you to be on the lookout. Vega's deadly enough on his own. And to think what he could be capable of with such advanced technology in his system …"

"You don't need to worry about me, Crankurt," Ken said. "I can watch out for myself. How are Cammy and Kenny doing back there? You keeping a close eye on them?"

"I don't think we'll need to worry about Cammy."

"That's good to hear. So then what's up with the rascal?"

"We just got into a little disagreement," Cranky explained. "It's nothing huge. He's just got problems with authority figures."

Ken let out a hearty laugh. "I'm sure he had a mouthful of comments for you too."

"Hmph …"

"Well, you are family after all."

"Yeah," Cranky said, then changed the subject, "I should be letting you go soon. I'm racking up quite the cell phone bill here. But there's one more thing I'd like to discuss with you."

"Out with it."

"I've got plans to open up a bar."

"Oh?" Ken sounded legitimately interested. "Businessman now, are we?"

"I just wanted to run the idea by you, see what you think. It's gonna be an Irish pub. I'm probably gonna start out small with one location, and save up enough money to open up a couple more in different countries."

"Where are you thinking about building this business?"

"London."

"I'm sure they've got their share of Irish pubs over there, being in such close proximity with Ireland and all. But opening up one in Osaka – now that'll be something the Japanese don't get to see everyday. But … are you sure you know what a legit Irish pub is like?"

"Well I am Irish …"

"Irish American," Ken corrected, "there's a difference. Let's not forget the tidbit about you living in Asia your whole life."

"I can pull it off," Cranky said, trying to convince himself and Ken at the same time.

"That's what I wanna hear. But I'm curious – you never struck me as a, well, legitimate business owner before. I mean you've grown up on the streets. You're a con expert."

"It's never too late to turn your life around. If I'm gonna be starting a new life with Cammy, I want to do it with a clean slate. No more conning, no more cheating and lying. I want to be someone she can depend on, and that means financially as well."

"Ah, you're doing this to impress her? Cranky, I've been with the girl, and I know what she's like. You already have her heart. There's nothing more you can do to prove yourself to her. You don't even need to. So if that's your motivation to start up your own business, I say forget about it."

"No, I'm doing it to impress myself. I'm about to start a new life. I don't want anything from my past tainting it. I'll earn enough money to get myself a decent apartment, maybe even a house for Cammy and myself later on and save some extra cash on the side and put Kenny through school."

"Whoa …" Ken was speechless. "That's, um … quite a plan you got for yourself."

"It'll be tough but hey, it's about time I set things straight."

"You know, there might not be much I can do about your finances, but you know Eliza and I have you covered for Kenny's tuition."

"I appreciate it, Masters, I really do. But you've done a lot for him as is. I'd like to take over from here, if it's okay with you."

"Fine, I'll let you take the helm from here on out. But on one condition."

"… I don't know. Let's hear your terms."

"You let me lend you the money to get the pub started, interest free. Take as long as you need to pay me back."

"Ken, I …" Now it was Cranky's turn to be speechless. "I can't. That's too much to expect."

"Those are my terms, Crankurt. It's better than taking a line of credit out from the bank, assuming your London Irish pub doesn't work out. You'd spend the rest of your life paying off interest. And then how do you expect to invest in a house for you and Cammy, and put Kenny through school?"

"I …" Cranky looked for the right words to express his gratitude, but even the ones he settled on didn't seem adequate. "I really, really appreciate this, Masters."

XXXXX

Luwanda stood with the other servants in an open courtyard to what appeared to be a Thai Buddhist temple. A large square area of ground was paved in tile and it was around the edges of this tiled area that the servants stood, watching the large, stealth aircraft land, its deafening engines shooting out blue fire from the base of the aircraft, softening its landing. The force of the engines picked up the dried leave and twigs scattered over the floor, tossing them into the air like a miniature windstorm. Monks and servants alike held onto their traditional robes, preventing them from blowing up, revealing inappropriate body parts.

The aircraft descended like a large metallic bird, the screams of the dying engines serving as its powerful cry. A staircase unfolded from the bottom of the plane, clanking loudly as it came into contact with the ground. Though the engines had been killed, they continued whirring until they came to a full and complete rest. While this was happening, a caped figure stepped out from the plane, dressed in a red suit with chrome armor plating. There was no mistaking who the figure was.

Luwanda felt her heart stop for a moment, fearful that the pupil-less eyes of M. Bison would spot her out of the crowd, recognizing her as a spy planted by Delta Red, even though she knew it was impossible as Bison had never seen her before, and this was the first time she'd ever seen him in person.

Bison walked down the stairs slowly with pronounced footsteps, his magnificent black cape floating in an unseen breeze behind him. The mere sight of the man demanded such respect, that it seemed as if his mere presence had ordered the monks and servants to bow to him. And they did so in unison, pressing their foreheads to the ground as if he were some god. Not wanting to stand out from the crowd, Luwanda mimicked their actions, mentally scolding herself for lowering herself to a man with the likes of M. Bison.

"Sawadeekap" the group said in unison, a Thai greeting.

She lifted her head just a little bit, trying to get a better view of Bison, and who else might have been accompanying him. Wolfman had given her orders to be on the lookout for a Shadowlaw scientist who had recently gone missing and described her as being a Chinese woman of shorter stature, built thin, but well toned. Apparently, Shadowlaw placed an importance on looks even with their scientists.

Bison was shadowed by a much larger man than he, a mammoth of a man standing over seven feet tall. The guy was bald and sported a patch over an eye. Even beneath the business suit the man wore, Luwanda could tell the suit was custom made for him not just for someone of his proportions, but for someone of his build with arms two thirds the thickness of her waist, and legs the size of tree trunks.

Behind the pair marched the girl Luwanda believed she was looking for. The top of the woman's head was level with the large man's bicep, not even reaching up to his shoulder. She had fair, almost porcelain skin free of blemishes. Her narrow eyes emphasized high, attractive cheekbones, beside which black silky hair fell. Wolfman was right. She was a beautiful woman, like an Emperor's exotic concubine – in a lab coat. Her gaze was downcast, not looking farther ahead than the ground a few inches beyond the tips of her white high heeled shoes that clicked with every step she took.

The threesome walked between rows of servants without acknowledging their presence, heading towards the temple entrance. Well, the place looked like a temple, sure enough, but was actually an entrance to a much larger Shadowlaw base reached through a series of underground tunnels and elevators where Luwanda worked.

She Katarina approached, the scientist's low gaze almost met with Luwanda's as she looked upwards to get a better picture of her. Luwanda noticed the puffiness around the woman's eyes, the running mascara like she'd been crying. She saw the red marks on Katarina's face, as if she'd been slapped around a few times. The lower half of her lab coat sported dried stains of a variety of bodily fluid that had been unsuccessfully cleaned off. Blood, urine, and … semen, maybe?

The woman Luwanda believed to be Katarina didn't even meet her gaze, just kept it focused at the ground in front of her feet and continued onward, disappearing into the temple entrance behind Bison and his monstrous bodyguard. It wasn't until the three of them had fully disappeared from view that Luwanda and her coworkers lifted their foreheads from the ground and carried about their businesses. She frowned in disgust as she felt grains of sand embedded into her skin, clammy and greasy from the humid heat.

Luwanda dashed off towards the compound in the same direction she'd seen Bison head for. She had to get to a phone quickly, before the mental snapshot of Katarina faded. She had to make sure she had the right girl. She'd made the Colonel wait long enough for her report and she didn't want him to wait a second longer than necessary.

XXXXX

Kenny headed down the stairwell slowly, taking his time with every step. He would've taken the elevator down to Juli's suite under normal circumstances, but he needed some time to clear his head after what had happened in the last few minutes. He'd settled his differences with Cranky after their huge blowout that nearly turned physical. They came to the agreement that they were the most fucked up family on the face of the earth; a pair of orphans who adopted each other as siblings, one a womanizing drunk in his mid-twenties, the other a "selfish, lazy, disrespectful, chain smoking teenager."

But it was those very flaws in both their individual personalities maintained bond they shared, since it was established as children. That was what made Cranky play such a unique role in Kenny's life; a role that Kenny wasn't sure would remain filled for much longer. At the end of the tournament, once everyone went home to their families, Kenny would be on his own again. Nothing would have changed. The longing for loved ones, for people to be there for him in times of need, the envy he harbored for others his own age, all of those negative emotions would once again rise to the surface. And to think he'd left that all behind after Cranky came back and brought with him the people Kenny once knew all those years ago.

And back then, Street Fighter tournament or not, it didn't matter what happened to the warriors. Once they headed home, Kenny could continue living on the streets while he and Cranky terrorized pedestrians with their pick pocketing, scramble with rival gangs for scraps of food, find huge, discarded refrigerator boxes and outfit them with the warmest newspapers. Life was hard back then, now that he thought about it. But it didn't seem that way. Struggling to survive brought out the nastiest outlooks on and of humanity, let alone doing it on the streets. But because Kenny and Cranky had each other, Kenny didn't remember things being that bad.

Kenny wished he could have the old times back. But things changed and they still continued changing. He was fifteen now and with age came responsibilities. He knew how to control the monthly allowance that Ken Masters provided him with. He knew how to access his bank account from ATMs from different banks with one card. He knew how to live on his own, to take care of his place and clean up after himself. Cranky, on the other hand, had made an even more drastic change. Comparing him now to what Kenny remembered from the earliest of his memories, Cranky had turned from a companion, his best friend, a role model he use to emulate and into a strange kind of parental figure too bogged down with reality to be any fun anymore, into … a grownup. And suddenly, the ten year age gap seemed a lot wider than it was when they were younger.

It was as if Kenny was meant to spend his life by himself. Everyone he had grown to care about in his life had been taken away – the move from Tokyo to the United States, the Angel Grove massacres, the Raccoon City biohazard outbreak, the Street Fighter tournaments, all of them had resulted in the loss of his friends. Friends; the only people that mattered to him for he had no family to fall back on. Now, Cranky, the only family he had was being taken away too. As much as Kenny talked about being capable by himself, the even harsher truth was that he didn't want it. He knew that well. If there was one thing in his life he was sure of, that was it. But he knew he'd never admit it to anyone else. Not Ryu, not Uncle Ken or Aunt Eliza, not Auntie Cammy, not even Cranky.

"Where the hell were you?"

Kenny snapped out of his daze, surprised that he'd already reached Juli's suite. Wagner sat outside her closed door, elbows resting on his knees.

"You said you'd be in there," he continued, pointing at the closed door across from where he sat. "Way to ditch me with Cammy, and now they're … are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kenny replied, a little more aggressive than he'd intended. "Where's Juli? Why are you sitting out here?"

"She's in there with Cammy," Wagner replied, pointing to the door he sat beside. "They're talking about … Christ, I don't even know. She's calming Juli down I guess, trying to talk her through her problems."

"Great job sticking to the plan."

"Hey," Wagner warned, pointing a finger at him, "it wasn't like I left her alone knowing she was emotionally unstable."

"Suicidal, Wagner," Kenny corrected, "and yes, you did. We both did."

"Where'd you go?" Wagner asked. "You said you'd be up here, but when Cammy and I arrived, you weren't."

"I had to kidnap Cranky for a bit, straighten some things out with him."

"What's going on between you two?"

"Nine years of catching up," Kenny replied, "and to drive it into his head what an asshole he is."

"Ouch," Wagner winced, "you're the only person I know who can do that and walk away in once piece."

"I nearly didn't," Kenny said, motioning to a reddening patch of skin on his cheek. "Besides, he had some colorful things to say about me. It was a fair trade off."

"That's why you look like shit."

"Thanks."

XXXXX

The match started with the crash of the cage walls slamming onto the fighting arena, now in Madrid, Spain. This was the strangest bar Ken Masters had ever seen, combining both rowdy and classy into one unified setting. Patrons yelled at each other, though Ken wasn't convinced they were in verbal disagreement, holding up beer glasses topped with frothy foam spilling over the edges, clashing glasses and laughing loudly. There were two centers of attraction in this bar. On the stage sat an old piano made of old, uncoated brown wood that had begun rotting in areas. Decrepit as it might have appeared, the instrument delivered its music beautifully, with the help of the pianist running his fingers across the ivory keys in a series of complex chords and notes. Beside the pianist, sitting on a stool was a guitarist, picking at the strings of his instrument of choice with such refinement in skill, such talent, with his calloused fingers. Around the musicians danced a pair of wide eyed, dark skinned girls, thick dark hair pulled into tight buns behind their necks. The hems of flowery yellow dresses twirled around their ankles as they danced to the music.

Distractions abound, Ken cleared his head and focused on his immediate surroundings as he stretched, like he always did before a match; he was surrounded by a chain link fence, dirty tile floors and a square shaped fighting surface. He frowned at the fence, taking note of their potential hindrance to his movement. He had to be careful to move about, delivering strikes hard enough to knock out, but with not too much force that could throw his body into the fence. With his bare feet, he felt the ground. It was a little grimy but wouldn't serve much of a problem for traction – just as long as he managed to keep his feet dry, there'd be no slippage.

The attack came before any sign of the fight commencing could be announced. It came as a painful slash across Ken's left shoulder. He would've taken it in the chest, had Ken not noticed the blur of silver-tinged … something – coming at him and dodged just in time. His shoulder screamed bloody murder; a hot, stinging pain followed by a comforting warmth – blood, coating his arm. Ken grasped his wound, feeling the hot blood seep through his fingertips and cursed through clenched teeth.

"The only form of beauty capable of coming from a creature like you," a voice said coldly. But Ken needed no introduction to the speaker. He whirled around and came face to face with his attacker – the masked Spanish matador, the second of Bison's bodyguard panel.

"Vega," he hissed. "I guess that's the only way you can win a fight, huh? When your opponent's not expecting an attack?"

"Shut up and hit me … if you can."

Ken threw his leg out – a perfectly timed kicked aimed at Vega's shin, hoping to knock out his leg from under him, but Vega performed a backwards somersault, his braid nearly smacking Ken in the nose. Ken let out a breath, fueled by disappointment but he knew that's how Vega fought. Wear the opponent out first by playing runaway, and once he gets tired, come in for the finishing strike.

That was a tactic that had served him well. Vega was quite the escape artist, but only in a confrontational situation. His body was lean and long, allowing swift movements without a lot of bulk getting in the way. Ken on the other hand wasn't quite so lean. He was quick in battle, but most of his damage he could deal was strength based; an attribute he knew Vega lacked. Ken's speed was remarkable in fact, though it could only come when the timing was right, when he was sure the opponent would not be able to escape his strike. He had to let Vega come at him. Playing the offensive with someone of his opponents speed would not end the battle in his favor.

Quick as lighting Vega leapt off the fence. Ken hadn't even noticed him scale it. Vega came down with a mighty cry – again, just a blur of metal and skin tones and fell towards him, directly above his head.

"Shinryuuken!" Ken cried, pushing himself vertically into the air with an extended fist, spiraling upwards in a furious aerial uppercut. This was not a retaliation the matador had been expecting. A kind of sadistic pleasure erupted in Ken as he felt his fist batter his opponent's body. This wasn't an ordinary opponent for him. This was a man who had caused Cammy an insufferable amount of pain, a man with a sick, twisted sense of beauty. This man toyed with women, tricked Katarina with a false sense of love and lured her into resurrecting him.

Ken thought of his love, of Eliza, and how she would fare in his hands, the kind of value Vega would have towards her – nothing more than a pretty body and face only for him to use. That was how Vega saw Cammy and the other dolls and back then, he loved Cammy as much as he loved Eliza now.

Vega crashed painfully into the ground, taking some bits of tile with his broken body. Ken couldn't help smiling as he landed. There was no going easy on this guy. Ken tucked his body into a roll before Vega could even hope to get up, and performed a roundhouse kick, just another hit to add that bit of extra damage. But with inhuman reflexes, Vega forced himself into a sitting position as Ken approached, grabbed his foot, and twisted.

Ken spun his body with his foot, to avoid any damage, realizing in horror that it was Vega who now controlled him. Trying to break free from the hold, Ken kicked his other foot into Vega's face, or more specifically into the man's mask, and could've sworn he felt something break. That loosened the hold on his foot and immediately, Vega began howling.

"My face!"

Ken wasted no time, throwing himself on Vega while he clutched the at the broken mask, still attached to his face, and threw punch after punch, each time denting the material a little more, watching the blood and spittle fly from Vega's mouth, now visible that the lower half of the mask had broken off.

Ken then remembered what Cranky had told him about the rumors about the Shadow Technology.

Remembering this, Ken didn't let himself get too comfortable and backed off, decided it would benefit him to watch Vega howl about in pain, or come at him with another attack. Either way, it would reveal how he operated in battle, reveal how strongly the technology worked inside him, or if he'd even been implanted with it or not.

"You'll pay for this, you monster!" Vega shrieked, lunging at Ken with his claw outstretched. Ken dodged again, performed a snap kick, detaching the claw from Vega's arm. It wasn't until the weapon was clearly out of range when he realized he could've easily sliced his foot off on the thing, and decided it was in his best interest to not be so reckless the next time around.

Vega's claw was gone, and the mask hung on his face in shards. For someone rumored to be hosting the Shadow Technology, Vega had been pretty easy to handle this whole time. Did he have some reserve of energy just waiting to be unleashed? Or was the information leaked to cause unease among the street fighters? He'd find out soon enough.

XXXXX

Kenny and Wagner had remained faithfully outside of Juli's suite, waiting for whatever talk she was having with Cammy to end. Kenny had wanted to shout at Wagner, put the man in his place for going back on his word. Wagner expected him to remain with Juli, to keep her company and make sure she wouldn't try anything, more specifically, killing herself, and faulted Kenny for not sticking to the plan. And here Wagner was letting Cammy monopolize their contact with Juli. The double standard was infuriating. What kind of youth counselor was Wagner, anyway?

But Kenny had been too drained of energy from his previous verbal brawl with Cranky to make any mention of his frustration. He had his own issues to deal with, like how he was going to survive after the tournament ended. Not physically – Uncle Ken would continue providing him with the funds that would allow him to keep his home and buy food – but emotionally. He wondered how the thought of having everyone torn away from him would affect him this time. As used as he was to living on his own, he didn't want to go through it again.

"Something on your mind?" Wagner's voice broke his thoughts.

"It's nothing," Kenny replied, waving him off. "Just waiting for Cammy to get out of there so we can leave."

"I was wondering if it'd be okay with you if I could stay with Juli after this," Wagner requested.

Kenny gave him a bewildered look. "Why?"

Because she was beautiful. "I just want to make sure she's going to be okay."

"You don't trust your sister?"

"It's not that …"

"Right, because you DID let Cammy in on this whole thing after all. So much for nobody finding out about this." Kenny had to stop himself. He was starting to rant, and it could only get uglier from here.

"Did you mention this to Cranky?"

"That's a different story."

"HAH! Don't go pointing fingers!"

"Well if you hadn't gone and fucked things up …"

"Well they're as fucked up as they're gonna get so why not take it all the way!"

"Do you want to fuck Juli?" Kenny suddenly asked.

Shit. He was good. NO! What was Wagner thinking? He wanted nothing of the sort! He legitimately cared about her. But since when did someone get so personally involved with another he's only known for twelve hours? He'd been personally involved with the kids he counseled but that bond was only formed after sitting down with them for hours and hearing their issues. Juli was someone else. Juli was …

"Cause you know, that might piss Cranky off. Especially taking advantage of her when she's in such a vulnerable state."

"Kenny, I don't …"

"Well, whatever opens your can – or your legs in this case, haha. I won't tell Cranky. But knowing how well you've kept your promises, don't fault me if I can't keep mine." Wagner started going red in the face, and Kenny loved every moment of it, as a childish grin spread on his face. The kid could read him like a book, something nobody aside from Guile and maybe Cammy had been able to do.

"Man, when you get a girlfriend," Wagner began, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the grin on Kenny's face vanished, and he looked down at the floor sadly.

"She …" he said, finding the right words. "She died in Raccoon City."

"Oh …" Wagner stopped. An awkward silence ensued, and he kicked himself for being so stupid. Of course, Kenny had just come from Raccoon City three months prior to the Street Fighter tournaments. He heard stories of an outbreak of pandemic proportions where an entire population had been wiped off the map – literally, after government officials sent missiles into the heart of that American mountain community. He couldn't even grasp the severity of the situation. And Kenny, against all odds, had survived unscathed. Cranky had gone in there after Kenny, from a lead provided by Cammy, but the brothers remained tight lipped about their encounters in the city.

The moment of silence was thankfully broken by footsteps, catching their attention. Wagner and Kenny looked up from their sitting position, and saw the forms of Ryu and a much larger man approach them. They walked with shoulders squared, tight fisted, locked jawed. They were all business and neither Kenny nor Wagner could read the looks on their faces.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Kenny," Ryu said. "Issei has something to say to you."

Kenny shot up to his feet, and Wagner scrambled to follow suit, alerted by Issei's presence. "What's gotten into you, Ryu?" he demanded. "How are you so sure we can trust this man?"

"He's not getting within a mile of me," Kenny said firmly. "Do you have any idea who this guy is?" Kenny pointed a finger towards Issei, who only looked back at him sadly. "Oh don't give me the fucking puppy dog face! It wasn't that long ago you were willing to put a bullet in my head. You're an Admiral of Shadowlaw's military. You're a damned murderer! You're …"

"Your brother," Ryu interrupted.

Kenny's words got stuck in his throat. "No."

"Regardless of familial ties," Wagner began, "it doesn't change the fact that …"

"What bullshit are you talking about, Wagner?" Kenny demanded. "You're not denying this? This 'sibling' crap? Who's side are you on?"

"I believe the facts," he replied

"NO!"

"It's the truth!" Ryu insisted. "Look at his face. Look at your own!"

Kenny looked at Issei straight in the eye, at first with hatred. But there was something familiar in them. The small eyes, pronounced cheekbones, the lobe-less ears and the black hair … The only difference Kenny could make out was that where his face was round, Issei was square-jawed. And if what Wagner and Ryu claimed were true, and Issei really was a sibling, that meant he and Katarina, the crazy bitch who attacked him and Cammy back at the ward were …

"We just wanted to bid you farewell," Ryu said.

Kenny immediately went from denial to acceptance, and was surprised at how willing he was to accept this news at the mere thought of more people walking into his life briefly, and having them walk out just like that. "Where are you going?" he asked, the firmness in his voice subsiding.

"Thailand," Ryu replied. "Luwanda's just given confirmation through Colonel Wolfman. Katarina's being held hostage by Shadowlaw. They want the twins back – both of them. We're going on a rescue mission and it's very dangerous. Not to mention I'm scheduled for a match with Sagat and Bison, if all goes well with Ken's plan. So Kenny, at least let Issei say goodbye."

The larger man who stood behind Ryu now walked towards Kenny, unsure of how to approach him. The youth, likewise, looked back uncertainly, and impulsively took a step back. His eyes shot a look to Ryu, who nodded his approval. It was okay. Kenny felt sickened when Issei put a hand on his shoulder. His stomach churned and threatened to spill its contents. He could've sworn he felt his face turn green.

"I'm sorry," Issei said simply. But his tone was gentle, weak, almost, but genuine. "Sorry that it to begin the way it did. And sorry it'll end like this." Kenny chewed on his lower lip, afraid that he might react out of instinct – the instinct that told him so sock the guy in the nose and run for his life. Issei continued. "If all ends well, Katarina and I will come back for you. We'll make up for lost times. It's over with Shadowlaw."

And then Cranky's words. "When it comes down to it, you're my little bro and I love you even if you are the most aggravating little brat I've ever come across."