Hello everyone! I'm back with another update :D

First of all, thank you all sooo much for your heart-warming reviews! I decided to make use of the direct-PM feature this time, but would still like to thank Guest, The Dragon's Kuniochi, PunkRoseBlitz, Hell-On-Training-Wheels, iceangelmkx, GetCaged and RoseScytheElysium for taking out time to review this story :3

Dearest Guest: Thank you so much for taking out time to write to me! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far :) I understand that "Khun" means sir, mister or the equivalent in Thai. And this was what I wanted to convey, that Takeda was calling Kenshi by the honorific 'Khun' (to mean, Mister Kenshi, or something) because he couldn't acknowledge him fully as a 'dad' yet. That's what made Kenshi stop dead in his tracks when he suddenly called him "dad" outright at the end of the last chapter :) If I've misunderstood, then I apologise and request you to guide me as to how I can correct the mistake. Thanks again! :3

An additional thank you to HollyinSanest, PurpleFlowerBerry and noblewingedseraph for adding this to your favourites/alerts.

It truly means a lot to me, guys; here have some cake all of you *presents a ginormous double chocolate fudge to everyone* ^_^

So we have another Cage-family bit here in this update, although most of it is Kenshi-Takeda related generally. There will be perhaps 1 more update before we actually get to Hanzo and the Shirai Ryu - and I'm trying my best to develop this without it all seeming like a 'filler'.. Also, it's been a while since I've written action scenes, so do let me know how that part (and everything else) goes in this chapter :)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners - I'm just trying to develop them a bit more :P

WARNING: The beginning of this chapter contains a very graphic, gory scene. There might be a few of those in this whole fic, which I will tell beforehand, but (I think) it still doesn't warrant the entire rating of the story to be changed to M. Anyhow, you've been warned :P

The Takahashi Family Saga

Of Trials and Tribulations

II

Classified Location,

Somewhere in Japan.

"D-DAD!" shrieked Takeda, his eyes wide with horror as he shook his unconscious father with trembling hands. The sound of the explosion echoed across, smoke rising in bulbous clouds from the cindered remains of where the hut once stood. The fetid smell of burnt wood and concrete filled his nostrils while his eyes watered.

Kenshi began to stir, yet an alarming pool of crimson blood formed below the right side of his skull. He let out a pained groan, and winced, but struggled to regain full consciousness.

Tears flowed down the young boy's face, and despite the heat emanating from the air, felt the cold chill of trepidation roll down his back. "Please, please… Get up!" he pushed more forcefully at his father, as he picked up the gloved hand that lay over his abdomen, and squeezed it tightly before hugging it to his chest.

Pain exploded in the swordsman's head, and he felt nausea gripping his chest. His entire body felt as if it was laced with lead, while his head swirled when he tried to get up. He was overwhelmed from the sensory bombardment; the crackling fire, the stench and the damned ringing in his ears overriding any other perception. Dazed, he could not make sense of anything for a few moments.

Until he heard the boy sob.

It was as if all the shrouded thoughts and impaired senses evanesced at the pathetic sound. Kenshi immediately felt a renewed surge of strength begin to pulse through his veins - from what part of his being, he had no clue. The coherence of his thinking began to gradually return, though dominated primarily by merely one notion in his mind.

'Takeda…My son… my son…'

Kenshi grunted with effort as he pushed himself on his forearm and turned to his side. Blood poured in rivulets from the back of his skull to his neck, the pain relegated to a dull throb. He felt his perception of hearing and smell clear up further, and then realised the boy was clutching his hand.

Kenshi cupped his son' face gently, and in a swift movement, pulled him in so that the boy was curled up against his father's chest. Takeda was shaking to the point that his teeth were chattering. The swordsman had no need to read the boy's mind; he was scared to death.

"Are you…" he breathed heavily into Takeda's hair. The exacerbating nausea kept him from completing the question.

"I'm okay, but you're hurt!" cried Takeda. Kenshi gritted his jaw and nodded as he sat up – and instinctively, pushed the boy behind his crouching form.

"Stay back!" he ordered, his voice hoarse. The boy immediately acquiesced, clutching both his shoulders from behind his kneeling position.

Kenshi had finally regained enough strength to be able to process some of the visual information lent to him by the Sento, although the whispers of his ancestors still remained an inaudible, dull hum buzzing in his mind. The spanning spiritual vision taxed his wavering consciousness, but he somehow found himself able to concentrate and seek out any enemies.

It had been a good few minutes since they blew up his house. He was injured with a concussion – nothing that wouldn't fix itself in a few hours, but incapacitating for the moment. The time was ripe for the enemy to strike. Yet he still could not detect anything.

Kenshi wanted to yell from frustration – he knew he was the target, and that his location was not hidden from the Red Dragon anymore. Then where were the brainwashed cultists rushing for their blood? Why was there no grunt here to intercept them? Was this explosion merely to 'scare off' Takahashi Kenshi?

The burning hut lay not more than fifteen feet from them. It then dawned on him on how close both of them had been to certain death; had they not paused at the doorstep and entered right into the hut, they would have been part of its flaming ashes.

'No, that can't be right'. There was a bounty for his head, and there was no way destroying this paltry abode alone was the way to get to him. All this reeked of a trap; one whose details eluded the swordsman.

"What's going on?" wailed Takeda, as his grip tightened on his father's shoulders. "Who did this? Why would anyone do thi-"

"Quiet, Takeda!" Kenshi barked.

"Where's my mother?! What's happening!" he continued to scream in Kenshi's left ear.

The swordsman let out a tortured cry, clutching his left temple and ear. The careless act did not merely annoy him, it enraged him. He was already blind, he could not tolerate any one else debase his remaining senses for whatever reason.

He had little time nor patience to register that the culprit in this case, was his own son; screaming from fear and simply unaware of the blind man's practical troubles.

Kenshi jerked his shoulder roughly, throwing the boy off from his back. Takeda landed with a thud behind him, shocked at his father's gruff response.

"Don't you dare shout in my ear again, boy. Understood?!" he growled threateningly, not caring what the boy made of it.

Takeda felt insulted, belittled, as he stared at his father's stone-cut jaw, voicing out the hurtful words from a mere glance to the shoulder. Futile tears continued to stream down his face, as faced away from Kenshi, lips pursing into a thin line as his own sense of shame flared.

The boy couldn't dwell on his feelings for long. For as soon as the swordsman uttered the words, he had immediately drawn his sword – a sharp, glittering katana, with the Eastern and Western depiction of dragons carved beautifully across the length of the blade. Takeda felt his heart sink to the ground. He had hated violence, and he had never imagined such a scene would unfold in front of his eyes.

Kenshi held out the Sento in front of him with his dominant hand, whilst putting two fingers to his temple with the other. Despite his weakened state, he was able to forge a telekinetic field –the souls of his ancestors, grimacing in the face of kombat, reflecting off the electric blue aura as it surrounded the duo.

Enclosed in the charged orb, Takeda gasped as he saw the masked-samurai faces of the Takahashi warrior-kings, coalescing and forging, fearsome in their cries of war. The boy trembled from fear, of both the surroundings and his forbidding father.

'Make it stop, please! Father, anyone, make it stop!' This was a nightmare, it can't be real. The boy only wanted to go back home. Yet all he could do was struggle to keep his voice in check, and weep helplessly, like he had never wept before.

The cries of the villagers provided Kenshi with the answer to his confusions. His safe hideaway was now marred by taint of the Red Dragon, all within the space of a day. Kenshi shook his head with annoyance, but no matter. He had to deal with the attack first. The very villagers whom he had bowed to out of deference and respect, now began to charge at him, armed with light firearms, but mostly knives and small swords.

"Kh-khun, th-there are so many of them!" whispered, voice trembling to his father. He could barely recognise the father he discovered only hours before now. As he prepared to fight off the attackers, all Takeda saw was a rigid, ruthless fighter on a mission.

Kenshi turned to the boy, and felt the raw terror that had silenced him. The lineage, the powers that he wielded were undoubtedly intimidating, and hardly suitable to be witnessed by minors his age – yet there was little he could do to mitigate and allay his fears.

He cursed internally at the madness of his position.

"Do not worry, son. I've faced much worse," there was no shadow of doubt about it. The current challenge hardly phased the swordsman; it was merely the prospect of keeping his son safe that had left him with a storm of doubts raging in his chest; one he chose to deliberately ignore in favour of his fighting instincts.

His mind had begun to waver, the intensity of his telekinetic field fluctuating in accordance. Now was not the time to reveal his own tactics; he needed to bolster and regain his fragile concentration.

Although it went against everything he knew about the bitterness of life, the way of his lineage and his own unending effort to undermine the effects of his impairment, the blind swordsman calmly uttered certain words that he thought might be the only way to provide the child of some semblance of sanity.

"Close your eyes, Takeda."

Takeda regarded his father with a wide cerulean stare. Kenshi slowly got up on his feet, Sento held tightly, facing the multitude of villagers as the distance in between them and the Takahashi duo, began to lessen. The boy ducked behind his father, clutching the belt at his waist tightly, but not finding the will to comply by his words, as much as he wanted.

The ground hummed with the vile chant of the hostile locals, who were now merely feet away.

At the forefront was a short, old man, eyes glowing dangerously red – as if possessed by some unknown entity. Takeda peeked from behind his father, and recognised him as one who had gently patted his head and smiled kindly to the boy on their hike up to the swordsman's hut, merely moments ago. Kenshi saw him in his spiritual vision, and was astounded. This was not merely an evil spirit residing in a vessel, but as the incarnation of the very devil in itself – every fibre, every muscle, and every drop of blood was marred by a hazy darkness, reeking of a kind sorcery he had never witnessed before.

This was not just about the Red Dragon bribing the local Yakuza anymore. This was far bigger than what any local crime syndicate or organisation could conjure up.

"In the name of Daegon!" the shrieked, his voice a metallic chorus, as he raised his blade to swing at the swordsman.

The warrior telekinetically manipulated the Sento, swinging it in a sharp arc, bringing both of his hands to his temples, forehead creased as sweat stained his blindfold. The telekinetic field protecting the two suddenly intensified, the faces of his ancestors becoming as clear as the sun in the sky, sheer power ebbing and flowing from within the confines of the charged dome. A singular trail of blood flowed from the swordsman's nose, as he felt the natural energy he manipulated, begin to overpower both, his mental and physical strength.

The exact moment that Kenshi had been waiting for.

"ITAMI!"

In a flash of blinding light, the Sento flew straight for the attacker's throat, lodging itself squarely in the middle, until only its hilt was visible. The Sento then sliced the attacker's head off in a singular clean motion. With a mere nod of the head, Kenshi commanded the blade to incinerate it entirely; in equally fast flashes, the elder's head was sliced horizontally, each piece flying out in every direction of the field.

The older man's body stood still for a good few seconds, fingers twitching as the last semblances of life slipped away from his limbs. A thick spurt of blood began to jet forth from the neck, pausing periodically with every beat of the attacker's slowing, dying heart. After what seemed like an eternity, the beheaded body finally slumped to the ground, the fresh crimson staining the green grass below him.

Takeda's mouth was hanging open at seeing his father's mind powers, but now, all he felt was the sickening bile rising in his throat as witnessed the horrific death of the elder man in front of him. The boy began to hyperventilate, taking in deep breaths as cold sweat rolled down his temples – hiding his face and pushing a fist in his own mouth to keep himself from screaming out loud from the sheer terror of the ferocious images that swam inside the walls of the shield, unable to shake the sight of the severed, mutilated body from his mind.

"Get down, NOW!" commanded his father, voice laced with urgency.

A thunderous sound echoed, akin to that of a powerful wave crashing deafeningly, as Takeda felt the telekinetic dome explode in a lethal wave of energy. He cried out with fright, hugging the swordsman's waist from behind, burrowing his face into his back and finally closing his eyes tightly shut.

Takeda was only able to register his father bending down to conceal the boy's form with his own, in the wake of the telekinetic blast that Kenshi had just orchestrated. Lightheaded, the boy clutched his father in a death-like grip.

Even as the hostile attackers fell like flies from the impact of the explosion, Takeda could not help but feel that everything had changed in that maddening moment: nothing would ever be the same for him ever again.

And it was all this man's fault.

Cage Residence,

Venice, California

USA

It had been an exhausting day for Sonya, and right now, she only wanted to eat dinner, review the Delta Force's mission reports, and collapse into bed. Not necessarily in that order.

Sonya had taken the other end of the table, spreading her files and meagre stationery all across it – barely nibbling on her food as she intensely scrutinised the papers before her.

"So Cass, what happened at school today?"

The Cage family was huddled over a simple meal of roast chicken and veggies – yet despite her husband's pathetically fake uplifting comments, there was no festive mood. At least not for Sonya Blade. There was way too much work to be done. Such niceties could wait.

"Oh, nothing - just the usual, Dad," replied a passive-aggressive Cassie, throwing back the blond braid she had deliberately styled, all in a bit to emulate her mother – and get her attention. Sonya's nonchalance immediately put her in a sullen mood, one she barely struggled to contain. She glared at her mother, but only turned away when she realised the Major was not remotely interested in her.

Johnny immediately felt the tension rise in the air; the sanctity of dinner time had been invaded by Sonya's tenacious work-ethic, yet again.

He wasn't quite sure if he blamed Cassie for throwing a shade on Sonya. The doggedly-headstrong woman and her continued lack of acknowledgement belittled the actor as well.

For Christ's sake, how could he blame the child when he was having a hard time barely containing in his temper.

"Sonya, you really should put away those files –"

"Not now, Cage." The reply was cold, curt and monotonous. She could have been speaking to a novice, for all that mattered.

"Hellooo?" Johnny mocked, barely hiding the resentment in this tone. "Who's this? Major Blade? Oh, I'm sorry, I wish to speak with my wife - Sonya, she in there, somewhere?"

Sonya slammed down her pen with enough force to rattle the cutlery on the table, and glared daggers at her husband; ruing the moment she foolishly fell for him, married him, and decided to birth his chil-

She paused at the thought, and glanced guiltily at Cassie. The six-year old was trying to hide her tears, despite the proud rise of her chin. Her heart caught for a second, before she decided to crush her maternal instinct.

'Our child.' She would talk with Cassie later.

The ringing of the comm device was practically welcome to the edgy trio. Johnny let out a slow, defeated sigh and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Sonya-no, Major Blade had won again. Though he tried to not think that way, he couldn't help but feel that the woman before him became more of a stranger to him and their daughter with every passing day.

He glanced at Cassie from the corner of his eye, catching her quickly wipe away a tear and shake her hair free from the braid, until it fell in a silken, gold curtain across her shoulders, before stabbing her food viciously with a fork. His heart twisted in pain for her, as he shook his head.

"Ice cream after dinner, kiddo? With rainbow sprinkles," he chirped, putting his acting skills to use.

Cassie merely sighed and nodded in response.

Sonya had walked over to the console table, and retrieved her comm device, and answered on speaker. Johnny patted his daughter on the head, as he walked over to stand behind his wife, with folded arms.

"Blade here, Kenshi – Come in."

"Maj- B-ade. The loc-a-n h-s b- compr-m-s-d," came a scrambled reply.

Sonya's eyes widened, her back straightening rigidly. 'How can this happen…'

"Distortion in signal, Kenshi – Repeat." Sonya began to pace nervously, hoping she had not heard what she thought she did.

"Sonya," the swordsman must have moved to a better location; the static eased, and his voice came in loud and clear. "The SF have been compromised," came Kenshi's voice, urgent, yet levelled. "The base north of the location has been destroyed; all aircraft, supplies, weapon depots, personnel –dead, gone."

Johnny straightened up at the words, expression turning sombre.

"Kenshi, are you and the child alright?"

There was a brief pause at the other end. "We barely escaped, but we're fine, Major. For now. But this isn't about the Red Dragon anymore – there was an unknown … entity, perhaps, possessing the locals. It was as if evil coursed through their veins. I've never witnessed anything like that before.."

"God damn it!" Sonya cursed. "I will speak with the General and come with a specialist team to Japan right away. Hang in there, Ken-"

"Sonya, no," came an emphatic reply. "This may be beyond the capacity of the SF - I will contact other allies and sort this out myself."

Sonya pinched the bridge of her nose. Going off the radar, especially without cover, would expose Takahashi Kenshi to further danger – she could not risk that.

"Denied, Kenshi. I'm coming there."

"I did not ask for authorisation, Major," Kenshi returned back. "Stand-by later for further info. Over and out."

And with that, the line went dead.

Sonya landed in a heap onto a nearby chair, holding her head in her hands. Johnny crouched and held her by the shoulders, knowing the torture she must be inflicting on herself in her mind.

"Sonya, listen to me. It is not your fault. You didn't know-"

"I put him there, John!" she looked up from her hands, voice strained. "He rejected this mission twice before I talked him into it! 'Way of the warrior', and all that other BS…"

"It was still out of your hands. None of us knew about his family-"

"That doesn't change anything. He paid for trusting in me and the SF with the life of his son's mother. God knows what he'll do now to save the boy…" Sonya trailed off, too consumed by guilt to continue any further.

"It'll be alright, I promise."

Sonya looked up at him, and genuinely tried to believe in the actor's words. The emotions that propelled her good friend to undertake anything, no matter how perilous, to guarantee the safety of his son – all were familiar to her. Much, much more familiar than she'd ever care to express to anyone.

Yet she came up with no rationale, no plan of action nor any vague idea on how to turn that mere promise into fruition. Unlike the actor, there was no room for empty, hollow words in her line of work.

"Promises be damned, it's the results that count."

With that, she shot up without a word, and stormed back into the dining room. Collecting her files silently and as quickly as she could, the Major stomped to the guest room – prepared to spend all night working, and most importantly, without any distractions from her family.

Johnny Cage, still crouched in front of the-now vacant seat, clenched his hands into fists, as he struggled to keep a cap on his rage. He wished to break, rip the chair, the console – everything into shards and smithereens. Punch a hole in a wall. Bring the heady woman to his face and tell her that he was tired of her antics. Tired of trying to mend the relationship she was so adamant on breaking. Tired of holding on to the dream family he had envisioned his own would be.

He was quite nearing his limit. As much as he loved her, Johnny Cage could simply not stand her attitude any longer.

"Daddy?"

His little princess. Johnny felt all his anger and frustration melt away as he heard Cassie's light voice behind him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as he turned around, picking the six year old up in his arms.

"Yes, pumpkin?"

"I'll take caramel fudge with chocolate syrup this time."

"Right on, kiddo!"

Near Matsushima Air-Field,

Miyagi Prefecture,

Japan

"You don't like your ramen?"

Takeda looked up from his steaming bowl of noodles in broth, to his father, absolutely incredulous. He could not believe him. After murdering so many people, a futile hike back to the SF-base that had met a fate similar to Kenshi's abode, and a whirlwind bus-ride to some remote town near an army airfield - his father had the audacity to casually inquire about food in this rickety, old diner?

"I'm not hungry," he answered quietly. The aroma was enticing, and Takeda felt his stomach grumble in anticipation of food – but he felt like a balloon was being inflated inside his chest. He had absolutely no appetite for anything. How could he, when the the images of the morning's death and destruction still swam in his mind?

Kenshi paused, chewing thoughtfully on his food as he set his chopsticks down. The worst of the concussion to his head had subsided and he had regained most of his strength, and every bite of food defeated any lingering traces of fatigue from his trained body. He was grateful for it, although he still did not make full use of his telepathic abilities as he did before, lest his migraine set in again.

If they were to make the journey, especially considering the route he'd decided on, he would need every ounce of his strength.

And patience.

It was a busy afternoon at the diner – though the buzz of conversation and the clatter of cutlery mildly irritated him, he realised it would perfectly conceal their voices.

"We have a long journey ahead of us, son. It'll probably be a while before we'd get to eat again."

A period of silence descended upon the two. Takeda picked up his chopsticks and stirred his meal. Kenshi did not resume eating – knowing that any second, his son would bombard him with a string of questions he deserved answers to.

Takeda furrowed his brows. "So this is the work that kept you away from us all this time?" His tone could have cut through ice.

A muscle ticked in the swordsman's jaw, as Kenshi bit his cheek. The boy was toeing a dangerous line there.

"I do what I must, son. You need not worry yourself over what you don't understand at your age."

"You said you were a soldier. Soldiers protect people, not kill them!"

"Did I not just protect us both?"

"Oh, sure – if by protection you mean almost being blown up to pieces!"

"Be quiet, Takeda!" Kenshi said lowly, yet sternly. He glared despite his blindness, knowing full well that the act would be received as such by his son.

Takeda fumed, but ultimately complied. "Why?" he whispered, head bowed and arms crossed. He was beginning to get tired; he didn't want to play along to this charade anymore.

"You were there. You saw why," Kenshi hesitated, unsure if he should voice out the latter part or not, but then deciding to proceed. "Even though I told you not to."

"Why?" he repeated, emphatic. "You haven't answered a single question – have you forgotten your promise already?" The tone was scathingly accusatory.

Normally, Kenshi would not tolerate a young boy answering back like this to him – he was a believer in family values; where respect and obedience to the family were at the foremost. Despite knowing full well he had never observed any such values throughout his entire rough childhood.

'I'm turning into Suchin's goddamn mother.'

But his son deserved all the leeway he could get, presently. The boy was shaken to the core, alienated from his mother, having witnessed far more violence in one day than most do in a lifetime, accompanied by a stranger of a father who continuously exposed him to danger, yet wouldn't talk straight to him about it at all.

Hell, now Kenshi was angry at himself.

"The opportunity never really came up, son," he answered instead. "But you deserve to know as much." He bent his head down, nodding to the boy so that he could follow suit. Takeda skeptically looked from one side to another, and leaned slightly in.

"I was working against a criminal organisation. My cover was blown, and now they want me dead." He spoke gravely: "I don't know how, but they found about this place – the result is in front of you."

Kenshi let the words hang in the air as he moved back, picking up his bowl and chopsticks once more, and taking a silent bite.

Tears swam in Takeda's eyes, which he willed and drank back. None of this excited him any longer. Such things were only enjoyable on the weekly Saturday-night action hour on television; in real life, they were bloody, gory and frightening, and Takeda wanted nothing to do with it.

"I want to go back to Thailand. Mother and I are better off without… you."

Kenshi paused midway putting another morsel of food in his mouth – and slowly, as if in pain, he set the chopsticks beside the bowl.

Takeda could have taken a blunt switch-blade and stabbed it straight into his heart; and repeated the action again, and again, until every drop of blood bled out from Kenshi's body - that would not have hurt him more than what his son just said. The sheer truthfulness of his words expounded the incredibly bitter pain, as it spread in the middle of his chest.

"I know," he admitted darkly. "Unfortunately, that is no longer an option. Thailand is not safe."

His throat constricted, and he could not say anymore.

'You were a great fool to think this would have turned out any better, Kenshi,' he mentally berated himself. The voices from his ancestors offered no counsel, no consolation to him – and the swordsman felt the moment of intense shame pass.

"Eat, son. It's getting cold."

Takeda felt embarrassed at being rude to his father, and was taken aback at the lax, tired response from Kenshi – without reprimand, or any verbal disciplining. Mother would have hushed him, if not punished him outright for such insolence. Despite his disillusionment from his father, a word of admonishing might have cemented him as a parent in the boy's eyes.

But the opportunity had elapsed. Now Takeda felt that in spite of the blood that bound them, he was conversing with a stranger, introduced to them by the mysterious circumstances afflicting him.

An uncomfortable silence fell in between the two as Takeda began to slowly eat his food. The boy blushed, now blaming himself for closing in the argument in between his father at a time when he hadn't even gotten all his answers.

"Sumimasen…"

Kenshi sharply directing his attention toward the speaker of the voice; he relaxed a little when a quick telepathic check revealed and confirmed an old woman, with no evil designs on them. Nevertheless, he sat up alert, and regarding the woman with a suspecting look whilst saying nothing.

"Kore wa anata no musuko-sandesu ka?"

"Hai, soo desu," responded Kenshi with a nod.

"Totemo kawaii-desu!" And with that, the old woman smiled graciously and patted Takeda's head. "Kare no chichi mo kakkoii desu yo!" she said, winking at Kenshi, playfully.

"Doomo-arigatoo," Kenshi responded with a small laugh, bowing his head at the remark.

"Jaa, mataa!" Takeda too smiled up at the old woman as she shuffled away. She reminded him of his grandmother, and the resemblance warmed him up inside.

Kenshi took a small sip of his water, as the conversation replayed in his mind. A faint smile softened his features, as he quizzically mulled over how much his life and mannerism had changed over the years. He was never one to pick up conversations with strangers, unless he really needed to. Before being blinded, he would have lashed out at the stranger for disturbing him; later, though humbled, he would have only given a half-smile as the only reply, not used to being talked up by strangers in anyway. But readily accepting praise on having an adorable son was clearly something new to him – and oddly enough, he did not mind it as much as much as he thought he would.

"What was she saying?" he timidly inquired. Despite knowing he treaded on thin ground, Takeda was grateful that the woman provided him the chance to be able to talk to him once more.

"She complimented you and the donor of your good-looks," Kenshi replied, deadpan, before flashing a brief lop-sided smile and resumed eating.

Takeda let out a small giggle, and the tense atmosphere slightly abated in between the two. "No, I take after Mama, she's very beautiful, you know."

'Dead wrong, little one. You're my spitting image.'

"Have you ever…" Takeda scratched the back of his neck nervously. He did not know how he could phrase the question without offending his father, and thus hesitated, shifting in his seat.

"Seen her?" the father completed. "Not with my eyes… But I have seen the beauty, the purity of her heart, son," Kenshi replied wistfully. "As rare as it is, I see it in you, as well…"

"What do you mean?"

"In time, you'll understand…" Kenshi replied, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair affectionately. "Until then, stop worrying that 'cute' head of yours, or the lady will have my neck!"

"Daaaaadd," Takeda slightly wailed, inching away from the touch.

Kenshi beamed at the boy, paternal love blossoming in his chest and burning through his doubts like darkness being chased away by light.

To think, he hadn't even dreamed in his wildest imagination of his son's existence a little more than a day ago – and now, the boy merely calling him by his relation, brought him a kind of joy he had never experienced ever before.

If only he had acted on instinct, and returned whenever the thought of Suchin had pierced his heart. If only he had had the strength to silence his wanderlust and never left her. If only he had a way to turn back the tides of time, and undo the damage that has already been wreaked…

Kenshi kept those thoughts at bay.

"Have… Have you really fought even more people than today? All at the same time?" Takeda asked cautiously, keeping his voice only just above a whisper.

The swordsman nodded. "Yes. The nature of my work has always been dangerous. By staying away…"

He stopped. He could add the title of a professional double-agent, experienced in various espionage and counter-espionage activities to his list of talents. Lying to deceive no longer appeared a vice to him.

But Kenshi could not bring himself to brazenly lie to his son. What kind of a man was he, lying in a bid to gain his child's approval? What kind of a father was he, thinking he could rob his son of the truth, only to maintain the boy's delusions about him?

'An utterly desperate one,' an ancient voice whispered in his mind. He mentally agreed.

"You thought you could protect us from harm?" Takeda finished what Kenshi couldn't, picking up the unspoken lie his father couldn't voice.

The swordsman did not answer back, but the damage had already been done.

Feeling guilty, Kenshi closed his beneath the blindfold and let out a breath he did not know he was holding. "Takeda, we're short on time. Finish your meal, we have to leave soon."

"Where are we going now?" Despite the highs and lows, the curtness and the gentleness of their conversation, Takeda felt himself ease up from before. He began to eat readily, even enjoying the hot meal.

Kenshi's mood immediately turned serious.

"To visit an old friend."

Transcript:

Old lady: Excuse me. Is this your son?

Kenshi: Yes, that's right.

Old lady: He's very cute; His father is good-looking too, I'm telling you!

Kenshi: Thanks very much.

Old lady: Take care!

I have been learning Japanese for a while now, although I'm a little concerned because I fear the above conversation might just be too casual to be used by an old lady – if that's the case, I request my readers to please let me know immediately what will be a more appropriate conversation, so I can fix this. Thanks in advance! :)

Anyhow, things slowed down a bit in this chapter – I was aiming for more meaningful conversation in between father and son. I personally felt these highs and lows are important to cover, especially because once Kenshi and Takeda reconcile later (those chapters will definitely be more Takeda-centric as compared to these). As is with every relation, arguments and conflict tend to bring people closer together, so I just felt that naturally, it was important to convey this closeness before, ultimately before Kenshi leaves him off at Hanzo's.

Just a hint of things to come – the next chapter will probably be quite long, and it might be the most action-packed (depends on how it writes itself :) ). You'll see maybe 1-2 new OCs, aiming to flesh out the sparse storyline of the comics, but again, this will be more Kenshi-centric (maybe with a bit of Mavado thrown in). Just to let you guys know, writing Mavado was (strangely) the fun-nest part for me so far, and I've an extensive role reserved for him in the next arc – so stay tuned ;)

A shoutout to iceangelmkx as I discussed Kenshi's changing mannerisms with her on PMs.. You directly inspired this, girl! :D

As always, thanks so much for reading this. If you liked anything, or have any criticism, or concerns (especially on going too OOC) please do feel free to let me know via reviews and PMs – I really look forward to hearing from you all. Until next time, enjoy! :)