Hello everyone! I'm back with a (relatively) quicker update! :D
So a head's up - this is finally where I get to introduce my OC! :3 I'm actually pretty excited about this chapter, and I sincerely hope it doesn't disappoint - but apart from that.. This is finally the point where Kenshi reaches the Shirai Ryu! There's a bit of action as well, but tons of focus on Kenshi (because unlike Takeda, he hasn't erupted at any point yet so far.. until...)
I'll leave you all to figure the rest out :'D
As always, my round of thank yous to: BrutusSilentium, PurpleFlowerBerry, PunkRoseBlitz, Poe's Daughter, Hell-On-Training-Wheels, iceangelmkx and RoseScytheElysium for reviewing. I truly appreciate you all taking out the time to write out to me - it is highly encouraging and I love you all! *spreads candies, chocolate fudge cake and coke to everyone!* :'D
Without any further ado...
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, apart from the OCs I introduce into this, whom I may or may not be willing to kill off by the time this is over. Toodles.
The Takahashi Family Saga
Of Trials and Tribulations
IV
Jinnah International Airport
Karachi, Pakistan
March 1999
Kenshi gritted his teeth and fumed, thinking of a way to explain himself more appropriately to the stubborn officer.
"Look, sir. This is my son – I am not smuggling him in, for God's sake! I spoke with Colonel Akram, and he affirmed I'll be picked up from he-"
"Naik Faraz, ease off. Our guests have had a long journey. I'll handle this from here," a feminine voice smoothed over in the foreign tongue.
Faraz raised an eyebrow, and scowled the woman, who had now crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently, knowing that his antics were a mere waste of time.
"Well, well…" mocked the Naik, as he shuffled his papers, leaned back in his seat and inhaled deeply on his cigarette. "Are we far too beneath you to receive a prior word of such arrivals now, Captain?"
"I didn't fly all the way from the GHQ to have you sass me around, Naik," she warned. Her soft, almost bored tone could deceive the visitors into thinking they were discussing something as trivial as the weather – yet a stony glare gave away her intent.
The officer puffed impudently for a moment, but then shook his head and gave in. He was in no mood to argue – it was humid, he was tired, and his shift was about to end anyway. He had no business concerning himself with the business of the General HQ. With the typical bored shrug of the apathetic bureaucracy he was part of, Faraz slammed a few stamps, and handed the landing authorisation to Kenshi.
"Welcome to Pakistan," he murmured half-heartedly, burying himself in more paperwork. The swordsman merely smirked in reply, as he put a hand on his son's shoulder and walked up to the captain.
"You have my thanks, Captain."
"None required, Takahashi Kenshi," she returned. "We got the message in time, and I was assigned the case. Although…" she paused, glancing quizzically at the child that accompanied him, surprised at his presence. "You do have some explaining to do, obviously," she concluded, referring to the young boy. She smiled wanly at him.
Takeda did not respond back at first, but did get a good look at her. Tall, broad-shouldered but lean. Wheatish skin tone, balanced, angular features with black hair secured in a ponytail. Some might consider her attractive, but truthfully, the boy did not really care. He was fatigued from the constant travelling, and to him, she looked the same as everyone else in this foreign land. All, except for the eyes, which shone brilliantly, and deeply – the colour of the desert.
The captain was dressed in the local civilian clothing – a cotton tunic shirt that ended below the knees, over slim black pants, and a thin, black scarf lying over one shoulder, as if a mere afterthought. Yet her upright posture, curt tone and sleeves folded to the forearms indicated she only meant business. The only oddity remained a pair of black leather gloves she wore on her hands – which seemingly had no place given the humid, March weather, and her traditional attire.
The same gloved hand, now, was stretched in front of her, an attempt at getting a handshake out from the boy. Takeda bit his lip, and glanced at his father, before angrily averting his gaze and shaking hands with the woman.
"And how are we today, young man?"
"I'm fine, Miss…"
"Captain Jehan Ara." Her grip was firm, her eyes wide and trusting. "Don't worry, you're in safe hands now."
The comment sounded sincere, but Takeda could not help shake off his suspicions. The boy knew she too would be a fighter of some sort – Takeda had now realised that was kind of circle his father associated with – but doubted if he could truly trust her.
He closely regarded Kenshi; the swordsman was subtly alert as always in his demeanour, which came from being blind for so long. But he appeared somewhat relaxed – visibly so, as the boy judged from his visage. It perplexed the boy, and thus he maintained his silence.
"Do you have a route for us?" Kenshi inquired, this time in Japanese.
"Yes," the captain switched over to the Asian language, though speaking slowly, as if not very well-versed in it. She began to walk, leading the way to their conveyance. "It's a day's journey by train, from here to the capital. After that, I'll fly you to Gilgit-Baltistan, near mount K2. You will have plenty of time to replenish your energies until then – I'll be hearing the rest from you, later."
Kenshi sighed with relief. They would be travelling directly through in-land, in a region where the Red Dragon had not yet had much success in infiltrating – straight north toward the Shirai Ryu. It was the clearest, and under the national army's protection, the safest leg of his nightmare journey so far.
"I appreciate it, Captain."
The Takahashi were on-board a railway train bound for the capital, Islamabad. They had been treated to their first fulfilling, proper meal since Tibet – from where Kenshi had caught a last minute commercial flight to Karachi, via Kathmandu, Nepal. The journey had been tense – none of them slept, nor ate properly, and barely spoke to another apart from conveying the necessities. The tensed exchange of the duo following Lhasa, alongside being on the run constantly for the past five days had left the Takahashis weary, and cautious, in their own ways. Kenshi rued putting his Takeda in a position where he had to grow up so fast, but could not think of any way he could have averted it in his situation. As it was, he was mentally exhausted from all that had transpired these days – and was thus, unable to think straight at that point.
Getting to the Shirai Ryu had transcended from a mere goal, to a matter of life and death for him.
Presently, the swordsman donned the local qameez and trousers over his armoured suit, to better blend in. The accompanying Pakistani captain, had armed herself with a gun holster over her shoulder, which she concealed under her scarf, now wrapped around her shoulders. In another compartment, an additional force ordained by Colonel Akram, was present, all in civilian attire – to protect the Takahashis.
The shadow of death looming over since they haphazardly left Japan, had abated a little – especially now as they hurtled towards their destination.
"I still cannot read you, Ara," Kenshi said in a tired tone, leaning back until his back was up against the compartment wall. He sipped his tea from a paper cup and felt his tense shoulders relax.
The statement made the captain uneasy. She had perhaps talked to the swordsman before maybe twice, or thrice – all in her capacity as a military official. She knew she'd been a subject of interest for the SF years ago, and was forced to go through multiple tests, including the swordsman's telepathic checks, to see if she a representative of her army was capable for serving the SF.
She had passed, but ultimately denied the invitation, much to her superiors' annoyance. Since then, Jehan had remained wary of both, the top-hawks of the Pakistan army and the SF's advances.
"Maybe you're losing your touch?" the captain questioned cautiously, taking a sip from her own cup.
Kenshi scoffed impatiently as he leaned to pat his son's back, who lay curled, fast asleep beside his father. The boy immediately tensed under his touch, but did not wake up. Kenshi hesitantly removed his hand.
"You think I'd joke about this?" He looked up, and turned his attention toward the female. New to the eerie blindfolded stare, Jehan felt goosebumps rise on her skin. She immediately diverted her gaze.
"I see the silhouette of your powers – stronger than before, if you will. Yet they remain … eclipsed. Held back. Combined with the mental barrier-"
"Weren't you supposed to be blind?" she quipped, wiping down her gun with the end of her scarf, nonchalant.
"Clearly, you missed the gaping hole in my blindfold," he deadpanned, sarcastically.
"Ahh, well," she smirked; "Perhaps I'm a mentally-challenged idiot with nothing worth reading in my mind? Now there's a thought for you."
"Hmm… Didn't know Pakistan Army had recruited the lone Saurian, Reptile," Kenshi mocked, feigning an oblivious tone.
She narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed. "Now you're just insulting me."
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," shrugged Kenshi. "But you are definitely evading, captain."
Following the Netherrealm war, the Special Forces had allied with elite specialists of various top-ranking armies across the world, with the aim of bolstering their forces, discovering new talent as well as forming liaisons, especially on issues that concerned the safety of Earthrealm.
Two years ago, Jehan, then at twenty years of age, had been training with the local Army, and had exhibited a brilliant knack at devising and executing emergency evacuations singlehandedly. Especially so, in the heat of battle – saving multitudes of lives.
The SF had recognised her tactical talents in the military, even altering their SOPs to emulate her more efficient actions. However, for most part, they had been interested in her latent radiative and healing abilities – the manipulation of light and plasma in its various capacities, that was infrequent, uncontrolled yet deadly in kombat.
The instances were rare, and mysterious. Kenshi had suspected a foreign lineage from her genetics, as the cryomancers. Cage mused that she may have been part of the same ancient warrior-race as the actor himself – except with alternate powers in a differing part of the globe. She had not presented herself to Raiden yet, for evaluation.
But the biggest obstacle in her own development was Ara herself. She had adamantly refused to acknowledge her powers, to brandish them or develop them in any form, much to the SF and OIA's chagrin.
In two years, the attitude had not changed the slightest.
"No, that would be you," she replied tonelessly, hinting at the explanation she felt she was owed far more than the current conversation.
'Not a moment's worth of peace,
And, no solution to this unrest,
O Soulmate…'
The lyrics of the traditional, folk track blasted from outside, filling the air in the compartment with its mournful, trance-inducing tune. The captain groaned with ire. "Oh for the love of God. When will they get over this?" she muttered to herself in her mother tongue.
The banter came naturally, given their affiliations with allied, yet competing militaries. Nevertheless, Kenshi decided to explain the situation to her; if he was in her position, he'd want the same.
"Let's just say a deep, undercover espionage mission went horribly wrong."
"Didn't take you for a petty spy, Takahashi."
"It was more of a favour than anything. Surely, you must have heard of the Red Dragon?"
The captain straightened up immediately, alert. "You were infiltrating them alone? You must have had a death wish."
"A death wish? With an eight-year old son to think about? Didn't take you to be that uncreative, captain."
Jehan gritted her jaw, but let the snide remark slide by. She instead, sighed deeply – as if exhausted from hearing the same old thing, again and again.
"We've all been to hell and back these past few years. You'd think we'd have learned to set aside our differences; protect this piece of land we call home. But what do we get? More crime, more violence…"
"Isn't that how it has always been, though?" Kenshi returned, shrugging vainly, before he continued. "The Red Dragon, though, are more than just any crime syndicate. Their dogma, M.O. – everything is shrouded in the dark arts. Sorcery, magic – a creed supposedly 'ordained' by their leader, Daegon. He was my target."
"Did you manage to get hold of him?"
Kenshi scowled. "No, although I had come very close. He had ventured as far as expressing his trust in me through his…. 'agents,' so to speak. That's when a certain, over-ambitious lackey found me out."
"And so you ran… and they targeted your son to get to you, instead," the captain completed for him.
It was the second time that the swordsman telepathically checked to confirm Takeda was asleep.
"His name is Takeda. I- apparently had him with a woman I met around ten years ago, in Thailand – while I was stationed there as a free agent for the SF. Suchin… she…never told me about him…" his throat constricted, and he felt drowning in the sudden wave of melancholy that washed over him. Following his fallout with the boy, he had found it even harder to keep a cap on his thoughts about Suchin.
"Somehow, the Red Dragon found out, and Sonya barely got a lead in the nick of time about my family…" he trailed off.
Ara suspected the worst, but she could not find the heart to voice it out. "I hope she's alright."
Kenshi bit the inside of his cheeks, and tried to clear his mind. He failed, and could only shake his head in despondency, as his only reply.
The sound of the rocking train along the stretch of land, filled the silence that hung in between them for a few moments.
"My deepest condolences," Jehan answered, solemnly – feeling a chill go down her spine, forgotten, forbidden memories resurfacing in her mind. "I can understand…"
Kenshi allowed a few more moments to pass, realising he could not voice out the anguish of losing Suchin to anyone, ever. He selfishly guarded his grief, knowing that it gave him a greater reason to continue his work, more than anything. His honour was at stake – once he assures the boy's safety, then vengeance will be his, and his alone.
"What… what of the boy now?"
A sharp pain went through Kenshi's entire being, as if an arrow had pierced the swordsman's heart.
"I can't risk his life any further," Kenshi answered, his voice barely above a whisper, feeling alienated from his being. He bowed his head and nodded lowly to himself, as if convincing the voices of doubt in his mind. "He'll stay with a… friend. Until I sort this all out."
"It could take you years, Takaha-"
"So be it."
The captain looked at him as if he was insane. "And what credibility does this friend of yours have? What's to say he won't be targeted by the Red Dragon as well?"
"Hanzo can handle them. The Shirai Ryu never run from a fight."
The captain pursed her lips, as she thought over the words. The reformed Shirai Ryu, had been granted a designated place at the border of the Sino-Pakistan border, at the express recommendation of the Special Forces – especially Takahashi Kenshi. A deal had been brokered; as long as the Hasashi Hanzo and his clan kept to their promise of protecting Earthrealm and did not interfere with the local military, they would be allowed to stay there. It was all finalised by her superior, Colonel Akram himself. And since then, she'd heard nothing more of it, until now.
"Your son is bound to pick up a decent fighting skill or two there."
Kenshi nodded, morose. "A mere added bonus. This is the only way I can protect him…"
She could feel the decision did not come easy for the swordsman, and decided not to pursue the topic any further.
It was a long while, before Kenshi deeply inhaled, and spoke:
"The evil out there knows no bounds, and more often than not, it strikes closer to home than we'd like to think. Just as it happened with me. Say yes, captain. Train with us, hone your powers; you ought to help Earthrealm in this."
"I sympathise with you, sir. But at least you've a name, a goal to fight for," she replied softly, despite levelling an ardent gaze at his blindfolded face. "You cannot accuse me of not helping Earthrealm. I help save those 'meaningless' lives that the authorities love to downplay as mere collateral damage. I help those who cannot put a name or a face to their enemies."
Deep down, Kenshi knew he couldn't discount those words. How could he? The swordsman was never the one for mindless optimism, and he certainly did not entertain any delusions about the nature of Earthrealm's conflicts. At its core, it was an inter-realm power-struggle, and one's survival meant another's destruction. Violence and bloodshed wreaked on another, became the means of one's own salvation.
His time as a disciple with the Red Dragon, had taught him that much. Security was just one facet of the aftermath of inter-realm conflicts. The damage wreaked, the countless killed – all provided recruitment grounds for such criminal organisations. A measly pay, two meals a day and a false promise of being reunited with the deceased; it did not take much to sway the desperate, those who had lost everything to join such evil causes.
All while the local governments continued to demonise such individuals, spending almost entirely on the militaries, depriving the masses of decent healthcare, education and rehabilitation. The grunts in the army slaving away, while the top dogs minted the money. Good melted into evil, and evil coalesced into good – until there was no way of ascertaining death as a calamity, or a mere statistic; no way of distinguishing in between a murderer and a saviour.
The evil cycle would continue, as it had since time immemorial. And baring the handful of fighters who have any say in the realm's matters, the untold struggles of humanity, of the countless masses, would go on unacknowledged.
The captain definitely had a point.
"I cannot argue with that logic, Ara," Kenshi acquiesced. The captain merely nodded sadly in response. "But my point still stands. You're not like the rest of humanity-"
"Oh, please," the captain cut in, rolling her eyes.
Kenshi continued as if he had not heard her. "If it's your past that plagues you, and is a hindrance to your development; then know so, that you are not the only one trying to make peace with your guilt…"
The woman tried to dispel the images of the tragic day, years ago, when she'd lost her family in an insignificant oni attack that had wiped out her entire city, leaving her the sole survivor. She placed her elbows on her knees, hanging her head low – and that was when her gaze subconsciously fell on her gloved hands.
Glimpses of a happy childhood began to flash in her mind, where her mother had embraced her as a child, comforted her, and implored her to believe in herself, her strength - an eternity ago.
What followed next was a silenced scream, and an image of her mother's dismembered body.
She jerked her head to a side, as if trying to shake the thought away, and felt blood seep into her mouth, from where she had bit on her cheek too harshly.
The moment, then passed – the compartment slowly swimming back into focus. She clenched her eyes shut, feeling the familiar knots of tension form at the base of her shoulders.
'What good is a man's worth?
He has it one day, he loses it another.'
"What is guilt but the realisation that the only obstacle in between you and your path, is you?" the captain spoke, in a far-away voice.
From beneath his blindfold, Kenshi's eyes widened at her words, as he slowly let them sink in. It was true, and the realisation hit him in multiple ways – the most profound of which, was his current predicament – the thought of leaving his child with Hanzo, a former wraith. His own flawed decisions, his own mistakes costing him the one chance he had of raising a family, of a chance at happiness. A respite from the dark world of pain, blood and terror that he had made his own.
Kenshi found himself detached from the present moment, and thrown into the pits of his own mind, brimming with the dark thoughts he had deliberately suppressed, up to now.
Did he not deserve any better? Did he not deserve to raise his own son? One moment, he had found himself uncomfortable sensing how the boy idolised him in his mind. Following that, he'd become 'papa-san' to the boy, somehow managing to make some space for himself in the boy's heart. And now…
'I hate you! You're not my father! You can NEVER be my father! I HATE YOU!'
The words replayed in his mind mercilessly, and every time they did so, he felt a fresh sense of shame wash all over him.
Fate had bested him once again, except this time, the loss could not be made up for. Kenshi would have willingly traded his sight a thousand times, in a thousand different lifetimes, if only he could reverse these developments, save his family,
Undoubtedly. Everything came back in a circle and ended with him. He was the obstacle, he was the hindrance. His blindness wasn't his only curse, his entire existence seemed to be wretched as well.
And those he had made the mistake of loving the most, had ultimately paid the price.
"You've no inclination how close to home you've hit with that, Captain."
"I… I shouldn't have-" Jehan stopped short, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You probably didn't deserve any of that-"
"Don't. You're absolutely right, though," Kenshi sighed, and shook his head. "We… We think, we tell ourselves, and believe that we have silenced the parts of us that feed on misguided glory, hubris, avarice… That we have disciplined them; that we have civilised our own souls; overcome the greedy little self, let our struggles define us… fool ourselves into thinking that happiness, is only ours for the taking…" he mused, voice far-off.
'Leave my faults aside,
You are not of the insane…'
"We're wrong," both of them spoke simultaneously, voicing the same conclusion, despite the differing manners of reaching it. The swordsman stroked his son's hair gently, while the female directed her gaze back to the passing view of the window.
"Pain, suffering and madness," she murmured. "We think we can harness it? That our capacity to think, to affirm, to negate – to rationalise will deliver us?" she suddenly turned towards Kenshi, animated – holding out her shaking gloved hands. "These hands can save no one, Takahashi. There is no deliverance. We are specks of dust enslaved to this empire of the universe. Nothing more…"
'Not a moment's worth of peace,
And, no solution to this unrest,
O Soulmate…'
Kenshi may have been unable to access her mind, but he was still intelligent enough to analyse her words. A profound understanding of the practical world, suffered from the very bottom, belied her thoughts. The voices in the Sento agreed.
"I know plenty who'd agree to that," he replied.
The captain huffed cynically. "Guess it just doesn't take too much to find a demon sitting in some corner of your mind, waiting to rear its ugly head, huh?"
Kenshi exhaled soundly through his nose. "Demons, angels, spirits – they are all different shades, different manifestations, of the same person," Kenshi returned, sombre as he reclaimed control over his thoughts. "Recognise them for what they are, and then silence them. Move on, forwards. In the end, all that matters is how well you walk through the fire."
Ara took in the words, and considered mulling over them for a while. It then it dawned on her that it had literally been years since someone afforded advice to her, purely for the sake of it. She was not sure what to make of it.
"Why would-" she paused. She then straightened her back and glared at the swordsman. "I'll be blunt. You're not allied with the SF the way I am with my army. What stake would you possibly have in telling me all this?"
Kenshi narrowed his eyes underneath the blindfold, almost amused at the response – thinking he may not even need to read her mind at all. She was young, gutsy, albeit tormented, but utterly predictable in her angst and distrust. Just another kid who think they've seen it all, known it all.
And here he'd thought such kind was a dying breed.
"None whatsoever," replied Kenshi, with a smirk. "Duty for duty's sake. Nothing more on my part, I'm afraid. As should be the case with you as well."
"I'm fine as I am, Takahashi. And I know where my duty lies," she spoke forcibly, trying to keep a reign on her anger.
"You don't." Kenshi brought his feet to the ground, and turned his body towards the soldier. The captain sat with arms folded, her gaze deliberately fixed away from him.
"You're a survivor, Captain," he spoke gravely. "Maybe you died a million deaths inside, maybe your whole world collapsed while you could do nothing to save it… If my predicament is any indication, then know that you are certainly not the only one suffering; stop using your misery to justify your inaction."
The woman looked up at him, with eyes wide, caught off-guard momentarily.
"You sit across me, with a heart that still dares to beat, and a mind that still works. For whatever reason that eludes us all, you made it, captain. And you owe it to yourself to never forget that."
"I am just one person. I can do nothing…" Jehan murmured, confused.
'As am I…'
Takeda deeply sighed in his sleep, prompting the depressive, black thoughts about the future to descend on Kenshi's mind like demons, once more.
Another day, another battle.
The captain's pager went off, breaking the heavy, uncomfortable silence that hung in between the two. She checked her notification: the colonel wanted an update. She would obviously give him one, leaving out this particular conversation, of course. She got up from her seat and quietly walked to the door.
"We're all nothing; but you don't have to be. Do not forsake your choice. It's a luxury I'd certainly kill for at this point."
She paused at the doorway, and hung her head low, but did not turn back.
"You should try to rest for the next few hours. Let me know if you need anything."
And with that, she exited the compartment, unbeknownst of the swordsman who now felt his blindfold become wet from the tears he had himself held back for far too long.
30 hours later
Skardu
Northern Areas, Pakistan.
11.43am
Takeda was a little green in the face – despite being supplied with the paper bags in case he became road-sick. The boy cursed himself for helping himself to a heavy, hot breakfast hours ago at the capital, where they had stayed for less than an hour as the Captain filled out her paperwork, attended a small briefing with the colonel, and resupplied. Changing from civilian clothing into proper army gear, the captain and her team had flown them to this remote city surrounded by numerous mountain ranges – the view of which had quite literally taken Takeda's breath away.
He had taken a liking to the captain – though she was curt with her commands to stay seated in the helicopter, she was friendly to him – at times, emanating an air of an elder sister more than an elite force personnel. Such as the instance when they landed at Skardu, she had bought him a localised cap for warmth over his jacket – square-shaped, with black velvet decorated with gold and colourful embroidery. The boy had smiled up at her in thanks for the first time in days.
Presently, the captain, together with her team, was tasked to transport the Takahashis to the Shirai Ryu base, at the very corner of the district, as well as the international border with China. As stunning as the raw mountain scenery was, the twisting roads and hilly climbs had left him feeling more than just merely nauseous.
"Are you sure we couldn't just fly to the temple, Captain?" Kenshi asked, reading his boy's discomfort while struggling to not vomit in the car himself. Unlike with his son, Ara remained wary of the swordsman, only speaking to him when she absolutely had to, strictly professional.
Except now. Having undertaken the harshest of elite training in the area, the captain was accustomed to the roads, and despite her earlier failings when navigating these roads, she found the Takahashis' discomfort amusing. "I promise I won't judge if either of you throw up. Just don't get my jeep dirty," she smirked.
Up ahead, the road was practically carved out from a rocky cliff, overlooking a deep chasm. Silver-gray rock loomed ahead, and surrounded the truck from all sides except for one – where a fenceless edge revealed an emerald green chasm, filled with hills and untouched mountain conifers.
Much to the boy's horror, there was a sharp right turn ahead.
"We're… we're gonna fall off the roaaaad-aaaargh!" shouted Takeda, horrified as the truck swerved, missing the edge by mere inches. "Oh GOD! That was too close!" His blue eyes widened to saucers as he turned back in the jeep, and stared down the cliff they had just passed.
Kenshi's heart thundered powerfully in his ears, though he fought the urge to grip his chest. "I swear at times like these, I'm glad I'm blind," muttered the swordsman, trying to level his breath.
"Relax now, ladies. We've been at it for an hour now, it'll be over before you kn-"
BOOM!
A large explosion echoed from the walls of the enclosed road; the trio felt a wave of blazing heat warming their backs to an uncomfortable degree.
Instinctively, Kenshi turned and jumped from the front seat to the back of the open-aired jeep, to be with his shaken son.
'Not again… Please, no.. Not again…'
He held the boy to his chest, and for the first time since Tibet, Takeda did not resist. Meanwhile, Captain Ara brought the vehicle to a screeching halt, and turned herself back to see what had happened.
The second jeep was no more to be seen.
"You two stay down!" ordered the captain, as she fished out her walkie-talkie and ran to the edge of the road.
She let out an oath in her mother tongue. She barely registered the cries and screams of her team, as they burned inside the flaming fireball of a vehicle, as it now hurtled down the chasm.
Jehan felt the communication device in her hand, and thought of radioing in her team – but realised how utterly futile the effort would be. The fall would kill four young, talented able-bodied soldiers, if the fire did not burn them to crisp already.
A second later, she felt something hit her in the left shoulder, inches above her heart – and she found herself on the ground, the very breath knocked out of her. It was only when she heard young Takeda cry out her name, did she feel the searing pain from the bullet.
Warm blood poured in from her shoulder, leaking into her army fatigues. Her head swam a little, but it was nothing she couldn't handle.
The captain expelled a shaky breath, her teeth bared as she slowly hoisted herself up on her elbows. Someone out there was evidently itching for a fight.
And now, they had really pissed her off.
'You surprise me, Hao. And here I was thinking you may not have had it in you…'
Hao merely barked with laughter. "I warned you from the first day that the swordsman wasn't trustworthy, yet you would not hear it at all…"
'A mistake, for which we all have paid dearly for. No matter. Who else better to finish this than the one who started it a-'
"Not what I want to hear, Mavado!" suddenly roared Hao, feeling the smug satisfaction of catching his prey being replaced by a blinding fury he had no control over. "It is unfair that while I carry out the grunt's work, youget to be the one to manage the real business," he sneered into the radio device.
'Daegon ordained it so-'
"Oh, the ruse won't work with me, boy," Hsu Hao answered back hotly. "When I return with the swordsman's head, I want my due. I shall be the one to taste it first! I will take the Red Dragon to glory!"
'We will determine that once you accomplish your task, Hao. That is all I can promise you.'
"Oh, I was merely informing, Mavado," laughed the Mongolian cynically, maliciously. "I have Takahashi Kenshi in my crosshairs this very moment. He and his bastard son, are as good as dead."
Hao cut off the communication, and went back into looking through his sniper rifle – situated far away from the Pakistan Army's tattered convoy. There he was, huddled over his son like a feeble animal. Hsu Hao allowed himself a deep snigger, the notions of the raw power he had only heard about burning bright in his mind's eyes, as he carelessly pulled the trigger.
The cult leader howled with frustration, when he realised he'd missed.
Kenshi placed two fingers at his temple, and allowed his spiritual vision to span out the entirety of the region, seeking out enemies.
He could tell there were more than twenty of them, hiding in the hills and the foliage – possibly more at another encampment. Red Dragon mercenaries, almost all of them. They had him cornered once again.
"That's it?! She's YOUR ally! Are you not gonna help her either?!" Takeda shot furiously at his father, regarding the swordsman with a hateful gaze.
The swordsman was caught in a conundrum. He couldn't desert his son alone, not even for a second – but he felt the need to go out and helped the downed captain.
Yet all his thinking came to a stop when he felt a bullet whiz past close to his ear.
He swerved about, turning his attention to the direction it came from.
They were using silencers. Kenshi cursed internally.
"Takeda, listen to me," he whispered, whilst still turning his head about – seeking some form of hint, some indication of the enemy apart from the utter silence of the valley. He had come to absolutely abhor this game of cat and mouse.
"You stay down. No matter what happens, I want you to stay down. If you see me fall, then run. Don't look back, and don't even think about coming for me. Just run; as far as you can, and then some more. Do you understand?"
"But-but…"
"That's an order, son!"
He grabbed the boy's hand, and let him off the jeep, crouching beside the tyre. Takeda nodded his head, and stayed quiet as a lamb – feeling the odd mixture of nerves and adrenaline refresh him, instead of scaring him as it did earlier.
Kenshi then, motioned a hand forward, bringing it up slightly, and telekinetically lifted the jeep. As if going through the motion physically, he pushed at it mentally until it tilted sideways, into a cover of sorts, before landing it with a grunt onto the ground.
Barely a few seconds passed, and a torrential rain of bullets began to ricochet off the jeep's underside filling the air all around them with the clang of metal against metal. Takeda scurried in closer to his father, as Kenshi contemplated a plan of action. The woods were nearby, and seemingly clear of the Red Dragon, for now. Should he stay and fight? Should he let Takeda run in there first, while he aided the captain?
"Smart move, Takahashi!"
Takeda gaped as the female suddenly entered in their cover position, crouching and panting. She was covered in dust, bleeding but otherwise alright. Kenshi paused momentarily, alert, before letting out a silent sigh of relief.
"Y-You were shot! Just n-now!" Takeda stammered. It was a statement more than a question.
"Internal healing. My little curse, Takeda."
The captain merely snuck in a magazine into her Beretta and fished out a sub machine gun from a bag secured at the back of the jeep. Once her weapons were loaded, she showed Takeda a bloody bullet, before pocketing it her breast pocket.
"Another one for the collection," she winked and gave a lopsided grin while shaking strands of hair from her sand-coloured eyes. Takeda launched himself at her, enveloping her in as tight a hug as the eight year old could muster.
The captain awkwardly responded for a second, before breaking it off. "Later, soldier. We have to stay focused now," she spoke seriously to the child, as if his presence was important to their counter-attack efforts.
Takeda nodded fiercely.
"Around 20 of them, surrounding the basin – there may be snipers in the hills and the chasm," Kenshi supplied, bringing out the Sento, as it glowed a dangerous electric blue. "Our silence is luring them in. We ought to move in for the kill soon."
"Red Dragon, definitely. No one here would dare using a rocket launcher on an army convoy."
"Agreed. You try taking out the snipers, I'll take the-"
"No," returned the captain, as she sat up on her knees, and fired straight at the mercs, who had now began to close in on them in groups of four and five. The first wave, that was investigating the pool of blood from where the captain had fallen, were caught by surprise, and all fell to the short, accurate burst of the machine gun, like flies.
"More are bound to come, you can't handle them all alone!"
"T'is nothing," the captain calmly answered, as she reloaded, and scanned for more enemies. This time, a flash of electric blue beheaded the enemies in a singular, clean strike before she could even pull the trigger.
The awe of watching the famed telekinetic swordsman manipulate his katana was, however, short-lived. Immediately afterwards, she heard the ticking sound close by, a small object slowly grazing her right knee. She knew it was a grenade before she could look down to confirm it.
Kenshi heard it as well.
In an oddly synchronised fashion, both the adults launched into a sprint from their cover positions, with the father practically carrying his son sideways by his waist like a ragdoll. Almost simultaneously, the jeep exploded, sending the trio sailing into the air.
Takeda let out a small yell as he landed on his side, banging his head on the tarmac. Kenshi fell a few feet away, but quickly rolled on top of him, protecting him as the Red Dragon commenced firing on them once more. The captain shook her arm, letting the blood flow, and tilting her head in an angry nod, let out a burst from the submachine gun, relentless. She came to a crouch in front of Kenshi and his son, shooting with unparalleled accuracy and efficiency.
"You two, run!"
The small loss of concentration that came as she commanded the Takahashis, was punished with three bullets lodging into her – two in the right leg, and one dangerously close to her jugular, incapacitating the woman. She fell onto her hands, blood gushing in streams from the mouth and neck, eyes clenched shut.
Kenshi immediately summoned the strength to create another reflective force-field as he did so in Japan. The cerulean aura enveloped both the Takahashis as well as the injured captain, buying her enough time to put her healing energies to use. The swordsman slowly got up from his commando-crawl position over his son, holding both the temples with his fingers, until they felt the sunlight absorbed in a distinct electric blue colour, wash over them inside the orb.
All this time, the Sento danced in circles and arcs, incinerating any and all advancing enemies.
Takeda hid behind his father, as he was instructed before.
After a tense few minutes, Kenshi felt the mental strain of the effort hinder his efforts. The captain now, was sitting up, looking pale and feverish, but the skin around her neck slowly merged together, stemming the blood flow. Takeda watched in sheer horror as she slowly got up – he had never seen so much blood in all his life.
Kenshi was internally glad he had not seen his mother's last stand.
"Don't look, son," Kenshi rasped, sweat trailing down the side of his face.
"Takahashi…" Jehan breathed heavily, as she clutched her neck with one hand, retrieving a dual-grenade from her belt with the other. "Run into the woods – the trees will give you cover. Northeast, until you reach the base of the Himalayas. Around fifty or so miles. You'll find.. or rather…. Hasashi will find you."
"You won't be able to handle them al-"
"Someone told me that I'm a survivor," she replied her tone steady, as she looked deeply into the face of the blinded swordsman, clicking a fresh magazine in place.
She immensely respected him for having the heart to consider staying back, when he had family to protect. The captain wasn't so sure she could have done it so herself.
Nevertheless, it was a long hike to the Shirai Ryu; he would need his strength.
She felt mobility return to her right thigh, and figured she could move around with now. Securing their safety was her mission, she was not going to let herself become the hindrance.
"Go! God-willing, I'll see you on the other side."
The force-field erupted, sending four mercenaries hurtling to their doom down the chasm. The Sento, meanwhile, took out a sniper from the hills. In a flash of electric blue light, the sword returned to its owner, who sheathed it.
In the brief moment of respite, the trio ran toward the woods, where Jehan took cover behind a large tree. Kenshi paused, and held uninjured her shoulder in a tight grip – the gesture almost fatherly.
"I'm proud of you, captain. And indeed, you will."
And with that, he grabbed his son's hand and sprinted into the thick of the woods.
Dawn
Unknown Location
Near Mount Godwin-Austen,
Sino-Pakistan border, Western Himalayas.
March, 1999
He was running. He was on the run again, as he had been since the past day; stopping only for a few moments' worth of breather when he felt he was ripping a tissue in his legs, or when the lack of breath almost put him on the verge of unconsciousness. Day, night, exhaustion, relief – the notions ceased to exist for Takahashi Kenshi in their entireties. All he was aware of was the need to reach the Himalayan temple, and to keep his son safe.
'Almost there. Takeda. Takeda – for his sake. For his safety - just a few more miles…'
The entire region that bordered China was a complex mix of valleys, and uneven terrain, where three mighty mountain ranges all combined in a natural backdrop that was untouched by the modern world. The remoteness and the difficulty of accessing the region was in part one of the reasons the Himalayan base had appealed so much to Hanzo Hasashi, as the Grandmaster set up the Shirai Ryu on a remote plateau, in view of the largest peaks of the world – blissfully isolated from the constrains of modernity.
'The air is fresh, the terrain rugged: Takeda would grow strong here. My boy, my son. Hanzo would train you well…'
Takeda had not spoken a word since they parted with the captain outside Skardu. Kenshi knew the boy was scared, exhausted himself – and desperately needed to be comforted. To be loved. To be held securely to the bosom, and told infinitely that it was alright; that none of this was his fault. But the enormity of his current task was simply too great. The telepath had failed to protect his son from many things, but at least he could try and guarantee the safety of his life…
'Suchin died for this. Suchin died for him. Suchin died for me…'
The thought of his lover teleported him back a decade – to the hills of Lampang. Suchin. Her hair falling in a thick, loose curtain over her shoulders. The shy, sly smile of a woman who knew the game, and its rules. Images, of a physical-spiritual nature, forged in his dreams flashed by: one moment, she was scolding him for thinking she could not take care of herself against a gang of thugs, while the swordsman played along purely in good humour – the first time he'd met her. The second, she was standing drenched in the rain, her chin jutting proudly, facing Dara and defying her, and all she stood to defend in her brazen, first romance. And then… sighing, crying, whimpering in the throes of maddening ecstasy – the fateful night when they'd consummated their union.
'You were always a fearless woman. You stared into my abyss, and deeper yet, until you found me. Like a rare flower, spreading your sweetness to all and beyond… A kiss from a rose, from an eternity ago…'
Oh, he had loved her. Then, now, and in between. Every time he'd have a brush with death that was a tad too close for comfort. Every time he would converse with a soldier, and hear him talk about his girl back home. Every time he'd hear a woman's laughter: he'd shake his head and smile, thinking there was no comparison with the joyous, crackle of Suchin's innocent laughter.
He'd loved her desperately; with all his false arrogance, with all the nothingness of his soul. She'd seen through his pretensions, his darkness and his carefully constructed defenses - as if he was a mere mirror – and she'd dared to love him, even when he knew he could offer her nothing in return but empty promises.
Me - She died for me… She died in my stead… Suchin, oh Suchin…'
The swordsman had fixated on his grief through the majority of the time. It occupied his mind in a viciously tight grip, allowing him to transcend the physical limits of his being. He was running more or less blindly. Kenshi had stopped using his telekinesis and telepathy long, long ago – trading their energy to enhance his physical strength. The Sento had merely painted a thin blue line as his path in his spiritual vision – the backdrop was the pitch dark of his blindness.
'I failed you. I failed us. I failed our son… Why did you not tell me before? Our son! Suchin! If only I could bring you back… If only you'd told me before…'
He screamed to the heavens and beyond in his mind – demanding the deities for answers to blasphemous questions that belied his lack of belief in them. Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be him?
Kenshi cried silently during his run, and he didn't care what his son made of it, or if he found out at all. He had never had the opportunity to grieve, or mourn after his love – and the current timing was somehow perfectly apt in its own inappropriate way.
'These hands can save no one! There is no deliverance, Takahashi…'
The weary swordsman found himself recalling the captain's words in his mind – and he felt in himself an unfamiliar fury, different from the paternal one he had often found himself experiencing whenever Takeda's well-being was jeopardised in any manner.
No… This was more… carnal; basal, animalistic – uncontrollable. It was not a learned figment from society, a senseless feeling he'd been taught to experience – but a raw fire that emanated from his mind, his soul, his body, and his entire being. It burned through his remorse, his failures, and grief - and further yet, threatened to burn everything in existence with it.
'Revenge, but not without self-control. I may not be Scorpion, but I am not without my fire, either…'
Takahashi Kenshi deliberately reminded himself of his distinctness from the former specter – compelling himself to think that he had the consciousness to not slip into the thought-process that made Hanzo, Scorpion.
'But I will find them. I will find them all. And I will kill them. I will tear apart limb from limb from my own hands – Daegon will pay. He will fall. I will avenge you, Suchin…'
The crimson darkness followed him, threatening to engulf and suffocate him and Takeda, as it did Suchin. He did not remember when he'd paused for breather, except that it had been the dead of night then – and he felt the sun's rays kiss his face now. Every ounce of muscle on his body was on fire, his legs screaming for respite yet in his mind…
'Takeda… Hang on, my son - just a few more-!'
"Arrows! Behind us!"
The swordsman's eyes widened underneath his blindfold, as deliberately shook his mind out from its trance-like state. Barely registering his son's warning in his mind, he summoned the Sento telekinetically, and with a grunt, propelled it towards the projectiles – destroying them, except for one.
With a cry of pain, the swordsman crashed onto the ground, sliding roughly forward a few meters purely out of the sheer momentum from his sprint. Takeda sharply inhaled, as he braced for the impact of his father's fall, and slid off the swordsman's back in the process.
Kenshi breathed in deeply, feeling the muscles in his legs burn immensely, sore and aching from his effort of the night before – in addition to the searing pain from the arrow as it shattered his calf-bone. He held a hand to the ground, and as the dust settled about him, he felt the presence of the Red Dragon – scores of them, fill in on his spiritual vision – led by the same, vile man who had put him in this situation.
Hsu Hao barked his typical, obnoxious laugh.
"Even your telekinesis gets tired when you've been running all night, Kenshi."
"Takeda-hrnn!" growled Kenshi painfully. "RUN!"
WOWWIE! This was so, so, SO long X_X
I tried, guys.. I truly did try to make it as concise as I could.. I made the discussions as short while retaining their punch as I could, but there was just a lot of ground to cover. The entire Pakistan-arc of the journey was of importance, not purely because of the OC that I wanted to introduce, but because I wanted to register some important developments for Kenshi – including, his mourning for Suchin, his realisation that how HE was the pain problem in all this and how he (slightly) redeemed himself in Takeda's eyes by trying to stay back and help Ara (who, btw, should have been Syrian. The only reason I made her a Pakistani in this, was because I thought having Kenshi trek through Syria and the Middle East before reaching the Shirai Ryu was just a wee bit too far-fetched x_x) *sobs while putting her Syrian civil war notes away*
Why Mount Godwin-Austen? (Also called K2) Primarily, because my grandfather and father once went trekking there, around late '90s ^^ … So I've used some locations and experiences of theirs of the area, and whatever I could use from the pictures to flesh out this part (and the names, consequently – Akram, Faraz were all based on real life people they met back there! xD) This part was actually pretty fun to write, especially given the recent Humans of New York's Pakistan series which is focused around the area where this fic is taking place atm (you can check it out on facebook if you want :) ).
Also, doubt the OC will appear in this fic again. But I've spent a LOT of time fleshing her out in my drafts – I've been itching to write a cold, hardy, world-weary character for a long time now - so would love to read what you all think of her, and whether a non-romance, OC story with the focus on the Kombat kids would interest you all or not :)
Some extra references (since I, unfortunately, own nothing :'( ):
'Jehan Ara' – An Urdu/Persian name that means 'adornment of the world'.
'Kiss from a rose' - yes, I wrote the title of that Seal song from Batman Forever. I swear it's Kenshi and Suchin's theme :'D
'...all that matters is how well you walk through the fire' - a quote from Charles Bukowski (a personal favourite, which I find highly motivating at times)
'Duty for duty's sake' - a concept by Immanuel Kant, introduced in his famed work, 'the Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals' - a central work that explores the realm of moral philosophy. Kant highlights this concept in great detail, although the term used in this context is largely self-explanatory here - the commission of an action, not for the rewards or benefits it would bring to one later, but because the act of carrying out the action is a good in itself and that is all the justification that is required. (Don't look at me like that, lawl, I studied this last term :p)
'to think, to affirm, to negate - to rationalise' - a mixture of Hegel (selected readings) and Kant (An Essay on Enlightenment). No extra detail on this, Ara is just mentioning the different stages of thought and reasoning here, at their basics.
Sufi track in question - again, this was what was written in my father's diary was 'all the rage' back there in the day (think Michael Jackson-esque popularity, as per his words). It's apparently called 'Sayonee' by a local band, Junoon. I once googled the translation, and was quite impressed so I used it here ^^.
Well… You all made it! :'D Kudos and a big THANK YOU for reading all that, you guys are awesome! What you liked, what you hated, what you think could be done better and especiallyyyy what you think about the OC – please feel free to let me know, it would truly do me a world of good! Thanks again folks, and as always, enjoy! :)