Helloo everyone! :)
So I'm FINALLY back with a new update! xD Ahh well. I'll be very blunt right now - this chapter gave me a helluva tough time. I couldn't help but feel that it dragged on and on - and coupled with getting back to school and everything - I just did not know what to do with this snooze-fest. I'm honestly not very proud of it :(
Nevertheless.. I have been soo overwhelmed by the lovely comments and reviews you've all showered my way. They all mean soo much to me, thanks so much everyone! :3 I couldn't find the time to respond separately, so I'm just gonna do that below right here :)
The-06: My Tumblr buddy! :'D Thank you SO much for your heart-warming words! My main aim with this story from the start was to merge the events of the two timelines together in a way that does justice to all the characters and their respective canon events.. I don't think I can delve into Nitara's blood magik here yet, but that too is an avenue I would love to explore someday.. Thanks again for everything *hugs* :'D
Poe's Daughter: Wowieee! Thanks so much for your review! xD Now you know how dem cliffies feel, yo! xD To be honest, since this is more of a filler story, and also since we all know that Kenshi *obviously* survives as he's in the game, I personally thought the cliffhangers would not make that much of an impact.. Hence I served out an extra serving of suffering to my favourite swordsman (seriously, he'd kill me by now if he were real for all the crap I make him suffer through x_x) - just for the extra oomph xD Thanks again for your review :'D
Obelisk of Light: Helloo buddy! :) Thanks so much for your review ^.^ .. I was really on the fence about mentioning Raiden, but then I just decided to roll with it.. xD I eagerly await your response for this update too :3
PunkRoseBlitz: Thanks soo much my friend! :3 Yeah, I know real life can be such a bummer at times.. You are way too kind, my friend - I just hope you like this one too... :')
Hell-On-Training-Wheels: Awww, my bud! *hugs* xD Now you see what happens when you torture Norah and leave us hanging in the air? :P (J/k)... well actually not, you tear us apart too, friend! xD But overall, I'm so glad to read you thought it was good! I had a hard time writing the blood demon in a way that was independed from the Sento - yet all inside Kenshi's head while he went through his own inner identity crisis.. TBH, I don't even know if I as a writer have it in me to do something like that with other characters, I keep thinking that I can only write a small niche of such tortured chars ... But irrespective - your words truly made my day, and I can't thank you enough for expressing such faith in me... :'D
GetCaged: Aww thank you so much, buddy! I hope you like this update too ^.^
iceangelmkx: Dang, I hate that blood demon too... *joins you in throwing potatoes at it* xD Kenshi is a toughie, truly - he was going to survive, but in order to make the threat real I deliberately had to go the 'extra mile' in torturing him.. xD I'm glad I was able to somehow pull it off, though! Thanks so much for your heart-warming review, bud! *hugs*
RoseScytheElysium: Awww buddy! Thanks sooo much! I truly hope you'll enjoy this one too! *hugs*
Before I begin, I'd like to mention one last thing: us writers often have to rely on inputs from others to get the juices flowing. For this particular update, I would like to especially thank iceangelmkx, the-06 and obelisk of light with me, helping me find my way whenever I'd be lost and guiding me through my own ideas. I literally could not have written this without any of your help - you guys, thank you SOO much! *wipes happy tears* :')
Also - it is almost 5AM, and I am utterly exhausted.. Therefore, I'll upload the references in the morning (or, er.. noon :P) - so my sincere apologies on that front! :(
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Pinky swear.
The Takahashi Family Saga
Of Bonds of Blood
II
'If only I could see your face once, my love – I would spend the remainder of my life thanking every god and deity in existence…'
He had thought this countless times during the time he spent with his beloved, yet Takahashi Kenshi had never mentioned her his sentiments, his yearning perhaps once. Why should he have, when he knew it was not to be...
He was wrong.
He saw her again.
Kenshi smiled as he inhaled the fresh air deeply, sighing lazily as he stretched out onto the lush green grass.
The sky. He had almost forgotten how much he'd missed seeing the night sky; illuminated by the moon – a bright, shining sphere, glowing white. Millions of stars littered the heavens above them, glittering like diamonds across the dark, velvety sky.
The wind touched his face like a cool whisper, and he slowly closed his eyes. All around him, he was surrounded by the glorious scent of jasmine, and fresh water…
He was in bliss.
Suchin did not move an inch from her position, cradling Kenshi's head in her lap as he lay relaxed on the ground. It was as if the painful years of their separation, his pursuit – had all rolled back – transporting them back to the time they had been young, unbound, careless and free...
Her long fingers deftly combed through his neat black hair – ruffling the soft strands. Kenshi would never let anyone touch his hair, except for her. She knew the act calmed his nerves. At least one of them would be at peace…
"Suchin, what's wrong?" asked Kenshi, his voice laced with concern. From his angle, he saw the delicate white neck, craned sideways, fixed at a certain point along the horizon. She seemed deep in thought, and did not respond to him, yet her hands continued to caress his forehead and hair, absent-mindedly.
Raising himself on a forearm, Kenshi frowned as he saw nothing at the point where his beloved kept looking.
"There's nothing there…" he murmured, before stopping himself. Suchin's warm brown eyes were brimming with tears, her soft mouth pursed slightly, gaze set incessantly upon that one single point – with a pained, wistful expression.
"I'm waiting for him…"
There was an unparalleled clarity in his mind – he could perceive his thoughts as clearly as if they were strings of pearls; glittering, tangible, instead of vague ideas in his mind. And the subject of her question, was perhaps the most precious of his thoughts: he immediately recognised whom she was waiting for.
Kenshi sat up, turning his body so he could face Suchin. He softly touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, trailing his hand to her thick mane of silky, long hair.
"It is not his time yet, Suchin. There is so much he has to accomplish first…"
"He has your burning ambition, Kenshi…" her voice sounded far-off, yet her lower lip quivered slightly.
"But your curiousity," the swordsman smiled sadly as he fondly recalled the moments he had shared with his son.
"And your eyes…" Suchin finally tore her gaze away from the horizon to look directly into the man's newly restored eyes. Bright azure orbs, the colour of a cloudless sky and the deepest oceans, stared back at her.
Her son's eyes…
"How could you leave us, Kenshi?" Suchin whispered, her voice breaking. Tears overwhelmed the watery barrier in her eyes, stretching boulders across her almost translucent cheeks.
Kenshi instantly got on his knees, and in a single, fluid movement, took his beloved's form and enveloped her into a passionate embrace. Trembling, he held her, and found himself gazing at the same spot – as if somehow, their son would magically appear from behind the hills and join them.
"You never told me," he breathed at her temple, pressing her head into the crook of his neck. After a while, he cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her forehead.
"I'd have left everything in a heartbeat, Suchin. Why did you not tell me?" Kenshi implored, his voice strained, and hollow.
Suchin did not say a word, but wept softly into Kenshi's shoulder. She melted into his arms, her form filling out and fitting into his hardened body as if she had been tailor-made exactly for him. He had never imagined her to be so beautiful – innocent doe eyes, beautiful hair, the full mouth he knew would spout the wittiest words whenever she chose to.
He drank in her sight, committing to memory every curve, every line – the way the silver moonlight illuminated her.
She was a dream.
The realisation struck him in the center of the chest, as if a canon had been fired his way. Like all dreams, he had absolutely no recollection of how he came to be in this place. Was he alive? Was his Suchin not real? Was all this a lie? How could it be…
None of it should matter anymore – but Suchin's words unsettled him. And once more, he found himself drawn toward the dark unknowns…
"It is real, my love," she spoke softly, her voice tinkling in his ears like a melodious song he'd yearned to hear…
There was that smile again – teasing, sensual, secretive…
"What is it?" he murmured, as he wiped away the traces of her tears and kissed her eyelids.
"I'm waiting for you, too…"
His eyes widened, mouth parting in surprise. He had no trouble understanding what she implied, yet he could not find the will to believe her.
Suchin placed a hand against his cheek, and beamed at him with moist eyes and the sweetest smile. He saw Takeda reflected in the curve of her lips, and the memory made him crack a crooked grin of his own.
"For my sake… Do not leave him alone…"
A strange, aching took over the swordsman's form. Emanating from the center of his chest, it quickly intensified, spreading to his ribs, shoulders and legs – and fell in an excruciating wave of pain in his back.
Her hand slowly slid from his cheek, his jaw, and neck, down to his chest: over his heart. The pain vanished from the region where her soft hand trailed down his body.
"He needs you, Kenshi…"
She clutched the front of his robe with an urgency that nearly broke him. Yet he felt darkness close in on everything in his sight - and a familiar, darkness spread out its arms and took him in its incessant, black embrace.
Unknown Location,
The Sky Temple, Earthrealm.
"Suchin, is not here, Kenshi…"
The swordsman, just emerging from his brain-numbing coma, almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice. He groaned painfully, as his head pounded from the sudden sensory overload after remaining dormant for so long, as he slowly began to register a dull ache plaguing perhaps every part of his broken body.
He thought the voice familiar, but could not put a name to it immediately. It did not matter - currently, he was not in the position to put any strain on his mind. But with the Sento…
Kenshi patted beside the futon where he lay, covered in sheets and pillows far too soft for his weathered body. At that moment, he realised he was not wearing any of his armour, nor gloves – and texture of cotton feeling rough against his heightened sense of touch.
He began to grow increasingly flustered. He knew did not have the strength to summon his spiritual vision, and could not call out to the Sento.
Where could he have put it… How did he make it here… It was, consequently, his thoughts about his swords that led him to think about his current circumstances.
"The Sento was designed for kombat, not to be used against the Takahashi lineage.."
It wasn't Raiden. Kenshi could at least tell as much. But his senses were tingling strangely; he felt the power enclosed in this being, far stronger than any mortal – similar to how it felt whenever he was close to the deity…
"Fujin?" he called out cautiously, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Indeed, swordsman." There was a rustle of clothing, and Kenshi heard a small breath escape the wind god as he seated himself beside the injured telepath. He held the swordsman's wrist, and felt his pulse and then, his forehead, before removing his hands.
"When you committed seppuku, the blade of the Battle shattered, fragmenting the souls of your ancestors…"
A pang of sore pain rose in his side, as Kenshi raised and arm, and tried to settle into the mattress. It was a while before he fully realised what the wind god had just confessed to him.
Kenshi almost sat up straight at his words, before gasping from the wave of sharp pain that struck him in his ribs. Groaning, he leaned back on his elbows, as Fujin immediately helped him settle, arranging pillows in a way that the swordsman would be comfortable.
"Wh-what?"
"You were bleeding to death – the broken blade beside you… delusional to no end…"
Suchin had cradled his head in her lap – and it angered Kenshi to see the memory be violated with such accusations.
"Don't you dare-" he growled, yet was cut off.
"Raiden barely made it in time to save your life," returned the wind god, irritated.
Kenshi gritted his teeth, furious. He folded his arms over his chest and huffed indignantly. "Looks like he hasn't yet learned to not intrude in affairs that do not concern him…"
Fujin's eyes narrowed as he glared at the swordsman. Never had an Earthrealmer dared to utter such an outrageous comment in his presence!
"Thankless fool!" he hissed bitterly. "We cared for you all this time; nursed you back to life – and this is how you show your gratitude?!"
Kenshi turned toward the wind god, frowning. "I never asked to be saved, Fujin. And I certainly did not want to keep you from your godly duties," his harsh, yet icy tone could have cut through concrete.
Fujin already did not prefer dealing with Earthrealmers directly – choosing to serve his duty as the protector of the Jinsei in isolation. Yet he did know enough about the beings of his realm, to understand something else belied the injured man's crude words.
"It is the hatred of men that put you here, Kenshi – not the vengeance of gods."
"Does it matter, Lord Fujin?" Kenshi answered hoarsely. "I've been dealt a cruel hand by men and gods alike…"
"I never took you for the self-loathing kind, Kenshi," Fujin returned crossly.
"Wouldn't be the first time I'd have heard of your kind's fallibility…"
The remark cut through Fujin like a dagger, but he let it slide by. He never really could understand Raiden and his foolish love for mortals, his ungrateful champions. He folded his arms over his powerful chest, and straightened his back, answering to the retort with one of his own.
"I have to wonder if this broken shell of a man the same who convinced Hasashi Hanzo to save himself."
Kenshi clenched his eyes shut. He knew running his mouth, spouting his half-cooked philosophy on others without thought would come haunting back one day. He suddenly found himself lost, confused – with no sense of direction on where he was standing, or where to go from here.
As if all the fortresses he had erected in his mind to rationalise all his actions, had come tumbling down in the wake of his failure.
His failure…
"Then, you're not alone…"
In that moment, it dawned on Kenshi how he had gone back and did precisely what he had stopped Hanzo from doing all those years ago.
The defeated inflection of his voice was not lost on Fujin, who arched an eyebrow and regarded the swordsman once more.
"Yet here you are… perhaps not in the best of shapes, but alive, breathing… I wonder for what purpose…"
"No purpose; just my stubbornness. A character deficit, if you will."
"I will stick with purpose, thank you for your ever-so-enlightening-input, Takahashi Kenshi."
The swordsman let out a breathy laugh. Fujin's sarcasm was brutal, but not unkind. It oddly refreshed him.
"So while we're on the subject of 'purpose'," Fujin continued, as he leaned over and began to clean the stitches in his collar. "One has to wonder what good taking your own life would have done your cause…"
"I deserve far worse," Kenshi replied darkly.
"There are fates worse than death, Kenshi. Ask Jackson Briggs- but no… Forgive me, O learned one, I forgot you obviously do not care, since you were spared such a fate."
"Was I, truly?" He hissed sharply as solvent burned his tender wound, as it was rubbed away gently by the wind god. He had long lost count of the misfortunes that had come to comprise his destiny – and now, with the loss of the Sento, he could not even fathom what good he would now be, to anyone…
"Then why do I feel I'm a tad too familiar with the fate in question…?"
"You do not. This reprieve merely makes you indifferent."
Kenshi raised his neck to regard him quizzically, before leaning back, placing a wrist on top of his forehead, clenching his eyes shut.
"Tell me, Lord Fujin – have you ever loved, and then deserted someone? Told yourself it was what was best for them, in the name of duty, even when your heart told you otherwise?"
"I was never afforded the opportunity – in the name of my duty, Kenshi," Fujin shook his head, gravely. "So you would have to excuse me if I do not share tales of lost love and misery over tea, or drinks… or whatever it is Earthrealmers do these days over their grief…"
"Well, well," Kenshi drawled, smirking wryly. "It isn't every day a mere mortal manages to one-up a god now, is it?"
Fujin frowned seriously, and applied pressure to the wound, eliciting a small cry from the swordsman. "You have your answer, arrogant one?"
Kenshi growled in his throat, as the sting began to subside, trying to suppress a grin from breaking out. It apparently did not take much to get under the deity's skin. "My apologies." He ground out, sighing in the wake of the receding pain.
"I would advise you to rest, but you and I both know you will not comply," Fujin stated after a brief silence, as he cleared away his cleaning instruments. He took his position on his knees, seated beside the reclining swordsman, his expression perplexed, and concerned.
"Say all that burdens your heart-"
"I am not obligated to do-"
"I can dress your wounds, swordsman," replied the wind god. "But only you can rid yourself of your poison."
Kenshi knew without a shadow of doubt, that the deity was right. He exhaled slowly, feeling the fragility of the freshly bonded bones in his sternum and ribs with each breath; bringing with it mild discomfort, but thankfully no pain.
And no lingering essence of the demon either.
He had rested long enough; his mind and thinking were crystal clear, even if he lacked the physical strength in his limbs. It was a final rite, to get it out of his system before returning to his normalcy.
"I used to see her, almost every night in – dreams, visions, whatever you want to call them…" began Kenshi, his voice tender and low. "And when I did not, I would be reminded of her at some point during the day… The separation, the desertion – it… never really affected me. Because in a way, Suchin was with me all along the way, wasn't she?"
"But it's bewildering," he gave a throaty, cynical laugh, "how easily we can become accustomed to such little things… Forgetting that they are favours granted to the likes of us who don't find much in the way of solace, anywhere…"
He sighed, as a bittersweet pang crept up to his chest, arresting his heart in its hold.
"But after that night, when I discovered her dead, in Lampang… they – stopped… The dreams, everything…" Her shrieking voice rang out within the confines of his mind. Kenshi was immediately reminded of her dead face, frozen in her final mask of horror…
"Just when I needed to see her the most. To see if her spirit was at ease, to see if she blamed me for her death. She was gone…"
Kenshi shook his head, trying to shake the image off. He pursed his lips, tried to compose himself before continuing.
"Five years. For these past five years, I've clung onto every memory I had of her and our son – willing myself forth… because no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I meditated and calmed my rage – I could not see them in my dreams… And I dared to think I may be forgetting their faces…"
Fujin leaned back on his seat, and pursed his lips in thought. Yet he did not disturb the telepath from his monologue.
"Perhaps it was my own dark revenge, blocking out the purity of her spirit from entering my vision. Or Daegon's warped up sorcery … or even that damned post-traumatic disorder Sonya keeps harping about - Nothing…"
"Until that night in the woods… I heard the demon's call, and I saw her… saw them both, with these very cursed, blind eyes. And what I did to them…" His voice shook as I uttered these few words, and he bit the insides of his cheeks, chin slightly quivering.
He could still see it clearly in his mind's eye – he could hear her final sigh raging like a storm in his ears… The perfect circle of blood staining her shirt… the half-open, dead eyes.
"I never hated myself more than I did at that moment."
Takeda's bright blue eyes, bloodshot, raining fists down his chest as he screamed and cried for his mother – the night of their parting…
"So when you dragged yourself to the House of Pekara, it was not just to honour your ancestors…"
Kenshi laughed quietly at that, although there was no humour in his mirth. "There was no honour is anything I did that night, Lord Fujin… I wanted to die from the shame of putting them through it all; before the utter foolishness of the greater 'good' crept up to my brain…"
A silence fell in between the two, and though he loathed to admit it, Kenshi did feel a weight lifting off from his chest.
"You glorify me by calling me a 'champion', Lord Fujin. But I see it differently. A soldier, with a job to do; a murderer, if I need to be. Even a failure – one who could not protect his family, nor his ancestors… Your titles cannot mask any of this."
Fujin did not reply for several long moments. He processed the swordsman's words, and attempted to give meaning to them in his mind. As a protector of the Jinsei, he had maintained distance from his realm's mortals for many centuries now – and he had gotten used to his isolation over the course of time.
Yet he could not suppress a small smile from gracing his features, as he vividly recalled another blinded Earthrealm warrior, who had taken part in and progressed in the Mortal Kombat tournaments long, long ago. One who too, readily denounced her achievements in the wake of her past…
"You remind me of another fighter, Kenshi…" began the wind god, his voice betraying the beginnings of a smile. "A valiant, wise woman who defended the realm, more than a millennia ago… despite her own handicap…"
"The Matriarch?" Kenshi whispered, as he turned incredulously toward the deity. "How do you-"
"Idite fought alongside the actor's ancestors in her time, boy. Before learning the art of sorcery from Queen Himiko herself… casting the same curse over the Well of Souls that caused your blindness…" He paused, nodding to himself as he recalled the memories of centuries past, wistfully.
"She too distanced herself from the politics of the realms, preferring to let her fighting skills talk in lieu of her words – choosing her alliances, discerning in between good and evil, by following her own reason. It is why Raiden and I respected her far more than anyone else of her time. She too, could see more clearly than any other – mortal, and even deity, occasionally. What does your kind call it now… Ahh yes… Ironically."
"I know all this, Lord Fuji-"
The deity held up a hand. "Do not interrupt me again," he said, though his tone were deliberately not stern. Kenshi got the message nevertheless, rolling his eyes slightly at the gesture, as he exhaled impatiently.
"As she expanded her command and control, she came closer to Queen Himiko – yet could not keep a reign in on her fascination of sorcery. Idite became too entrenched in the ways of the mystical magik – revelling in its power to make and break reality at will, to transcend the limits of right and wrong… She was able to explore the vacuum existent in between the two… And unbeknownst to even herself, she ended up cursing her own progeny with the same blindness that plagues you…"
Fujin turned to him, gazing intently at Kenshi's face – still black and blue from bruises. The swordsman, without the blindfold, looked strangely vulnerable. Despite the unkempt stubble, unruly hair – his face was remorseful, as if too blank to register any of it. He raised his head, and met the wind god's stare – allowing him to peer into his blind eyes.
The deity did not require telepathy to know that Kenshi was thinking over the episode of his blindness – the sadness in his empty eyes gave him away. And in that moment, he could not help but deem the swordsman, clad in simple white robes, with a hopeless expression, innocent and even child-like.
"I'm aware of her mistake, Fujin; but the curse was destined for me. I do not rue it – it has freed me in a way no other loss can. We can only make do with what we are given…"
Fujin raised his chin, almost bored. "Something tells me you do not listen to yourself very much, boy."
Kenshi narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting I accept this, as I did my blindness?" He could almost feel his composure shattering in the wake of sudden, searing rage. "This is not about me! They killed her, Fujin!" he shot back fiercely. "They took a little boy's mother away from him! I ask you – wind god: what did Suchin and Takeda do to deserve this injustice-"
"It is all about you. Despite the relevance of your words, this has nothing to do with your beloved," scolded Fujin. "It truly is your old face trying to claw itself out from its prison within your mind, at the behest of your loss, under the false guise of honour."
Kenshi took in shallow breaths, his bare, bandaged chest rising and falling as he struggled to reign in his own anger as it flamed within his veins.
"Every minute, of every day, that I realise I cannot see, Lord Fujin; reminds me that my name is Kenshi, not Kazimir!"
"Even if that is true, then that does not mean you are not selfish… and foolish," returned the wind god. "I've seen many dynasties, kingdoms rise and fall in the name of honour – it is a flawed notion: at the end of the day, it did nothing to save their cause, nor their lives."
"Do not chase after illusions, and do not perceive your loved ones through the eyes of what your kind teaches you, Kenshi. Your greed for glory blinded you once, do not allow your quest for self-indulgent honour kill you… before you exact your due from the demi-god, Daegon."
"I regret any offense that my words may cause you, Lord Fujin," Kenshi began icily. "But do you not think it inappropriate for you to pass such judgement on my kind, as we grovel and spill our blood for the cause of yours, while you float away, unawares, in the clouds?"
The tension was palpable, as the words hung heavily in between them. Kenshi felt it, his raspy breathing was the only sound in the room, though he felt no remorse whatsoever at voicing them.
Fujin nodded slowly to himself as he got up from his seat from beside the swordsman, without reply. He walked over to a large window, and closed his eyes as the early sun's warm rays illuminated the sharp lines of his face. Indeed, the words had stung, but they were not without their truth.
A slow smile began to soften Fujin's features – unknown to the swordsman, who was now considerably weakened without the Sento, and thus could not make use of any of his supernatural abilities.
"You would not say that, if you did not fear our judgement, Takahashi Kenshi," Fujin stated, his voice rock-steady.
The swordsman paused, scoffing slightly incredulously, before he answered. "I care only for what appeases to my sensibilities, Lord Fujin."
Fujin turned and leaned against the windowpane, arms folded across his chest; skeptical, though he said nothing in reply.
"Your judgement cannot save me in battle; fearing it, is thus, of no use to me…" Kenshi simply continued, before sighing. "Neither is your pity."
A triumphant smile played on the deity's lips as he shook his head slowly – marvelling at his answer. Only few could gain the insight of true good and evil, and perhaps fewer yet still could base their lives discerning in between the two. It was a dangerous freedom, yet it was entrusted to a lineage that was certainly deserving of it.
Thousands of years had not eroded the knowledge the slightest – Idite had uttered these very words, centuries ago as she summed up the futility of godly judgements to warriors like her.
Takahashi Kenshi had a good head on his shoulders, and this was precisely what he had wanted to hear from the swordsman all along.
"You've dedicated your life to fighting injustice, albeit on your terms, Kenshi – and therein, lies your honour: certainly worthy of the House of Takahashi," he paused briefly, as he walked toward the door of the hut.
"Raiden will deliver the Sento to you, as soon as you are healthy enough to wield it."
Kenshi looked up sharply at the words, but before he could question the deity any further, Fujin exited the hut.
The Sky Temple
Weeks later…
Kenshi walked to the main courtyard of the Sky temple. His gait still carried a slight limp from his broken calf bone – yet he was able to carry himself with a ramrod straight, upright posture. He was clad in his black undershirt, trousers and gloves – dispensing off with the armour that was now damaged beyond repair. He had strangely grown accustomed to wearing that suit, and now found himself a tad exposed without it.
Raiden stood with his arms folded behind him, staring out from the courtyard, toward the snow-capped mountains of Earthrealm. Behind him, on a small table, lay the Sento: wrapped at the hilt with Kenshi's tattered blindfold, the blade itself covered by the remains of his Order's sash – salvaged from the House of Pekara the fateful night Raiden had found its owner bleeding to certain death.
Once he had approached the center of the courtyard from behind, Kenshi coughed lightly in a bid to gain the thunder god's attention. Raiden turned and smiled sincerely to the swordsman, before walking toward the table where the sword lay.
"Takahashi Kenshi, please make yourself comfortable," began the deity, as he seated himself on his knees. Kenshi heard the rustling of his robes, and followed suit.
"Fujin tells me you have recovered substantially…"
Despite his blindness, Kenshi regarded him by turning his face entirely in his direction, nodding his thanks. "With your aid, of course."
The swordsman paused, hesitation written all over his features. Raiden looked kindly towards him, almost saddened at his lack of sight, wondering if he could make out such small gestures and expressions in his mind's eye.
How would it feel, to be cursed by your own to live such a colourless existence…
Kenshi exhaled through his nose, almost exasperatedly.
"I am a direct man, Raiden, and I will speak my mind clearly," began the swordsman, his voice serious. "I have long resented the White Lotus for taking priority in pursuing Shang Tsung, in Mortal Kombat, over me. Though I served your cause against Shinnok, I did so by following my own calling."
He pursed his lips, as Raiden raised an eyebrow, quizzically. All of this, was of course, known to the deity. He was just curious as to where the telepath was taking all this.
"What then, compelled you to intervene, in my affairs? What do you want in return?"
A hint of a smile played over Raiden's features. Kenshi was still but a child, in so many ways…
"I am not just the protector of the realm, but also of my own champions, Kenshi. It is my duty to look out for you…"
The swordsman rolled his eyes at the words, already tired of the conversation. 'Duty, indeed,' he wryly thought to himself. Half the champions would be alive by now, if Raiden had executed his duties properly. But whatever his work comprised, Kenshi did not know neither did he care. He reserved his judgement, and did not offer back a reply.
"You do know, that if I ever deemed it so – I will oppose you in any of your actions, Lord Raiden. Irrespective of all -" he waved a hand, referring to his form as well as the sword in front of him - "this generosity."
"I am certain I'll always find you fighting for the cause of this realm, Kenshi, just as your ancestors did. Therefore, I doubt we will ever find ourselves facing that bridge – nevertheless…." Raiden continued, slightly nodding. "I believe I do have something of yours with me…"
He picked up the ancestral sword delicately and with both hands, offering it to the telepath. Kenshi rose on his knees, bowed deeply to the deity before accepting it with both hands.
A gasp escaped the swordsman's lips, as if in pain. He felt a strange hum of energy, immensely powerful than before, now reverberate through his being, lighting his insides on fire. His spiritual vision returned with a renewed ferocity, almost overwhelming his mind.
At once, he saw the form of the thunder god, his sheer power illuminated as in a fierce glare of the ardent sun – overshadowing the surroundings as they swam into focus in his mind's eye.
After several moments, the initial shock began to recede, and he was able to utilise his reformed ability.
"It feels… very different…"
"Examine the blade, Kenshi."
Taking off his gloves, the swordsman unwrapped the sash from the blade, and touched the cold steel. As his fingers trailed down the length of the blade, he registered the cracks along the surface – and the spaces in between the metal mended with the strangest material, that seemed sharper than even the blade itself.
He saw the Sento clearly in his mind's eye – as if he was looking at it from his own eyes. Yet what concerned him was the lack of the continual ancestral hum he had grown used to now, since after his blindness. There were no whispers in his mind, no discussions or arguments in between the various voices that resided within the blade, and talked directly to him.
And stranger still, was the crimson red glow emanating from the cracks of the sword – as if an indicator of some evil, instead of its previous serene blue.
Before Kenshi could open his mouth to ask about it, Raiden began to explain, the deep timbre of his voice resonating with patience a teacher would perhaps exhibit whilst aiding a struggling student.
"The Sento is alive, Kenshi. It is not merely an ancestral heirloom, but an entity of its own," began Raiden. "Though not sentient – the souls of the Takahashi ancestors required healing from your ordeal… just as any mortal would - within the Jinsei."
Kenshi nodded as he registered the information. "That explains the surge of power…"
While its power was evidently stronger than before, the silence from the blade perplexed Kenshi. He resolved to try and establish direct telepathic contact with it later, when he had taken his leave off the deity.
"I argued with Fujin many times over placing you in the Jinsei as well, Kenshi…" Raiden said, turning his gaze away from the swordsman. "Not only would it have healed you swiftly, but would have also burned away your curse, and restored your sight. Yet he insisted you had made peace with your blindness, and that you would not appreciate the act."
"He is correct, Raiden," the telepath answered. "The power of the Jinsei would disadvantage me. Even if my eyesight is restored, the increased sensitivity in my other senses would overwhelm me, far beyond functionality. I cannot allow that."
A brief silence fell in between them. Kenshi used this opportunity to turn sideways, and swing the blade in arcs and circle, before twirling it expertly over his fingers from its clothed hilt, all from his seated position.
Raiden observed the swordsman as he handled the sword with the ease of a child, perhaps, playing with a small toy. Visibly thinner and paler than before, he had lost some muscle mass, intensifying his rugged features. Yet his comfort was evidently etched onto his face – it reinforced the deity's faith in his abilities perhaps even more so.
"You often proclaim that you are one with the Battle in kombat," Raiden spoke sincerely. "I must say, you are truly like the Sento – perhaps far more than you understand."
"How so?" asked Kenshi, intrigued.
The thunder god allowed a small, sly smile to grace his features. "A handicraft skill, originating from your birthplace, Kenshi. The art of kintsukuroi. It is as applicable onto you, as it is onto your blade."
Kenshi directed his attention at Raiden - slowly turning his head away from the sword, as he arched an eyebrow, almost amused.
"My forte is swordsmanship, thunder god, not lacquer-ware," he replied, deadpan.
Raiden chuckled softly, knowing he would retort back with a jibe of this sort. He did not mind the transgression the slightest.
"Kintsukuroi is an ancient technique of mending broken items by lining the fragments with gold and silver – highlighting the cracks, the breakage and emphasising their history," he explained, his bright eyes glazing over the cracks as they glowed a dangerous red. While Raiden did not have access to the secrets resident in the blade, he could feel the souls sighing within the cold steel – teeming with the lives of the Takahashi ancestors.
"These cracks signify that it has endured its own shattering – the same way you have, many a times now…" He glanced over at Kenshi, as he placed the Sento back in his hands. "You have honed your blindness, your skills – and surpassed your own limitations. That, is why I saved you, Kenshi. You have much more to offer to this realm – and especially to your son."
Kenshi looked up, his eyes wide open – his face a mask of remorse he had no strength to hide anymore. The mention of his son brought with it a wave of guilt, and pangs of shame that were reflected clearly even in his blind eyes. And for all his supposed valour, now celebrated by the gods and mortals alike, he felt despair creep in and alienate him from his own countenance.
He had done nothing for his son. And for that reason alone, he would remain a failure all his life. The telepath suddenly found himself too tired, too weary to explain any of that to Raiden. Thus, with a bored nod of his head, he reclaimed back the Sento – finally unwrapping his torn blindfold from its hilt, and wrapping it over his eyes where it belonged.
He stretched out his hand to holster the Sento - but the moment his bare fingers touched the hilt of the sword, he heard a deafening roar – an uncontrollable, inhuman wave of searing rage claimed him, drowning out his own sense of self. His eyes widened from underneath the blindfold until he felt pain, and it felt as if his very soul was struggling to escape the confines of his body.
Yet it was in the unseen realm of his spiritual vision, where he met his own judgement.
Idite.
She visualised in his spiritual vision, armoured in an ancient, samurai suit, and armed with her sickle. Her mask portrayed the mouth of a ferocious warrior, her eyes and head wrapped in bandages – making her intimidating beyond imagination.
They were in the midst of a ferocious storm - the tails of her bandages fluttering behind her in the fierce winds – in an alien landscape that was entirely foreign to him.
'Your recklessness, Kenshi.. Your recklessness caused this. How foolish were you to think you could win by waging war on the Battle…'
'I protected our legacy, Idite. From a corruption too vile for words… I have no regrets.'
The figure, cocked its head, and turned severely toward his direction.
'You shattered us, young one, in order to free yourself. But, no matter - your burdens are our own now. We will directly aid you – the enemy will face the unrelenting wrath of the Takahashi clan – acting from a singular scion …'
He saw them now – all of them. The Takahashi warriors, clad in their battle-wear, appearing in droves in his vision, darkening the horizon in dots and shadows; until he found it entirely drowned in black. Armed, all eager and waiting to attack the moment he beckoned for their aid…
An enormous Red Dragon roared viciously in distance, throwing its scaly wings up and letting out a gush of vile, blood-red fire that lit up the dark night – illuminating the forms of the entire Takahashi clan.
Kenshi found himself at the forefront on the battle field; the Sento lifted highly, and mightily in anticipation of the battle that lay ahead.
He had found his destiny.
Not a breath escaped his mouth, not a sigh escaped his lips. Raiden sat across from him, keeping track of the moments that ticked by, knowing his change in demeanour as he touched the Sento's hilt, but unable to deduce what the swordsman was going through.
With a hard shudder, Takahashi Kenshi jolted back to reality – the remnants of the vision still playing in his mind, the words from the Matriarch echoing in his ears, the heat of the dragon's fire still warm on his face – despite the chill from the wind in the Sky Temple.
"You were not with us, were you Takahashi Kenshi?"
Raiden's voice fell in a loud boom on his sensitive ears, yet Kenshi was perhaps too far removed from his reality to pay any heed to how much it disturbed him.
Wiping the thin layer of sweat from his forehead, Kenshi donned the sash over his shoulder, and rose to stand on his feet.
"I have my directives, now; I must take your leave…" Kenshi paused, as he wound the blade to his waist, and turned to directly face the thunder god. "My eternal gratitude, in lieu of your kindness, Lord Raiden." And with that, he bowed deeply to the deity.
Raiden walked over to where Kenshi stood, and smiled graciously at him. "I wish you success in all your battles, Takahashi Kenshi," he said sincerely, before placing a hand on the swordsman's shoulder and squeezing it gently.
Once Kenshi had receded from his line of sight, Raiden thoughtfully mulled the swordsman's circumstances. He had found himself haunted by the prospect of the Kamidogus, and the mysterious, dark entity he'd felt corrupt the purity of his realm – yet disappear before he could eliminate it entirely.
The deity raised an arm and summoned the energy of the thunder – teleporting to alert the cryomancer, Sub-Zero, of the vague developments, before they completely unfolded.
References:
So this serves as the retcon piece - detailing Kenshi/Takahashi's history. If anyone's wondering about Idite - she is the female seen in the Sky Temple in the memorial room in Kung Jin's chapter - a vague, genderbent Kenshi photo who had supposedly fought and defended Earthrealm at some earlier point too... :3
With regards to Queen Himiko - I honestly had reservations including that in, but then I decided to go for it. Despite the depiction in the new Tomb Raider reboot game, there is a fascinating component to Himiko's sorcery - and it made sense for me to include in that angle to sort of bring about the point of how it was possible for these warriors to keep making mistakes even after being blinded..
Kintsukuroi - A Japanese form of lacquering where broken ceramics, pottery, or utensils (etc) were fixed by melding the fragments together with gold or silver. The aim was to illuminate how things can become even more beautiful, especially after being broken. I suggest using google images to see some of the ceramics fixed with this technique; it is honestly very inspiring and beautiful!
The first part -the vision with Suchin - was inspired in-part by a drawing made and posted on Tumblr by wakingseeecrets. Please to check it out if you have time (and a few spare boxes of tissue paper) at hand... :'D
Please, please do review and let me know how it was.. I am specifically nervous about this update - and would like honest opinions on what you all think of it.
Also, it's my birthday. I turn 22 (X_X). So please make my day? :'D Thanks again for reading, enjoy everyone! :)