HELLO EVERYONE! :'D
I'm finally back with a fresh new arc :D Have plenty of free time on my hands so I suspect I can get back to finishing this fic soon :)
There have been several reviews and follows and favourites to this recently - thank you all so very much for your constant support and love! :'D
Here's a reply to my AMAZING reviewers :)
PunkRoseBlitz - Oh I certainly did take my time completing this chapter! xD I'm glad you enjoyed Kitana's cameo - I'd love to write a Shaolin-related fic someday, with Kitana and Liu Kang starring of course :3 Thanks for the review! :)
BrutusSilentium - Thanks so much, my friend! :D
imgood12 - Hello! :D Woah, that must have been something, reading this all in a single sitting :D But thank you so very much for your kind words, they truly mean so much to me.. I love these kids, man XD Hope you enjoy the upcoming arcs too :)
Hell-On-Training-Wheels - OMG seriously?! (And please, never, EVER apologise for late reviews, bud.. I totally understand! *HUGS*)Gurl, you have me on the floor blushing at those words (i really need a Tumblr GIF to express how I feel atm XD).. Ermac is one of the biggest challenges to write but I've come to love the little lug xD Thanks soo much for your heart-warming words, I feel this update's a little slow, but hopefully you'd might enjoy this too! Thanks once more helly 3
Poe's Daughter - Thanks so much for the feedback, and dont worry about delays LMAO I'm often so late at reviewing myself! X_X I actually aimed at the Sindel/Jerrod moment to be just a touch of what went on in their lives.. Somehow imo these understatements can speak volumes, say more with less - and following Hemingway, I aspire to write in a way that conveys such sentiments.. There's still a helluva long way to go, but your review made my day, buddy! 3 And I think you will enjoy this arc a lot, because Hanzo knows more about fatherhood, and I aim to explore him in detail in the coming 2-3 chapters :) Hope you enjoy this update 3
iceangelmkx - I'm so glad you liked this! xD Writing Ermac and Kenshi totally reminds me of Condolences, but I love the duo with all their little idiosyncracies and issues xD And you are right, that really is the gist of it. As it happens, not everything in life can be white/black, right and wrong... Unfortunately our faves are just caught in the midst of it :/ Hopefully you'll like this update :)
RoseScytheElysium - Thank you sooo much for the words! 3
Razer Athane - Hello there! :) I understand why that can be confusing, I mixed in a lot of things, and there was a lot of original content too. Basically, it's a rendition of how I think the Sento "broke" - Kenshi and Mavado face off, but Mavado defeats Kenshi and leaves him to die. In a bid to secure the Sento, Kenshi drags himself to where he first found the katana, and commits suicide to salvage some honour. The Sento was never used to spill the blood of Takahashi's, so it splinters, and Raiden fixes it in the Jinsei. Now we see Kenshi's powers have changed, become more blunt and the ancestral whisperings have reduced somewhat. But this new arc is less action-based, I'll try to write clearer now... Thanks so much for the review anyway! 3
Before we start - with this arc, I honestly want to explore Hanzo more. He may seem like the quiet char playing along, but he has a strong view on what Takeda went through, and his own feelings for the child. On the other hand, you'll see a bit more of my OC, the Captain - whose name has been changed to Jehan Ara (sort of a more indigenous name to the region, and sounds nice too :3 means 'adornment of the world'). After Kenshi took off from the Shirai Ryu, she would visit Takeda whenever possible for her, and an unlikely friendship/mentorship developed there. Hopefully, these two can flesh out Takeda in such formative years, and we can see the future reconciliation in time.
Having said that - just a short disclaimer and then, enjoy this update! :D
Disclaimer - I own nobody and no one, except for my OC, and some of the ideas discussed.
THE TAKAHASHI FAMILY SAGA
OF A FATHER'S FOLLY
I
Unknown Location
Near Mount Godwin-Austen,
Sino-Pakistan Border, the Western Himalayas.
Fall, 2007
"Still with the blue beret? I seriously think maroon one looked much better…"
The question shook the Captain out of her reverie. Seated across the footsteps of the Shirai Ryu temple, Takeda shared a conversation with another fellow survivor, who had aided his escape to this part of the world eight years ago. Lieutenant General Akram and Hasashi were discussing the destruction of the temple inside the main courtyard, leaving the two subordinates to catch-up outside.
The recent calamitous events fell heavily on Jehan's conscience. Takeda's act of building a memorial for the Shirai Ryu reminded her of the way she too buried –
'No. Not now.' The Captain berated herself mentally, tearing her eyes from her gloved hands, and fixing them at the scenery around them.
Eight years. Eight years had gone by since the little boy before her, now growing far too quickly, had come to make home in this part of the world. These past eight years had been filled with visits, small gifts and conversations about everything and nothing – and somehow, the duo had cemented an unlikely, platonic friendship, despite her own patronising ways, and the circumstances that surrounded them.
So much had changed, now… Eyes cast downward, the female soldier rummaged her front pocket, fishing out and lighting a slender cigarette. Blowing smoke into the cold mountain air, she felt the nicotine kick in and relax her; secretly glad she didn't change her UN-issued fatigues before coming to visit.
"No one's uniform boasts their rank when they're a peacekeeper, kid. In a strange land, and amongst other strangers, your only identity is the flag at your sleeve, and over your chest."
Jehan Ara flicked at the cig, holding it in between her index and middle finger, eyes fixated again at the snowy, jutting peaks surrounding them. Takeda despised the smoke, but had long learned to ignore it while the Captain unwound in her own, unconventional way.
"At least you have a flag, a country – a people, to whom you belong, Captain," began Takeda, his voice hoarse, belying a profound, unspoken grief. He waved around at the quiet environment around them, which mirrored its own kind of desolation. "I have nothing left now."
She looked him over, and briefly wondered at how much he had grown recently. Lanky, and well on his way of crossing six feet, evidently strong – eyes the azure hue of a stormy sea. Though he was dressed in his clan's robes, the single the bandanna across his forehead with its tails fluttering behind him, cemented his heritage, no matter how much Takeda would denounce it.
The spitting image of his father - and the notion immediately brought with it a sense of trepidation that left Jehan with an alien sense of anxiety. She shook her head, reminding herself that there was yet still time before she reached her deployment point - no need to go cross that bridge for now.
"Do you, now?" she quizzed, the orange glow of her cigarette casting shadows over her eyes. She pointed to her uniform carelessly, continuing in a tired voice: "This crescent and star; these laurels at my collar, the name I carry – these define me. The mark of the scorpion, the ranks you hold and the name you carry, define you – Takahashi Takeda." Turning away, she leaned back and continued nonchalant –
"It's easier to be a stranger, kid; even to your own people. You don't have to answer to anyone."
Takeda nodded with a frown, and crossed his legs as they sat atop the temple's stairs. He let out a deep sigh, one filled with remorse than exhaustion.
"Jehan, what is it like in the army, and the Peacekeepers Corps? Is it any easier than…" Takeda stopped short before his voice broke. Images of his mentors, and peers, Fox – all replayed relentlessly in his mind – and an incoming of tears he held back defiantly.
The mindless, senseless loss of the teenager's sole family tore at him with a crippling vengeance of its own. The sudden pause was not lost on Ara, who gritted her jaw and kept her own thoughts at bay.
"No, Takeda…" replied the Captain, a wistful, pained expression haunting her forlorn face. "Nothing's easy in our line of work. Torture, disease, innocents slaughtered, shaking hands with the devil, burying your own dead –" Her voice trembled with anger, lip curled in disgust.
"All because some goddamn pencil-pusher on the other side of the planet, is worried about 'impartiality'."
After a brief pause, one that was only filled with the howling of mountain winds, she continued in a tone devoid of any emotion, or hope: "You're freer than I can ever be, as you are this moment. Defending the world on your own terms…" Jehan cynically shook her head.
"What a fantasy, kid. I'd kill to be in your shoes right now."
A small silence fell in between them, hanging like a curtain, shrouding one's thoughts as they remained absorbed each in their own worlds.
"I know what you mean, Captain…" began Takeda after several long moments. "I understand why Master Hasashi trains us to fight, and what is at stake – even if I want nothing from Earthrealm. Someone has to do it, and we should because we can… But I can't stop wondering…"
"What?"
"Is surviving the only thing we're meant for? Is it always going to be like this – one war to another? I mean, I enjoy sparring… I love to train, and feel the adrenaline rush from fighting, the taste of victory… But there's also loss… I want to know the world more than just the battlefield, Captain…"
The Captain merely raised an eyebrow, threw a wayward glance, and smirked.
"So the typical 'I-wanna-live-and-not-just-survive' cliché, eh?"
"No!" responded Takeda, sharply – annoyed, as if pricked with a thorn. The agitated Shirai Ryu paused hesitatingly – and gesticulated with jerky hands, as if struggling to put his thoughts into words.
"I… I just don't want to go like Fox. And… I don't want to become, like him either…"
The bitter, venomous tone at the end made it all too easy for the Captain to surmise who the latter was.
"You mean your father—"
"Don't! He is not my father!"
Takeda's passionate exclamation was met with a bored roll of eyes from the Captain, who had by now finished her cigarette – crushing its butt with the heel of her boot. But playing in her mind were the haunting words of Takahashi Kenshi, from the rickety train ride in the searing heat, what seemed like a lifetime ago -
'We're all nothing, but you don't have to be; do not forsake your choice…'
"Your father taught me one thing, Takeda," she began forcedly, ignoring the irritated growl from the angsty young fighter at the mention of the blind swordsman. "We may be nothing, but we still have a choice, to the very end. To make our survival count. There were plenty far better than us – better trained, better skilled… better people; who deserve to be alive. All that separates us from them, is the paltry, insignificant breath in our lungs. Even if it is to honour them, our survival can become our fulfillment even within this life. The choice is yours…"
Takeda sighed, as he leaned forward, folding his arms over his knees, and placing his chin atop it, thoughtfully.
"Did he really say that?" he asked quietly, the scowl on his face easing to a lachrymose expression. "Master Hasashi claims he was the wise man, who helped redeem him long ago… But all I hear are fables of some mystical-warrior… not the sorry excuse of a man who abandoned his only child when the going got rough… and to a hell-wraith, to boot."
"The same whom you revere now with all your heart, chump," Jehan chuckled, as she leaned forward and ruffled Takeda's hair. He was as groaned, irritated by the act, as he had been when his mother teased him, as a child.
"Kenshi has great foresight, for a blind man, Takeda. I know it's hard – but…" she paused, now struggling to voice her own thoughts.
"Just - don't burn all your bridges at this point. You'll learn in time…"
Takeda let out a heartless bark of a laugh, and shook his head at the absurdity of the thought. The Captain merely shrugged and let the subject drop. Speaking of Kenshi was throwing her completely off-guard, messing with her cold instincts, worrying her far beyond than what was necessary.
It was not that Jehan had never killed before, nor that this would be her first rescue mission – but for the first time, she saw a loved one connected directly to her target. This kid's father was her target. While she had respect, or even sympathy for the older Takahashi, it was this special bond she shared with his son that was getting in her way presently.
At the back of her mind, she knew the anxiety was inexcusable, and this was a self-created weakness than a technical fault to be corrected. But after several long years of remaining as isolated as she was, of clamping down on simplistic emotions as she was trained to do, this unfounded fear of what was to come, rendered her extremely uncomfortable.
But – she had her orders.
And in that moment, the Captain silently prayed that the boy's hatred for his father be a shield against any future aggrievements, lest she fails.
It almost seemed ironic to the hardened soldier. Though she had carried the graves of countless comrades, partners, soldiers and innocents – Kenshi's pine box would bring with it a pain that was simultaneously, foreign and convoluted, given they had nothing in between them but a few words. All because of an unnamed, protective bond she shared with Takeda.
She just hoped that it wouldn't be her charged with the duty of securing the swordsman's dead body.
"So… your grandmaster Hasashi… he's seen some weird things, huh?"
"Oh, don't get me started…" breathed Takeda with a small laugh, as the duo fell into a comfortable conversation – filled with tales of gore and grit, valour and victory – the boy's eyes glittering as if freed from his troubles, and the rare, quiet smile fixated on the 'Captain' Jehan Ara's features.
Soon, the surviving Shirai Ryu duo would depart for somewhere Far East – the decision was up to Hasashi. And Ara doubted she would ever see the young boy again – perhaps, their path would cross.
She was never one to show emotion, and especially hastened goodbyes. This night was thus, an appropriate farewell; before the beleaguered, covert SHAHEEN 09 went out to locate, and capture Takahashi Kenshi – unbeknownst to the former-spectre, Hanzo, nor his apprentice.
Takeda stared deep into the burning flames, the crackling of the fire ominous against the peaceful sounds of the day breaking into night. The teenager's mouth was set into a grim line, his cerulean eyes quiet yet reflective of his own, silenced wrath. Countless memories played in his mind, each an effervescent image that vanished, only to be replaced by another one – of forgotten smiles and stifled laughter, the painful aches from training too long, all disappearing in a fit of childish giggles he had shared with his fellow trainees.
The Shirai Ryu, in all its entirety and conceptions – had been his home.
Even as the temple and its vast courtyards burned, to remove any evidence of its existence, it had been home. Even as its residents lay cold, unmoving beneath the earth, buried by his own hand, it had been home.
His friends, his teachers – caregivers, in a sense. Protectors, in an entirely another fashion.
The notion brought with it involuntary tears, as his mind reeled back to his playful defeat to Fox, before the latter's final stand, possessed by the blood demon – and his own first one, ironically.
But now, standing at the foot of his clan's roaring pyre, Takeda drank the tears that welled in his eyes; they always said tears hurt the dead. Even he had said that – but Takeda found it hard to challenge his father's words at that point in time; accepting it provided a miniscule modicum of comfort of being useful, even in death.
He always tried hard to steer clear of the memories – as it was, there wasn't a single sliver of thought that didn't bring with it torrents of agony and regret; but he had survived. For whatever unfathomable reason, he stood outside the blazing inferno that was the remains of the Shirai Ryu – cremating his home, instead of burning in its place. The young fighter did not dwell much on his chance at life, nor pondered about what was destined for him ahead.
All he knew, was that with the aid of Grandmaster Hasashi, he would learn to bear the curse of his survival. Eventually, but decidedly so.
He glanced toward his teacher, and for a moment, forgot his own grief. Shoulders held back, Hasashi stood ramrod straight, gazing into the fire as shadows danced along his hollowed features. His eyes, once stern and harsh, or soulless white when consumed by the demon, were now hopelessly empty, unfocused, lost in another century. Every crevice of the older man's face was etched with a silent agony that ran too deep for words or confessions. The defiant stance, the desolate eyes – Takeda could not help but be floored by the sheer humanity of the man before him, whom he had come to regard more deeply than his own father. And the single realisation wounded him, as he dwelled on his sensei:
That this was not the first time Hanzo had stood before the ashes of his dying world.
'How cruel are the gods – to test a man, so many times… First his family and clan by the Lin Kuei; and now again…'
"This fire burns, Takeda – to cleanse us. To give dawn to a new beginning…"
Hanzo spoke quietly, his deep voice steady – but it lacked the resonance of his own convictions. Takeda dared to think he sounded defeated.
"Nothing born of fire ever lasts, Grandmaster. It is always put out…" Takeda responded, his own voice tired as he continued looking toward the towering flames. "And we'll never get our clan back…"
"I was not talking about the clan; but you, young one."
Astonished, the student whipped his face sharply to the side, tendrils of wayward hair teasing his eyes, mouth set in a frown. Hanzo remained unmoved, staring at the depth of the inferno before them.
"You have suffered. And once again you stand by me…"
"A survivor, right?"
"Indeed," answered Hanzo gravely, as he nodded slowly to himself.
"Memorise these flames, these embers… our ashes, Takeda. Carve them into the deepest corners of your mind – so when you train to be Chujin, you know what terrible fate you are fighting to prevent."
The young Takahashi mulled over the statement, all his thoughts and convictions aligning with the ninja's words, in a perfect circle that left no room for error, nor doubt.
"I will, Master Hasashi."
Weeks later…
"I would hate baby-sitting beyond Bon Festival,
The snow begins to fall, and the baby cries…"
He was not running anymore.
Clutching a side, limping across the vast expanse of woods, Takahashi Kenshi took his time, breathing deeply, aware of his physical weaknesses as he traversed the wide foliage. Out of habit, he counted every step, memorised everything – even though he had known the route by heart, and walked on it a million times in his dreams.
Flowing from his lips in a breathy hum, out of his tired mind's own accord, was a once-forgotten lullaby; one the caretakers of his childhood orphanage had reserved purely for the lowest of children under their care. How 'low' was defined in this context was absolutely beyond him; but Kenshi was aware that his nameless birth and consequent abandonment, certainly had earned him that very status, and no favours from the operators of the place.
It was a catchy tune, he'd give it that.
The woods were less thick than before, he mused inwardly. A faint stench of burnt wood hung in the air – perhaps this area too suffered forest fires. Kenshi put the thought aside and trudged along, keeping in mind a bad leg, afflicted with a prior injury.
A part of him still feared he should still hurry. That somehow, time was running out; that this visit was no more different than the last time he had visited the area – that it was not his, but his son's life that was in grave danger. That the Red Dragon were still —
A low, bitter laugh escaped the swordsman's parched throat. What a stroke of blind luck; maybe the gods did spare a minute or two of their time to grant him such fortune.
And Goro was, after all, such a true prince.
"How can I be happy even when Bon Festival is here?
I don't have nice clothes or a sash to wear."
Kenshi had no modicum of idea how long he had remained in captivity, or how long the brutality lasted. Pierced with chalices, broken bones – his wounds were barely allowed time to heal, before becoming the subject of blunt force again.
All for the same crime – blaspheming, betraying, and defecting from Lord Daegon, all punishable by various forms of torture, and eventually death.
Kenshi sighed deeply.
And then, there had been the hunger.
Instinctively, a protective hand went up to his neck, patting down bony shoulders, before he checked his torso. Indeed, those prolonged periods of starvation had left a mark - the jutting ribs, protruding bones from what had previously been well-toned, solid muscle stood a testament to that.
"This child continues to cry and is mean to me,
Every day I grow thinner…"
Oh, he was no stranger to hunger – but before his 'capture', he had forgotten about that specific relic from his past. The 'reformatory punishment' that was handed out to him for misbehaving, and on days at end. An ancient, bitter hostility rose within Kenshi at the thought, but he clamped down on it.
Living a fundamentally diseased, unwanted existence as his was, back in an old Japanese orphanage where none wanted nor cared for him, he had found hunger to be a constant companion – one whose presence had brought out the absolute worst in him.
Thus giving premise to the notion of an inherent evilness – as if the name Kazimir was not indication enough. Presently, Kenshi shook his head at the incredulity of it; wondering what unfound strength had made him suffer through all that senselessness as a child, and become what he was today.
Takeda would not have been treated like that.
A hint of a smile graced his weathered face, a cool tear formed behind the blindfold at the thought of his son. The Shirai Ryu fighters at the compound seemed well-fed, though capable of kombat. And then there was Hasashi Hanzo – the man struggling to absolve himself of the guilt of his past.
No, Hanzo was different. Hanzo would have taken care of Takeda far better than the swordsman, certainly. There were so many years in between them now, he still had to cover so much.
Takeda. If his son was treated well, then why was this haunting melody written in his name? Why did 'Takeda's lullaby' bring with it memories of painful pangs of hunger, biting wood, scratching at skin – instead of the feel of his son's head cradled against his chest…
His mind reeled back to the perpetrators of their separation. Daegon, now, knew better than to mess with him again. Even if Suchin's murder remained yet to be avenged – Kenshi knew he had struck a blow that would severely debilitate the Red Dragon, and bring their vile operations to a screeching halt. But as it stood – Daegon, and Mavado had managed to evade him yet again.
No matter. Given some rest and sustenance, he would be ready for them. More than ever, because now, he was not alone.
Takeda would be sixteen by now, having trained under the tutelage of the greatest ninja in the realm for half his life. It was time he knew the truth about everything – before they went down to hunt the Red Dragon dogs that had hurt them so.
"I would quickly quit here and go back
To my parents' home over there,
To my parents' home over there…"
He had arrived -
At the base of a mass grave-site, and the very ashes of where his son's only sanctuary had once stood.
Dang, what is the Captain upto? And how did Kenshi escape the Red Dragon (end of MKX comics?!) Had to introduce/incorporate some conflict to spice up this arc :P
REFERENCES (in no order cuz I'm a lazy ass :P)
"Takeda's Lullaby" - a very, very last minute inclusion. This is the actual name of a Japanese children's lullaby, used specifically by the ostracised burakumin community. Because the jobs of these people were considered lowly, or close to death (such as undertakers, butchers, etc) they were heavily discriminated against prior. Thanks to Wiki, I've used the actual translation of the lullaby, due to it's haunting nature, and it somehow fit Kenshi at this point.
"SHAHEEN 09" - This literally took me THE LONGEST TIME TO RESEARCH.
Basically, the word "Shaheen" is a Persian/Indian/Pakistani/Afghani word that may or may not be used in Central Asian countries too. A very ancient word, that is historically Persian, but is accounted for even in the most ancient Arabic texts too (reveals the beauty and fluidity of language as it is). The actual meaning of the word is 'Falcon'/'Royal Falcon'/'Falcon from the Mountain' etc.
But what it's used in my story, is that it's a regional, multi-country organisation (tentative, for now), where the most trained/talented individuals from South, West and Central Asian (?) countries work in coordination to keep the region safe and free from influence of Red/Black Dragon type criminal organisations, and protect these areas from Outworld invasions, so on. Recognised member of the OIA. And '09' is Ara's code-number. (The inspiration from this was of course, FOXHOUND from the MGS series, but a lot more conventional than that :P)
The reason why most of this information is tentative is because they are subject to change as my research proceeds. But so far, I can convey a general idea that this is a regional organisation basically wanting to limit Outworld attacks and criminal influence.
"Blue beret/Maroon beret" - The UN peacekeepers normally wear combat fatigues, boots with light blue berets, irrespective of where they are from, or their rank - that's their standard uniform. An individual peacekeeper's country flag is placed at the side of the sleeve, even though they are officially part of the UN. The maroon beret, alternatively, is reserved for most countries' armies Special Forces units. I'm not sure, but I assume it'd be the case here too.
Which leads to...
UN Peacekeepers - Who are these anyway? - Under Chapters 6 and 7 of the UN Charter, there is a scope of involvement into other countries by organisations like the UN, if they are facing crises/war time situations/ internal conflict, etc. - to help them out, or to restore regional peace. While the UN doesn't have a 'standing army' itself, it has peacekeeping 'volunteers' - where basically, countries send their regiments/soldiers as 'volunteers' to the UN to act on their behalf. A peacekeeping mission, despite being the subject of intense controversy and debate, is usually authorised in afflicted countries, and these forces are then deployed to bring the situation back to normalcy. (WHICH CAN PROVE VERY CONTROVERSIAL).
Historically, heavily-populated South Asian countries such as India, Bangladesh and Pakistan lead the way in sending the maximum number of peacekeeping forces - for them, it's a way to ensure steady income for much of their people. Bangladesh even sends female police forces as peacekeepers, which is amazing in itself. However, the peacekeeping 'agenda' is usually set forth by the Security Council (AGAIN, HIGHLY POLITICAL AND CONTROVERSIAL).
... "shaking hands with the devil" ... "impartiality" (when Ara recounted her peacekeeping activities to Takeda) - a direct reference to General Romeo Dallaire - Canadian commander of the UN mission to Rwanda (UNAMIR) before and during the genocide in 1994. Itching, vying and begging to take action against the genocidaires, only to be stopped by his authorities because that would breach "impartiality." The results were catastrophic, to say the least, and still - Dallaire managed to save thousands acting outside the orders of the UN, and with literally zero resources or tactical support. There's a movie by the name "Shake hands with the Devil" illustrating just that - for anyone interested..
(As an IR graduate, these areas are literally my favourite to read and write about, hence the incorporation of peacekeeping into this fic )..
That's all I can think of for now :P Hope you all enjoyed the update, and apologies for inundating you with such details X_X Anyhow, do let me know what you think of this update - what can improve and what was okay.. Enjoy guys! :)