When Worlds Collide
*
The King of the Iron Fist studied the sculpture before him. With dark, hardened eyes, he methodically dissected each detail of the artist, no matter how insignificant. With the pad of his thumb, he impatiently stroked the line of his smooth jaw as his forefinger rested anchor to the side of his chin. Locked in the opulence of the CEO office of the Mishima Ziabatsu, he found solace in uncloaking the abstract, ripping from within the hidden, mysterious beauty.
There was a soft knock to the massive door. Kazuya Mishima could hear the slow creak as it unhinged, damaging his solitude.
Lee Chaolan was standing rigidly in the doorway.
"Miss Nina Williams to see you", Lee announced in his soft, brusque voice. The very tone he spoke often slid the most hard hearted business woman into the most delicate and compromising of positions.
Kazuya turned a cold eye to his step brother and personal assistant. "Did I not make clear to you my wishes, Chaolan?" His own tone deep, silken.
Chaolan paled, lowering his mane of moon silver hair. His angular chin pressing along the soft cashmere of his sweater. "Yurushi (forgive me), Mishima-sama".
Kazuya hardened his jaw line as he regarded Chaolan. Walking toward Lee with cold, even steps, the echo of his Italian leather shoes reverberating against the marble floor. Lee Chaolan glanced up through tendrils of silver hair that framed his lovely face.
It was the back of Kazuya's hand that bit against the bone of Lees' cheek. Chaolan sucked back a surprised breath and closed his eyes. It was only a slap this time, only a slap.
"Do not be so bold as to disregard my wishes again, Chaolan." Kazuya nearly hissed. Straightening his suit jacket, the head of the Mishima Conglomerate turned and walked toward the large ceiling to floor windows behind his desk. His hands folded at the small of his back. "I will see Miss Williams at my leisure. I am not to be disturbed."
"Yes, Mishima-sama", Lee bowed his head and closed the door gently behind him.
Kazuya looked down on the bustling City of Tokyo. His mind filled with annoyance, an afterthought to the sweet sensation of tasting the firm flesh of Lee's cheek with the back of his hand. To bruise something so beautiful gave him a sense of pleasure. And yet, Lee was his brother, adopted, of course. Chaolan had been the son to replace him in Heihachi's eyes. A son that would not disappoint, that would not need to be dumped into a trench like yesterday's refuse.
Kazuyas hand slid slowly over his button down shirt, to the scar still visible beneath. A scar left by jagged rocks ripping apart a little boys chest as a cold, satisfied father shook the dust from his hands and walked away.
Chaolan was the good son, the charismatic success, a playboy with an entourage of admirers to suit his whims and tastes each night. How far can you coast on charm?
After Heihachi was thrown into a rocky trench himself, in the previous King of the Iron Fist Tournament, the title, corporation and wealth passed to Kazuya Mishima. Victor, Murderer, son of the old bastard, he was the King of the Iron Fist. And now, two years after destroying his father, it was time for the next installment of the deadly blood sport.
No doubt it was this to which Kazuya owed the pleasure of Miss Nina Williams visit.
Blinking back reality slowly, Kazuya awoke from his thoughts to find evening was spreading it's wings across Tokyo city. The soft glow of halogen lined the streets and skyscrapers. He was now prepared to deal with the business at hand.
Leaning over his desk with both strong arms fully extended, Kazuya tapped the intercom button. No ring accompanied the motion. His idiot brother had left the machine on.
Ninas kittenesque Irish accent greeted Kazuya over the airways.
"Mmm, Why, Lee, you are quite the devil".
Kazuya clicked the button on the intercom, off, and hardened his chin as well as his resolve once more. A devil indeed, he smirked and slowly, evenly, walked toward the door.
Chaolan glanced up quickly as he heard the large wooden door slide from the frame. Jumping up from his seat at the desk like a guilty school boy, Lee stammered, "Are you ready to see Miss Williams, Mishima-sama?"
Kazuya locked his dark eyes onto Chaolan. Slowly Nina rolled from her seductively cross-legged seat atop Lee's desk. "Ahh, Kazuya, it has been some time." She moved with catlike grace toward the entrance to his office. Kazuya, ever the public gentleman, held the door for her as she passed. He could smell the fragrance of roses on her fair Irish flesh.
Kazuya turned his attention to Chaolan once more, catching his adopted brother unguardedly entranced with the sway of Miss Williams hips as she moved. With a slight flush, Lee felt Kazuya's eyes on him. Without meeting his brothers gaze, Chaolan nearly whispered, "Will that be all for today, Mishima-san?"
With hardened brows, Kazuya replied. "No, Chaolan, our business is not yet concluded. I will require you momentarily. Gather your thoughts and be ready when I call you."
Lee hung his head as Kazuya closed the door, turning his attentions to Nina. "How may I help you, Miss Williams?"
Nina smiled a captivating smile. "Always business first with the Mishima Men. Like Father like Son, I suppose."
Kazuya felt his already volatile temper flare, quelched only by the strength of his will. Soon. A dark voice slithered through his mind. Soon....
"Your visit is then for pleasure, I am to assume, Miss Williams?" Kazuya gently tugged at the thighs of his Armani slacks as he sat at his extensive executive desk, framed by the darkness of Tokyo creeping through his unfiltered windows.
"Nina", she cooed, her fingertips playing along the lines of her far too exposed thigh high undergarments.
Neither Kazuya's vocal pattern, no his expression changed. "As you wish, Nina."
"I have come to see what it is I can do to persuade you..." her words were dripping with none to subtle sexual innuendo, "as King of the Iron Fist, to accept my request for a match."
"Allow me the indulgence of knowing the match and I will then decide how you may persuade me." His eyes commanded her attention.
Nina moistened her glossy lips. "I would like to fight you, Kazuya, you do owe me a rematch from the previous Iron Fist..." She smiled like a viper.
Kazuya watched her intensely as her lips parted to speak once more. "Now, what can I do...to persuade you?" Nina sensually let the tips of her manicured nails bite the fine silk of her stockings.
Now you have her, the dangerous voice in Kazuya's mind spoke. Deliver the final blow....
Kazuya rose slowly, deliberately. His motions ebbing with erotic power. Moving toward her like a bird of prey, Kazuya felt Ninas eyes on him. He could hear her breath catching against her lips as his strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind, as she sat.
"I have just such a persuasion. But before we discuss my pleasure, I will assure you that I will see what I can do, concerning the match, Nina." Kazuya leaned down, whispering his hot breath against the tender white flesh of her neck.
Regaining his full stature and releasing his hands, Kazuya smiled...darkly. Nina turned, flushed. "Now to the persuasion."
"Allow me first to inform Chaolan the state of his services. Make yourself comfortable."
Kazuya turned, walking from the office with a devious smirk. Chaolan met his eyes as Kazuya leaned with strong arms onto his desk.
"You will now do as I say, Chaolan", he whispered in a dark, drippingly silken voice. Lee nodded in understanding. No questions. No opposition. No control.
Kazuya returned to his office, closing the door most of the way. Nina was seated provocatively atop his desk, facing the windows and the city of Tokyo below. Kazuya stepped before her, lifting her leg with the palm of his hand. With agile fingers he rolled the silk of her stocking from her upraised leg. Nina purred, arching her hips slightly as he freed her of the garment.
Kazuya traced the silk of the single stocking along her bare thigh as he moved behind her. With a forceful motion, he bound her arms by the wrists which Nina had been supporting herself with, atop his desk.
"Some things have changed" she purred in thick accent.
"More than you realize." Kazuya reached a hand around her throat from behind, straining her back as he removed the deep purple handkerchief from the breast pocket of his Armani jacket. Slipping the kerchief over her eyes, he bound the silken ends behind her mane of blonde hair.
With shoes removed, Chaolan entered the office. Moving with the stealth of his Ninjitsu training, his head bowed in shame for what he was about to partake in. But his eyes...his eyes were alight with the secret thrill of having what he wanted. Was this as his brother Kazuya felt, each moment of his day and night? Yet, the trepidation lie in what this would cost once Kazuya was sufficiently amused.
With hands bound and unable to touch....eyes blinded and unable to see, Nina was deliciously left to Kazuya's w him...his touch, his control.
How right and yet wrong one could be.
With arms folded, Kazuya leaned along the adjacent wall. His abysmal eyes glowing with a sadistic, demonic red.
Chaolan slowly knelt himself before the adorned desk and savored the fresh wine, intended for his brother.
Such perverse enjoyment, isn't it, Kazuya? The demon shrilled once more through his mind. You wish nothing more to leave, yet you stay. Perhaps you find this stimulating afterall? Perhaps it is only the complete, unyielding control you hold over both of them, at this moment, that whets your appetite? Either way, we should have taken our pleasure with her, or do you prefer to let the beautiful Chaolan taste our delight for us? The more Nina writhes for him, the more you hate him Kazuya, or is it, the more you wish you could BE him......
The voice faded as Kazuya leaned against the wall. He looked away as Chaolan achieved his pleasure. The glistening Silver Fox nearly fainted as he regained his footing.
Kicking off the wall, Kazuya moved to Nina, running his hand along her sweat laden throat. She was barely catching her breath it seemed, as he ripped the silken blind fold from her eyes.
Nina smiled deviously as she focused her eyes, free of the too tight kerchief. She then noticed no stain of fatigue on Kazuya's cool, clothed body.
"Enjoy yourself, Miss Williams? I assure you Chaolan has enjoyed you, quite fully." Kazuya turned to Chaolan, he was smiling deviously. Kazuya himself echoed his step brothers look as the voice within him proclaimed victory.
Humiliation, Control, How we love the taste of Victory....
Nina kicked with all her might to Kazuya's mocking eyes. "How dare you!" Her accent was thickened with her anger.
"I might say the same of you, Miss Williams, to brazenly appoint yourself to my office, attempting to influence the matches of the Iron Fist. Your reasons are no doubt dangerous in their own rights. You underestimate me to a base animal, my Dear Miss Williams, I can not be bought with your wealth, your beauty nor your sex."
Humiliated to tears, Nina cursed, kicking once more like a helpless school girl at Kazuya. Lee carefully untied her hands, falling into a Ninjitsu Hitman stance to counter any possible thought of attack from his position.
Nina slid off the desk, her leg swinging into a high arcing kick. Kazuya deflected, grasping her hands at the wrists. "Leave, before you are in pieces." His eyes held hers, electricity arching from his pupils to the equally dark irises.
"You have some surprises awaiting you, so don't walk down any dark alleys." she hissed as Kazuya released his hold on her, eyeing her as if she posed no viable threat worth his time.
Nina turned prideful at the door, "You are a demon, Kazuya Mishima". Strutting from the office, Nina let one silk stocking drip over her shoulder.
"You have no idea" the devil hissed from within, altering Kazuya's voice.
The arcing lightening of his eyes changed from powerful blue to demonic red.
Lee gathered up from his stance, looking to Kazuya uncertainly. "What do you think she meant with that little comment, Kazuya?" In the heat of the moment, the formalities were dropped.
"When you stand highest among the predators of the food chain, your enemies are great. You must make your will, your eyesight even greater." Kazuya slowly pulled the executive chair back from the desk, glancing up at Lee. For a moment it seemed the cold, violent moods that often gripped Kazuya had finally broken.
"Will you be to the ring to see the first match tomorrow?" Lee asked, almost innocently. But the blackness of Kazuya's eyes betrayed the maelstrom raging within.
With a sudden, brutal push of his fists, electricity spiraled from Kazuya's forearms. The desk Nina had astride was viciously hurled across a narrow distance, crashing the panes of floor to ceiling glass as it toppled from the narrow opening and into the streets below. Looking to Lee with an ever present darkness, his voice was cold. "Make sure there are no bodies beneath, Chaolan. I will expect another desk by morning."
Turning on an expensive heel, Kazuya moved arrogantly toward the door,
leaving Chaolan standing, dumbfounded within the soft glow of halogen lights
that was Tokyo city.
*
Running a towel through his mane of thick obsidian hair, Kazuya walked barefoot into the kitchen of his grand mansion. The brush of soft silk pajama pants rippled as he moved like restless tides of ocean at his ankles. The warm glimmer of a full summer moon bathed his perfectly toned 28 year old body with a decadent light.
His muscles were screaming with the intensity of his evening workout in the dojo. The Iron Fist tournament was set to begin in the early hours of morning.
Draping the damp towel along his well muscled shoulders, Kazuya reached for a golden apple. The first bite sent a refreshing burst of juice to sate his thirsty throat. With a free hand, Kazuya lifted the papers Chaolan had left a previous evening, regarding the Tournament participants. An interesting mix of players to the newest drama, each highest in their respects, willing to risk it all.
With papers in hand, Kazuya withdrew to the relaxation of his den. The warmth of the thick carpet sweetly scented by the expensive leather furniture gave the area a cozy charm. Trickling Japanese Tranquility water gardens blessed each corner. This room was wholly his, Kazuya thought as he sank into the soft couch. This atmosphere was less austere, less traditional as the remainder of the manor.
Sinking his teeth once more into the yielding skin of the apple, Kazuya pressed his soft lips along the fleshy wound, letting the sugary juice trickle pleasantly along the length of his tongue. His dark eyes slowly advanced through the list of contestants names, each willing to sacrifice their very lives for the grand cacophony of prizes...the acclaim the winner could reap if they dared to face and defeat him.
It all started tomorrow.
Paul, Lei, Marshall, Michelle, Nina, Yoshimitsu, King...some of the names he knew from two years prior. They had competed in the Tournament by which Kazuya had dethroned Heihachi of his crown and delivered him death at his own hands. Was it only two years ago Kazuya had come from the Tokyo streets, owning little more than shredded jeans, pride and a flame for Vengeance?
Others on the list, however, Kazuya was not sure he had had the pleasure of meeting in the ring. Jun Kazama: Karate, Jack-2....ahhh another Jack. Slowly he studied the pictures within the small dossier. Kazuya found himself taking more than a glance at the young Miss Kazama. Her deep Japanese eyes almost seemed to look back at him. What was an innocent such as this doing competing in a bloodsport?
Greater Eyes, the Devil slowly whispered through the serenity of Kazuya's thoughts. Blinking steadily, Kazuya smiled, acknowledging the inner entity that gave him so much power. Innocence wears a clever disguise, dynasties have fallen by the very Dangers of virtue.
Kazuya breathed in. That very same voice that dwelled somewhere within his soulessness had once been a friend, a savior to a broken, dying boy who cried blood from his eyes, gasping through frothing lips. A death speak crying the name, "Father". It was then Devil came to him, offering him strength and power...in exchange for his body and soul. What is a soul to a small boy? A small price to pay for Vengeance that would be gotten nearly 20 years later.
But the voice of the Devil in his youth had changed. It had become mocking, demanding, corrupting as the boy grew to be a man. The very battle to keep the voice at bay was constant and tiring. Tonight, Kazuya knew he would not win.
I keep my promise, Kazuya Mishima. Your fun will begin with the mornings first light, for now it is Night. It is MY time and my wings are aching to fly.
Kazuya closed his eyes, feigning to shake the surge of the Devil beneath his flesh. The tickle of his damp hair pressing against the pristine fairness of his neck was the last pleasant moment before the pain.
Agonizing screams writhed through Kazuya's strong jaw. His forehead slowly split at the center, revealing a gleaming red gem. Falling to his knees on the carpet, Kazuya's arms crossed an X over his head as violent eruptions of light filled the room.
When the light finally died, Kazuya's form glimmered. Bathed in only the summer moon, he became a demonic purple being with folded wings soft as leather, deadly with talons. Running a tainted hand through damp hair, the Devil slicked Kazuya's mane back in it's more usual, dramatic style. The Demon then smiled, malevolently.
Standing to full height, the clawed feet of the demon moved to the sliding glass windows of the den, parting them like yin and yang. With an arch of the Devils back, his glorious wings outstretched and lifted him into the night.
Demons, as every child knows, come to rule with the triumph of night.
*
Kazuya awoke in the gardens behind his Manor. Shaking his head of the cobwebs, he raised a hand into his hair. Were had he been last night? What had the Devil done? As always when the Demon rode out into the black sky, the mornings first light found him disoriented, blank on the events that may have transpired.
This time, something was different. Kazuya rose to his haunches, fingertips dragging the ground. A face. When his eyelids closed, he could see A face. The dark, deep eyes of a young Japanese woman....walking....walking beneath the halogen glow of the Tokyo street lights. She was with a group. A group he knew.
Slowly the recollection of names registered to the blurred faces surrounding the young woman. Lei Wulong, Michelle Change and Baek Do San.
Had Devil encountered the group as he terrorized the night sky? Why did these images flash before his lowered lids? Unless...Devil wanted him to see this, wanted him to remember....
A slow wave of nausea rolled through Kazuya. His muscles ached, his
body hurt. Drawing himself up, slowly, Kazuya stumbled barefoot through the
coarse grass and toward the entrance to the Den. There would be comfort
there. Safety.
*
Kazuya slept till the stars rose high into the darkness. A languishing stretch gently relieved the tension from his body. He needed green tea and several hours to train within the dojo. His first match would take place in the late afternoon. The King of the Iron Fist had to be prepared to do battle against a fierce competitor.
A chill shivered up Kazuyas' spine. A face from a night he took no conscious part in. His first competitor was set to be, Baek Do San.
Chaolan was sitting at the table in the kitchen as Kazuya entered. The halo of his cigarette smoke hung, cloy in the air. A steaming pot of green tea lay just out of Lee's reach.
Kazuya stretched as Lee extinguished the smoked down end of his cigarette. "Rough Night?"
Kazuya nodded taking a porcelain cup from cupboard. "And what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lee?"
"Call it a brothers intuition...."
"Step brother" Kazuya calculatingly corrected, allowing Chaolan to continue uninterrupted through his description.
"...Or, call it excellent eye sight. I saw Him last night, from the shadows, watching the club I happened to visit. Unusual to see Him in a public place....though I might have been the only one sober enough to notice."
When Lee finally grew silent, Kazuya poured himself a cup of tea and sat opposite of him. Even in a disheveled, sleep hungry state, Chaolan was beautiful. Kazuya could feel the inner torrents of hatred scream once more to hate him. But, Kazuya was too concerned with the idea of Devils activities to act upon this sudden transgression.
"How visible was he?"
"He stayed in shadows, but I knew he was there." Lee poured himself a cup and tapped a cigarette loose from his soft pack.
"Who else was at the club?" Kazuya stated, almost non chalantly. Lee knew his brother had a sense of something...what exactly it was, Chaolan was not privileged to know.
"Some of the competitors for the Tournament, a few locals and several American business men."
Kazuya nodded, sipping his hot tea. His unquenchable soul slowly slaking in thirst. The Devils flight often took so much of his strength.
"I am certain He was unnoticed." Chaolan continued, changing the topic slightly. "I am sure Baek Do San will be easy to defeat tomorrow afternoon, he has quite a way with the ladies." Lee smirked, dripping with innuendo.
"I need no help from feminine distractions to break Master Do-San." Kazuya growled past his lips.
"I did not mean to imply anything of the kind, Kazuya. Just offering you information...."
Kazuya cut Lees sentence impatiently. "There was a Japanese girl there, with the Fighters, yes?"
"Jun Kazama?" Lee said her name as softly as a prayer. Kazuya tapped his fingers along the rim of the cup, suddenly and quite defensively unnerved at the way Chaolan spoke her name.
"Yes, Miss Kazama...."
"She spent most of the evening talking with Lei Wulong, privately. Though, she did introduce herself and made pleasant conversation with me for a brief time."
Kazuya raised a sculpted brow. "Your impressions, Chaolan?"
Lee was instantly intrigued as to why Kazuya questioned him about Jun Kazama. He would not be so impertinent as to follow up on his inquiring mind, for fear of losing the slight liberty he had of chatting with his adopted brother in this way.
"She is...enchanting." Lee inhaled deeply, averting Kazuyas eyes.
"Indeed."
"I am sure Lei Wulong would agree, the Cop seemed most...taken with her."
Kazuya pursed his lips. Lee could tell he had heard enough.
"The impressions I seek from you are solely for her motivations, perhaps reasons why someone such as she might participate in a blood sport such as this. She does not appear, by the dossier you left for me, to be a trained killer."
Chaolan nodded, exhaling the blue tinged vapor through pressed lips. "You are training tonight, I take it?"
It was Kazuya who now nodded, pushing aside his porcelain cup with a clatter.
"Do you wish me to stay and spar with you?"
Kazuya observed him through obsidian eyes. "In my current state Chaolan, you would be killed. Attend me tomorrow, we will leave from the Zaibatsu." Kazuya rose with no other word and left for the dojo.
Lee took a moment to retrieve the confidential files from the den. With a smile, he sank to his haunches, gathering the jumbled papers. The picture of Jun Kazama lay atop the mess, detached from the dossier. With the tip of his finger, Chaolan traced along the glossy surface. A thick scratch had impressed deep into the image of the girls innocent face.
"Kazuya or the Devil...someone either liked or hated what they saw....."
*
Chaolan awaited Kazuya at the door to his office at the Zaibatsu. The strong scent of incense and candles burned from within the antechamber. Taking careful steps, Lee moved to the inner sanctum door, knocking his leather gloved hand, once, softly. "Kazuya-san, the hour grows close."
When no answer barked through the barrier, Chaolan slowly turned the handle to peek inside. Kazuya sat within the simple shrine, upon his knees, ankles crossed behind him...red riveted wrists bound in leather gloves, pressed restfully onto his clothed, white thighs. His head was bowed in deep meditation before the richly colored candles, bathed in the offerings of fresh flower petals. He was dressed as a humble warrior, making peace with himself before the first battle of a great war. With gloved hands crossed respectfully to his lower body, Lee bowed his head deeply, losing himself in a moment of prayer for his brothers victory.
You waste your time on idle prayers and meditations. The gods are dead, they do not hear you. I am all you Need. I am all you have ever needed.
Kazuyas eyes drifted open slowly. Lunging with cat like balance to his feet, he awoke Chaolan from his moment of reverie. "Do not snuff these candles until I have been victorious." His voice was tinged with self satisfaction, tampered somewhere with superstition.
Lee nodded. Kazuya bowed deeply once more, before shutting the door
to his shrine.
*
Kazuya turned his back as Master Do San entered the ring. Giving him only the respect of a glance over his shoulder, his arrogance equaled solely by his strength. Master Do San bowed once and assumed his stance.
Kazuya turned quickly as the match began, giving his opponent little time to consider an assault from the hind or side. Master Do San wasted no time, instantly leveling a flurry of kicks to Kazuya's lightening fast blocks. Baek fell in for a sweep, Kazuya reversed the move and instead grasped hold of Do Sans' arm, twisting it cruelly inward as his leg came around behind his opponents shoulder, kicking him painfully forward before sending Baek into the ground.
Chaolan watched attentively as the crowd came to life. Baek rolled back, drawing with intense speed to his feet. Kazuya closed the distance between them, sliding himself along the ground, taking Baek's legs from under him. Kazuya did not foresee Baek returning to a stance as quickly as he did. This time it was Do San who wasted no time, using the Hunting Hawk technique on a still rising Kazuya. Kazuya fell to the ground hard, barely managing to roll in toward his opponent. Leaping from a crouched position Kazuya smashed Baek with a Dragon Uppercut.
It took Baek a moment to recover himself. The moment was all Kazuya Mishima needed to prove why he was the King of the Iron Fist. In the harrowing second in which Do San came unsteadily to his feet, a charge of lightening swirled around Kazuya's body. He spun, half crouched along the ground, moving with impossible speed and precision, covering the distance between he and his opponent. It flashed within a second. Kazuyas' fist connected the Lightening Screw Uppercut to the underside of Master Do Sans chin.
Baek was unable to stand, dazed and semi conscious, the shadow of the King of the Iron Fist fell over his body. Kazuya stood over him, looking down with emotionless voids barely contained by the iris of his eyes.
Finish Him.
The red leather riveted gloves were stained at the join of his fingers with Baek Do Sans blood.
You have beaten him. Take what is yours.
Baek could see the fine mist of sweat covering Kazuyas' face. His own showing no signs of pleading....
Weak, Pathetic Fool. Show him no mercy. Finish him. Or I will.
Kazuya turned his back on Master Do San as he lay before him. The crowd cheered and jeered madly, they had tasted blood and now wanted more. They were as a pack of wolves assembled on a fresh carcass.
The midday sun glinting from the fine, sweating curve of his back muscles, Kazuya arrogantly strode through the ring exit. The humble, frayed edges of his white gi pants sweeping the dust as he walked, prideful of his victory.
Chaolan was awaiting him, though Kazuya could see little more than the kiss of golden light on his step brothers' silver mane. With no more acknowledgement than a flicker of his thick lashes, Kazuya noted ahead of him, the fighter, Michelle Chang waiting in the wings...beside her, the young Japanese woman, Jun Kazama and her attentive puppy dog, Lei Wulong.
Kazuya could feel all eyes upon him as he walked toward them with Chaolan, draping a towel behind his neck, the edges dripping along his glistening, well muscled chest. He could feel the hate, like daggers for his defeat of their friend. His eyes grew colder, more malevolent. Kazuya did not care, they would all fall beneath him, eventually.
Yet, there was a distinctly different feeling that overtook him as he drew closer to the exit, closer to the assembled gathering. The young Japanese woman was standing just a step away from the others....a single step closer to him than any of the others dared. Kazuya could not determine what the aire was telling him...but the sensorial seemed to be lingering from the intensity in young miss Kazama's almond eyes. Uncharacteristically, for a single moment, he bore into her with his own abysmal, arrogant glance. She did not turn away.
Beautiful, he thought. Beautiful as a white flower, the Devil whispered in mockery from within his soul.
Kazuya forced the moment to end. Breaking his eye contact, cruelly.
Chaolan opened the door to the sleek black Limousine awaiting outside. Kazuya turned to slide in, he could see from the corner of his eye the young Miss Kazama was still watching him, her eyes wide with fascination. Resting a still bloodied knuckle along the tinted window pane, his reverie was broken.
"Mercilessly fought, Kazuya-san. He was destined to fall the moment he dared to step into the arena with you..."
Kazuya did not answer. His eyes never leaving the whirling visions
rushing past the Limousine window. Why could he not get the image of this
young womans' eyes out of his mind...
*
seidou
Kazuya sat within the shrine, his mind and body focused on the meditation ritual he practiced once his victory had been won. His red riveted leather gloves lay upon the created alter, among the fresh flowers. One single candle burned down to the wick beside those which had been silenced. This candle was Master Baek Do Sans' defeat and Kazuya's unbridled victory over the Tae Kwon Do Mentor.
Kazuya felt the aire change as the candle sputtered, fighting for it's
remaining life. His dark eyes, framed beneath the sable thickness of his arched
brows, lifted. With a singular fluid motion, Kazuya rose, assuming his stance.
With a thrust of his crackling blue curled fist, the edge of his knuckles
extinguished the faltering flame. Kazuya bowed as the candles smoky soul
departed, filling him with the strength of his victory.
*
seichuu
The world outside the fighting arena found the King of the Iron Fist seated at his newly acquired desk, signing away important documents to affiliates overseas. The Mishima conglomerate was broad based and still gaining satellite companies, world wide. Inside of the two years Kazuya seized control, the Zaibatsu was a monstrous empire on the brink of Global dominance. The Corporations far reaching fingers dipped into every aspect of Militarized weaponry and Pharmacological, Ecological and Chemical warfare. To what end did these peculiar threads tie into the Tapestry of the Ziabatsu? Certainly the Conglomerates' involvement with these special interest companies was by no means coincidence. Eventually questions will need answers, Kazuya acknowledged, placing his interlocked fingers before his chin. Ambition, was certainly not the answer he would give.
A buzz of the intercom gave the motionless CEO a sudden animation.
"Mishima-sama," Lees' voice resonated over the speaker, "I have the reports you requested."
Kazuya did not respond, as usual. He was man of few precious words. A moment later, as expected, the soft rap of Chaolans' knuckle heralded the Silver-Devils entrance to the office, closing the door behind him.
"Our Comrades are pleased, no doubt." Kazuya's tone was emotionless.
"Yes, Kazuya-san, the Soviets are extremely pleased with the phase two A.I. The 'Jacks' project is exceeding expectations. The report quotes them as 'exceptional killing machines." Lee smiled darkly.
"Interestingly quoted, though I wonder if our comrades realize the implications of the project they so enthusiastically employ. A simple push of a button and the units will turn on them all. Imagine the look on the faces of the world leaders when the 'Phase 2' A.I. they have come to depend on, for tasks as simple as factory work to Military occupation and reconnaissance; turn a gleaming metal eye their way...."
"It will be glorious, Kazuya-san. The world will grovel for mercy at your feet." Chaolan once more smiled, his head swimming with ambitions to match those of his brother.
"Indeed Chaolan, do see thee reports find a proper and safe place."
"Yes, Kazuya-san". Lee paused, "I also overheard some news that may be of suspicious interest. It concerns our tournament competitors. Apparently, an anonymous benefactor will be holding a celebration this weekend for the fighters of the Iron Fist. Just in time for the Semi Finals. No one knows who is behind this, but we both received an invitation."
"I do not have time for this useless conversation..." Kazuya was brazenly stopped, mid sentence by a very pale Chaolan. Kazuya rose menacingly, kicking his chair out from behind his legs.
"F-Forgive me, Kazuya-San, but these invites were slid under my door. I raced out to find who had delivered them. I saw Nina Williams. She was running to the street and just then a car pulled up, blacked out windows. I could not see who was awaiting her. Something is not right here. If Nina is involved, someone is about to die...."
Kazuya resumed his seat slowly.
"It could be anyone, Kazuya-san...." Lee leaned forward, bracing his hands along the edges of Kazuya's desk.
"It could be anyone, but it is not, Chaolan." His dark eyes drilling into the
Korean eyes of his step brother. "We will attend. Make arrangements and have
Nina followed. We will know who is behind this."
*
kageboushi
Kazuya left the corporate office of the Mishima Corporation through the front door. The life of Tokyo city bustled around him in all of it's pre-evening glory. The limousine door opened before him. A cool wind slowly drew up his spine, beneath his silk suit. Turning slowly, his eyes scanned the crowd along the street. A dark figure, cloaked in shadow, stood sorely out, untouched, from the bustling throng around it.
Turning on his heel, he walked toward the figure. The shadow moved. Kazuya followed, his pace turning to a near run. The figure turned down a side street. With his hand braced along the brick of the alley wall, Kazuya slowed his pace. Scanning down the narrow, dingy side court.....he saw nothing. No one.
Drawing in a hasty breath, Kazuya turned back toward his awaiting car. His mind clouded in thought, his broad shoulder impacted against a by-stander on the street.
"Forgive me", he turned, muttering politely to the passer by. The deep almond eyes of Miss Jun Kazama met his. For a moment it seemed she could not speak, as though his presence choked the breath from her lips.
"Forgive me, Dono Mishima, I was not watching were I was..."she paused, brushing an errant slip of her ebony silk mane over her shoulder, "...going."
Kazuya bowed his head in respect to her. His obsidian eyes lingering along the delicate fall of her silk hair against her milky collar bone. "The streets of Tokyo are busy at this hour, Miss Kazama, go safely."
Kazuya returned to his previous pace toward the car. As he turned to slide in, Miss Kazama was once more alongside of him.
"Forgive me, Dono Mishima, I know you are a busy man. I would like to speak with you...where could I make an appointment...." her ivory cheeks flushed a soft crimson as she averted her eyes to the ground. Kazuya could see her drawing in soft, shallow breaths, as if she were frightened of his response. Or perhaps, it was something other than fright....
Drawing his hand into the inner pocket of his suit, he withdrew a business card. The edge flicking against his fingernails. "You may contact my representative at this number."
"Origato, Dono Mishima." Jun smiled. The moon itself could not hold the beauty of such a smile. Her fingertips reached for the card Kazuya offered. He could feel a nearly painful electricity shock into his soul as the barest hint of her flesh brushed his.
"Jun..." someone yelled across the way. Miss Kazama turned to find the source of the voice, as did Kazuya. Lei Wulong was crossing the street. As he moved the dying sun glinted the gold of his badge, worn at his hip. "One moment you are there, the next gone....."
Kazuya turned his dark eyes to Miss Kazama as Lei Wulong closed the distance. Her eyes seemed almost...sorry she had been found by her escort.
"Origato, Dono Mishima, once again..." the edge of her tooth bit into the soft pink flesh of her lip.
"You are welcome, Miss Kazama. Good evening." Kazuyas' voice turned cold, forcing Jun to rub her open hands along her forearms. With regained arrogance, Kazuya slid into the limousine. The driver closed the door behind him, separating him from Jun with a cold, dark barrier. From within the tinted windows Kazuya could see Lei leading Jun away from the corporate limousine, his hand ever so gently brushing her shoulder.
Pathetic. Weak little puppy dog. Why do you think these things Kazuya? Who is the super cop Lei Wulong or the innocent miss Jun Kazama to you? Your heart is racing, is it lust or jealousy? Did you honestly think, for even a moment, she would be interested in you Kazuya Mishima? She is a pawn, working for Wulong, perhaps. Wouldn't it be easier to think that, instead of how you imagine them at this moment? You are above such things. You have Me. I am all you have ever needed.
Kazuya tapped the back seat with his fingertips. The driver slid out
among the throng of traffic. With eyes turned, Kazuya watched her on the street,
laughing to something Wulong was saying. Why did he feel he could almost
hear her laughing?
*
ushirosugaata gin'iro ijin
The first rounds of the Iron Fist Tournament were scheduled to end with the coming of afternoon. Three fights remained to determine the placement of the Quarter Finalists. The competition had been fierce, even grueling and now the matches awaited only a decision.
Lee Chaolan v. Michelle Chang 11am~ the Inner Temple
Lei Wulong v. Kuntimitsu 1pm~ West End Tokyo Street Corner
Jun Kazama v. Wang 3pm~Outer Shinto Shrine
Lee Chaolan spent his morning training in the Mishima Dojo. It was here, may years ago, Lee first trained with his adopted father, Master of Fatal Lightening and first King of the Iron Fist; Heihachi Mishima. It was also here he first sparred against and was beaten by a very quiet, solemn young man named Kazuya Mishima.
Lee recalled how Heihachi worked his step brother. One word came to mind: Merciless. Heihachi often trained with Kazuya in the long hours before the sun rose. Although Lee was never privileged to attend those sessions, he could hear the spirit shouts, the painful screams that became common place at such dead hours of night. It was only when he would hear his brother walk heavily to his chambers, the soft sobs of the wounded boy singing like dirges through the wall that separated the brothers; it was then Chaolan would feel a twinge of remorse and...jealousy.
Perhaps he never let himself be bothered by the constant stream of sprained, bruised limbs and swollen shut eyes Kazuya often nursed...quietly, privately. His brother never uttered an audible whimper of pain. With the exception of the physical markings left of Kazuya, his face bore no expression. No expression at all.
The concept of jealousy. Lee paused, breathing hard from the strenuous exercises. His trim, muscular tone glistening with the effort of his work out. Yes, he had been jealous of Kazuya. Jealous of what? The constant beatings of a lunatic father? Some attention was better than no attention at all. The way Heihachi trained the young Mishima was as a sword maker tempering a blade. From pain came the sharp, brilliant edge of a fighter who would someday rise up to kill his Tormentor/father....and become the true Mishima that Heihachi so desperately wanted. Kazuya's rage, his hate was a deadly fire that burned behind his eyes. The true evil legacy bound within the simplicity of a family name.
Chaolan did not exist to Heihachi in that way. He was nothing more than a Korean orphan, ushered into a wealthy, respected Japanese family to threaten Heihachi's only son. Heihachi took little physical care of the young, silver haired boy. Financially however, Lee Chaolan was the little prince of lavished affection the old man could not show on his own blood son. Lee was given the fine schooling his step brother Kazuya attended, cars, clothing, everything but love. Everything but attention.
At night, hearing the young Kazuya Mishima sob, wracked with pain for hours before dawn, sometimes elevated his spirit to acceptance. He was not a Mishima, nor with all the spoils of a wealthy prince could he ever be. Chaolan was not under the same torturous restrictions, therein lay the equaling factor.
Falling to his knees with exhaustion, the Silver-Devil fought to catch his breath. He worked his Ninjitsu forms hard, as not to disappoint his brother in todays fight. Now Chaolan knew the fear Kazuya must have battled each day and night of his life until the young Mishima was nearly 18....and finally ran away. Kazuya had made him pay, time and again for his jealousy and youthful insolence. Perhaps Kazuya hated him for all the beatings he had endured without the benefit of his brothers help. Perhaps it was all the nights a young teenage Kazuya sat in the library of the Mishima compound, nursing a bruised limb, his mind lost in a world of prose or poetry; while Chaolan snuck in late from another date. Not that Heihachi even cared enough to notice he was gone or made the slightest attempt to catch him.
Kazuya had no real friends or girlfriends in those younger days, no late night outings or the thrill of parking somewhere secluded with a special girl. If Kazuya had a crush on a classmate, Chaolan never knew. If Kazuya had ever taken a lover, Lee never asked. The young Mishima lived somewhere inside of himself, keeping company with his inner demons for lack of more promising social interactions. With his name alone, Kazuya could have been in the center of the cliques. He was never considered "hard to look at" by the girls Chaolan knew, he certainly was intelligent, even kind of funny in a dark, sarcastic way...but his advanced knowledge of Karate at such a tender young age made him...feared. And when an ignorant, arrogant classmate tried to push the quiet boy too far, tough talking as teenagers do, Kazuya struck hard and fast...till the boy was removed by the paramedics.
Kazuya seemed to enjoy the dark notoriety, the class distinction between he and the rest. Though girls were often intrigued by his presence, none ever dared act on it.
Perhaps, Lee thought as he stretched his muscles with precision, he
would never know the true reasons why Kazuya exacted his price for hatred
against him. Perhaps it was better kept that way....
*
houko
Chaolan met Michelle Chang beneath the glowing fire sconces of the Inner Temple. The atmosphere was dank, austere and yet spiritually reverent. He bowed in respect to the young Native American girl, though she did not return the custom.
Michelles' dark eye cast a hateful glance to her silver haired opponent. "It is not you I have come to fight, Lee Chaolan. I want Kazuya."
Lee assumed his stance, smiling darkly at her words.
"He is making me fight this tournament," her fingertips slid against the golden pendant of native/south American workmanship which hung close to her heart. "He has my Mother." Her tone was hissed.
"You want Kazuya Mishima? I am his Brother, you will have to get to him through me."
Michelle snarled as Lee lunged across the short distance between them, his strong legs kicking with double arching fury. Michelle blocked his attack with her forearms, stumbling back.
"I will go through you, alright" Michelle smiled malevolently, nearly face to face with him. Drawing her strength, she fell into a stance, her double fists impacting Chaolan in the sternum, with all of her slight weight.
Lee rolled back with the impact, his face contorting in a momentary lapse of pain. Michelle took quick advantage, pacing to a run before dropping to the floor in a fluid motion, sliding along the stone on her hip to impact Chaolan with the full force of her legs.
Lee foresaw the move, springing into a back flip. Falling into a deep "L" Stance, Lee curled his fingers toward her in a "come hither" gesture. "You sure do know how to give a 'fella a good time Michelle. I hope your mother is showing Kazuya the same curtsey...."
Michelles scream echoed through the stone walls of the inner temple.
Chaolan was in for the fight of his life.
*
ushirosugata
In quiet moments of contemplation, the very fire that lit the temple walls seemed to breath. Lee Chaolan leaned on his haunches, his head cast down. His silver crown of cropped hair seemed to glow with the temples radiance, as his soft bangs arched diagonally from his cheeks to the edges of his lips, tickling his skin pleasantly. Casting his eyes up through his lazy style bangs, Lee smiled.
In a black gloved hand, the gold and turquoise pendant swung, glinting with the light of the stone temple beneath his appraising eyes. Michelle was unconscious, laying curled along the cold stone floor where Lee had left her. His deadly hook kick had pulled her down by her straining neck. Within the same combination movement, Lee had dropped down with his weight, just below her neck. He could have easily killed her, the thought flashed through his mind at the moment of his strike. It would prove his merciless victory to his step brother, disposing of this trite situation. But Lee did not take her life, merely the pendant Kazuya seemed to covet with enough tenacity to kidnap the girls mother. What was this treasure Kazuya thought a simple piece of womans jewelry could unlock?
With his leather gloved hands pressing to his knees, Chaolan rose,
victorious. His boots echoed within the long stone corridors as the creak of the
old wooden door brought blinding daylight to his dark adjusted eyes. The
quarterfinals awaited.
*
musha
Lei Wulong awaited the arrival of Kunimitsu on the West End Tokyo street corner. He motioned to and fro in deep Tai Chi' meditation. Jun Kazama practiced the meditation ritual at his side. Mid motion, she turned, dropping her stance. Jun could feel the empathic impression of the female warrior as she drew closer.
"Lei, your opponent has arrived..."
Lei opened his eyes, glancing over his twisted shoulder. Dropping his hands, Lei drew himself into a full frontal position to acknowledge Kunimitsu.
The Warriors eyes looked out beneath a painted panda mask. Her arm held tightly at her side, the glint of a knife caught Juns eyes.
Judging by the sudden stern expression, Lei had already seen it.
Kunimitsu said nothing as she bowed into her stance. Jun placed a soft hand to Wulongs shoulder. "Be careful."
Lei bowed as Jun sidestepped and drew himself into Drunken Master.
*
dokoka
Jun Kazama navigated the Tokyo streets on her way to the outer Shinto Shrine. There, she was destined to face the old man, Wang, in her first Tournament battle. But her mind would not stay focused. Her thoughts wondered to Lei Wulong and his battle with the female warrior. Kunimitsus' aura was intent, if not somehow otherworldly. There seemed to be a secrecy...a hatefulness brewing behind the warriors eyes.
Secrecy.
Hatefulness.
Juns mind found itself once more on the guarded face of Kazuya Mishima. His thoughts were as cloaked to her mind as his eyes. There was a darkly irresistible force to his presence, a commanding aire of authority; power that flowed like ice through his veins. For a moment when her eyes met Kazuya's as he exited the arena, Jun thought she felt a sense of isolation within him. Such conflicting emotional signals, it was almost as if Kazuya Mishima bore within himself two distinct personalities.
She was this tournament to do a job, Jun reminded herself. She was an observer among the fighters trying to determine their collective involvement with the Mishima Conglomerate. What she heard from her fellow competitors was alarming. Information abounded far outside of her WWWC jurisdiction, falling more into Officer Wulongs court of law. Kidnapping....extortion...murder, Kazuya was a death target for nearly all those who assembled for the Iron Fist.
Can one man be so evil and yet, so alone?
At all public appearances, Kazuya kept Lee Chaolan at his side. Digging through information on the Zaibatsu CEO, she had discovered Kazuya Mishima was related to the handsome playboy Chaolan. Apparently, Heihachi Mishima had adopted the young Korean orphan when Kazuya himself was just a boy. In Lee's beautifully almond eyes, Jun could sense a fear and admiration for his brother. Lee seemed frightened of Kazuya's power and yet coveting, jealous of it. Lee had a strong aura of ambition with no opportunities to display it.
Like Day and Night.
Darkness and Light.
Why could she not stop thinking of Kazuya Mishima? Over and over the scenarios played, from the impromptu meeting on the Tokyo street, to his gracefully executed defeat of Master Do San. Jun could only imagine the tiger Kazuya could become when cornered with her Agency's accusations of improper conduct and mishandling/smuggling of endangered animal species....chemical deforestation and willful destruction of protected natural habitats of indigenous species in the wild. What would the CEO make of the EcoFighter?
Blinking rapidly, Jun realized she was standing along the paved stones of the old Shinto Shrine. Wang, dressed traditionally, slowly warmed his aging muscles. He had grown older with grace and respect. Meeting him here on these terms seemed almost insulting to her long held memory of him.
"Jun, my dear girl, right on time." Wang smiled as she approached. "Your face is troubled child, what vexes you?"
Jun bowed to him, her eyes a precursor to her thoughts. "I have known you since I was a little girl in Yakushima, Wang-san, competing against you troubles me...."
"Come now girl, do not pity me yet. The spirit is strong even if the body is aging."
"Forgive me, I did not mean...."
"I know Jun. You do not offend me with your concern. It is with honor and good intent we meet here this day. Do not spare me your strength. Your respect is as strong as your spirit. Honor me with nothing less than your best."
With a wink, the old man fell into a Crane Stance.
Jun nodded, folding her arms across her chest with an elegant bow of her
head. Falling fluidly into her classic Bu-Jitsu Kazama Ryu stance, the battle
began.
*
kiyou
The assembled fighters awaited the Courier in the lobby of the hotel the Tournament Host, the Mishima Ziabatsu, reserved for their stay.
Michelle wept softly in the arm of Master Do San as he comforted her emotional loss. Jun sat beside her distraught friend, nipping the edge of her lip delicately.
At precisely 5pm, the electronic doors parted, revealing the Silver Devil, Lee Chaolan with a crisp white paper held in his leather gloved hand. Moving through the fighters with a haughty elegance, he smiled, pinning the Quarterfinalists list to the wall before him.
Michelle sprang to her feet, rushing Lee Chaolan as he completed his task. "You Bastard!" she screamed.
Unfamiliar hands braced the native girl, a hairs breath from her intended victim.
"Let go of me!" Michelle looked hatefully to her retainer. An alien, foreboding visage glanced back at her. The fighter, Yoshimitsu.
"Do not make a fool of yourself here." his voice nearly echoed. "Take defeat with dignity and make no scene this night."
"Get your god damned hands off of me. I want my Mother back, Chaolan. I want my mother and my necklace. That is a treasure to my people!"
Lee smiled venomously. "You have forfeit your treasure upon defeat. If you wish your other valuable returned intact, you will learn to keep yourself civilized. Savage behavior benefits you only on the Plains, little Squaw."
Yoshimitsu leaned against a struggling, rage filled Michelle. "Another place, another time. Let this night end in peace...."
"Or you will leave Tokyo in pieces." Lee laughed cruelly as Yoshimitsu glared at his ungentlemanly behavior. Lee brushed a gloved hand from the fabric of his deep blue cashmere shirt to the fine Italian leather of his pants.
The competitors that awaited the list, hungrily devoured the fine script with their eyes.
Round of 20:
Kazuya Mishima d. Baek Do San
Lee Chaolan d. Michelle Chang
Paul Phoenix d. Anna Williams
Nina Williams d. Gan'Ryu
Lei Wulong d. Kunimitsu
Jun Kazama d. Wang
Armor King d. Kuma
Roger d. King
Marshall Law d. Bruce Irving
Jack-2 d. Yoshimitsu
Quarterfinalists
*Due to security reasons and rules of governed fairness,
locations will be displayed only to match participants*
Kazuya Mishima v. Lei Wulong
Nina Williams v. Lee Chaolan
Jun Kazama v. Roger
Armor King v. Paul Phoenix
Marshall Law v. Jack-2
With a gun shape emerging from his leather fingers, Lee made a firing motion to a seething Michelle, infuriating her to a new pitch. Turning, he smiled malevolently to Nina as she stepped away from the list posting, giving her the same gesture before blowing off the tip of his finger. Nina rebounded his motion with a not to lady like gesture of her own.
Walking outside to his silver Honda S2000, Chaolan bent his head down, lighting a cigarette.
"Pardon me, Dono Chaolan, might I have a word with you?" The voice came from behind his lean shoulders.
"The match locations can not be disclosed..." Lee turned to find the deep eyes of Jun Kazama looking up into his.
"I am seeking a different matter, entirely, forgive me."
"There is nothing but my impetuousness to forgive, Miss Kazama." Lee flashed his playboy smile, leaning a leathered hip against his car. "How may I be of help to you?"
"I wish to speak with Dono Mishima. I called to make an appointment this afternoon and the receptionist informed me that he is unavailable due to his schedule. I have matters of great import to discuss with him. I thought perhaps, you could help me?"
Lee smiled ruefully. "Let me see what I can do, Miss Kazama." Lee flipped a small digital phone from his pocket to his hand with the deft of a gunslinger from an old western movie.
"Kazuya-san, forgive my interruption, I am at the hotel and I have a Miss Jun Kazama with me. She is requesting an appointment with you....Mmmhmmm...yes, I see...of course..." Clicking the compact phone closed, Lee took a long drag from his cigarette. Exhaling sharply, the smoke encircling him. "Tomorrow at 4pm. Mishima-sama asks your forgiveness, but that is the only available time."
"Thank you Dono Chaolan..." Jun smiled.
"Lee" he interrupted, returning her smile. "And since I have been so curteous, allow me the opportunity to extend an invitation to dinner? Perhaps I can be of some assistance to the matters you intend to speak on with my brother?"
"I regret that I can not...Lee. I am meeting with a friend this evening. Perhaps another time?"
Lee raised his silver brow. She will be meeting with her pet Wulong, no doubt. Regaining his venomous smile, "Of course. Another time."
*
ijin
Kazuya Mishima pushed the force of his body to the very limits. His muscular arms and chest glistened in the dim torch lined walls, with the exhaustive effort of his work out. His punches, raging against the sand filled bag, hit with a deadly accuracy, as if each impact would save his immortal soul.
Harder. Punch Harder. You must focus your energy. Do you wish to merely redden the cheek of your next opponent? Harder! Strike to Kill!
Kazuya inhaled sharply, focusing his power into each throbbing knuckle as it pounded the vinyl bag. The voice echoing through his head became cold, mocking him....
How hard do you think Lei Wulong punches? When his hands are not busily entwined along the flesh of the lovely Miss Kazama?
With a curled sneer of his lip, Kazuya saw a face come to develop on the strike zone of the bag. A handsome, rugged Chinese face.
With a scream, his knuckles impacted, lightening swirling from his forearms. The vinyl of the bag yielded, gutted, spilling it's sandy innards along the padded dojo floor. Panting, Kazuya looked up, as if searching for guidance. Why did the idea of Lei Wulong and Jun Kazama together enrage him to such a degree?
"Leave me be, Demon." he barked aloud, low and dangerous to the voice in his head. Turning on the balls of his bare feet, Kazuya walked arrogantly to the door.
Suddenly, Kazuya crumbled to his knees, his gloved hands clutching his head, anchoring into his hair. He shook violently, screaming a mantra of "No"'s, his muscles strained as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
You will not Silence me, boy. You will not command me. You are mine, body and soul, a plaything I puppet laughing as you dance for me on fishwire strings. Without me, you would have been a corpse, rotting in the ground. How quickly you forget your debts. Perhaps it is time we refresh your memory...don't you agree? The Demons voice altered, till the laugh it uttered within Kazuya was the laughter of his father, Heihachi.
Kazuya dug his nails into the gloves, trying to claw at his hair, wanting nothing more desperately than for the voice to stop. The visions of the trench flooded his tear filled eyes. The vivid pain of his fathers hand throwing him into the yawning chasm broke his senses in half.
Weakness and fear must be ripped from the core of your soul, boy. Your Mother Kazumi would not allow me to train you as I saw fit, but she is no longer here, is she?
Kazuya could hear his own small voice answer aloud to the voices wracking his head. "No Father, Mother is in Heaven with the Angels now."
Then you have a choice, Kazuya. Either you sleep with the angels or you defy Heaven and return home to me. Are you a coward, boy?
"No Sir!"
Are you a Mishima?
"Yes Sir"
Then you must know what it is to make other men tremble before you, no mercy granted to the meek. You are weak now boy, when you climb from the rocky edge of the cliff, you will be a man. You will be my son.
"But how do I get down there, it is such a long way, Father?"
Kazuya could feel the distinct impression of Heihachi placing his large, strong hand on his shoulder. Tears streamed down his face as he unwillingly reenacted the drama that should have taken his life. His body fell forward from his knees on the dojo floor. The passage of his mind tumbled down the rocky trench, he could hear himself screaming for his Father...for his Mother. In the instant his memory impacted the ground floor of the trench, his body was caught by the dojo floor, an invisible pain wracking through him.
Weeping like a child, the scar along his bare chest seeped dark blood along the dojo floor. In his mind, he could see the Angel face of his mother, serene and forgiving, her beckoning arms reaching for him, her beautiful white wings arched high behind her. He wanted to accept her embrace, now, but the phantom visions were too long from the past to reach. When the young Kazuya rose, he did not take the touch of the Angel, instead, turning to a darker force. Devil had come to him then, offering the young Mishima his fleeting life and the promise of vengeance against his father, in exchange for his body and soul. Without the Demon, he would have died that day. Without the Demon, he would have found eternal peace in the arms of Kazumi Mishima, the angel, his Mother.
Kazuya felt the sickening warmth of his own blood passing beneath his gloved fingers. His salty tears mixed with his life essence, jolting him from the grip of the memory and bringing him back to the safety of the dojo.
Drawing himself to his knees once more, the sobbing scar left in his chest crying blood tears. Kazuya fought to control his overflowing emotion, his fingertips gently tracing the outer edges of his bloody flesh.
I have made the visions stop, Kazuya. Much as I once made the touch of death withdraw it's icy fingers from your tender, young flesh. Do not doubt again what I am to you. I AM YOU.
Kazuya drew his bloody fingers along his eyes, grasping tightly onto his sanity. The bloody scar once more glowed, the life' essence it wept moments before, receded to the memory from whence it had been borne.
On his knees in the dojo, the floor bathed in his blood, Kazuya gathered
his strength. There was no escape from himself. No escape from who he had
become.