The crowd scattered as Steve was hurled in their direction. The human missile missed most of the onlookers, and impacted on the gnarled trunk of a huge tree. As Steve fell to the ground, he wondered dizzily why he had ever thought of holding back. Through his blurred vision, he could just make Dai, his opponent, wincing in sympathy. No gloating, no jeering,...he could see that Dai pitied him.

He pulled himself up, his vision clearing. Fortunately, his training as a boxer meant he could take several blows like that before being out for the count. He dropped into a regular fighting stance.

Bloody hell, luv, he gasped. You've been eating your Weetabix...

Are you sure you want to carry on? Dai asked. There was no sarcasm in her tone, just genuine concern. He nodded.

Now I know I'm not gonna break you with a single punch, I can stop holding back, he said, almost convincingly.

He lunged at Dai, but no matter where or how he hit, she never seemed to be there. He went low, aiming for her abdomen, but she flipped over him, and, in one fluid moment, threw him over. Rolling back up, he sprang round to face her, but she was already upon him, raining down a series of kicks and punches in lightening succession. He staggered back under the onslaught, before steadying himself. She stepped back.

Are you sure you're -

he hissed. I'm fine. By the way, he began, regaining a bit of swagger, You fight like a girl.

Dai grinned, and continued to fight.

Watching in disbelief, Hwoarang wondered if he would ever stop being surprised by Dai. When he had first met her, he thought she had been joking when she told him she had come out on top of a huge bar brawl. Now he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, and, he privately admitted to himself, that knowledge stirred a sense of melancholy within him; she would never need his protection, and all the times he thought he had been helping her...had he been just getting in her way?

Dai switched from a flowing, kung fu style of fighting to the rigid power of Tae Kwon Do. A sharp sidekick to the chest brought Steve once again to the floor, and Hwoarang joined the applause, limited though it was; most people had bet on the Englishman, not suspecting Dai's lethal talent.

Hmm. I taught her well, did I not?

Hwoarang turned round to see the Yamadas, glowing with quiet pride. He nodded in agreement.

I didn't expect her...he hasn't even touched her... Hwoarang was at a loss for words. Reiko looked at Hwoarang, then looked at her husband, slightly troubled.

She had some of the best teachers, Hwoarang, Mr Yamada explained. And she researches her opponents thoroughly. I'm not surprised she hasn't taken a hit - boxing is a crude, imprecise art.

And her skills, Reiko added quietly, Haven't just been honed in the training halls, but out in the real world, where they have saved her life numerous times. She doesn't just fight to win, she fights to survive.

Hwoarang shuddered involuntarily, being reminded of how little he knew about the woman he loved. He had a vision of her out on her mysterious business, while he waited at home, wondering if she was alright. Could he live like that? He frowned - now that he had found her, could he let her go?

His musings were interrupted by the roar of the crowd. Dai was on the floor, wiping away a trickle of blood from her lip, whilst Steve jogged around, looking torn between the sensations of being elated and feeling guilty. However, as Dai got back onto her feet, Steve sprang towards her, pulling his gloved fist back-

Dai's fist connected first, as she swung in a fair imitation of a boxer, smacking Steve squarely in the jaw. He stood for a second or two, before crumpling into a heap.

Mr Yamada chuckled. I didn't teach her that one.

Crude. Imprecise-

Hwoarang said, interrupting Reiko. He ran into the ring, where Dai was being declared winner. Much of the noise from the crowd was from disgruntled gamblers, countered slightly by jubilant bookmakers.

Are you alright? he asked, despite being fairly certain of the answer.

I think he knocked a tooth loose, he breathed heavily, whilst prodding her back teeth.

Hwoarang looked at her. That...was really something.

Thank you, she said, amusement creeping into her tone. I told you I could take care of myself.

he said wryly. So I can see.

They sat in a small clearing, joined by the Yamadas. The announcer signalled for quiet, as he held a piece of paper aloft.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just completed the first heat of the King of Iron Fist 4 Tournament, sponsored by the Mishima Ziabatsu!

The crowd cheered.

We are now pleased to announce the second heat!

The first bout of the second heat, taking place tomorrow in the Hotel Oban, will be Kazuya Mishima versus King!

The crowd chattered excitedly.

The second bout, also taking place tomorrow in the Mishima Sports Hall, will be Jin Kazama versus Nina Williams!

Then, the following day, the third fight, also taking place in the Mishima Sports Hall, will be Paul Phoenix versus Dai Martin!

Dai raised her eyebrows. Now I really he hope he found his bike in good condition, she muttered. So that means-

-the final fight of the second heat will be Hwoarang versus Craig Marduk! the announcer finished. Already the crowd were speculating on possible outcomes.

Steve Fox approached Dai, holding an ice pack to his swelling eye. His gloves were off now, and he extended his free hand towards Dai, who shook it.

Last time I underestimate a pretty face, he said with mock cheerfulness, but Dai could see how bitterly disappointed he was. Whatever his motivations, they evidently ran far deeper than the mere desire for victory. You fight well, luv.

Are you going to stay in Japan? Dai asked. He shrugged.

Might as well. Catch a few fights, and the like. And, he said thoughtfully, almost as if to himself, I suppose I'm as safe here as anywhere else.

He bowed and began walking away, but Dai got up and followed him. Then, in a soft voice-

Don't lose hope, Steve - you'll find what you're looking for...or it'll find you.

He looked at her in wonderment, then smiled. He carried on walking, limping slightly.


******

Lei Wu Long stood in his hotel room, gazing at the mass of evidence sprawled on the bed. He knew that if he was ever to regain any respect amongst his colleagues, he had to crack this case. He had bungled a previous effort to bring down this one particular Mafia branch, and had been rewarded with a summary suspension. Over two decades of unfaltering dedication and service to Interpol, and he had lost everything because of one stupid mistake.

It was his own fault. He knew that. When she left him, he should have taken some time off, but no - he threw himself deeper into his work, resting less and less. It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake.

There was a knock at the door. Lei opened it, rubbing his eyes wearily.

Um, there's a package for you, sir, the young woman said, handing him a large padded envelope.

Thank you, he said, interest piqued. The writing on the envelope was decorative, looping...he had no idea who it was from. He opened it, and found a photograph and a letter:


Dear Lei,

You do not know me, but please be assured that I only want to help you.

Uh huh, he said skeptically, before continuing:

I heard recently of your unfortunate error, yet I believe I may have found a way for you to regain your reputation, and save a man's life.

The photos enclosed show two people; one is of Steve Fox, who is currently running from assassins sent by the very same Mafia group you are trying to destroy.

The second is the assassin Nina Williams (who I believe is known to you), who, despite being employed by the Mafia, may now be willing to help you. Her evidence could bring them down. However, she may not be willing to help you, and may even try and kill you. Be careful.

Their hotel addresses are on the back of the photos.

Sincerely,

D.


He looked at the photos. He had heard rumours about Steve Fox being under a death mark, and had suspected that this particular Mafia group was responsible - its Don had a thing about gambling. But the photo of Nina Williams....

There she was walking through one of Tokyo's streets - with a huge neon clock behind her. Despite the fact the date on the clock was mere days ago, she was quite clearly in her early twenties - there were none of the usual signs of surgery or any other common age retardation processes...
Lei looked at the addresses, his resolve hardening. Occasionally, anonymous tip-offs did pay off, and he hoped that this would be one of those occasions.

Loading his gun in his holster, he knew he had nothing to lose.