Hwoarang paced the arena, trying to ignore the disquiet of the onlookers. He glanced out at the city beyond; the view from the roof was certainly a sight to behold. A slight shiver ran down his spine, but it had nothing to do with the biting wind.
We'll give him another five minutes, he heard the announcer mutter to one of the camera crew. He searched the crowd for Dai; the number of people permitted to be at this fight was limited, so it should have been a quick task. He frowned; where was she?
His eyes eventually found hers; she looked strangely haunted, holding herself tightly, practically hiding behind a prohibitively expensive looking statue. Concerned, he went to her.
Are you okay? he asked.
she ventured weakly. Then, with an effort to sound stronger, Yes, I'm fine.
You look lousy.
she said wryly. A bit of sympathy for the girl who just had the stuffing kicked out of her, please?
Well, it was your own fault, Hwoarang teased. He tried to play along, but he could see that was all it was; play-acting. Her cheerful banter sounded false, forced...perhaps it was because of her defeat at the hands of Kazama, but he doubted it.
She seemed to sense his doubt. Hwoarang, I'm fine, really. I'm just tired. And I really, really hate heights. When it's dark. And outdoors.
Hwoarang shrugged. If you say so.
He turned his attention to the announcer, who bore a look of increasing exasperation on his face. He clicked off his phone.
Any sign of him? Hwoarang inquired. The announcer shook his head, and to Hwoarang's surprise, raised his arm.
Due to the absence of Kazuya Mishima, the winner of this round, by default, is Hwoarang!
The announcer's voice lacked any real enthusiasm, and was soon drowned out by the cacophony of the angry crowd.
Hwoarang grunted. So much for the mighty Kazuya Mishima.
The next fight will be fought tomorrow, in the Mishima Family Compound. No ringside seats are available,but the fight will be televised in association with our sponsors!
Hwoarang accepted a small envelope from the announcer, presumably containing all the relevant details of the penultimate fight. Him versus Jin Kazama.
About time too.
Hwoarang led Dai to the elevator reserved for tournament personnel and competitors. She still looked rather pallid and preoccupied, but her eyes seemed more alert than they had on the rooftop.
What is going on? Hwoarang sighed. It was a rhetorical question; he wasn't really expecting an answer, so he was surprised and not entirely comforted when he received one.
Heihachi has Kazuya. I know it, she said, that haunted look returning again. It...it may be too late.
What are you talking about? Hwoarang asked, his skin crawling. Every time I learn something new about the Mishima family, I wish I hadn't...
Dai shook herself out of her strange mood. There's no way Kazuya would just miss a fight, fail to show up...this whole tournament has been a trap, designed for his capture. Heihachi must have got to him early.
Hwoarang considered that, whilst the maddening, cheerful tinkle of elevator music polluted the background, adding a slightly surreal atmosphere to the conversation; it was like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding to Armaggedon on pink elephants. He folded his arms.
If he has what he wants, why doesn't Heihachi just abandon the tournament? Hwoarang asked. Dai chuckled darkly.
He can't...not publicly. It's all legally binding. Besides, he doesn't have everything.
Hwoarang said bluntly. He frowned. Why do I get the feeling there's another thought you want to share with me?
Dai patted his arm. You know me too well, she said. Basically...why is your fight with Jin being held in the compound, and not in any of the standard venues? And if you, or even Jin wins the tournament, do you really think that he will hand over the Ziabatsu to you?
I thought the tournament was legally binding?
It is, Dai said softly. But you can't claim anything if you're dead before the papers are signed. I know how Heihachi works; he'll break one law to avoid adhering to another, and because he's so powerful, no one will make a stand. She smiled bitterly. If he reneged on the promise of the Ziabatsu to the winner publicly, there would be an outcry. If he has the winner quietly exterminated before they claim their prize, the status quo remains and no-one raises an eyebrow.
Hwoarang summoned up all the bravado he could muster. I'll just have to avoid getting killed after I win. Do you think that as head of the Ziabatsu, I'll get one of those swivelling chairs? Cos if I do, nothing's gonna get in the way of me and that corporation!
Dai was touched by his effort to cheer her up, but she couldn't shake the grimness that had descended upon her. She was worried, and desperately so; fight Hwoarang, she had said, But don't go to Heihachi Mishima. Now Heihachi had decided to bring Jin to him; perhaps he realised that Hwoarang stood a very good chance of beating his grandson, and feared that Jin would once again disappear.
A bright ping indicated that they had reached the ground floor. Dai sighed.
Whatever Heihachi has planned...we'll know soon enough.
********
Jin hadn't stayed to watch the fight between his father and Hwoarang, and was pleasantly surprised to hear that Hwoarang had won. His pleasant surprise, however, soon turned to inexplicable dread.
He didn't show up, he muttered to himself. That jarred with everything he had ever heard about Kazuya Mishima.
Brooding in his makeshift home, Jin tried to make sense of recent events. The effort made his head hurt. He thought about his last fight, and felt uneasy; the girl had great ability, yet lost the fight after making an amateur's mistake...it felt wrong somehow. And who was she? She seemed to know him, although as the reigning champion that wasn't really that surprising. She was obviously very close to Hwoarang...perhaps he could find out more tomorrow?
The uneasy feeling refused to go away, and the image of the girl was burnt into his memory. He had never met her before their fight, had never seen her before, as far as he could remember...yet he couldn't shake a nagging feeling of recognition.
Suddenly, he remembered with a smile something his mother had said; he was five years old at the time, and relentlessly inquisitive. After patiently answering his questions for over an hour, she eventually kneeled down next him, smiling warmly.
There are always more questions than answers, Jin, she had said, ruffling his hair. One day, you'll learn which questions are worth asking, and which answers you want to possess.
With that thought, he was able to fall into restful sleep.
*******
He's asleep, but very much alive, surprisingly.
Heihachi laughed. Don't be surprised. This is my son,. If there is one thing I have learnt, it is that he will not die so easily.
Dr Abel shuffled edgily, casting his eyes towards the comatose figure of Kazuya Mishima, still hanging from the restraints his father had prepared for him. Heihachi saw the doctor's unease, and roared with laughter.
Don't be so concerned, doctor. I would not allow this man in my home unless I knew that I had a satisfactory leash to keep him tied down. He smiled coldly. Carry on your research, doctor. Find those answers.
Dr Abel nodded, and briskly followed Heihachi out of the room, clutching his case close to his body, leaving Kazuya suspended, swaying slightly with each shallow breath.
Kazuya opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, and he had to constantly fight the lethargy that frequently overwhelmed him. The fury rekindled by the sound of his father's voice, by the taint of his very presence, had been a useful tool in that battle. He had to short the power somehow, he knew that...but without the aid of the power which had been central to him for so long, he was helpless. It was a difficult admission to make, even to himself.
Is this it? he wondered. Is this how I will end my days...a guinea pig to one of my father's mad schemes?
He found the thought depressing, and strengthened his resolve. Heihachi would soon learn a valuable, but probably fatal lesson in true power.