SURRENDER by Tina

A Note from Tina: Hey, I'm back! It's been a while, I know. Thank you to all the kind people who have reviewed my story. I'm glad that you enjoy it so far. This next chapter's kind of long; the story finally starts to kick up here. Anyway, without further ado, here's chapter four! Enjoy! ^^

4.0 – …and Putting Them Back Together

Jin knew the moment he'd broken into her apartment that this was a big mistake. He'd known it wouldn't be the least bit easy with her, that things would be rocky—"rocky" being an understatement—between them, but experiencing the real thing was entirely different from simply acknowledging it.

For most of the afternoon, Xiao had been ignoring him. She'd spent a great deal of time hiding in her bedroom, doing what, he didn't know. At one point he'd heard her folding fresh clothes from the laundry, and later the clunking and scraping of furniture being moved around. But when he'd stopped in front of her door, he'd found her sitting in a chair by the wall, frowning down at the floor, apparently in deep thought, undoubtedly about him and what she was going to do with him. She'd caught sight of him, though, and fled, scrambling out the fire escape by her window and down the stairs.

Jin sighed, tired of this little game of hide-and-seek. Entering her room, he crossed the expanse of floor to the window she'd climbed out of and peered out. She was one flight of stairs down, sitting on the small, square platform at the top of another set. Luckily, the fire escape was over a deserted alley, so there'd be little risk of anyone seeing him. Quietly, Jin crawled over the sill and onto the steps. His feet made a soft clang against the iron steps, and he was sure Xiao had heard him, but she didn't appear to care.

He descended down the steps onto her platform and sat down beside her. "Xiao," he said softly.

Xiao had her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms crossed over the caps and her chin resting on top. She didn't look at him. "Yes, Jin?" Her tone was dull, uninterested.

"We need to talk."

"Again?"

"Yes."

She sat up, stretching out her legs and placing her arms at her sides. "Fine. Talk."

Jin nodded. He took a deep breath, looked out towards the horizon over Tokyo's many sky scrapers, where the sun was just beginning to set, afternoon shifting to evening, and brilliant shades of pinks, oranges and yellows tinted the sky. "I know you're angry at me for leaving you like I did those years ago, and—I know you're angry, even more so, for me feeding you lies." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's justified, I suppose—"

"You suppose?"

"Let me finish." He ran a hand through his spiky black tresses. "The point is, I can't give you what you want, Xiao. You want answers—answers to things…"

"Yes, Jin. What things?"

Jin turned his attention to her. She was studying him. "Things I can't tell you about."

Xiao sighed, rolling her eyes, clearly frustrated. "I deserve to know, Jin. This isn't about just you anymore; I'm involved too. Whoever these people are that are after you planted bugs in my apartment. I don't know if you're aware, but that's a major violation of privacy. By the looks of those things, they could see what I was doing, hear what I was saying…"

"No, you're not involved. Those devices were meant for me, not you. You won't have to worry about them anymore."

"Won't they know that you're on to them, though?"

"There's a good chance. But I made sure they didn't see—or hear—that it was me when I took them down. For all they know, it could have been you." He shook his head at that. "No, they aren't stupid. They'll figure it out eventually, if they haven't already by now."

"But won't they come after you?" Jin noticed the hint of concern in her voice. It'd meant to be hidden, but he'd caught it. She tried to disguise it by turning the subject to herself, "What position does that put me in if they do? Wouldn't that endanger me?" Hurt and displeasure flashed in her eyes. She thought he was being inconsiderate of her well being.

"No. They won't hurt you. They know better than to do that."

An awkward sense of energy passed between them. He'd only been stating the truth, but there was a certain…intimacy behind it. His protective instincts over her and Xiao's dependency were kicking in. He knew he'd go to the ends of the earth for her, and she, in turn, would trust him with her life. It was there between them, flat on the table, clear as day. Years of being apart had done nothing to diminish that.

Jin cleared his throat, turning his eyes back to look at the sunset. "I'm sorry."

"Jin," her voice was soft, just above a whisper. "Why won't you trust me?"

"It's not a matter of trust," he said. "It's just what has to be."

"Why? What's so horrible that you think I can't handle it?"

If only she knew, he thought mildly.

"Whose fault was it? Did you get in a fight? Was something stolen? What? What happened?"

"Stop it, Xiao," he growled, though it sounded more like a nasty snarl to him. "Why can't you just leave it alone? Why can't you just accept the fact that I can't tell you anything?"

"Because," her voice was determined, unwavering, "I'm sick of this…mess. You've been running from something for a long time, Jin. I was supposed to be your friend, your confidant, someone you could run to when you needed help, and instead you do just the opposite—you run away from me."

Jin blinked, revelation dawning on him. He hadn't realized that was how she saw it. She thought his leaving had something to do with her, that she hadn't been a good enough friend to keep him by her side.

He turned quickly. She hadn't been expecting his fast movement, and couldn't hide the look of vulnerability on her face, the tears brimming in her dark eyes. Oh, Xiao. Before he could think about what he was doing, he raised a hand and touched the side of her face.

"I wasn't running from you," he said gently, his eyes gazing into hers, so hauntingly beautiful, so intense. How he'd missed those eyes. "I was trying to protect you."

Xiao bit down on her bottom lip, a habit he was all too familiar with. "From what?"

From me, he wanted to say. Instead, he avoided the question, "I need you to believe me, Xiao. What I did was for you as well as for me. If I'd stayed, it'd only have led to more trouble."

She laughed, though there was no humor behind it. "More trouble than the two of us could cause?"

Jin was taken back. She was referring to their friendship before he'd left, before their friendship even blossomed, actually. They used to bicker and fight constantly.

Jin cracked a smile at the memory. "Yes, much more." The thumb of his hand moved of its own accord, lightly caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. "And I need you to promise me, Xiao, that no matter what—no matter what happens—you won't tell anyone about it."

She sighed heavily, and he knew she was accepting defeat. "Fine."

"Say it."

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you."

He meant to let her go, but for some reason he couldn't. She was so close, so warm and beautiful under his touch, so utterly desirable. He was suddenly reminded of the kiss they'd shared that night on her balcony, of the way her soft lips felt under his, her unique taste—the most delectable taste he'd ever experienced, sweet rain water and warmed honey and something else, something that was completely Xiao.

Gravity seemed to kick in then, pulling him down towards her. His hand moved to the back of her head, threading his fingers through the soft tendrils of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. He felt her breath on his skin, hot and moist, tempting him to no end. His mouth fell open and—

"Jin…"

Xiao's voice brought him back to reality. He reeled, jumping to his feet. What the hell was he doing!? He'd almost kissed her—again. He didn't look at her, couldn't. He was too embarrassed.

Instead, he ran back up the steps and leapt through her window, a cowardly, but nonetheless, relevant escape.

* * * * *

Miharu walked down the aisles of a mini grocery store down town, scanning the many shelves of food in her quest to find something to make for dinner that night. She'd spent most of her day sleeping—and recovering from one hell of a hangover from the previous night—so she hadn't gotten to eat anything all day.

Through one aisle to another she walked, snatching up random cans, boxes and packages of food she thought would be good, then putting them back on a different shelf when she found something better. Miharu wasn't much of a grocery shopper (clothes, shoes and accessories were her specialty, not food). She usually depended on Xiao to help her in that department, but tonight she was on her own, as Xiao hadn't been answering her phone this afternoon.

By the time she reached the end of the food aisles, her arms were straining to hold her basket, which was full to the brim with things she knew she wasn't going to eat. Though, somehow, she'd ended up with more junk food in her basket than foods for a meal. Miharu chuckled to herself, shaking her head at her poor selection. Xiao would laugh too, she knew. Though they both shared a common unhealthy obsession for sweets and fattening foods, Xiao was more able to maintain a strict discipline over herself and Miharu.

"Shit."

Miharu's head shot up. She knew that voice anywhere. It was Xiao's. Hoisting her basket over her hip, she trudged in the direction from whence the voice had come from.

She found her in the toiletry aisle, kneeling down before a shelf of men's deodorant, where there were at least half a dozen containers spilled on the floor. Miharu's eyes widened. Xiao looking at men's deodorant? There was definitely something wrong with this picture. "Xiao?" she called softly.

Xiao jumped, startled, dropping the containers of deodorant she'd been scooping into her arms on the floor once more. "Mi," she gasped. Her dark eyes blinked up at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping for food," Miharu said. "I tried calling you earlier. Your answering machine didn't pick up. Where were you?"

She watched as a thoughtful expression crossed her friend's face. "I was out," she said simply.

Miharu wasn't fooled. Xiao wasn't herself. She was too edgy. She eyed the containers of deodorant curiously. "Men's deodorant, Xiao?" She stooped down and picked up one of the containers, shaking it detestably in her hand.

"I-I…I was just—"

Miharu arched a brow at her friend. Offering Xiao her hands, she waited patiently as Xiao hesitantly reached up and took them in her own, then pulled her up to her feet. "You were what?"

Xiao straightened her shirt, brushed imaginary dust off her jeans. "No, it's not what you think," she said calmly. "I was just passing through. I accidentally knocked some things over on the shelf with my basket, and—"

"What's in the basket?"

"What?"

"You heard me," Miharu said. She tried looking into the basket herself, but Xiao had it hidden behind her legs. "What're you buying here?"

"Nothing. Just some things for home."

"Oh, really?" Miharu wouldn't have it. She quickly reached around Xiao and wrenched the basket out of her hands.

"No!" Xiao exclaimed, but it was too late. Miharu peered into the basket.

She lifted up a long, cylinder can. "After shave, Xiao?" She put that back in and took out another can similar to the first. "Shaving cream." She kept going through the items. "Shampoo, soap, razors—what the hell is this, Xiao? These are all guys' things."

"Um…"

A thought struck Miharu. It was very unlikely, but it was the only reasonable explanation she had for this. "Wait a minute, did you and that guy from last night—what's his name…?"

Xiao screwed up her face in confusion. "Who?"

"You know, the guy from the party. Yuki's friend. I introduced him to you—"

"Oh, him," Xiao said with obvious distaste. "God, no. Jeez, Mi, what made you think of him?"

"Well, it's the only thing that even remotely makes sense to me right now. I know you aren't using men's products. And unless there's something you're not telling me, then…"

All the while Miharu had been watching Xiao's face. She was well aware of her friend's ability to hide her emotions from people well—other people, she should say, for Xiao didn't lie to her. She never lied to her. Or did she? By the look on her friend's face, as of now—nervous and uncertain—she was beginning to have her doubts. She grasped Xiao's shoulders and shook her once.

"Xiaoyu," she said sternly, "is there something you're not telling me?"

Xiao averted her gaze to the floor, something she rarely ever did with Miharu unless she was ashamed or was guilty of hiding something. "Please," she said quietly.

Miharu's spirits fell. So Xiao was hiding something from her. "What is it, Xiao?" she asked softly.

Xiao shook her head, raven tendrils of hair falling around her face. "It's nothing, Mi. Nothing at all. Stop making such a fuss."

"Bullshit," Miharu cursed. It was one thing to hide something from her, but to intentionally lie to her? That was something else entirely. "Who are you buying all this stuff for?"

She saw the pained expression in Xiao's face. "I can't. I can't tell you, Mi."

"Why the hell not?" She demanded angrily. This was beginning to sound more and more complicated than it was supposed to. What could be the harm of telling her whom she was shopping for?

Again, Xiao shook her head. "It's hard to explain," was all she said.

"Try me."

"No. I promised this person I wouldn't."

Miharu was furious. "Who?"

"I can't tell you that either."

"Is it someone I know?"

Xiao held up her hands. "Mi, please, if I could tell you I would—honestly, I would. But I can't. I gave my word."

Miharu glared at her. She didn't like this at all. It wasn't like Xiao to be so secretive around her. Surely, it must be something important if she was acting like this, but regardless, she still couldn't accept that Xiao refused to let her in on it. They'd been best friends for years. And throughout all those years, Miharu couldn't recall one time where she'd ever betrayed Xiao.

"Please, Mi," Xiao begged, her eyes pleading with hers.

Miharu sighed heavily. "Fine," she growled. She crossed her arms over her chest. "But you owe me big time, you understand me?"

Xiao smiled. "Yes. Thank you."

* * * * *

Kazuya walked the streets of Tokyo late at night. It was past one o' clock in the morning. He'd just woken after having a strange dream back at his apartment, and was now taking a stroll in the cold night air to take time and ponder its meanings. He couldn't call it a nightmare, though it certainly wasn't pleasant. He'd been having the same dream for the past few years now, ever since he came into contact with Jin again at the forth King of Iron Fist Tournament.

In fact, he was beginning to doubt that it was merely a dream. They happened too frequently and they always showed the same outcome. He was more convinced they were visions, visions of what was to come in the near future.

He saw himself and Jin, battling, their bodies sweating with effort to defeat the other. Heihachi would be in the background, observing with mild interest, though silently rooting for Kazuya. This confused Kazuya, based on the past he had with his father. Eventually, Heihachi would enter the fight, stealthily, and tackle Jin, taking him by surprise. Kazuya would then be free to do as he pleased and summon the Devil within himself. With the Devil's rising power, he'd call upon Jin's, as well, and thus draw from him what was rightfully his. Once Jin was drained, Heihachi would throw his lifeless body to the ground. Kazuya would then transform into the Devil, high and mighty and terrifyingly powerful. He'd make the slightest of movements, a flick of his wrist, and Heihachi would drop dead on the ground next to his grandfather. And the dream would end there.

Kazuya was certain it meant something, that this was no ordinary dream or wishful fantasy. It felt too real. It made too much sense, as much as it baffled him to admit it. Heihachi and himself, working together, they'd be unstoppable, even against Jin. With his Devil powers and Heihachi's army of men, how could Jin possibly stand a chance against them?

It was impossible, though. There was no way Heihachi would ever join forces with him. Heihachi wanted the same thing Kazuya did: ultimate power.

But what if there was a way? What if there was a way to meet both their needs? Kazuya had never discussed matters over with his father—mostly because he hadn't had time to, on account that he was too busy fighting for his life. Nor had he wanted to either, for that matter. Until now, that is.

This dream had to be doing crazy things to his thinking process. What he was contemplating was as good as considering suicide, walking into the open clutches of his father. But he had to risk it. He had no other plan.

But how? How could he trick Heihachi into helping him? If the dream was true, he had nothing to worry about. He would surely triumph over his father. But there was still that one little ounce of doubt.

A movement over one of the rooftops of a building he happened to be passing caught his eye. Lifting his head to the sky, Kazuya caught a glimpse of a tall figure walking across what, in the streetlights, appeared to be the top of an old apartment building. Kazuya's eyes widened in surprise.

This surely had to be a confirmation of his dream.

The figure was Jin.

His son stopped at the edge of the building, peering down over the edge at him. He wore the same hooded jacket he'd worn during the forth tournament, but Kazuya could see his eyes glowing a deep, crimson, blood-red, so like his own.

Kazuya smirked up at him, imaging his shock and disbelief at seeing him still alive. No matter, certainly his surprise was no match for the immense pleasure Kazuya felt at finally having found him. Finally, after all these years. Now was his chance. He could soar up there right now, attempt to him down right here, right now.

But no. He couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to, even as the desire to do so burned through him, coursing through his veins and igniting the flames in his eyes. He simply couldn't.

He saw it in Jin, too, the desire to kill him. But he, too, must have recognized the obstacle that stood in both of their ways, for he hadn't made a move as of yet, either. Neither was a match to defeat each other. How could he not see this, what with the living, breathing evidence standing before him?

Kazuya turned. He would leave now, just like that. Years, Kazuya, it's been years, and now you're just walking away… A deep, throaty voice that wasn't his own sounded within the recesses of his mind.

No matter, Kazuya assured the voice. Now that he's alive everything will fall into place. I'll find him again. I'm sure of it.