Blood

Chapter 7: Confessions

By Fool's Gold

Disclaimer: Garou Densetsu (Fatal Fury), Ryuuko no Ken (Art of Fighting) and all related characters are the property of SNK-Playmore. No profit has been made from this fic.


Kevin Rian was on duty – a typical day's work, as far as he was concerned. But no matter how hard he tried, the sensation of uneasiness that plagued him could not be shaken off.

The sun was low in the sky, heralding the onset of night, and people were already returning back to their homes at the end of their day. But for Second Southtown's finest, the day didn't end at five... and the hardest part of the patrol began when the sun set.

The two murders had shaken this town, but in Second Southtown, even the greatest shocks were easily reduced to nothing but ripples on the water's surface. The people had probably forgotten about the whole deal by now – or, if they remembered, they thought it wouldn't happen to them. Only the men in blue cared... and that was why they were on patrol now, watching over the oblivious.

He knew, through an instinct of his, that Freeman – missing, presumed dead – was responsible for at least one of the killings: the sheer amount of blood that had been spilt was proof enough. And of course, he cursed that the killer, somehow, had survived the bullet meant to end the nights of terror. But he still couldn't shake the thought of another hand that may or may not have worked behind the scenes... an iron fist.

The sergeant looked about tiredly, hoping that his longstanding prejudices wouldn't get in the way of his work. It simply didn't do for an honest policeman to dream up conspiracy theories on the job.


I was born in the summer of 1990 – a surprise to my parents, who didn't expect another child after ten years. Maybe that's why they favoured me. I know that my brother certainly didn't mind the lack of attention: he's always been the loner that we know today.

We were reasonably well off as a family: Father had a reasonably well-paying job, but it required him to go overseas for extended periods of time. As a result, we didn't really see much of him when we were young. That left our mother to look after the two of us. If there was one memory I would single out as having been a particularly good one, it would be the one where the three of us were playing together in the front yard. Brother would always be the reluctant one, standing aside with a look that read of complete disinterest, but even he would have to oblige me sooner or later.

I suppose that was the only normal thing about our family life. Everything else was a mess – at least, that's how it seemed as I got older.

Father... I don't know what to say about him. Mother always told me that Father worked hard to support our family, but even she didn't know much about his job. All we knew was that he worked somewhere in China – and that when he was gone, it was practically impossible to contact him. Mother once confided to me that she actually thought he was having an affair, but there was no basis for her suspicions. Anyway, Father was devoted to her, and she to him... for a time. But the fact that he was never around for long was certainly a problem in our family – a problem that manifested itself most obviously in my brother.

Brother was, as Terry and Rock probably know from experience, moody, rebellious and prone to moments of ill-temper. Most of all, though, he despised Father – that's what Mother told me, although she could never give a reason for such resentment. Maybe he didn't like the way Father was never around. Or maybe it's just natural for sons to be closer to their mothers. Whatever the case, Father definitely bore the brunt of Brother's anger, which he did reasonably well.

Mother was the intermediary between the two of them. As far as I know, she was the one reason why they never went at each other's throats in the house: both of them loved her. So did I. And she deserved every single bit of love that we gave her, too. She was an angel...

"Are you okay?"

...I'll be fine.

Anyway, not even she could mend the rift between father and son, and things came to a head when I turned eleven.


"Well?"

They stood on the porch, staring out into the afternoon sun. Rock shielded his eyes against the glare with an upraised hand as he waited for a reply.

Terry leant against a post lazily. "So, how's life?"

"Everything's fine. I never did get a chance to thank you for recommending me to the Sakazakis."

"Don't mention it. I hear they're in France right now."

Red eyes narrowed in suspicion as Rock noticed the hidden barb in his mentor's statement. "And a friend of yours has taken over the management of the Illusion Bar," he shot back in annoyance. "So?"

"Oh, nothing." Terry let a smile play along his lips. "Just wondering about how my hometown was doing."

Rock frowned. "Cut it out, Terry. If you're trying to tell me that something is rotten in the state of Southtown, I don't need you to remind me." He turned back towards the house. "And what are you doing? Living on the outskirts of town, like some hermit or recluse... it's just not like you to give up on the town like that."

It was Terry's turn to look displeased, but he managed to shrug the accusation off with little more than a shake of his head. "Let's just say that local sentiment has never really been on the side of heroes."

"Yeah, yeah. 'Don't rock the boat, don't upset the status quo,' whatever." Rock rolled his eyes derisively. He was all too familiar with the reception that Terry and the Lonely Wolves had received after each King of Fighters tournament: the pugilists were feted on their return, certainly, but they were forgotten just as rapidly. The fact that those fighters had played a part in saving the world from certain ruin was lost on the townsfolk, who had better things to do with their time than wonder about how close they'd been to obliteration.

The truth, of course, was always covered up. There was no mention in the newspapers of vengeful gods, scrolls of immortality, or secret cabals plotting to take over the world – such spurious tales were certainly not fit for respectable publications. And so, an entire town, unmindful of the deeds of its heroes, had slowly fallen asleep under the spell of its own crimelords, who were more than happy to scheme away in peace.

"He's a tricky one, your uncle," remarked Terry, his blond fringe of hair hanging limply over his eyes. "He's far more low-key than any of the others before him – and there isn't anyone alive who would dare to testify, for all the good it would do them." He didn't think it necessary to mention the fate of anyone who had tried.

"Your point?" Terry had gotten under Rock's skin with the mention of Kain, and the young man wasn't afraid to show it.

"Let's face it, Rock: we're fighters, and that's what we're good at. And he simply isn't playing our game anymore." Terry stood up straight and began to pace slowly around the front porch. "Ever since he suppressed all the other gangs in town, things have been really quiet. No show of force, no illegal activities, nothing the police can pin on him. As for us... we know that his intentions aren't good, but we can't do anything about it."

"Right."

Terry continued his tirade, "And in the meantime, he sets himself up as a captain of industry, carefully suppressing all information of his past misdeeds while charming the people with his smooth talk. He pulled it off. In fact, I've heard it said that the townsfolk would vote him in as Mayor if he ever ran for the post, crime boss or not, simply because he's brought more stability to the town than anyone else has." There was a sigh of resignation from the man. "I think we may be the only ones with any inkling of what he's really up to."

"Perhaps," muttered Rock noncommittally.

The footsteps stopped, and Terry raised his head. "The point is, Rock... Kain has to be stopped before he does anything. And only one person outside of his organisation has the information required to take him down."

Rock flinched.


I was still quite naïve at the time, so I didn't understand half of what was going on; Mother had to fill in the gaps for me as I grew older. It hurt her to tell the true story of what happened that day – I could see it in her tear-filled eyes when I asked her, and knew it was a mistake – but she told me anyway, and this is how I remember it.

I was eleven, so that made Brother about... twenty-one at the time. And as always, he was on Father's case. According to Mother, the dispute was over work this time: it seems that Brother wanted to move out and start working, but Father wouldn't let him.

On hindsight, I should have known that Mother wasn't telling the whole truth – the story was simply too absurd for anyone but a child to believe. Perhaps that was why I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Or was Mother inventing the lie for her own benefit? There are some things that we can't see, and others that we simply choose not to.

At the time, I knew nothing. All I remember was seeing Brother's suitcases in the doorway. Mother stood in the doorway as Father and Brother exchanged blows, pleading with them to stop, while I cringed behind her skirts and closed my eyes every time one of them landed a hit. I could hear her voice, straining above the sounds of violence as they 'debated' it with fists and feet.

It was a good two years before I realised that our family's fights were probably far more violent than the spats other families had.

I opened my eyes after the sounds faded away. Brother was on the ground, wiping the blood that had flowed from his brow into his eyes – I don't remember any tears. And Father had his back turned, not even looking at him; his gaze was focused firmly on us, as though daring us to come to Brother's aid. Naturally, we didn't try anything.

Father's only words were, "Leave, then."

I recall watching Brother scramble to his feet and drag his cases down the street, his last look a glare of utter hatred. Mother didn't say anything, but the warmth of her tears on my hair is what I remember more vividly than anything else.

And it was three years before we saw Brother again.


Rock slowly shook his head in disbelief.

"You're kidding. Mary put you up to this, didn't she?" His eyes shot daggers at Terry, who regarded the youth almost resignedly.

"I expected that response." He leant back against the post once again, and closed his eyes. "No, it's my own doing. I hope you don't think I'm trying to force you into doing anything against your will –"

"Of course not." Rock's tone was suitably regretful, and laced with sorrow. "Look, Terry. You were the father I never had; I'm grateful for all you've done for me, and I know I owe you a huge debt for getting me out of the gutter. But this... I don't know anything about what Kain's doing."

Terry didn't speak for a while, and it was some time before he finally opened his eyes.

"You're not fooling anyone. You're worried about your good name, right?"

The guilty silence that seemed to emanate from Rock confirmed Terry's guess, and he continued, "I know. You're trying to escape your past by ignoring it, burying it someplace where nobody – not even yourself – will remember what had happened. And you think that by covering up your history, people will just get over it and allow you to move on with your life, right?"

The Wolf's eyes were bright now, locking on to Rock's face as he moved in for the kill. "After all, Southtown's a pretty forgiving city as far as they come. And that's why you chose to remain here, even though you were in such close proximity to Kain: there's something about this town that makes it so easy for people to forget everything and just live out their mundane lives."

Rock thought he sensed more than a little disenchantment in Terry's voice. "Getting a little old and cranky, are you?" he sneered, trying unsuccessfully to hide the fact that Terry had hit home with his guess.

"Maybe, maybe not." Terry acknowledged the jab, but his face was grim. "Seriously, Rock... as long as Kain remains in power, there's no way any of us will be able to rest easy. You know that."

"Of course, but..."

He knew he was in a quandary. There was no love lost between Kain and himself, of course, but he knew that exposing Kain's misdeeds would bring another dossier of past exploits into the open... his own. And he wasn't sure if the risk was one he wanted to take.

He knew, of course, that there were precious few people who actually knew about what he'd done in those times, and they didn't condemn him for it. But if he revealed the truth, he would have to testify... and then everything would be dragged out for the media vultures to feast upon: his dirty work as Kain's enforcer, his association – by blood! – to two of Second Southtown's most infamous mafia bosses, and even his heritage as "a violent, unstable individual"... He could see the headlines now. All who came by him would pass judgement and damn him to eternal shame even if he wasn't charged; he would never be able to hold his head up in front of others ever again. The whispers and murmurs, the wary glances that people gave him as they walked away... it would all happen again, and he didn't want to return back to that life of suspicion again.

And then, there was her...

He stole a glance at the closed front door, wondering just how she would react if she ever found out.


"Are you up to this? We can do it another time, if you're tired..."

Let's continue.

Mother was most affected by my brother's departure – I was still unaware of the true extent of their falling out, and Father... if he even cared, he didn't show it. And therefore, the family's grief fell onto her shoulders alone.

To this day, I still don't know how she managed to endure it all that while. It was hard enough for me, even if I was still under the illusion that Brother was merely away for a short time, still blocking out the bad memories of that terrible day and pretending that their conflict had been only a nightmare. But for her... she was torn between Father and Brother, and she wasn't willing to take sides. If anything, she still hung on to the hope that Brother would return one day, even though her hopes grew more and more distant by the day.

I grew up hearing her constant pleas to Father to reconcile with his wayward son, only to be rebuffed by his refusal to answer. It was terrible. They never fought with each other, not to my face; instead, their silent exchanges were more violent than any quarrel that I could have witnessed. They began to grow apart steadily, even though they tried to keep everything calm on the surface – but I wasn't fooled. They were spending less time together, as though they couldn't bear the sight of each other at times.

I didn't hate Father for what he did; I didn't know, in fact, what had started the whole fight in the first case. Perhaps, in my foolish mind, I was still convinced that my brother was doing what he wanted, and that he was happy doing what he did, even if he never wrote back to tell us how he was doing.

Father may not have cared much about his son's whereabouts, but he surely noticed the rift in our family when Brother left. He started coming back more often, spending more time with us... as if it could somehow heal the gaping wound that he had inflicted. It was thanks to him that I learnt the martial arts that would eventually take me to the tournament in Southtown.

"That would be Kain's Maximum Mayhem Tournament, right?"

Yes. Father seemed to put a lot of emphasis on my training, for reasons unknown. He once told me that it instilled discipline in people; unconsciously, I wondered if he had spared Brother a thought when he spoke.

Perhaps I have demonised my father in this deposition. He was not the heartless, uncaring man that I may have – inadvertently – portrayed him as: he loved Mother, and he cared for me very well. All things considered, he was a good father, strict yet tender in his discipline, and I have no doubt that he genuinely cared for our family, and that he would have done anything to keep what was left of our family together.

If he hadn't thrown Brother out in the first place, everything would have been perfect.


Itokatsu lay outside the rear door with closed eyes, basking in what remained of the sun's rays. The cold November weather was not particularly kind towards ferrets, their warm coat notwithstanding, and he was determined to get as much of it as he could.

A shadow suddenly fell over the creature, and Itokatsu opened his eyes in annoyance at the loss of the comfortable heat. But he made no sound. The man who stood over him was familiar...

A hand drifted down, and the ferret found himself being picked up by the scruff of his neck. It was a grip of iron, but he refused to cry out. Years of domestication had taught him that.

And just as quickly, it was over.

The ferret was lowered to the ground slowly, and Itokatsu returned to his afternoon suntan, completely unconcerned.


He came back two years before the tournament began, a dishevelled figure who appeared at our door one rainy evening. Father was still away at one of his business dealings in China – I never knew how Brother found out, but it was probably the best time for him to return.

Mother was nearly hysterical when she saw him: she hadn't expected him to come back, not after what had happened that day. I missed him greatly, too. For the past few years, we'd lived with the terrible sense of emptiness that haunted our family, stepping around it cautiously whenever we could. My brother had departed, but it was as though he'd died and left a ghost in his place – a phantom whose name was not to be spoken around our house, although it was wishful thinking, hoping that he would reappear if only we mentioned his name.

We hoped he'd stay. He didn't.

Mother was almost in tears when he announced that he wouldn't stay with us. We didn't exchange many words, and Brother gave no reasons or apologies. Instead, he simply left a small envelope on the table and said that it was to be handed to Father when he returned.

We thought it signalled a change in our fortunes. Maybe they were communicating again. Maybe they were finally going to settle their differences. Maybe, even, our family could be whole once more.

Maybe...

Mother gave him the locket from around her neck, a golden one with our family picture on the inside. I know she desperately wanted him to return; I know I did too. But things were still uncertain, and we weren't sure how Father would respond to his return.

And suddenly, he was gone. There was nothing to even suggest that he had been here... nothing except the envelope that lay on the table.

It sat there until Father returned a week later. And when he saw the letter, his response was, well, odd.

He smiled.

I remember asking him what its contents were; he patted me on the head and told me that it was nothing important, and I left it at that. It never occurred to me to pry any further into their secrets – as long as they sorted it out, I would be happy.

Father handed the letter to Mother and told her to keep it safe, and that was the end of the matter, as far as I knew. Five days later, he was off on another business trip.

And six days later, he was dead.


"She doesn't know, does she?"

He was dimly aware, through the thoughts and fears that clouded his mind, of Terry's voice breaking out behind him. The words made him whirl around, a sudden look of suspicion on his face.

"What's it to you? Don't bring her into this," he barked angrily, wondering just how Terry had managed to read his mind. But all he received in response was a wry smile from the Wolf, who had worked out the answer by now.

"I guessed as much. So..." Terry grinned. "Why, exactly, are you helping her?"

Rock's expression quickly evolved into a troubled one, and he said nothing in reply, even though he felt as though there were a thousand things to explain. There were no words that would suffice.

He managed a feeble, "Her parents are dead."

"I know." Terry's voice was warm now, reverting back to the old familiarity that Rock knew so well. "I lost my father too, you know. We're all in the same boat."

That was true, of course, and Rock knew it. It only seemed right that they, who had also lost their parents, should come to the aid of another in a similar plight. But inwardly, he knew there was also more to the situation than met the eye... something that defied explanation even now. And in his present dilemma, he wasn't in any condition to sort it out.

"They should be done soon. Let's get inside..." Terry began his return to the living room, but halted in mid-step as he gestured for Rock to follow. "Don't worry, we won't tell her a thing. But I hope you'll come to a decision soon... before it's too late."

Rock trudged slowly into the house, the ominous words still ringing in his ears.


The official coroner's report read that he died in a car crash: they never found his body because the resulting fireball consumed everything.

I believed it. Mother did not – she knew too much.

The stroke that she suffered was, on reflection, no surprise.

"I'm sorry."

You don't have to be.

It was painful to watch her waste away in her completely helpless and bedridden state. I took care of her to the best of my ability, but even with the insurance money and the inheritance Father had left us, I was still hard pressed to care properly for her, and even more so because we didn't have any other family members to rely on. And Brother was still gone, lost to us forever...

She lingered on for another two years before another stroke finally claimed her. And before her death, she told me to go to America's Second Southtown, where we had 'relatives'.

I knew who she meant by that statement.

The rest of the tale is known already, I guess. My guardian helped me to manage all the legal matters surrounding my parents' deaths, and I caught the next flight to Second Southtown.

One last footnote remains. I returned to Japan when the tournament ended. And on my eighteenth birthday, my guardian finally released the details of my mother's last will and testament. I didn't care much for the distribution of the money, but one document in particular caught my eye – a small letter enclosed in a familiar envelope.

It was the same envelope that my brother had delivered on that day four years before. And I finally got the chance to read it, only to find myself regretting that I had ever seen it in the first case.

Brother had challenged Father to a duel.

Some things, it seems, cannot be attributed to coincidence. In a family of martial artists, it should have been expected that their feud would end the way it had started. But Mother knew all along... and I believe that she had tried to keep everything from me, to spare me the heartbreak. But why did she speak to me from the grave? It would have been better to leave me in ignorance... I guess I'll never know.

The accompanying letter that she had enclosed before her death explained it all. Now that I was old enough to know the circumstances surrounding my father's demise, it fell to me to settle accounts with the last member of my family.

"What? Don't tell me you want to kill him..."

No! Why would I want to kill my brother? There's been enough death in my family – I don't want to add to it.

All I want... is to know the truth.


"I'll get you something to drink." Blue Mary walked off towards the counter, and Hotaru slumped back in her seat, feeling completely drained. The memories ran through her veins like poison, and purging herself of them – a cathartic action, but tiring nonetheless – had strained her mental and emotional faculties to their limit.

The ferret scurried back into the room and instantly headed for his master's arms, receiving a tired hug as she cradled him.

"Itokatsu..." she mumbled absently, stroking his fur. "I... I don't know what to do..."

It was then that she noticed his collar.

The small, plain amulet of gold hadn't been there before. It was slightly tarnished and dull from age and wear, but the setting sun's rays still made it gleam with a familiar lustre.

She opened the clasp, and gasped in surprise as a small piece of paper drifted out onto her lap. But her eyes were firmly fixed on the familiar photograph that rested in the locket's frame, faded with the passing of days...

"Is something wrong?" Mary called out without looking back.

He had to be here, in Second Southtown. And he was near... Had he been listening? Was he finally willing to acknowledge her? Had he tracked her all this while from the shadows? Hotaru didn't know. All she knew was that her answers lay with him and none other, and she was on the verge of finding him.

She had to control herself. A solution had suddenly presented itself, and all their efforts had been for naught; it didn't seem right to disappoint the people who had wanted to help her out. But she was close, so close...

"I'm fine, really..." ...but I guess I won't be going back with Rock today.


The young pair departed; one rode off on his bike back to the island, while the other began a slow walk in the direction of the Philanthropy bell tower. Terry and Mary watched them leave with some interest.

"How was it?"

"She's a good kid." Mary ran a hand through her short bob of hair. "I'll try my best. But with a family like that..." She frowned. "I'm duty-bound to arrest her brother if I find him, you know."

"Right..." There was a heavy moroseness in Terry's voice. "If the rule of law counted for everything, you'd have arrested Rock by now, along with the half of the town that's in Kain's pocket. And I suppose I'd be in jail now, serving out a life sentence for murder or something like that. The girl needs a break."

"Speaking of which," she noted, ignoring the sarcasm that had laced his words, "how did it go with Rock?"

"He's not ready. I think he's still trying to avoid his past... and with a history like that, I don't blame him." Her husband shook his head. "If the information ever goes public, his life will be ruined. We're practically asking him to commit suicide here."

"I know, but..."

"Sorry, Mary. He has to make his own decisions now. And I have no doubt that he'll do the right thing... when he's ready."

Blue Mary regarded him with a firm stare, but did not answer. The policewoman in her rebelled against what Terry had suggested, even though she knew that the humane thing to do was to let the young ones go about their business. But, as he'd noted... she'd done it before, letting morality overrule law for the sake of the ones they loved.

It was a perplexing dilemma that they faced, for certain. She was fond of Rock, and she had personally witnessed the efforts that Terry had taken to ensure that the boy did not follow in his father's footsteps; she'd even had a hand in it at times. And now, when her duty would eventually compel her to sacrifice the young man for the good of Southtown... she couldn't do it.

And that wasn't the end of her problems: Hotaru's tale still pulled at her heartstrings. She knew what it was like to lose friends and family: she remembered vividly how her grandfather, Geese Howard's teacher in the martial arts, had been cut down by his treacherous student. That was what had started her career in the police, after all – and her desire to bring the wicked to justice had survived, in spite of the death of her partner, and the endless cycle of evil that she'd watched her beloved hometown go through...

It wasn't right to deprive Hotaru of the last chance to find her brother, even if it meant having to turn a blind eye to what the man had done. Now, it seemed, it was more just to let him go... for now.

Still, Mary couldn't resist asking, only half in jest, "So you're asking me to aid and abet murder and corruption in the city?"

"We're helping a girl find her brother, and saving a boy from destroying himself." Somehow, Terry managed a smile in spite of himself. "Considering that this is Southtown we're talking about... I think those 'crimes' are forgivable."


Notes:

Okay, let's get this show on the road... You can expect more action in the next few chapters.

Bear in mind that few of the details regarding Hotaru's past, if any, can be considered canon. Where official word is lacking, artistic license will have to suffice.

If anyone wishes to help proofread this fic, you're more than welcome to. Drop me a review if you're interested. Once again, comments and constructive criticism will be welcomed.