Blood

Chapter 8: A House Divided

By Fool's Gold

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


The tower was dark, the corridor's shadows lengthening with the descending sun, and it was all too easy to see unknown figures lurking around every corner as she ascended the winding stairs. Each step she took filled her with a sense of foreboding. The Philanthropy belfry seemed different now – it was too quiet, and completely different from the grounds she had battled on before.

But Hotaru continued on, fearing nothing... except what awaited her at the top. And that was, paradoxically, the one thing that drove her onwards.

The rays of light finally shone into the dark stairway, letting her know that she had reached the top. And as she walked out into the dwindling sunlight, she finally understood the reason for her misgivings.

The birds had flown.

She missed them. They'd flocked to the bell tower three years ago back when the weather was warmer, but there wasn't a sign of them, now that winter advanced on Second Southtown. It was all too quiet without them...

Hotaru sat on the edge of the parapet, letting her legs dangle freely in the air, and decided to admire the scenery. She took no pleasure in it, but she needed something – anything – to distract her from the grim task that lay ahead.

And night fell.


Dong Hwan was already raring to go, chafing at the delay as he waited for his replacement. He was glad that Duck King had persuaded the waitresses not to enforce the dress code too strictly – it was bad enough waiting outside in the cold weather without having to do so in the issued waiter's uniform, which didn't do a very good job of keeping out the chill.

It was almost six. He should have been here by now...

There was a faint buzz in the distance, engine sounds that built up into a roaring crescendo, and a familiar motorcycle quickly swerved into the parking lot that sat adjacent to the Illusion Bar. And it was a flustered Rock who sprinted across the street minutes later, his dishevelled appearance reflecting the haste in which he had arrived. But it wasn't the state of his friend's clothes that caught his attention.

"Hey, Rock... what's up?" The haunted look on Rock's face didn't escape Dong Hwan's eyes – his friend looked more depressed than ever, if that was even possible.

There was a faint murmur from the blonde youth, which Dong Hwan rightly interpreted as, "Nothing." Typical for Rock, I guess. He shrugged, turning to the group of girls who had just stepped up to the entrance. "Alright, ladies, have a good time now... and take good care of my pal now, 'kay?"

The girls laughed good-naturedly, one of them even blowing an air-kiss in his direction; he gave them a roguish wink and sauntered down the street, ever the ladies' man. And it was left to Rock to admit the customers into the bar, disconsolately wondering what it was like to live without a care in the world.


There was a sudden hiss as Itokatsu squirmed from her arms and landed on the floor. Turning, Hotaru saw a man out of the corner of her eye: a stranger, his form hidden from her, waited on the other side of the great bells that hung in the tower.

"Who is it?"

It was a rhetorical question: she had called out in Japanese – not in English, Southtown's lingua franca. And in reply, the man stepped out of the shadows noiselessly, taking one menacing step towards her.

"Brother?"

She turned to face him down, her gaze steely. And in that one word she spoke, a million questions flew across the space between them, all calling for him to account for himself.

He decided to answer one of them. "Your brother is dead."

"So who are you?" she replied bluntly.

He said nothing, and she levelled her next accusation at him. "Why did you send me Mother's locket, then? Why arrange for this meeting at all?"

Hotaru wasn't sure how long she could keep up her brave front – but she wasn't content with seeing him in the flesh this time. Now, she had a mission, and if she didn't find out the truth...

No. There was no such option.

Gato spoke in a brusque tone, but Hotaru sensed no malice in his voice. "Get out of here, girl. Leave Second Southtown, and don't come back. Or there'll be hell to pay."

And to his surprise, she laughed bitterly in his face.

"Leave?"

Her voice was plaintive and sorrowful, despair showing clearly through the word she threw back in his face. "Leave, after I've come so far to find you? You must be crazy."

She looked him in the eye, daring him to strike her. "I have nowhere to go. My brother is dead, as you claim." And another short, choking laugh escaped from her lips. "Well, my mother is dead from grief, mourning a lost son and a lost husband. And my father is dead... at my brother's hand."

He stood silently, wondering at the change which had come over his sister. The years had stripped away her naïveté, it seemed; or were his deeds to blame? Or perhaps their mother's last words had finally led her closer to the truth.

It had to be. She would never have come back here otherwise.

She never stopped. "Why did you do it, Brother? Why did you have to tear our family apart? Did you hate Father that much?"

No, he realised; their mother had not told her the whole truth. And so it fell to him; the unpleasant duty – he laughed inwardly at the irony – was his, to let her know about what had really happened that day. More than anything, he wanted to see his father ruined. Not just dead, but shamed and humiliated to boot. It was only fitting, considering the way the old man had disgraced him so many years ago...

But still, she was family – an obsolete concept, but one that still held a little weight in his estimation, even if he didn't like to admit it. That was why he had never been able to raise his hand against her three years ago, and that was why he hesitated, just on the verge of delivering the deathblow to his father's reputation.

He didn't know what to expect from her if he told the truth. It was a surprise that he even cared. But it took a cold heart to plot vengeance... more so when family was involved.

"I didn't kill him." That would do for starters. He didn't add that it was, of course, his intention to do so at the next given opportunity.

"I don't believe you." The cynical words shot from her lips all too quickly, but they sounded more like a denial, an unwillingness to believe what had just been spoken. "I don't believe in coincidences. There was the 'accident', and your challenge, and..."

"Oh, I don't deny that I challenged Father to a duel." His lips curled cruelly in disdain as he remembered the disgrace of that day. And he endured the shame that coursed through his mind as he continued deliberately, "But I didn't win."

He saw his sister's pupils widen in shock. "Then..."

"Heh." He smirked cryptically. "As I said, your brother is dead. And it's in your best interests to get out of this town... while you still can." He sounded almost remorseful now, wondering if it had been the right choice to bring their family's deeds to the light.

There was no room for regrets. He began to walk back towards the stairs...

"Stop."

The note of command in her voice gave him pause; it was as though an invisible wall had been dropped in front of him. There was something new in that tone, something that he knew had changed in her, and it was that something that compelled him to stop.

But that one word had stolen all her strength: Hotaru's voice was frail and tremulous now as she made one last cast of the die, desperately making a last attempt to call him back.

"I've spent the last three years trying to find you."

All the control had left her voice now, and it seemed to him that the melodrama of three years past would be replayed before his eyes. He was weary of it – it sounded too much like something out of one of those damnable soap operas.

"The inheritance I received is running out – but you probably didn't know that. All this time, I've been wandering around the world, trying to figure out where you'd disappeared to after the tournament. I didn't know where to start: nobody even knew who you were or what you did. Eventually, I was forced to return home... and that was when I discovered Mother's secret."

She paused, looking hard at him, and he could see her entire body shaking with anger.

"And now that I've found you, do you really think I'm going to be satisfied with some cryptic comments and an answer that means nothing to me? It doesn't work that way." She flung out a finger at him in accusation, but her voice, fragile with pain and frustration, was unable to put any weight behind her retort. "I don't know why Mother wanted me to find out the truth for myself, but you're the only one left who knows the whole story. And if you ever loved Mother..."

Gato snapped his head around, revealing an expression that managed to combine annoyance with a faint admiration.

"...you will tell me everything."

So, the little girl's all grown up now.

He hadn't expected her to invoke their mother against him – she'd always been the honest one in their family. But it suited her style perfectly; the irony was that of all the dirty tricks that he'd been prepared to deal with, the only thing that she could have possibly done was the one that he'd never fully proofed himself against...

A fatalistic grin appeared on his face. No, Mother would never have wanted her daughter's search to turn out this way – and neither would Father. And therein lay his dilemma.

"Idiot," he growled, finally deciding on his course. "If you want to die that badly, just jump off this tower."

Hotaru stared mutely at him, finally lost for words at the insult which her brother had thrown in her face. But he didn't stop there.

"You're a fool if you think you'll ever get to the bottom of this." It had been a long time since he'd spoken so much; it felt unnatural to hear his own voice. "If you want answers, you're better off asking Kain Heinlein."

It took several moments for the shock to register, but when it did, the expression on Hotaru's face exposed her disbelief more effectively than words ever could.

"What are you talking about?" she asked weakly, feeling a great weight sink into the bottom of her stomach. "What does Kain have to do with all this?"

Infuriatingly enough, he chose not to elaborate, taunting her instead: "Why don't you ask that Howard boy? Considering how he's already approached that toothless old wolf, I'm sure he could use his other 'connections' to find out."

For Hotaru, those words were the last straw: the way Gato had slandered Rock – the one who had helped her so willingly – sent her into an outburst of anger and confusion. "Rock has nothing to do with this! So his father and uncle were criminals. That doesn't make him one too! And why won't you give me a straight answer? What would Kain know about our family, anyway?"

"More than you imagine." The ugly, dangerous grin on Gato's face widened. "But I've said enough."

"Then why help me in the first place? Why..."

Any further protest that Hotaru could have made died stillborn, drowned out by the sudden peal of bells as the tower proclaimed that it was now seven. She bent over, clutching Itokatsu close to her as she tried to calm the struggling ferret, but even she could not hold back the sudden pounding of her heart as the deafening toll of the bells hammered away at her eardrums.

Gato stood and watched in amusement, seemingly unaffected by it all. He looked at her one last time, his eyes as cold as the winter's night...

You reminded me of her.

The tolling ceased, and she looked up for her brother. But he had already vanished with the sound of the bells.


An entire week passed without incident, and Saturday morning saw Terry Bogard wake up to the beginning of another unfruitful day.

I know no news is good news, he noted wryly, but it wouldn't hurt to get some news from the other side of the world once in a while.

He yawned and stretched his sleep-stiffened muscles, and rolled over onto his side... only to find that the other side of the bed was already empty. Not that it mattered, of course – he knew where the other occupant had gone.

The faint sounds of tapping drifted in from the living room.

I swear, she's a workaholic. He strolled out of the bedroom, where, as if to confirm his predictions, Blue Mary sat in front of the computer terminal with a huge steaming mug of coffee. She was only mildly surprised when Terry hugged her from behind.

It took two full minutes of snuggling before she finally complained, "Cut it out, Terry. All this work can't wait."

"Yeah, yeah." Terry directed his eyes towards the monitor, not willing to break his embrace. "Any luck on the murders?"

"Nope." She sighed. "It's puzzling: the security guard's injuries were pretty limited – a broken neck and three slashes on the back. Now, our friend Switchblade, on the other hand... I'm surprised we didn't need a mop and bucket, but enough of him was left intact for us to see the same three slashes..."

Terry admired the way she managed to coolly run over the facts without throwing up. It was hard to find a woman like her these days... and that was probably why she'd finally made the rank of Inspector.

"So, what you're saying is that the two murders were by the same..."

"No. You have to dig deeper than that." She twisted her head around and looked him squarely in the eye. "The two bodies have the marks on their backs in common, but that's about it. The rest of the evidence – the condition of the bodies and the manner in which the victims were killed – is too disparate for us to assume they were done by the same person. It might just be a copycat murder."

She looked back at the screen and sipped her coffee, reflecting on the evidence that had been presented to the Second Southtown Police Department. "Of course, it looks as though our 'copycat' has outdone the original... if you're counting in terms of gallons of blood spilled. We haven't seen anything like this before..."

"Actually, we have," Terry cut in. Mary shot him an annoyed glare.

"Fine, let me rephrase that: the others haven't seen this before. You and I, naturally, are all too familiar with these sorts of scenes. But I think we can rule out the Orochi bloodline in this case."

Terry nodded. "The Riot of the Blood drives its victim berserk, and I don't think anyone in that state would be able to intentionally duplicate the slashes. You need presence of mind for that. Which means..."

"Nah. Believe me, I suspected Ryuji Yamazaki as well, but he's currently locked up in Hong Kong. I just checked yesterday."

"Did you ever consider taking up a career as a fortune teller?"

Blue Mary laughed, but her mind was set solely on business. "Anyway, the most likely local alternative –" she made a face at the unpleasantness of the term "– would be Freeman. I wouldn't put money on him staying dead, but we can't confirm anything at this point in time." The mug of coffee was drained to its dregs in one gulp. "Anyway, Terry... you've got your own man to hunt down, don't you?"

"Gee, you're a tough one to please," Terry mumbled teasingly. He stood upright and walked back into the bedroom... and to his surprise, he found a bulky package sitting in the centre of the rumpled bedclothes, the Shiranui family crest emblazoned on its side.

And about time, too! "Those darn ninjas... Can't even leave a return address," he swore in jest, just loudly enough for the benefit of the messenger who might have been hiding on their roof. Still, he opened the package, breaking the seal that kept it closed.

Terry spent the next fifteen minutes perusing the documents within the envelope, and found himself well and truly disturbed by the time he'd gone through the entire stack.

"Mary?"

"Mm?" she called, never looking up from her work.

"The paperwork on Hotaru's family just came in."

"Well, that's a good sign."

"Not exactly..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice suddenly less sure than it had been a moment ago.

"Well, let me put it this way," Terry noted bleakly. "Rock's not the only one with a family tree that's rotten to the roots."


"He hasn't been looking too good lately..."

"You're right."

"I wonder why..."

"Ya think...?"

A new voice entered the discussion. "Hey, what's up?"

Three heads swivelled around, locking on to Dong Hwan in unison.

"You're still hanging around, Dong Hwan? It's nothing, really," Sally replied, but her finger remained pointed at the moping bouncer who stood beyond the doors of the Illusion. "We were just discussing the emotional state of your friend out there."

Duck King nodded sagely. "Looks like somethin's eatin' away at him from da inside... an' it don' look good."

"You noticed too, eh?" Dong Hwan frowned, his suspicions newly aroused. "He's even worse than he used to be. Any idea why?"

The other staff members didn't know.

"Perhaps it was dat..." Duck King ventured, before the twins cut him off with swift glances. "Nah, couldn't be."

Dong Hwan appraised the near-imperceptible actions, and instantly shot back, "What?"

"Ya know, guys yo' age... it could be girl trouble, ya think?" Behind the dark glasses, Duck King's eyes were shifty. But his suggestion seemed to have allayed the Korean youth's wariness.

"That's it? I'm not surprised." He laughed confidently, partly at the thought of Rock in a cassock. "It looks like he'll have to take some lessons from the pro, then."

The doors closed behind him as he walked out into the cold night air, where Rock was busy scaring off the latest round of customers with that long face of his. Taking the sullen young man by the arm, he muttered, "We need to talk, Rock."

"What?"

"You're not helping business much, not with that sour face of yours," he chuckled. "So, you wanna talk about it?"

The reply flew back in his face as he'd expected as Rock suddenly clammed up, unwilling to answer with anything more than a curt, "No." But that didn't faze Dong Hwan one bit.

"Seriously, Rock..." He placed his arm around his friend's shoulder. "It's not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside like that. You gotta let it out once in a while, ya know?"

If Rock was going to let anything out, he didn't seem to be inclined towards doing it there and then. He looked away with dull eyes.

"What's the matter, too proud to tell?" Dong Hwan changed tactics now, trying to taunt Rock into speaking where coaxing had failed. "Don't be so snobbish, you dumbass. I'm trying to help here –"

"I don't need your help, fool!"

Dong Hwan felt the harsh pressure from Rock's outstretched hand on his chest, and a glimpse of madness in those blood-red eyes; then he found himself stumbling backwards, caught by surprise, and it was only his quick reflexes that stopped him from toppling through the glass doors.

A hush fell over the crowd as they milled about the entrance, too afraid to do anything else but watch. Rock's face suddenly turned ashen as he realised the enormity of what he'd done; his act of hostility was utterly despicable, and he knew it.

He nearly stumbled over himself in his haste, reaching out for his fallen friend in apology. "I'm sorry, Dong Hwan..."

The victim accepted the proffered hand as though nothing had happened, and allowed himself to be pulled up. "It's okay," he replied with good grace. "So, you still wanna talk about it?"

The expression on Rock's face didn't change at all. "I'd rather not. It's personal..."

Dong Hwan didn't pursue the matter. He knew that he was still calm and collected – on the outside. But inwardly, he knew what he'd seen in Rock's eyes, and it made him worry: it was the look of a man with a burden too great to bear and a pride too big to swallow.

Clearly, this wasn't about girls. And against his better judgement, Dong Hwan decided not to pursue the matter – he didn't want to make things worse.

The patrons returned uneasily to their drinks, shaken by the sudden outburst. And Dong Hwan caught a glimpse of the Illusion's staff, staring worriedly at him through the glass doors. He raised a hand to wave at them, signalling that he was okay...

...and in the bustle of the dissolving crowd, he missed Rock's final whispered words:

"...and you can't help me. Nobody can."


"...and you can't help me. Nobody can."

A pair of red eyes opened, filled with fear.

He looked to his clock. It was only two in the morning – a good seven hours since he'd said those fateful words, and yet they still lingered on in his own mind.

Why had he said those words? He didn't know. All that he knew was that they were true. Among those whom he counted as friends, few knew what it was like to live with the burden he bore: none of them had grown up with the stigma of a family that was beyond wicked, where the sins of the fathers were visited on the sons. The Kims had always been on the side of good. Terry and his associates had set their faces against Geese Howard and the Jins, and would continue their fight against evil for as long as was necessary... He was the odd man out among them, a dark blot on their reputations.

Perhaps she knew what it was like to live with a black sheep in the family. Her brother was, after all, a hired gun... No. It was unfair to push her brother's misdeeds onto her. And even then, the comparison was unfair – she was nothing like him. She had escaped the taint of corruption, while he had embraced it with both eyes open.

There was no way out of his predicament, and none could help him... and while he waited for something to happen, his pent-up madness would build up slowly, constantly eroding what little sanity that remained... until the walls broke down, and he brought disaster on all those around him. The night's confrontation had been clear evidence of that – and he knew that it would only get worse.

He trudged over to the bathroom and splashed a handful of freezing water on his face. It was always the same dream – if one could call it that; all he remembered was the overwhelming darkness that swarmed over him night after night. He saw and felt nothing, and the only words he heard called to him in his own voice, constantly baiting him...

What will you do now, young cub? The choice is yours – to reign in Hell, or to burn in it.

He gazed up into the mirror, noting the dark rings that had formed around his eyes in the past week. The image seemed to look back at him with a sinister fervour, reflecting not himself, but another person altogether: add a few pounds and thirty years, and...

No! he screamed silently, snapping out of the trance that he had almost entered. But he knew he had a base for his fears. That meeting with Terry had done nothing to ease his fears; it had precipitated the situation instead, forcing him to finally choose between the two unpalatable options that he faced. And he hated Terry for it, yet a part of him knew that he had no choice – he wouldn't be able to sit this storm out. That was just stalling.

A confrontation – with who, he didn't know – was inevitable. And it was this dark prediction that hung over his head like a vengeful spirit, plaguing him with waking nightmares and tormenting his sleep with glimpses of what would probably be...

He undressed and stepped into the shower, letting another blast of cold water run over his body, and praying that it would wash his nightmares away. It never worked, but it didn't hurt to try.

"But I hope you'll come to a decision soon... before it's too late."

Terry's admonition had been quietly ominous. Neither choice offered him any chance of salvation – but he had to choose now, and his options lay between the mercies of the police and a return to the fold of Kain.

But there was a third choice open to him, a crazy thought that he never would have considered in a million years...

Your father ruled Southtown.

Your uncle succeeded him.

The words continued to clash in his mind, agitating him, provoking him to madness; he made no move to exclude them from his thoughts.

Your father ruled Southtown. Your uncle succeeded him.

Your father your uncle your father your uncleyourfatheryouruncleyourfatheryouruncle

You.

He looked into the mirror again, seeing the familiar face of his father staring back at him, sneering at him with knowing arrogance. They were of a kind, he knew, adept at destruction and power, and little more.

And instinctively, he knew what he had to do. For what his hands had helped to create, they could also undo.


Another young man lay awake in his bed, gazing blankly at the ceiling.

Forced inactivity had got the better of Dong Hwan, and he felt... cramped. It was bad enough that he'd had to adjust his lifestyle to suit the rest of the family, but now, with his father and brother panicking...

He didn't see what the fuss was all about. If that creep ever dared to show his face again, dead or not, they'd just kick his pasty-white butt out of town. It was that simple.

Now, cooped up within these four walls... Ironically, it was this confinement that made him all the more restless. I'm a free spirit, for crying out loud! You can't do this to me!

He got up and walked to the window, wondering idly if screaming those words to the entire neighbourhood would help his cause.

Nah.

Thus dissuaded, he leant against the sill, hoping that a few breaths of cold air would calm his nerves...

Isn't that Rock down there? He looked again, unsure if he believed what his eyes were telling him. Coincidences just didn't work that way...

Sure, there were plenty of blonde men in Second Southtown. And certainly, it wasn't uncommon to find people dressed in black. But everything about the person's behaviour seemed suspicious – and of all the suspicious fellows he'd seen over the past few days, his friend had been the worst.

His baser natures told him to step away from the window and pretend nothing had happened. It wasn't his business anyway, and for all he knew, it could have been a case of mistaken identity – perhaps the man was just an eccentric jogger, out on a midnight run.

But his mind said something else. He could clearly sense that something was amiss; his instincts, honed from both fighting and hanging around casinos, were practically screaming at him to wake up and take note.

Something was horribly wrong.

Dong Hwan slipped over to his cupboard, taking care not to make any sound that would alert his family, and drew out a black dobok. There wasn't any sense in dragging the whole family into this mess... and anyway, he wanted to know what exactly was going on.

A moment later, the window opened. And without hesitation, Dong Hwan easily leapt from the second floor, landing gracefully in the grass. He'd done it too often, back in the days when he needed to sneak out for a party or two, and it turned out that the practice had done him some good. Now, to track his wayward friend...

It took him only a few seconds to realise that something else had gone horribly wrong.

I should've worn something warmer, he noted glumly, as the wind whipped up a freezing draught around his bare legs.


Shadows rose up against him, forbidding Rock from advancing any further. But he knew better.

He remembered the Heinlein mansion well, and one thing that he remembered was that the mansion's gates were open all night. It was an arrogant gesture – but no gangs remained in Second Southtown who would be foolhardy enough to attempt a head-on assault on Kain's property.

He knew. He'd seen to that, back in the day.

The guards at the gate never stood a chance. A hard left hook to the head dispatched the first, and the second was the unlucky recipient of an over-the-shoulder throw. The two now lay on the ground, unconscious: it was better for them that way.

Rock strode through open gates into Kain's courtyard, catching the lone guard at the front door by surprise. The black-suited man had tried to catch a few winks, secure in the belief that his fallen comrades would hold the fort; he found himself rudely awakened by Rock's cruel grip as the youth forced him into a brutal deathlock and swung him away from the door. There wasn't even enough time for him to cry out for help.

Rock's sudden action was enough to check the rush of bodyguards who had entered the front yard, alerted by security cameras. They approached the hostage-taker with caution, fearing the worst.

"Call Kain down. Call him out now, or..." Rock ignited a tongue of energy from his clenched fist a mere fraction of an inch away from the panicked hostage's face, and felt a strange surge of elation as he sensed the man's fear, saw the beads of cold sweat that trickled down the hostage's pallid cheek. This was what it was like to wield power. Now he was the one in control, a sensation that he hadn't felt since leaving his uncle's employ...

He caught himself, barely in time to stop his delusions of grandeur. That was the thin line he'd been trying to toe all this while, and it wouldn't do for him to slip up now. If he'd misjudged the sensitivities of his uncle's henchmen, he was in for a tough time.

"Well?" he roared, and they took a step back. Good. They didn't show too much initiative.

A voice from behind the throng called out to them tiredly: it was not his uncle's voice.

"Okay, people, get out of here. I'll deal with him."

The guards melted back into the shadows warily, and a heavyset stranger stepped out from their midst.

"Now, Master Howard..." He yawned languidly, more annoyed than concerned about the violent intrusion. "Put the man down, please. He's wetting his pants, and I don't think your uncle will be very happy about the dry-cleaning bills."


Dong Hwan suppressed a snicker from his hiding place behind the pillar. A security camera rested uselessly atop it, its circuits conveniently shorted out.

Smartass. He didn't add that it was something he himself would have said in the same circumstances. The guy seemed familiar: the Oriental clothes, the queue, the moustache and goatee... it had to be the guy Jae had mentioned, the one from the docks that night.

This was getting interesting.

He heard the sound of scrabbling, turned to see a fallen guard reach for the gun that lay beside him...

"Quit it already. I'm tryin' to listen." He stamped down hard on the man's shoulder with a charged kick, and the man slumped back to the ground, shocked back into unconsciousness.

"How inconsiderate..." he murmured, resuming his vigil.


Rock peered out from behind his captive. "You expect me to trust you?"

"Obviously not." Goto snorted. "But it doesn't make a difference. If we'd wanted to shoot you, we would have done so by now. But since neither you nor I want to have to deal with the possible repercussions..."

The man had a point. Rock was acutely aware of the predicament he'd placed himself in, and cursed himself for not having thought this suicidal attempt through. "Fine." He tossed the now-unconscious hostage onto the ground contemptuously and extinguished the plume of ki, staring at the stranger with barely-concealed hostility. "So, where's Kain?"

"He's asleep – as we all should be."

"And who are you? I doubt that Kain would allow anyone else to act in his stead."

The irony of the situation was not lost on Goto, who retorted acidly, "I'm just filling in the post that you vacated."

"Hn." Rock snorted, matching derision with scorn. "So... you probably know that Kain's planning something big, don't you?"

Once again, a noncommittal answer: "Only as much as you do."

"Well, I've got a message for him." His heart started pounding with an intensity that he hadn't felt before, not even when he'd staked his life on that of a guard a few moments ago. This was it.

He gritted his teeth, determined to get the dirty deed done. "Tell him that, whatever he's planning... he'd better give it up and get out of town while he still can."

There. He'd delivered his ultimatum.

"And what if we refuse?" Goto cocked an eyebrow at the young upstart. "You're making big threats... and I'm interested to find out just how much weight you can put behind them."

Rock had seen it coming, and he replied with his prepared answer. "Obviously, I'll go to the police. After all, I believe you're familiar with this organisation's buried secrets... and I could tell them just where to start digging."

"Of course. And what of yourself, young Master Howard? I do not think that you would be so foolish as to stake your reputation on this."

He'd seen that shot coming as well. He'd debated it up to the second he'd stepped into Kain's grounds. And then, he'd made his choice. "It doesn't matter." He shook his head. "Besides, we all know who's got more to lose."

"I should have guessed that you'd come up with something this reckless." Goto actually gave Rock a knowing smile, which only served to accentuate the latter's anger. "Your hands are as dirty as mine... but then again, perhaps not. You're an interesting man, Howard."

"Cut it out."

"No, I'm serious." He wagged a finger theatrically. "Your history with the company is actually quite telling. After all, you were the one who managed to run Kain's remaining rivals out of town, and all this without shedding blood... although the record will show that most of them were more than a little sore by the time they left the town."

Rock kept his mouth shut, but his silence denied nothing.

"You're a man of contradictions, Master Howard. Everything about you seems to breathe violence, blood and death – and yet, in spite of everything, you deny your nature. An admirable act of endurance, if slightly misguided. It was in your best interests to leave this town, and you knew it, yet you chose to remain. And now, even when your welfare is at stake, you choose to sacrifice it – to what end?" Goto paused, looking abashed – and yet mocking him at the same time. "Forgive my impertinence towards my predecessor, but I hope you won't mind my rambling."

"What are you driving at, old man?" A nauseating sensation began to rise up in Rock's throat. Nothing good could come of this.

"You know, I really don't understand where you youngsters get all your sad adolescent angst from, but it has to be a by-product of your confused state." Goto continued, his smile suddenly seeming far more conspiratorial than it had been earlier. "Allow me to offer you a counter-proposition..."

"What?"

"You leave this town, and promise never to stick your nose into Kain's business again... and she doesn't need to know."

Rock froze, keenly feeling the bitter taste of bile at the back of his throat.


Hotaru slept.

She dreamt of her mother, long deceased, and the legacy she'd left behind. Now, it fell to the daughter to tie up the family's loose knots.

She dreamt of her brother, the one who'd departed in a cloud of mysteries and shadows. She didn't understand anything – what had he meant? What were his intentions?

Her father was nothing more than a distant memory now, but she knew that his death lay at the centre of the whole business. It was her filial duty to put his memory to rest.

And of a boy, one who offered to share her burden yet found himself incapable of sharing his own, one who was, in some way, connected with her search in some way that boded nothing but ill...

She dreamt.


"I'm surprised you didn't make the connection sooner, considering how the clothes should have been a dead giveaway," Goto pointed out, seemingly unconcerned at the effect his announcement had on the stunned Rock. "First name Goto, family name – but I think you know that already, don't you?"

Rock remained immobile, his face petrified in a mask of abject horror.

"You... You're dead." His lips refused to form the words properly even as he struggled to control the rest of his body. He felt a prickling on his skin, one that ran down his spine and sent waves of shock back up into his brain. He was numb.

"And I'd like things to stay that way, if you don't mind." Goto's narrowed eyes conveyed a meaning more serious than his nonchalant words showed. "After all, if you expose Kain's secrets, you expose not only yourself, but me as well... You can imagine what the news of her father's deeds will do to her."

He knew. He'd gone through it before, in a time long past. He remembered the frustration, the shame, and the hatred which he'd experienced... and he didn't want anyone to have to endure it again.

Not her. Not the innocent one.

"Don't think I'm not grateful. I must thank you for helping her to track Gato down... but one family member is enough, don't you think?" Goto cajoled. "Not to mention the fact that she seems a little sweet on you."

The prickling intensified, transmuting into a million needles that entered his skin relentlessly. It flowed over his entire body now, jabbing, piercing, stabbing... but he didn't move. He heard nothing, said nothing, did nothing. Questions sped fleetingly through his mind, and vanished just as quickly: Is he telling the truth? Why did he leave her? How can I tell her this? What will she do? What will I do?

He was lost; his initiative had been checked. His opponent had wagered a far greater bid than he'd expected to face, and it was one which he could not match.

"So... weigh the consequences for yourself. If you reveal our deeds, it will ruin more people than your uncle and myself. Would you see her dragged into this, and have her destroyed by the truth about us?"

You dragged her into this the moment you spoke of her, he wanted to retort, but his mind was detached from the rest of his body. It failed to register, as did the thousands of other thoughts that continued to carom within his mind.

It was pain that consumed his body now, flooding every nerve with acid as he simply stood there and absorbed it all. And with pain came a blind rage, fuelled by the blood which he had denied up to this point... but no further.

A single thought finally broke through the stonewall that surrounded his mind, primed by the unconscious fury that coursed through his body like poison, and reached his lips.

"No."

Mind connected with body, and Rock was suddenly ablaze with wrath and violet energy, an incandescent demon in the middle of the night. Streams of ki flowed from his frame as he hunched over, letting it burst from him in a terrible outpouring of anger. He was powerless to control it: his eyes had turned into lenses of red-stained glass, reflecting nothing and revealing nothing.

Goto watched him, impressed. Ah, the legendary Heinlein blood. It looks like I'll have the chance to see it in action... and up close too. He shouted out into the darkness, "Fall back! Leave things to me –"

And then Rock was upon him, slamming an elbow into his midsection before he could say anything more.


"They're fighting, sir. What shall we do?"

"Stand down. Let Goto have his fun."


To Goto's surprise, the blow actually hurt. It had been a while since anyone had been able to do that to him – and he was pleasantly surprised.

So, Kain, when you mentioned that battle... was this what you had in mind? He struck with open palm at his opponent's face, a blow that should have rendered any opponent insensate. And true, Rock was sent flying backwards across the lawn as quickly as he had advanced... but he landed on his feet. And in an instant, the youth catapulted himself into another charge, racing forwards with insane speed. Goto planted one foot behind him, bracing himself for the blow...

The first hit his spread palms with a meaty thwack, and he prepared to shift his weight to reverse his opponent's momentum. But even before he could do so, an extended hand slipped past his guard, and the second impact landed directly on his unguarded chest. He tumbled backwards, rolling into a crouch in order to minimise the damage of the blow.

Not bad. His chest smarted from where the blows had fallen, and he hadn't anticipated the speed of Rock's movements; he knew he was at a disadvantage, as much as he hated to admit it.

Goto decided to begin his offensive.

He leapt towards his adversary, spinning into an overhead kick aimed directly at Rock's head, but the maddened youth easily dodged aside and countered with an elbow thrust. Goto whipped his head away by only the narrowest of margins, felt the cold lick of purple energy brush past his face – and for the first time, he began to doubt his own capabilities.

Close shave, he thought, and smashed his palm into Rock's solar plexus. But the blow never connected. Goto looked down, and saw his wrist seized in a vicelike grip. And before he could respond, he felt a sharp, burning pain in his skull...

The hold was broken, and he struck out wildly as he shuffled out of range, hitting nothing but empty air.

No needless movements, he admonished himself. But Rock had already landed, his foot alight from that last kick, and Goto had barely enough time to berate himself before the next attack came.

The courtyard was suddenly illuminated with a terrible light as Rock threw a glowing wave of ki at Goto. The older man saw it coming, and leapt up into the air over it, throwing down his own shockwave behind the path of Rock's attack, where he saw his opponent...

He saw his opponent rise up into the air on violet wings, a fist cocked in preparation to strike. In midair, there was no way he could avoid the attack; he prepared himself for the inevitable.

The fist hit home, and Goto found himself enveloped in tongues of energy, setting him aflame with the same cold intensity that he had barely avoided earlier. And he found himself falling to the ground, momentarily paralysed by the dark power behind the blow...


Okay, let's see. I've got this idiot friend of mine, who, for no reason in particular, runs all the way to his uncle's mansion in the middle of the night simply to pick a fight. And now he's gone completely bonkers and will probably try to take the entire mansion down with him. Knowing my luck, there'll be a hundred snipers in the trees or something, and they'll probably shoot me down like a dog, too.

I have two options.

One: I can stand back, and watch as the mansion burns down and everyone dies.

Two: I can join in the fight, help Rock, get killed in the process, and not watch as the mansion burns down and everyone dies – because I obviously won't be around to witness the aftermath.

Seriously, why am I the one who gets all the hard decisions?

Dong Hwan made up his mind with displeasure, bristling at the options he'd given himself. He watched the two of them fall to the ground, one on his feet, the other on one knee.

He took a deep breath. And with an incredible burst of speed, he shot across Kain's front yard, covering the distance to the two combatants in a few seconds, and launched himself into a flying kick...

...directly at Rock.

The berserker was sent hurtling away into the bushes, and Goto found himself staring at the ridiculous young man who had needlessly thrown himself into the fight.

"Sorry about this," Dong Hwan panted. "My pal's a really mean drunk."

"I can see that," retorted Goto dryly, and evaded the rushing wave of energy that had flown out from where Rock had landed. "Do I know you?"

Dong Hwan hurled himself out of the way just in time, the blast just barely touching the soles of his feet. "HEY! You could at least warn me!" He struck out with a scything kick, crackling with electricity, at his erstwhile friend's head. Rock tipped his head backwards, sneering as the lightning brushed past, and punched the Korean heavily in the gut.

"Survival of the fittest, boy," Goto quipped, trying to remember who this upstart was. Brown hair, brown eyes, young, uses his own variation of Taekwondo, misplaced sense of humour... Damn, those Kims get everywhere. He jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the burning fist that had been thrown in his direction, and watched as Rock sprang up from his crouch into an inverted drill kick, both feet striking out at the man in the air.

Goto plummeted from his high position, segueing into a sliding kick that should have caught Rock off his guard. But the madman had landed first...

The assassin suddenly found himself seized once again, but this time, he was sent soaring into the air. From his vantage point, he saw his opponent on the ground, aglow with energy.

Crap.

The spike of ki smashed into his body, and he crashed heavily in the same bushes where Dong Hwan had landed.

"Survival of the fittest, eh?" came the sarcastic reply.

"Right. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Babysitting," Dong Hwan grunted, barely avoiding the next wave of energy that had been thrown in his direction. "You're Kain's right-hand man now, eh?"

He's got guts, I'll grant him that... "So what if I am?" Goto raised his forearm, blocking the punch that Rock threw at him, and coming off the worse for it. He countered with a blow of his own, lunging forwards in retaliation, and the fury-possessed Rock was forced to retreat for a moment. That gave Dong Hwan the opportunity to follow up with a flurry of swift kicks that put Rock on the defensive, which earned him yet another blast of ki for his pains.

It was entirely by chance that the unlikely allies ended up taking cover behind the same pillar, sheltering themselves from the shards of stone that were being scattered across the courtyard.

"Look, I don't like you very much – for personal reasons. But we have to stop him, and unless you have any better ideas, I've got a suggestion."

"Go on, I'm listening."


The demon was consumed by fury; he saw nothing except his opponents, and only recognised them for what they were – enemies.

And enemies had to be destroyed.

One of them – the old one, he saw – charged out from behind the pillar with a roar.

Good.

They exchanged blows rapidly, their hands and feet lashing out in rapid succession.

The old man would get tired eventually. His face already bore the signs of weariness, and it was only a matter of time before he succumbed. And then he would die.

He saw a flash: the old man had thrust his fingertips at his eyes. The monster laughed at such a cheap, feeble attempt...

...and found himself on the receiving end of a shoulder thrust. He had been faked out.

The old man followed up with an open-palm swipe. Let him have his moment. It will only make his death so much more ironic. He waited for the final blow...


Goto's fist shot out, casting a golden glow as it homed in on its target. And this blow would have settled the fight for good – but Rock did not fall.

His punch had been blocked by one of Rock's own – another fist, sheathed in a purple glove, had met it head on. And he heard the crackling of energies, and felt the strain on his arm as the madman pushed hard, forcing Goto to muster up all his power in an attempt to stop Rock from breaking through.

It was interesting, he mused, that his arm hurt. No opponent had ever caused him so much hurt as the one before him, and every fibre in his body was screaming for an end to the pain. Not even a lifetime's worth of training could have prepared him for this – and he relished it, knowing that this fight was worth the years of waiting.

Of course, the outcome was another matter altogether. He gritted his teeth, waiting for that Korean boy's brilliant plan...

That idiot's taking quite a while.

Then he saw the lightning.

Dong Hwan's heel crashed heavily into Rock's unguarded skull – once, twice, thrice and again – and with each stroke, the enraged youth howled out a scream of fury and agony as the electricity coursed through his nerves. Goto watched calmly, never relaxing the force that he exerted, but even he wondered how much it would take to bring the berserker down.

The pressure on his fist suddenly dissipated, and Rock sagged to the ground in a crumpled heap, electrocuted beyond the limits of his unnatural endurance.


Dong Hwan swore wearily at the body on the ground and muttered something about 'fools rushing in', perfectly aware that his target audience was unable to hear him. He should have thought of the consequences beforehand: they wouldn't escape from Kain's territory unscathed. In his mind, he saw the guards closing in...

It was all Rock's fault, of course, but friendship had its price.

Hey, if I'm going to die, at least I'll make 'em laugh.

"First you try to pick a fight with me in front of the bar. Then you make me run all the way to this stinking mansion in the middle of the night. And now, you try to kill everyone in this place? What are you, nuts? I'm going to have a few words with you when you recover," he muttered, hoisting Rock's arm over his shoulder. Looking over the other side, he called out as nonchalantly as he could, "I'll be bringing this guy home now, if you don't mind."

He'd never expected Kain's henchman to agree, though.


"Be my guest," Goto quipped, trying to work some life back into his arm, which now hung limp at his side, and he watched as the two youths slowly disappeared into the night.

The first of the security guards began to step out of the darkness, but timidly, wondering if the fight was truly over. Another shadow joined them.

"You were awake, weren't you?" he spoke, seemingly to nobody in particular.

"Of course."

Goto snorted. "No surprise, then, that the boy went berserk. I really must thank you for the opportunity to test my skills... Kain." The tone of his voice suggested more than a hint of malice in his salutation.

"You're welcome. Incidentally, about our plans..."

"Ah, just what I was going to bring up..." he remarked. "So, does your nephew pose a threat to us?"

"Not really, but I suppose we can't be too careful. I've been putting this off for far too long anyway."

"So..."

"Yes. It's time."


Notes:

I have sat on this chapter for far too long, and I fear that I must once again put this fic on hold – real life is unmerciful. And as always, I must apologise if the contents of this chapter seem more than a little garbled: I'm making up the details as I go along.

As always, comments, corrections and criticism will be accepted with (hopefully) good grace.