Two years earlier....

Bloody hell, I'm knackered, Kira panted. She cast an envious glance at the old man before her, who, in a marked contrast, looked as cool and calm as the moment they had started training. He smiled kindly.

When was the last time, you, ah...exerted yourself? he asked delicately. Kira managed to laugh between her gasps.

Physically? About ten years ago, she said with a wry smile. I think I'm making up for it now, though.

Wang Jinrey gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. Better late than never, my child. Now...again!

Kira readied herself without complaint, which impressed her instructor. He hadn't expected her to last two lessons, yet they were now into their sixth week. Admittedly, the girl tired quickly, but she had such a determination to continue he often found himself wishing that he had more students like her.

Despite her lack of basic fitness, a legacy of spending the majority of her time in front of a computer screen, Kira picked up things remarkably quickly.

Have you known Mr Mishima for long? she asked, after going through her forms as instructed. Wang Jinrey let out a small chuckle.

Which Mr Mishima? he said. Jinpachi Mishima, Kazuya's grandfather, was a great friend to me. Heihachi...Heihachi was Heihachi, he sighed, shaking his head.

Kira allowed her curiosity to overcome her concern that she was perhaps prying. Heihachi...he was Kazuya's father?

The old man nodded. He was. They...didn't get on, he said, appreciating the fact he had just made a monumental understatement. I tried to understand Heihachi, but even as a child he was remarkably cold...too much like his mother, I fear. Still, he said with a sad smile, I have to look out for them all. I made Jinpachi a promise.

************

Now....

Kira sat outside, unable to appreciate the dramatic scenery. She wondered if she would ever be whole again.

She didn't know what she would have done without Reiko and Yamada. They were fast become like family, although she knew they were hiding something from her. It had a fairly good idea what it was as well. She had guessed from the way Jeremy's eyes darted towards Dai every time he visited, from his forced cheeriness and warmth.

Jeremy was scared of Dai...or rather scared of what she might become.

Kira didn't admit it, but she had nightmares; visions of a raven haired girl with electric blue eyes that turned scarlet, accompanied by the flap of feathery wings...

She hadn't spoken of her dread to anyone, fearing that she was being a bad mother. All she had to do was look at Dai and know that there was no malice in her, no innate evil. But she had to talk to someone - she was sick of people walking on eggshells around her.

She lifted her daughter into her arms, and walked into her home. Hesitantly, she reached for the phone, and dialled a number she had never called before.

Thank you for calling Martin Electronics. Please hold the line, a detached, automated voice politely requested. Kira hit the star key.

This is Jeremy Martin, can I help you?



Kira found that she had no idea what she wanted to say; her jaw worked soundlessly as she tried to put what she was thinking into some coherent order.

Kira? Is that you? His voice was full of concern. Has something happened?

I - I need to talk, she finally managed, her voice shaking. It's about Dai.

There was a long pause before Jeremy finally spoke.

I'm coming over.

******

Jeremy arrived at the house in less than thirty minutes; Kira heard the screech of tyres, swiftly followed by an urging knocking at her door. Despite her dark mood, she smirked as Jeremy fell through the door, evidently not prepared for her to open it so quickly.

Jeremy. Glad you could...drop by, she said, helping him back up. He was incredibly flustered, but as usual, his eyes still shot towards Dai.

You sounded distressed, he said slowly, as if in explanation. What did you want to talk about?

Kazuya's not the first, is he? she said softly, not looking at Jeremy. There have been others.

Has Reiko or Yamada discussed this with you? Jeremy asked after a brief moment of silence. Kira laughed dryly.

No. I think they think I've suffered enough, and I have. Her face contorted with bitterness. But I need to know...what happened to the others? She looked up, tears in her eyes. I need to know everything. This is my daughter we're talking about. I've already lost one part of my life to this...this whatever it is. I want the truth.

Jeremy sat down, and, to Kira's surprise, looked relieved. Reiko wanted to spare you from the worry. She wanted to leave it until the time is right'. Jeremy smiled weakly. But I'm afraid there isn't a right time for what I'm going to tell you. But, he sighed, with what you've seen, not knowing, I think, would be worse than the truth.

Kira instinctively held Dai closer, but nodded. Go on.

Until five years ago, I was a doctor, he said, looking at his intertwined fingers. I was researching mental illness. It's a field of medicine that is hugely underfunded, and pretty much glossed over by society, but it was important to me. I wanted to make a difference. I was left alone in my endeavours, he smiled. Too many of my colleagues were either being directed in their work by large pharmaceutical companies, or too busy trying to find a cure for cancer, to get their name in the history books. Who would have known that it would be me that would make a truly monumental discovery?

I began looking at physical causes for mental illnesses. One of my case studies was a truly remarkable young man. He was as erudite, amiable and reasonable as anybody I have ever met.

What was wrong with him? Kira whispered. Jeremy looked pained.

He had murdered his uncle, he said quickly. He had beaten him beyond recognition, with his bare hands. The pathologist wasn't sure how he could have inflicted some of the injuries, but there was no doubt that it was him. He had been in a house with his entire family - there was some party going on - when they heard him beating the man to death. It took him less than two minutes to inflict the kind of injuries that were more consistent with that of a crash victim.

There was a pause, and Kira looked nauseated. Why did he do it? And what happened to him?

He barely remembers the incident. He was declared insane, and committed under the Mental Health Act. Jeremy said grimly. That answers your second question. The first, however...

It later emerged that the uncle had...a history of abusing young boys, that the family had always tried to sweep under the carpet. It was believed that the patient had repressed memories of abuse, and were released upon seeing his tormentor once more. Jeremy frowned. And to the outside world, that was that. But in the course of my research, I spoke to the young man. He was quite keen to subject himself to any test I offered. He wanted to prove the truth.

The truth?

Jeremy smiled sardonically. The truth - that the devil made him do it. Of course, he said with a wave of his hands, everyone else dismissed it as your stereotypical, garden variety schizophrenic delusion. But I wanted to know why he thought that - why a young man, who had never really had any religious element in his life, claim it was the work of a demon?

I talked with him. He was quite calm. He said that the demon told him things, but he generally tried to ignore it. He was resigned to the fact that no one believed him, and was relieved - relieved - that he was locked up without any real possibility of release. It wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else, he said.

My first shock, Jeremy said slowly, was when I performed the scans. There were areas in his brain that were hyperactive, areas that don't usually do anything tangible in most normal' brains. The second was that when we tested for specific brain wave activity, we couldn't get a clear reading - areas were duplicated. It was blamed on the equipment, but I think that even then, I knew.

More tests followed, including DNA testing, he continued, as Kira listened raptly. Eventually I moved on to other case studies. I travelled through Europe, and it was in Germany that I found another patient, a girl this time, who's behaviour was so similar to that patient which I had left behind in England, I had to study her. She had thrown one of her classmates out of a sixteenth story window on a school trip. She was only fifteen.

Kira was uncomfortably reminded of her dream.

She said that she could remember anything, but that she sometimes heard a voice that talked to her at night. Her scans were the same, but I had too little time. I performed the final DNA tests, and had to leave her to her fate.

I met hundreds of patients, but only a few with these set traits. It was my wife who was to assist me in the major discovery.

She was a geneticist, working at the university labs in Birmingham. I asked her whether there was anything unusual about the samples I had collected. She, bless her, spent months studying them, managing to disguise her work as something far more basic. What she found was a gene that was almost unique to these people; she compared it to the millions of samples in her database and she found only three matches. It acted strangely, unlike any another other gene in the body.

She didn't have the time to crack it properly - as I'm sure you know, it can take years to discover exactly what a gene does. We didn't have the money, time or resources to take our theories further.

Still, I went back and visited the patient that had started it all. I told him that I believed him.

Jeremy began undoing his tie. He looked at me,and, for the first time in my life, I think, I felt true terror. The eyes looking back at me weren't human, and were filled with such loathing...

His voice trailed off, and he looked haunted at the memory. He said, in a weird rumble of a voice, Well, isn't that just fine and dandy'. And then, Jeremy said, opening the top of his shirt, he proceeded to slit my throat.

Kira's hand flew to her mouth as she stared, transfixed in horror, at the ugly scar running across Jeremy's throat.