"Has to Be" by Madonna, William Orbit and Patrick Leonard, part of the album Ray of Light (Japanese release only). Lyrics and music copyright 1998 Maverick Recording Company.
Anime events and dialogue were rendered with necessary dramatic license.
Virtua Fighter is copyright of Sega and others.
HA
Middle
Part 2 / Has To Be
by GoddessBelili
I am Sarah Bryant.
I am a fighter, a rebel.
I left home to follow a dream, and maybe I made a complete fool out of myself in the process. Whenever he donned those tight and garish racing outfits, I was his female counterpart in equally outlandish leotards. We traveled as spokespersons, commercial models, small-time celebrities.
When I decided to pack my bags and help Jacky forge his way into the racing world, I knew then I was out for adventure, a chance to savor the world without the burden of our name on my shoulders.
And I believed so much in my brother, in the way he followed his supposed destiny with such unbridled passion.
Maybe I wanted to be like him, back then.
I was fresh out of high school, considering college courses, perusing university brochures the way I did my French fashions mail-order catalogs.
Maybe I just wanted to get out.
From the big white mansion, from my mother's carefully gentle yet ever-so-critical eyes, from my father's pride in my being so delicate and well-bred.
They cared about how I looked like, how I acted and spoke, how I carried myself in the presence of their powerful friends. Sometimes I wonder if they saw me as the most precious gem in their extensive jewelry collection.
They did not care about who I was. Never once did they ask me what I wanted to do, or become.
Maybe I still don't know.
Breathe in, breathe out
I say a little prayer
How the gods above
Could be so unfair
Entangled in the mesh of threads that wove themselves through waking and sleeping, she dreamt.
And remembered.
She was standing beside her brother, amidst a large gathering of people packed tightly into a room that still smelled of fresh paint. All eyes were either on her, or on the man at the table who gobbled tray after tray of Smile steak.
Her heart was pounding as she watched him, so free, so full of zest. He looked like a famished monkey, with brown hair standing on end, a smile of abandon written across his handsome face as more food was laid out before him.
Akira.
That was his name. She learned that a little while afterwards.
Akira. He was life personified.
"Where's Akira?"
The voice came behind the front seat of the caravan, slightly disoriented yet forceful. A little bit anxious and angry.
"Where's Jacky?" The pigtailed head appeared and dark deep-set eyes bore into her own. "Where are they, Sarah?"
"They went in," she replied quietly. "They're going to fight the Koenkan."
"What?" Pai's mouth dropped open, her voice raising itself decibels and pitches higher. "Why, they won't be at it alone for much longer. I'm going inside the dojo, too. I'm going to find that creep Yang Wei-Ming and fight him myself."
"Wait." She placed a gentle yet restraining hand on the Chinese girl's shoulder. "You would only be doing that over my dead body."
Pai smiled.
In that moment, she felt, more than knew, the true meaning of trust.
"Thank you, Sarah."
Pai. The first girl who had befriended and trusted her not for her money, name or possessions. They believed in each other, and that was enough.
She had her fingers crossed as the car sped its way through the last lap.
Inside, she was praying fervently.
Please. Let him make it. He wants it so badly.
Please.
On either side of her, Pai and Akira were equally nervous, twitching on their stadium seats as their eyes followed the automobile that Jacky was test-driving. If her brother made it within the time required by the company, he would qualify for tomorrow's race as their driver.
A stepping stone.
The vehicle screeched to a halt by the pit stop.
She could not hear any of the three of them breathing as they watched Jacky emerge from the car. For several tense seconds, he spoke to some men all dressed in the company's racing uniform. Pit crew members and racing managers.
A smile suddenly broke through her brother's previously tense face. With a grin, he turned in their direction and flashed a thumbs-up sign.
"I made it, Sarah!"
Entangled in the mesh of threads that wove themselves through waking and sleeping, she tried to call out to them.
Jacky.
Akira.
Pai.
She was so alone.
So afraid.
I know there's someone out there
Waiting for me
There must be someone out there
There just has to be
When I saw his car swerve off the track and crash against the hard side walls of the stadium, I felt death hovering before me.
Taunting and reminding.
If we had never left home, this would never have happened.
We would never have worried about sponsors, or how Jacky would qualify for the next race.
I felt powerless against a force I could never hope to control.
Destiny.
God, what if Jacky's destiny was this?
The stranger dressed as a track crew member had approached me and Pai right after the crash, moments after Akira himself disappeared.
He said that my brother was hurt. Badly hurt.
As I followed him to where Jacky would be, there was only one thing running through my mind.
Please. Let him make it.
Please. He still wants his dream so badly.
I need him to be there for me, too.
Without him...
Before I could go on with my unspoken, feverish petition, golden dust was swirling before me, making the stranger's face hazy to my eyes.
I remember I spoke, asked him something or other.
I remember I resisted the tug into the blessed darkness, because I wanted to see Jacky and my friends.
I wanted all four of us to be together, like that night we slept under the evening sky and listened to the story of Akira's search for the eight elusive stars.
Had it been too much to ask?
I don't remember asking for anything else.
Go on, go on
Don't sit there like a fool
You've graduated from
A different kind of school
An insistent tugging.
Something sharp was digging into her hand.
Pain.
Dimly, she remembered her mother giving her the gold ring the night before. It had a beautiful jewel inset. She was certain she had slid it onto that spot.
She was stupid to even consider wearing it to something as rugged as an indy car race.
But she could not part with it.
Where...
Where was it?
She opened her eyes, the fingers in her right hand entangling with those of her left, looking for the piece of jewelry.
It was no longer there.
Where could it be?
Something throbbed at the back of her mind.
She remembered backing away.
The lips on the chiseled face curling into a smile.
The suppressed baritone chuckle, and the voice whispering into her ear.
She remembered the blackness.
Jacky...
Oh, god. Jacky.
Where-
The room was cloaked in semi-darkness, the ceiling a dancing spot of unlikely shadows and swaths of light.
A thick warm blanket was pulled over her.
The surface on which she lay was soft, molding comfortably to her body. She gingerly tried to push the blanket aside, ready to call out for anyone within the vicinity who could make her recall getting here. Then she saw that she was still dressed in the clothes she had worn to the racing event.
Yet she had been sleeping.
Where was she?
I know there's someone out there
Waiting for me
There must be someone out there
There just has to be
Piece by piece, the puzzle quickly came together.
I had been led into a trap.
The stranger with the smile and the unseen eyes and the low voice.
No. It couldn't be.
I didn't even know where I was.
God, let it be New Las Vegas.
What did he want from me? Money from my family, most probably. Damned if I give him the chance to get whatever it is he wanted.
I raised myself from the bed, into a sitting position. My nerves were still screaming with strain. A probable aftereffect of whatever drug he had used to knock me out.
I had been through worse pain. I would get through this, even if I was all alone.
Oh, god.
The moment my vision focused I saw a tall figure standing a meter or so away from the foot of the bed. He probably heard me stir.
He turned and our eyes met in the unpredictable play of city lights and night shadows.
It was him.
"You." My voice was barely above a whisper.
It was the first time I saw his eyes. They were as dark as the shadows, showing the slightest bit of surprise. A small jagged scar marred one side of his face, where before it had looked smooth. He had dark hair, smoothed away from his chiseled features.
The face was unmistakable.
I could still remember the mirthless smile.
My right hand closed around the slender neck of a glass ornament that stood on the bedside table. Before I realized what I was doing, the object sailed through the air, right in his direction.
He managed to dodge it, but not quickly enough. The ornament shattered on the wall right beside him, sending sharp glass fragments flying in all directions.
One shard lashed across his left arm, drawing blood.
I heard him mutter something as he clutched at the fresh wound.
I bolted from the bed and ran towards the nearest exit that I could see.
Cold, cold air whipped my body as I made my way out the door.
I found myself on a balcony.
I should be glad that I'm alive
It could have been much worse
I might have never loved at all
And never known what I am worth
Suicide.
That was the only other coherent possibility to get out of the situation. She could jump off the tall building and end her life on the busy cityscape below.
Her foremost option was to fight her way out.
In spite of his injury, he was on her heels.
She turned to face him, her body tensing into a fighting stance.
"Get away from me," she hissed. It was a futile threat.
He did not respond, his dark eyes impassive, his movements to corner her purposeful.
She had no choice but to attack. The roundhouse was the easiest kick she could deliver, given the tightness of space on the balcony.
He dodged her offensive smoothly, bending to one side.
She felt something hit along the side of her torso and midsection, heard the crack of bone against bone.
Air left her lungs as the impact sent her hurtling backwards into the cold night.
She expected the balcony railing to dig into her back, to break her fall.
But nothing was there.
The blackish gray concrete and chrome rushed past her eyes, the wind howling in her ears.
She screamed.
How the gods above
Could be so unfair
I was falling.
So quickly that I could not sense anything but the painful rush through my ears and the endless flow of black and gray colors in my vision.
It was the end.
I...
I looked up.
He was falling, too.
He...
Before I knew what was happening, the rushing air and the flowing black-gray had stopped.
I took a sharp intake of breath.
It couldn't be.
We were hanging off the side of the building. I could feel a muscled arm encircling my waist, pressing me tightly to a warm body.
The rope was our only lifeline at this time.
Below us, the city lights flickered and tiny shapes that were vehicles continued to speed past.
Oblivious.
"Let me go," I protested feebly, uselessly.
"No," he rasped. "I can't."
He was breathing heavily, close to my ear. I turned my head ever so slightly to look at his face.
In the varicolored shades of evening light, his features were that of a mask.
Only his eyes spoke.
Good heavens, he did not want me to die.
He rescued me.
He...
He was in pain.
Something warm and liquid hit me on the face. It had a metallic tang. It had fallen in a large drop onto my cheek.
It was blood.
His blood.
We were moving upward slowly, and I looked slightly up, too, careful not to upset the balance.
I did not want to die.
His left arm was the one that clutched the rope; how he managed to throw it and jump right down after me was beyond my comprehension.
His left arm was the one that I had injured when I threw the glass ornament. It was bleeding.
And yet he managed to hold on. For himself and for me.
We reached the railing. I was shoved roughly over it. Shakily, I managed to pull myself back onto the safety of the solid surface of the balcony. My feet touched concrete once again, and my body hurt with tension and exertion and fear.
Now was the time to run.
I heard a suppressed gasp and turned to see him hoist himself over the railing, landing in a heap at one side of the balcony. Pain contorted his face. Even though his right hand now held on to the gash on his left arm, blood still flowed over his fingers and stained his shirt.
My fault.
Our eyes met, the injured captor and the captive who was on her feet.
His gaze held the unspoken challenge.
You could run if you want.
My inner voice was adamant.
I won't.
"You're hurt." My voice was steady, my steps sure as I closed the distance between us. I knelt before him, my hand reaching up for the scarf that I had used to tie my hair back. It would have to do as a makeshift bandage.
"What are you doing?" Surprise tinged his voice.
My hands shook slightly as they settled on the sinewy arm that was now half-drenched in blood. He had lost a lot already. I tied the scarf around the angry red gash, securing the ends with a knot.
My fault.
"That will stop the bleeding for a while." Bravely, I raised my eyes to meet his. Up close, I could feel the heat from his solid frame flow into my own. His gaze was as unyielding as pools of the darkest secrets of the night. He looked as if he was carved from granite.
But he was breathing rapidly, too quickly. He was not stone, but flesh and blood and mystery.
A distant pounding reached my ears and I realized I was listening to my heartbeat.
His face drew closer to my own, as I felt his unhurt arm starting to reach for me.
A quick pricking sensation at the side of my neck, and it was once again the blackness.
I know there's someone out there
Waiting for me
There must be someone out there
There just has to be
I remember waking up and fighting tin cans that resembled human beings, calling out to my brother and my friends.
I don't know how long I would continue to struggle against these waves of memory that did not seem right.
All the voices wanted was for me to fight.
But it was only appropriate. I was alone and had no idea where they all were.
All I knew was that I was a fighter, and that was what exactly I would do.
Fight.
Against the blackness and the taunt of the voices that ruled my head.
For now.