Disclaimer – Don't own Tekken.
Kunimitsu – Part 1.
The woman has snuck in, unnoticed.
The clan has been celebrating a successful plunder. There is wine and good food and song, so rustic and base in nature that even Raven feels the pull of its contagious warmth. It seems such atmosphere is fulfilling for the soul. Even in the dark caverns of the Manji hideaway, the walls are furnished with worn finery, hung with old tapestries and war trophies, and the place is lit by the ethereal glow of candlelight.
The men have gathered in the middle of the main hall in a joyous cluster. They raise goblets swimming with scented wine (stolen from Heihachi's personal store) and the air is thick with a ripe, age old magic. Yoshimitsu is weaving between all his men, new and old, and praising their bravery in the rich orchestration of his voice.
From his corner, Raven observes the festivities in his usual, cool quiet. A few of the clan have waved to him, heckled with slurring vowels, but their eyes are bright and affectionate and Raven forces down a twitch in his mouth.
Yoshimitsu turns his attention to his right hand man, and inclines his head in a "come hither" gesture. The emerald pinpricks of his eyes blink and swirl with the agitated energy of rouge fireflies. How a man – if he is a man- can resemble a glorified samurai skeleton, complete with a tail bone...and yet still emit the same amount of hearty kindness, is a enigma only worthy of the universe.
Raven remains still, and at face value, unmoved. The men surrounding their leader have quieted, a bolder few smiling and exchanging glances, complete with the knowledge that if anyone can coax their newest stoic recruit from his solitary corner, it is their persuasive and charismatic leader.
Raven takes in a deep breath, and fixing the now chuckling Manji leader with a wary eye, goes to move.
A knife slinks beneath his armour, and sinks into his side.
A sudden stinging chill cuts through the surrounding party like premature winter, and despite the hot stickiness of the blood congealing around his fresh wound, his flesh is cold. He hadn't heard her approach. Him...Raven, the talon of death, feared for his accuracy and intellect...had not heard this one woman sneak from behind for the kill.
The leader's stance has changed.
"Harridan..." Yoshimitsu spits, his voice a hate filed rasp, although his tone quivers as she gives the knife another hard twist. She snickers. Throbbing streaks of pain bolt down Raven's side. He cannot move, not with her blade in his back, and she forces him to his knees. How had he not...
Yoshimitsu has straightened up, bringing forth fearsome authority that demands respect from all, but the shining specks of his eyes flicker to the restrained man to the ground, and then back again, once more, to Kunimitsu.
The years have not done their terrible dance, or have done it enough to his liking. She is dressed in her purple warrior garb, dark hair spilling down her back, still sporting the mask of the fox – a tricky and agile animal, and one not to be trusted.
It tis' be the fox that slaughters the helpless chicks.
"You thought..." Her voice, soft yet harsh. Forever haughty. Just as he remembered. Such a proud, ruthless little woman. His fingers brush his scabbard. "That I would disappear? Leave, for a humble existence? As you demanded of me?"
Blood polishes her blade. He focuses on it, and imagines the life juices of this treacherous snake seeping into his eternally thirsty sword. His weapon would not be the only thing to relish such a thing.
"I showed thee mercy," He hisses. His men retreat back into an obedient circle. This is his battle, and he will not be humiliated in front of his clan. "A privilege thou have forfeited."
"It is one I never asked for," She drawls. Her hand loosens, ever so slightly, on Raven's hip. "The very sound of it insults me."
The man on the floor falls into silence. He closes his eyes, and waits.
"You did me a grave ill," Kunimitsu continues darkly. She rests her hand once more on her blade. Yoshimitsu stiffens; a sudden screech of metal against silver reveals his half sheathed sword. "And now..." She laughs, glancing down at his comrade in arms. She cocks her head in a veiled amusement, and beneath his mask, Yoshimitsu grimaces. She knows. "I'm returning the favour."
Raven twists, grabbing at her arm and hurling her over his shoulder. He chokes back a yell as the dagger is wrenched from his side, and it is only then he spots the growing circle of blood pooling on his clothes in a dark stain.
She somersaults in midair and lands, catlike, on the ground.
Yoshimitsu cuts through her back in a flash of steel. She shrieks in agony, diving for her own weapon, only to have the entire clan rush to their leader's defence. In a dash of purple, she blurs past them and is gone through the mighty doors.
"Insolent girl..." Yoshimitsu roars. He signals the chase to his men, who bow in compliance and make haste through the door.
Weakness seizes Raven's limbs. The wound is shallow, but his blood loss is increasing. With a grunt, he falls to one knee. The candlelight wavers in his sight, sinking into a stuttering orange mesh.
A different hand moves across his shoulder. He's turned on his back, and a piece of torn cloth is pressed against his wound.
"You had me worried, friend." He tries to press away from the man's touch – Yoshimitsu's spatial awareness leaves a little to be desired- but he refuses to relent, as if he wants to confirm that Raven is breathing and real.
"It's nothing," His breathing is heavy. So is his voice. He fights to keep his eyes open. "I've had worse."
"That vile creature," Yoshimitsu's iron clad fingers crush into Raven's arm. His brow creases with the impact, but he is finding it hard to speak. "She looks to remove anything precious to Yoshimitsu."
Raven falls silent.
Yoshimitsu swivels his attentions once more to the man in his grasp, but says no more, and treats the wound.