A/N: Thank you so much to you guys who reviewed, I'm really glad that you're actually interested in reading this sequel fic! I thought I might have left it too long... I've actually had the ideas in my head for a while, but I wanted to finish up Restless first of all, so that I wasn't trying to divide my attentions between two fics. You might notice a recurring J-Pop lyrics theme throughout this fic, heh. I always listened to Ayu when I was writing Monochrome, and that hasn't changed with Never Ever. Anyway, here's the second chapter. When you get to the end, be sure to click that little review button and let me know what you think!
NEVER EVER
My true self is beginning to blur, little by little.
As I pushed through the crowd, unable to answer, I searched.
The better I get at lies and excuses, the more the emptiness frightens me.
Chapter Two: Questions and Answers
It's a little after ten when Miharu and I leave the amusement park and go our separate ways, and I arrive back to an empty house. My mother's out, so it's just me tonight. I don't mind being by myself usually, but after getting lost in thoughts of Jin and Hwoarang, coming back home and there being no lights on, and no one there to welcome me just adds to this intense loneliness I'm feeling. I want to slap it out of myself. But that would just look weird.
Snap out of this silly, stupid, whiny mood, Xiao. You had a great day with Miharu, what's your problem?
After I've drank some orange juice from the carton, took some headache tablets and made myself a sandwich, I flop down on the sofa. I've half a mind to switch on the T.V and look for something to occupy myself with, something to make me laugh, but I feel so tired all of a sudden. I close my eyes, just for a moment. I know I've got my sandwich to eat and my things to put away. I just need to rest a minute.
I'm walking through the high street, the last weak rays of sunlight before nightfall lighting my way. Usually, even in late evening, there'd be people walking around. But I'm the only one there. My chest feels tight, my feet speed up, and I'm looking around desperately, hoping that someone will step out of a pub doorway or from a sidestreet, even if they're drunk and shouty or drugged up, just so I'll know I'm not alone. There's no one. No footsteps apart from my own, no faint snatches of conversation, no voices, no car or bike engines, nothing. And now I'm running. My feet pounding the pavement, my quick breaths, and the change jangling in my pocket are the only sounds breaking through the stillness.
I want to go home, where my schoolbag is behind the door, still in the same place I threw it a month ago when the summer holidays first started. Where my mother's shoes are on the bottom shelf of the shoe rack, and her coat is hanging in the hallway. Where I'll walk past the kitchen and she'll be sitting at the table, reading a book or magazine or drinking tea. Where I won't be alone. I stop running, suddenly desperate to see my mother's face. When I turn back in the direction of home, the closed shops of the high street are gone, and I find myself standing in front of the canal, just across from the pub where I could always count on finding Hwoarang, back when he was still here.
I know it's a dream now, but when it dawns on me that there's someone sitting on the wall nearby, I'm almost hysterical with relief that I'm not by myself any more. It's a woman, her head bowed, her hands folded in her lap. She's wearing white. White everything, even down to the headband in her jet-black hair. I walk closer to her, and she raises her head. All I can focus on are her eyes, Jin's eyes. Through the haze of the dream, I remember a picture my grandfather gave to me, a photograph of a woman with a soft smile on her face and the same headband as she's wearing now. The sun sinks into the water, leaving us in twilight.
"You…"
"You're Ling Xiaoyu."
She hops off the wall.
"What's going on? Where is everyone?" I ask her helplessly.
"I've been waiting for you."
"Why?"
"To thank you."
"For what?"
"Being there for him."
"Him?"
I know who she's talking about, but I just want her to confirm it. She doesn't, just stands there gazing at me, and even though I know she doesn't mean me any harm, it's still disconcerting.
Being there for him, she says. Yeah, and here I am, still waiting for him to return the favour.
"You feel like he left you behind, don't you?"
Left you.
My throat tightens, and tears well up suddenly, as if just being around her has robbed me of my ability to hold back my real feelings. That ability I've had two years to practice. I shake my head, trying my hardest to blink them away.
"I don't… I know he wanted me to be safe… I just…"
"It's alright. There's no one else here. You don't need to smile when you're feeling sad."
It's alright. When I hear those words, I feel relieved, somehow. Like I have permission now, like I don't have to pretend I'm fine. Like it's okay to be hurt, upset, angry…
"Maybe not. But crying won't help the situation, will it?"
"It might help you." She smiles, warm and motherly. "You wouldn't be bottling things up anymore. You'd feel better." She gives me that unsettling look again, and I drop my gaze to the floor. "You know," she carries on, "…if it wasn't for the thought of you, he might not have been able to stay himself."
"What do you mean?"
"After the tournament ended, he had a… difficult time."
"After…?" I don't dare to hope. "Is he still alive? Is he alright?"
"He's alive…"
I can't help but notice her tactful silence in answer to my second question.
"Is he alright?" I repeat.
"Don't give up on him."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I can't answer that. I don't know myself."
She's so calm.
"What happened to him?"
"It's up to him to tell you that. I don't know whether it's something he wants to share."
I hesitate. If he doesn't want to share it, do I really want to know what it is?
"Don't lose faith. You'll see him again."
Maybe. But how can I be sure this isn't just a weird, orange juice and paracetamol induced dream? How do I know she's telling me the truth?
"You'll get your answer soon."
"What?"
"About whether this is just a dream."
How did she know?
And then I'm wide awake, the sound of the front door slamming jarring me back into consciousness.
She was right, though. I do get an answer. The next morning, I check my email while Miharu flips through my CD collection looking for something to put on, and in with all the usual spam and newsletters from my favourite clothes shops, there's an anonymous message telling me not to trust Heihachi Mishima.
I guess I should explain further. Me and my family have been under the Mishima Zaibatsu's protection since the last tournament. Actually, everyone who attends Mishima Polytech can consider themselves protected by the Zaibatsu, so I'm nothing special there. But since the last tournament, Heihachi promised to let me know if there'd been any contact from Jin, as long as I did the same for him. I didn't think anything was suspicious about that, I mean, it's only natural that he'd want to find his grandson. I mean, come on, Jin is his only family, right?
That being said, the person who emailed me seemed to think otherwise.
---
Subject: The Mishima Corporation
From: blank
Date: 21.08.02
To: risingphoenix
---
Two years ago, Heihachi Mishima tried to capture Toshin in order to use its genetic material to create a new life form. Since then, he's been searching for those who share his bloodline. It has nothing sentimental to do with them being family, more to do with their genetics. It's complicated, and I don't have time to go into specifics, but no matter what you might think, neither the Zaibatsu nor Heihachi can be trusted. As long as you associate with him, or any of his relations, your life is in danger. Don't give him any information about this email.
---
"Hey, you've gone quiet." says Miharu, and I lean back on my chair, staring at the computer screen. It's from Jin. Who else would know about Toshin apart from him?
"Have you got one of those emails about penis enlargement?" she jokes. "I always used to forward them to Hwoarang whenever I got one. He used to get so pissed off with me." She's chuckling to herself, and I glance over at her.
"It's from Jin."
"Why would Jin be forwarding you emails about how to enlarge your penis?"
"I'm serious, Miharu."
She stands up and reads over my shoulder.
"It's him, isn't it?" I can feel the excitement bubbling up inside me. "It has to be from him."
"Well… I guess it could be…"
"What do you mean, 'could' be? No one else would know this stuff! Mi, I know it's him!"
"Xiao, just… How do you know for sure that it's Jin?"
"Like I just said! No one else would know this stuff!"
"Apart from everyone in the Zaibatsu, right?"
I shake my head, feeling giddy.
"No way, I can't believe it's actually him! I guess this was the answer."
"Answer?"
"Okay, don't think I'm crazy, but I had a dream last night about walking down the high street, and it was all weird and abandoned like something off of 28 Days Later."
"Were there zombies?" Miharu cuts in, silencing my rambling.
"No…"
"Or soldiers?"
"Miharu, listen to me! Anyway, in my dream, I spoke to someone." I don't mention that the 'someone' was Jun Kazama. I think that might make me sound like more of a crazy person than I already sound. "They said that Jin was still alive, and not to give up on him. I asked if they could prove that I wasn't just dreaming, and they said I'd get an answer soon." I point to the computer. "See? Isn't it a bit too much of a coincidence that I got this email right after that?"
"I guess so." Miharu looks doubtful. "But… I just don't want you getting your hopes up, you know?"
"That's a change." I snipe. "You usually tell me he'll be back any day now."
"I know…"
"So what's the deal? Two years without any contact and you swear down he'll be back, then when I get something like this, you don't think I should be excited?"
"I'm sorry, Xiao. I don't want to see you disappointed again, that's all."
I glare at the keyboard, and she touches my shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Xiao."
"I have to keep hoping, Miharu."
"I know."
"If I don't… then who else does he have?"
People are solitary creatures, everyone is always alone
So, yeah, we need someone, we want to be supported and support someone
Nothing is certain, but I believe in my heart.
--- Poker Face, Ayumi Hamasaki