[TK3 fanfic] "Phoenix" Ch. 22, 2/4
Vctr113062
His eye drifted away from me, staring straight ahead. Staring at nothing in
particular, other than his moderately cluttered front room.
"Jin told me that your mother, father, and younger sister died in the Orochi
Blood Riots. That the police had you identify their bodies. That you fled in
panic afterward, and no one heard from you again for over a year.
"The mirror in the corner of the morgue's ceiling... Jin didn't know about
that. It's what really triggered your phobia of reflective surfaces, isn't it?"
Shingo still didn't answer.
"Uh, Shingo?"
"Where am I?" he murmured, at last.
There was something different about his voice. It was deeper than before.
Still a tenor, but now on the lower end of that range. His words came slowly,
as if it were hard for him to select the right ones.
"Um," I responded, hesitantly. "You're in your apartment."
"My... apartment?"
"You've been living here for the past few months, I think. Ever since Jin got
you out of Serenity Consolation Asylum."
"Ever since..." Shingo's eye fluttered closed. His eyebrows pressed down, as
if he were straining to remember something. "What year is it?"
"It's 2017."
"The... twenty-first century?"
"In less than an hour, it'll be 2018."
"Twenty years...?"
He looked down on himself. His eye traced his folded wooden arm, and lingered
on his wooden leg. Then he scanned the floor of his front room, and rested his
gaze on the hand mirror that I had dropped.
"Could you show me?" he breathed, tremulously.
"Uh, are you sure-?"
"Yes. Please."
I fetched the mirror. With a heavy dose of trepidation, I let Shingo see his
own likeness. I was tense, ready to immediately hide the looking glass if he
reacted badly.
Shingo shivered. As if he were staving off an anxiety attack.
"Take it away," he whispered, averting his eyes.
I pocketed the mirror.
"It was so real," Shingo said, without looking at me.
"What was?" I inquired, trying not to sound as relentlessly curious as I
actually felt.
"Everything. Absolutely everything. It was all so real, as real as everything
here now. More real.
"When... when Orochi was banished from our world... it caused an explosion of
Power. Such Power. A man took advantage of the Power. A black, evil soul caught
between worlds. He should have been dead, should have been destroyed, except
that he carried a piece of Orochi's Power inside himself. It blazed from his
right eye."
"Rugal Bernstein?"
"Yes. He called all of us - everyone in the King of Fighters Tournament,
living and dead, bodies and souls - he used the eruption of Power to bring all
of us to him. I don't know where. Kagura-san called it a Demiplane of Souls, I
don't know.
"With the dark Power of Orochi fueling him, Bernstein-san had become a master
sorcerer. He wanted to use us - our fighting, our violence - to gather energy.
So much energy that he could become a god. But we wouldn't have fought for him,
if we'd known. He was a madman, a butcher. He'd murdered countless innocent
people, and he wanted to commit genocide on the human race.
"So, he used his Power to craft a dreamweaving. Covered the whole demiplane
with it, drew it from all our minds, all our memories. We all thought we were
in the King of Fighters Tournament again. He kept us there for over a year,
dreaming and fighting and generating energy, and... and...
"It was _so real_. Bernstein-san... his dreamweaving...
"Mother was there. And Father, and imouto, they were all there, as I
remembered them. Their shadows brought back to life, in my fragment of the mass
hallucination. You have to understand how real it was. The dreamweaving fooled
everybody, even Kusanagi-san, even Kagura-san. It was so real.
"If I... if I had known that challenging Bernstein-san would disrupt the
illusion... would unravel the dreamweaving, destroy the false world with my
shadow family... I don't think I could have done it. Kagura-san tells me I
alerted her to Bernstein-san's true purpose, sacrificed myself to help save the
whole world. But if... if I had known what I was really doing, I don't think I
would have had the courage. I didn't want to let the dream-world go. I didn't
want to let my family go. Even after the dreamweaving was dispelled, and
Bernstein-san destroyed himself, I still didn't want to let any of it go. No
one could make me let go, until they all gave up trying.
"Except you. You never did give up, did you? Not completely."
Shingo looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time.
"Who... who are you, again? I know you've told me your name before, but..."
"Julia Chang. I started working as your assistant, earlier this month."
"And the sick man I've been caring for?"
"Lei Wulong, Super Police."
"Is... is onee-san all right?"
"Your older sister is fine, as far as I know. It's just that she has, um..."
"Cut off all contact with me?"
I nodded.
"I was afraid that part was real," he acknowledged. "She-"
He stopped himself, abruptly, and regarded me with apprehension. "Are - are
you all right? Chang-san?"
In fact, I was still a little lightheaded, and my body ached from several
fresh bruises. However, I didn't feel like I had any broken bones.
"I'm okay," I told him, and it was close enough to the truth.
"Did I - did I attack you? Try to murder you?"
"It's all right. You weren't yourself."
Shingo hung his head. "I'm sorry, Chang-san. I'm so sorry."
"Hey. I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me. Deal?"
"I..."
"Deal!" I declared, seizing his right hand and vigorously pumping it in a
handshake.
His brow furrowed in puzzlement.
Then, for the first time since his awakening, a slight smile formed on his
face.
"Very well," he agreed. "It is a deal, with Kusanagi-sama as our witness."
I let go of his hand.
Shingo almost certainly saw my reaction on my face, because he quickly
insisted, "That was real, Chang-san. The rest was - the rest was all delusion,
but that part was real. Kyo Kusanagi-san really did ascend to godhood, along
with Yuki-san, his one true love."
"Umm..."
"Do you think I'd still be here, otherwise? After what Bernstein-san did to
me? I bled to death, on the Demiplane of Souls. No mortal could have saved me,
not even a sorcerer. It is only because of Kusanagi-sama's divine blessing that
I am here now. The same blessing that he invested in his gloves."
"Well..."
"Kusanagi-san didn't want to give up his mortal life, but he accepted
Bernstein-san's stolen Power, and became a god in the murderer's place. He
healed me, sent all of us back home, and protected our world from the
demiplane's collapse."
"He healed you?"
"Yes."
"If you don't mind my saying so, he could have done a better job of it."
"There are limits to what even a god can do," Shingo conceded, looking down at
his dead left side.
Then, "I have got to get myself some better prosthetics. These are heavy."
I took a deep breath.
"Shingo..."
"And I need to see Kagura-san - wait. She's not in Tokyo, is she? She left on
a... a trip... oh, now I remember. There's a terrible monster coming to our
world; I think it's the 'Toshin' that Lei-san told me about, isn't it? It'll be
here in - in another five months by now, right? Its proximity is tearing open
dimensional rifts. I think that's why our climate is all wrong, why it's so
warm in the dead of winter. The sky would probably be raining hellfire if
Kagura-san weren't out there, protecting us. She said she would look for help;
she didn't know that Mishima-san was planning a new Iron Fist Tournament to
lure the Toshin-"
"Shingo!"
"Ah, yes?"
"Jin and Xiaoyu are in grave danger. I have to save them. Would you please
take that ward off your front door, and let me out of here?"
Shingo bowed his head. "Please don't ask me to do that, Chang-san. Please."
"You know I'm not your little sister, don't you?"
"Does that make your life any less valuable?"
And there I was. Full circle.
I'd brought Shingo from madness to sanity, and I was still as trapped as
before.
Now what could I do? Try to take his gloves by force, and make myself believe
in Kusanagi-sama?
Threaten Shingo again?
No. Absolutely not.
Then how-?
My head only went round in more circles, no way out of the prison. But my
heart...
My heart told me what to say.
I said, "Shingo, have you ever been in love?"
He raised his head.
"Me?"
I nodded.
He looked away.
"Once. A long time ago."
"Before the Riots?"
Shingo inclined his head, slightly. "She... at first we were just friends.
Then I thought we were growing closer to something more. Maybe. But that was
all before. Before what Bernstein-san did to me, and what I did to myself.
"She's married, now. One of her kids goes to the Mishima high school. The boy
has his mother's eyes."
All right, then.
"Shingo, if it were your... if it was the woman you loved who was walking into
Heihachi Mishima's deathtrap, could you make yourself stay where it's safe?
Could you live with yourself, knowing that you did nothing to save her?"
"I couldn't even save my family."
"That wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done, because you
didn't know what was going to happen. This is different. We both know what's
going to happen, and that I can do something to stop it. I can help Jin and
Xiaoyu escape, if you will only let me out of here!"
"Chang-san..."
"Please. I think I may be in love with Jin."
"Isn't he dating Ling-san?"
I flinched from that. "So I've heard."
"Does it hurt?"
"Some," I admitted, cringing on the inside.
"Yes," Shingo mused, wistfully. "Yes, that's love all right."
I gulped back a rising quiver in my throat.
Shingo raised his right hand, extending his fingers. His front door flickered
deep green for a moment. The energies within it spread apart in a radiating
spider's web, and vanished from sight.
"Thank you," I told him, with a grateful bow.
"Wait. Take some weapons with you."
"Umm..."
"I've removed their wards as well. But Chang-san, don't take any lethal
weapons unless you're prepared to kill with them, and prepared to live with the
consequences of killing. If you carry a gun into the syndicate, and you don't
have it in you to pull the trigger, then it can only be used against you."
I found a small half-cloak with internal pockets, put it on, and stowed lots
of smoke bombs within it. Although I thought about donning a flak jacket, it
seemed too bulky to conceal, even under a half-cloak. If I were to wear one
openly, it could raise suspicion.
I also thought about taking another taser with me, or even some true
explosives, but decided against it. Shingo's warning against weapons that could
kill echoed in my head. A taser can potentially be fatal, and I was not certain
that I could bring myself to wield one ever again, in hot blood or in cold. For
that matter, I wasn't sure I could use explosives - one misstep and I'd be a
red stain.
When I returned to the front room, Shingo was trying to stand. He had
retrieved his claw cane, and barely managed to support himself on it.
"You can't come with me," I told him, anticipating his thoughts before he
could say them aloud. "You're too drained. Even if you were in perfect health,
you can't run. You'd never make it there in time, any more than you could make
it out."
"Kusanagi-sama, am I making the right decision?" he prayed, struggling to
remain upright.
"It's not your decision to make, Shingo. It's mine. There's only one person
who has responsibility for it, and that person is I."
"But you don't even have a plan, do you? You have no idea where you'll go or
what you'll do, after you get Kazama-san and Ling-san out of the syndicate."
"Umm..."
"Do you know where Kagura-san's Temple is? It's completely protected from
Mishima-san, and his Tekkenshu soldiers."
Oh. Wulong had told me about that place. I could have kicked myself for not
remembering.
"You don't know where it is? Then listen to me, carefully."
Shingo gave me very precise directions, and had me repeat them aloud.
"Okay, good," he assented. "Now, give me your gloves."
"My-?" I looked down at the brown-black, fingerless fighting gloves that had
been Shingo's Christmas present to me. "Do you want to enchant them? I can't
let you do that. You're too depleted."
"It's just a temporary enhancement. Very minor. Trust me, I know my limits."
With reluctance, I gave him my gloves. Clutching them both in his right hand,
he mumbled a few words; my gloves glowed deep green, then returned to their
normal color.
Shingo swayed.
He dropped my gloves, and couldn't remain standing. I had to settle him down
with his back to the wall again.
"Don't look so worried," he mouthed, weakly. "I'll be fine."
"What did you do?" I asked, putting on my gloves.
"...minor homing spell. In case you get lost. If you concentrate on Kagura's
Temple... the spell will guide your feet there, automatically. When you reach
the Temple grounds, the spell will make your gloves glow. The acolytes know
what my sorcery looks like. They'll know that I sent you. All of you. As you
come close to the Temple, its wards against Devils will weaken Kazama-san, but
the wards won't kill him. The caretaker knows that Kazama-san is an honorable
Devil. He will invite Kazama-san in."
Even sane, Shingo was still calling Jin a 'Devil'?
Well, there was no time to argue the point.
"Thank you," I said, with another bow. "Thank you for everything. Take care of
yourself, all right? Take care of yourself and Wulong. We'll all meet you at
Kagura's Temple, as soon as we can."
And I left.
Great Spirit forgive me, I left.
Because from what I'm given to understand... what I know from reading Lei
Wulong's records...
I missed them by such a small amount of time.
I missed the emissaries from Kagura's temple by no more than an hour,
definitely. Probably less. Maybe even as little as ten minutes. They came by
Shingo's apartment, to bring him to Kagura's Temple.
If I had only waited...
If only Shingo had delayed me a little longer...
I'd thought that time had run out, that there was none left to detour by the
Temple and get help. Shingo hadn't known that Wulong would arrive at the
Temple, or send emissaries. So I went to the Mishima syndicate New Year's Eve
party alone.
If I'd had even one Temple acolyte with me...
Even one sorceress to help me out...
Well, I don't know that anything would have turned out differently. I don't
know that my rescue attempt would have been any more successful.
Or that the ultimate toll would have been any less.
As I sprinted back to the syndicate, vaulting over puddles from the rainstorm
that had just recently ceased, I prayed that I would make it in time.
Did I?
Mmm, yes and no.
It was around eleven forty-five when I arrived, breathless. I knew Heihachi
wouldn't be at the syndicate New Year's Eve party, not yet. The trap had not
been sprung. However, Jin and Xiaoyu had to already be there; they were
supposed to show up at eleven-thirty, and Jin was almost always punctual. So I
didn't slow my run until I reached the grand ballroom, where the party was
being held.
Now, I'm not going to go in depth on this.
If you want it down to the arches on the ceiling chandeliers, then you can ask
anyone else who was there. There were hundreds, maybe even a thousand syndicate
employees, packed into a single open space. All of them lavishly dressed. In
addition to the partygoers, there were more than a few black-suited security
guards, dutifully watching the crowd.
I looked for Mitsurugi, and didn't see him. Not that I'd expected to, but...
There's one other thing I should mention about the party, and that was the
wine.
There was a lot of wine.
I can't remember how many crystal punchbowls there were - ten? Twenty? Thirty?
More? Elegant and Western-style, with ladles and matching crystal cups. Each
bowl had a different variety of alcoholic drink. There was also a long table of
Japanese rice wine, against the back wall. A number of traditionally attired
young women seemed to have the appointed task of pouring drinks, and offering
them to people.
And may I add, there was no edible food of any kind.
Where were Jin and-?
"WHEEEEEEEEEE!"
I knew that squeal. Great Spirit save my bleeding ears, I knew that pixie
squeal.
I'd found Xiaoyu. She was dressed in a perfectly tailored kimono of white
satin, with long sleeves and a trailing hem - wait a minute.
A white satin kimono?
An ill feeling rose within me. I swallowed it back.
"Vroom, vroom, vroom! WheeeeEEEEeeeeEEEEEEEE!"
Xiaoyu was way, way beyond her usual ebullience. The sixteen-year-old girl had
taken to zipping around at almost supernatural speed, her delicate arms
stretched out, sleeves flapping behind her like avian wings. She dashed in
spiraling circles, blissfully oblivious of the crowd, of the drink tables, of
everything in her way. Any unfortunate individual not quick enough to move
aside immediately found himself a stepping stone, as the fairy princess
launched herself over his shoulders and beyond, flying like a magical creature
out of legend.
She was, of course, plastered out of her wits.
And there was nothing Jin could do about it.
I spotted his face, amid a sea of faces, and he seemed to be the opposite of
Xiaoyu. Where she was passionately exhilarated, he was completely withdrawn. He
pressed both hands against his temples, and clenched his teeth.
It was the crowd, naturally. The massive, drunken crowd. As a hypersensitive
telepath, Jin was practically a hostage to the overwhelming psychic tide. He
just barely managed to keep a semblance of control.
This was how I had realized that the party was a trap for Jin. In this
setting, he would be extremely ill-prepared to resist his grandfather's
ambuscade. If only I had figured it out sooner - but never mind regrets. Now
that I'd found him, I had to-
Oh, no.
"May we help you, young mistress?" Kimura said, quietly, as he stepped
directly between Jin and me. Ishida was right next to him, but for once, the
more vociferous of the nearly-identical cousins had nothing to say. He did look
more than a little agitated, however.
Ishida and Kimura...
Jin's bodyguards.
Jin's bodyguards - who owed their absolute loyalty, body and soul, to Heihachi
Mishima.
"Uh, yes," I admitted. "I'd like to see - hey, Jin! Over here!"
"Rrrgh?" he grunted, squinting at us.
Then, a look of gratified relief washed over his face. Like seeing an oasis in
the desert, a port in the typhoon.
"Julia! I was afraid you wouldn't come!"
"Sorry I'm late," I apologized. "I got kind of locked down."
Jin smiled broadly at me, happiness mixed with desperation. As he gestured for
me to come closer, he reassured his bodyguards with, "It's all right, I invited
her."
They didn't look very reassured, though. Ishida in particular looked downright
disturbed. As if my arrival had somehow made a bad night even worse.
How was I going to get Jin and Xiao-chan out of here, with this matched pair
watching us like hawks?
Hm. I'd definitely need some kind of distraction. And I would need to remove
Jin's and Xiaoyu's armbands, the ones that let the syndicate track them. And
I'd need-
"I'm so glad you came," Jin professed, warmly. "I don't know how much more of
this I can take. It's a good thing Grandfather is coming soon, and - Julia?"
Great Spirit.
It was not the place, and definitely not the time, but I couldn't help it. I
stared at Jin. I stared at him, and my jaw dropped open, and I kept staring at
him, and I couldn't close my mouth, and I still stared at him.
He... he looked...
He looked RIDICULOUS-!
Okay. This, I have to describe. Just bear with me, all right? It was so
overwhelming it momentarily brought my whole rescue to a crashing halt. I have
to make you picture this:
Bright yellow.
Bright, gaudy yellow.
Bright yellow with dark black running along the sleeves, down to where they
were rolled up, their white inner lining tucked into neat cuffs. Bright yellow
with black swaths along the shoulders, a black line down the midriff beneath
the collar, which was loosened enough to expose a triangle-shaped patch of his
bare chest. Bright yellow with a black character written on the back, and
various other thick black streaks.
Like a banana that's been left out for a few days.
There were also his black leather pants, with hotrod red stripes outlined with
white, running from outside hip to ankle. The leathers even had thin white
lines along the inner legs, and straight down the center of the crotch. Don't
get me wrong, I don't have anything against that area in a man, but - oh, skip
it. Let me just finish this with a note about his horridly clunky black boots.
Taken as a whole, he was a walking disaster area. Still, it was the banana
yellow that almost did it.
I am not going to laugh. I am not going to laugh.
"Julia..."
I am _not_ going to laugh. I am _not_ going to laugh.
"...why are you gawking at me like that?"
Uh-oh.
"You look handsome tonight," I complimented, with an allegedly loving smile.
"Do you really think so?"
"Oh yes," I assured, quite sincerely. Jin's accouterments might have been an
astoundingly ludicrous travesty of good taste, but Jin himself was indeed a
very handsome young man. Nothing could change that, not even the most
preposterous-
"Xiao-chan selected that outfit for you, didn't she?" I queried, holding back
a snicker.
"She gave it to me for Christmas, yes. How did you know?"
"Mm, just a guess."
Somewhere in the background, Xiaoyu pealed, "WheeeeEEEEEEeeeee!"
Wincing from the pixie queen's antics, Jin lowered his voice and confided,
"She's never had anything to drink before. And she's such a small person, with
a small liver; I think she overdid it, a little."
You don't say?
All right, all right. Time to get serious.
I clasped Jin's hands in my own. Fingers to fingers, skin-to-skin contact.
His jet black eyes widened, somewhat. As if he were surprised by my sudden
familiarity, although he did not appear offended.
(Jin, you and Xiaoyu both have to leave the syndicate with me,) I thought,
through the link.
(What?) he thought back.
Our communication was whisking over the topmost crest of his psychic barriers.
I could feel echoes of an ongoing struggle, within him. It was like rising
tidal waves crashing against a weakened dam, wood straining to hold back water,
buckling fortitude, last-ditch resolve. He was even more hard-pressed than he
looked.
(You're in danger. So is she, and you're at your weakest, in this crowd.)
(It's not for much longer. Grandfather is going to be here soon-)
(That's the point. Heihachi will use this party to ambush both of you!)
"Julia," Jin said, crossly. "You can't believe that Grandfather would-"
(No, don't say anything out loud, your bodyguards will hear!)
"Ishida. Kimura. Could you go to the other end of the room, and stay there for
a while?"
Kimura said, "Mishima-sama's orders are to keep close watch upon you and
mistress Ling. We cannot disobey."
Ishida turned to his cousin and said, "Like hell."
"_What_?" Kimura gasped, stiffening.
Ishida took off his black shades.
His eyes...
His dull brown eyes were dark. Sleepless. Hollowed and bloodshot, as if from
some terrible nightmare that denied him rest. It hadn't been obvious before,
but he looked almost as drained as Shingo had been. Almost as torn.
"I can't be a part of this anymore," Ishida growled.
"Cousin!" Kimura hissed, low on volume, high on tension.
"No. It's - it's - just _no_."
"Cousin, have you been drinking!?" Kimura yelled - though for him, a yell was
only half anyone else's normal speaking voice.
"I wish I could get myself a drink. It would make this easier. It would make
everything easier."
"Quiet!" Kimura seemed on the verge of panic. "Just be quiet and do your duty.
Your family owes it to the House Mishima!"
"My father died for the House Mishima. So did yours. Isn't that enough?"
"They perished in service to the traitor Kazuya, not-"
"There is no difference! Don't you get it? Don't you-"
"Cousin, stop it. Stop it now. This is unprofessional, this is-"
"I _am_ getting myself a drink," Ishida spat. "I can't run away, I can't fight
back, I can't change what Mishima-sama wants, I can't do _anything_, but I can
get myself a drink. And if I can just get drunk enough, I might be able to
forget tonight ever happened."
Ishida stalked away.
"Cousin!" Kimura cried, and he was so shocked, so distraught, that he almost
sounded like a normal human being. He looked at Jin and me, then looked back at
his cousin's retreating form.
At last, blood proved thicker than wine, and Kimura chased after his
recalcitrant relative. Kimura's soft voice became lost in an instant, but I
could see him still trying vainly to reason with Ishida, who never so much as
broke his stride.
Lockjaw666
LOCKJ...@AOL.COM
Is Real faith objective???????
" sometimes the pain of being alive hurts more than being dead "
" for he is the Kwisats Haderach "