Author's Notes: This isn't a yaoi love story, this is an adventure/thriller, with other themes to come through in the near future. So if you're looking for yaoi, this is the wrong story.
DISCLAIMER: I dun own Tekken.
Crimson
Chapter 1 - Resurrection
The semi-finals had been a disaster. Neither of the fighters had shown up, which meant only one thing; Heihachi had won the tournament.
Violet growled furiously, sweeping everything off his desk and onto the floor in a shattering cacophony loud enough to be heard in all the surrounding floors of the Mishima Zaibatsu accommodation setup. He couldn’t believe it; with all his supposed skill, with all of his efforts, everything had gone to waste. He was so certain he’d win the Zaibatsu that he hadn’t even considered failure. And now, that old bastard had once again affirmed his ownership of the Zaibatsu. The news on a piece of paper sitting in front of him had just ruined it all, ruined everything…everything. He ripped the paper to shreds.
With nothing further to look forward to, Violet began to pack up his gear, and head back home. As he pulled open the wardrobe and began to empty it, he found himself thinking about the rumours that had floated around the entire tournament proceedings over the last couple of days. The rumours of a man he knew died twenty years ago, being alive and well, and fighting in the tournament. He didn’t believe the lies for a second of course, but something concerned him deeply all the same. He’d had a passing word with one of the new fighters – a young British boy – and he claimed to have fought someone who fitted the perfect description of his long passed brother. It couldn’t have been Jin, since he hadn’t fought Steve at all. It had to be someone pretending to be the long dead former Zaibatsu CEO, because there was no way in hell Kazuya Mishima could have survived plunging into the mouth of a live volcano.
He decided to push it from his mind, not let it worry him. There was no point, it was all over now. Silencing his fevered thoughts, Violet continued to pack his bags. There would be a flight home he could take tomorrow, and allow his life to go back to what might be considered normal.
And from two poles at the centre of the arena, chains dangled. The Dojo was silent, except for the light fluttering of flames from ornamental lamps set against the four walls. From the chains, glistening in the orange light, hung a young man, unconscious, half naked.
Before him stood the old man himself, admiring his handiwork. Dressed in nothing but his black fighting gi, he stood, arms folded over his chest, smirking. The puzzle was nearly complete. And thankfully, hopefully, with the blood samples retained from well over thirty years ago, the other half of the puzzle, Kazuya’s Devil gene, would be put in place within hours.
The fact that it was all a theory didn’t bother Heihachi one bit. The theory ran as such; Jin and Kazuya were carriers of a gene that allowed them to transform into the Devil form in one way or another. It was originally a mutation, but a successful one in Kazuya’s case, and he’d handed it down to his son. As much as he hated the both of them, more than anything, they’d presented him with the perfect opportunity to obtain everything he’d dreamed of. With Ogre’s genetic information, and both parts of the Devil gene, theoretically, he would he able to be transformed into the ultimate being of power. But it was just a theory. But he didn’t care.
Despite himself, he let the sweet words slip past his lips. “Kazama Jin…you are mine. And so is that precious gift of yours.”
A voice interrupted the moment. A very deep, powerful voice, though kept low enough to barely be heard. It was familiar; familiar enough to send a rush of dread beneath Heihachi’s skin, and hatred up and down his spine. It spoke clearly, and with an all-too-familiar arrogance. “Or not…”
He whipped around toward the source of the voice – the huge wooden doors, which he had presumed were locked tight. His old eyes widened with shock and dread; it was not a sight he’d ever dreamed of seeing again, and had prayed he never would from the moment he last kissed it goodbye. Standing before him, casually, arms folded loosely over a dark-shirted chest, was none other than his hated blood son. Kazuya.
He couldn’t find the words to say; but clearly Kazuya had plenty of them to share. “Surprised to see me, Old Man? You shouldn’t be. You should have known from the moment you tried to kill me the first time that I have a habit of defying death.” The younger man stepped forward into the glow of the torches – and Heihachi, who had just found words to say, immediately lost them to the wind once more. Kazuya was not what he’d expected a moment before. His face and hands – the only exposed flesh from beneath the dark clothing – had an unfamiliar pallor, though he still retained most of that natural bronze in his skin. His eyes were hidden behind shades, but he could tell the young man had not aged a day since he was thrown into the volcano. There were no blemishes on the youthful, somewhat pale skin, and there were no signs of age at all; wrinkles, obvious pores, receding hairline; none of it showed.
“You…”
Though no one could see, Kazuya rolled his dark eyes. Up until now, he hadn’t displayed any emotion at all. But now, he pulled aside the shades, tossed them carelessly to the ground, and smirked. Indeed, his eyes confirmed the youth that was so apparent on the rest of his face and slender hands, and they still had that glow to them that everyone wrongly interpreted to be arrogance. “Yes, me. Go on, think of an insult. Just for old time’s sake. I dare you.”
Heihachi was still in too much shock. Hadn’t he thrown him into that volcano oh so long ago? He had. And just as a protective measure, he’d had the Tekkenshu raid a rival company, G-Corporation, who he knew was doing research on biogenetics and its applications…and the ‘Devil gene’ theory was a sexy one for them to take up. The results of that raid: They’d not even heard of Kazuya, let alone use his body for experiments. The boy had definitely been dead all those years.
Or had he?
Getting no reply, Kazuya continued. “I see. Well, I suppose you have my son here to try and extract the fabled ‘Devil gene’,” the tone of his voice was almost soft with the mention of his only son. “But you may find your efforts fruitless…” He grinned. “Now do you have a reason to insult me? Go on, for old time’s sake. I want to see if you’ve gotten any worse.”
Heihachi’s eye twitched. “You little shit, you’d better watch your mouth. Your very presence here will just make it easier for me to obtain the complete gene!”
Once again, Kazuya rolled his eyes. “I thought I just told you. It won’t work. What are you, senile already?”
“What do you mean, won’t work?! Everything’s in place!”
Kazuya smirked. “There is no such thing as a Devil gene. There is no mutation, no gene, nothing! Nothing but a theory. Are you so gullible that you’d believe that crap?”
Suddenly Heihachi became worried. What if he was right? He glanced suspiciously into the eyes of his only son, and immediately doubted his words. Since when would Kazuya tell him the truth? “Would I be so gullible as to believe you of all people? I think not.”
He shrugged. “Alright, Old Man, have it your way. I promise I won’t tell you ‘I Told You So’ when your pretty little plans go up in smoke. You’ll already know I mean it without having to say it.” He gave Heihachi no time to respond, and simply turned his back to him, and began to walk towards Jin. Heihachi took no second opportunities, and seized this one instead. Hidden within his robes was a short blade; he drew it forth, and reached forward, stabbing it into Kazuya’s heart from behind.
Or at least, that was the plan.
Kazuya obviously sensed it coming or expected it, and spun around out of the way before Heihachi could react in any way. In fact, he moved almost too fast for him to see. Within the same second, Heihachi found himself being forced down onto his knees, the knife wrenched from his grasp, and unable to move, since his arms were held high behind him. From the painful grip, he could tell Kazuya was only using one hand to hold him, but with unnatural strength. He couldn’t even struggle in the younger man’s grasp!
The blade clattered to the ground beside the two. “Nice try, Old Fart. Try picking on someone as lowly as yourself next time.” For once, Kazuya’s words had an element of truth for Heihachi’s ears. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated him…but then again, the only people he’d seen that could move that fast were Yoshimitsu and Bryan Fury. Strength, likewise.
He strained in the grasp, but to no avail. “Let me go, you dirty little rat…”
The grip didn’t move. “Let my son down from there, and I’ll consider it.”
“I can’t do a thing with you holding me, you son of a…”
Kazuya interrupted him before he could blindly insult the poor woman. “Since you love fancy new technology, I’m sure you could use a word and have the chains released, or call someone to do it for you!”
Heihachi growled. “You can hold me here all night, the Tekkenshu will arrive and kill you before it’s through anyway! I will not release that little brat!”
Contemptuously, Kazuya threw his father aside, and approached the chained man. There were thick layers of iron chain around all four of his limbs; it sure didn’t look easily dismantled.
The whole time, he’d been conscious. Or at least, what he’d deemed the entire time. Heihachi’s sudden words, addressed to him clearly, had roused him from his sleep, though at first he was too far gone to have even twitched in reaction. He didn’t even know where he was, and in what orientation in space. As the second, much softer voice had joined the winds, he finally realised he was chained, hanging, and upright. It wasn’t comfortable.
He’d decided to play it safe and fake unconsciousness once the arguing began, and in doing so, he’d learned that the younger voice was that of…his father. A man he’d never met, and never heard anything but negativity about. Personally, he never wanted to see or hear him, ever. Especially after everything Heihachi had told him. Everything he’d been led to believe. But somehow, it all seemed a little wishy-washy in light of the conversation he’d overheard. If Kazuya really didn’t care for him or his mother, he wouldn’t have bothered with his presence at all; but he referred to him at least twice, and demanded his release. Perhaps Heihachi was wrong; perhaps Kazuya really was a kind, caring person like he’d imagined in his youth.
A rustle of the chains to his left and a light tugging on his leg forced him to open his eyes to investigate. Glancing to his left, he found, to his surprise, that a young Japanese man had climbed most of the way up the smooth wooden pylon he was chained to. That must be his father! His brown eyes widened, and he inspected the man, who was making easy work of the pole; most people wouldn’t be able to climb it if you paid them. He must be strong. After a moment, he saw the chains fall from his left ankle, and felt gravity take over. However, he didn’t take his eyes off the enigma that had finally been solved within seconds, yet only aroused even more questions than he’d started with. What was he like? Did he love Jun? Why does he look so young? How did he know about him? Did he care for his only son?
“Take it easy, kid, I’m here to help.” He’d obviously interpreted Jin’s subconscious tugging on the chains as close to a hostile movement.
Jin swallowed and nodded. “I know. You’re my father…I heard everything.”
Kazuya paused a moment, the climbed higher to try and release both arm chains at once. He’d already managed to release the chain around his right ankle, along with the left. After a moment, Jin felt the bonds loosen, and in the next second, he felt himself crashing to the ground. He landed on all fours, then sat up on his knees, rubbing his sore wrists. Kazuya landed next to him with a soft thud, and stood up.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Kazuya. But I don’t need Jin any longer! I shall still have your Devil genes!”
Kazuya rolled his eyes at the old man, and nodded his head toward the door. “You won’t be needing us hanging around any longer then. We’ll show ourselves out.” He motioned for Jin to follow, and headed casually for the large wooden doors. As he passed by his father, he expected some sort of ambush…but not in the form of a knife.
Jin heard the sickening thud…and saw the blood-slathered tip of the knife poking through his father’s back, sliced right through the fabric, ever so close to his own chest. A wave of nausea took over his senses, and he resisted the weakening in his knees, and swallowed the rising burning acid. But Kazuya never fell. In fact, he didn’t even falter.
The blade was hilt-deep into his chest, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he simply reached down and pulled it out. “Sorry Old Man, nice try, but it didn’t work.” He simply tossed the blade aside, as he’d done before, and carried on toward the door as if he didn’t have blood slowly darkening his shirt front and back. Jin, still in a state of shock, quickly followed along behind him, unable to imagine what sort of a creature would be able to not even bother with a hit like that! It almost pierced his heart!
Heihachi seemed to be thinking the same thing as Jin. “What…are you?”
Kazuya turned, and smirked. “I’m not what you think.” His grin was wider than his normal arrogant grins; and there was something wrong with his teeth.
After the two had eluded his grasp, it dawned on the old man. Those teeth; his canines were unnaturally long and sharp. But that aroused further questions: If he wasn’t human, what did that make him? What had he become since his supposed death?