Crimson
Chapter 12: Behold
***
Early the
next morning, Jin was, once again, the first to wake up. With a soft yawn, he
sat up and stretched, glancing sleepily over at his dozing father on the other
bed. At least he’d decided to leave his shorts on today, since he’d obviously
had a restless night. His pillow was on the floor again, along with most of his
blankets, though what was still tucked into the end of the bed had managed to
entangle his ankles and feet. One arm hung over the side of the bed, the
knuckles resting on the ground below. Yep…restless night.
Today,
he remembered not to throw the curtains open and scare the
living…nightlights…out of the poor man. Instead, he got up and opened the
fridge. He figured he’d be in this place at least another week, so he’d
re-stocked the tiny fridge beneath the television with things to eat at
breakfast and supper. Grabbing a small box of cereal from the counter above, a
bowl from the table next to the television, and a drink-size tetra-pak of milk,
he prepared for a nice easy breakfast in front of the TV in bed.
After
a few minutes of crunching sounds from Jin and the constant static of the muted
TV, Kazuya finally awoke. He was only half awake when he noticed his pillow was
gone (by accidentally knocking the back of his head against the wooden board at
the head of the bed), which of course brought him back out of his sleepiness
and into the land of the living. Groggily, he reached down and retrieved the
seeming decoration for the bed - since it seemed to serve no purpose during the
night – and put it back where it belonged; the sheets over the top of him, and
the pillow behind his head.
Then
he noticed the TV blathering on about nothing, and Jin eating his breakfast. Hm,
he must’ve slept in again. Slowly, the previous night’s events returned to his
mind with a painful sting; why did all this have to happen to him? He would
have been content with having a family – one love, bringing up their children
together. Before the second tournament, if he’d have heard that, he’d think he
was insane. But the loss of a love he’d taken for granted was enough to change
his mind over the past twenty years. Now, he was left with a son he never knew
he had, and a woman trying to replace the love he lost. It wasn’t working for
him, somehow. He’d always liked Nina for some reason, but for some reason, he
just couldn’t bring himself to allow himself to submit to his only true
weakness; love.
He
saw that very reason slopping cornflakes down his naked chest and swearing at
the sudden cold.
“I’m
sure your mother would have told you to be more careful, so I won’t even bother
reminding you…” Kazuya gave the boy a mischievous grin.
Jin
rolled his eyes and smiled, whilst wiping himself with a tissue. “I’m gonna
have a shower after this anyway, and steal some of your clothes. Mom would have
said I ought to wear a baby’s bib under my chin, by the way…” He chuckled, and
continued eating, watching the TV with little enthusiasm.
The
mention of her, even though he inadvertently brought up the topic, brought pain
along with it. Just like last night. But after a few hours of stewing on it, he
felt it was all alright. Even so, it sobered his mood, and he sank back down so
he was lying beneath the covers.
Jin
glanced at him as he put his bowl down on the bedside table. “Something wrong,
Otousan?”
Mildly
surprised, Kazuya glanced over at the boy, one brow perked. “No…why?”
He
shrugged. “I dunno, it just seemed like you were worried about something, or
something like that.”
Of
course he was, but he couldn’t share with Jin of all people; no, he would keep
it to himself. No one else needed to know. Besides, that was his way; keep all
his pain to himself so no one would know, think he was fine, and get on with
their lives, letting him get on with his. Until Jun came along… “No…what
makes you say that?” He forced a small smile.
“I
dunno. You just looked it. I get funny ideas about things sometimes.”
Kazuya
let the topic drop at that point. He yawned and kicked the covers off,
stretched, and stood up. The suitcase he brought back from his apartment was
open and lying, still packed, on the floor, ready to be rummaged through. From
it he pulled out a white singlet, a pair of khaki trousers (with ample legroom
and pockets, of course) and a hoodie with a zip on the front. He tossed them at
Jin, along with a pair of satin boxers, since that seemed to be what Jin liked
wearing. “You might need that…”
Jin
chuckled and caught the incoming clothes. Kazuya, in the meantime, dug around
to see if he could find anything for himself to wear that was slightly more
casual than usual. Ah yes; a black, tight singlet; dark blue jeans, of the
baggy variety; and another hooded jacket. Along with it, underwear of course, a
pair of grey socks, and sneakers, which he set aside for later. He grabbed a
toiletry bag and headed for the bathroom.
While
Kazuya was having a shower, Jin turned off the mute on the TV. After all, the
news was always worth listening to.
Apparently,
particularly today.
He’d
caught the tail end of news about the King of Iron Fist Tournament; apparently,
a re-match was being organised between all four involved in the semi-finals;
and Steve Fox had decided to drop out of the fight completely. The Mafia
organization had, after all, stopped hounding him after being caught by the
police; and he wanted to go back home. The one to go to the finals, the fight
before the battle with Heihachi, was Craig Marduk. The other two contestants
were obviously Kazuya, and Jin himself.
And
now, what was the point of continuing the battle? He knew he couldn’t beat the
old man, but Kazuya could. Originally, he wanted to destroy the entire Mishima line,
but with Kazuya now on his side, what was the point? He’d let his father
continue on through the tournament. Besides, he of all people deserved the
Zaibatsu. May no one get in his way, the boy thought to himself.
Ten
minutes of watching the news was interrupted when Kazuya stepped out of the
bathroom, fully dressed. He sat down on the bed and pulled on his shoes. Jin
couldn’t help but notice how much younger he looked when out of the formality
of a business suit. The two of them might as well have been twin brothers.
“Jin,
I have to tidy up a few things again today. You’ll be alright, right?”
Jin
shrugged. “Yeah, I’m going to try and find something to do. Namely organise
getting back into
Kazuya
perked a brow. “What about you?”
The
mahogany eyes cast themselves away. “My reasons for entering were purely
selfish. I don’t want to continue any further. Steve dropped out too, you and
Marduk are the only two contestants left.” He shrugged. “You deserve the
Zaibatsu more than anyone else anyway. And you’re the only one with a prayer of
beating Heihachi.”
The
older Mishima’s face was unreadable, until he smiled. “If you insist. Don’t
worry, I’ll probably need your help tidying up the Zaibatsu together…and I’ll
leave you a few scraps of Heihachi to beat around some after the tournament.”
As
he walked out the door, he smiled back at his son. “Thanks, Jin.”