Déjà Vu
Chapter 8: A Smoulder
***
As
per usual, Hanii found Kazuya in his favourite place; the roof garden. But
today, it was quite a bizarre occurrence; since it was only just the break of
dawn, on a Saturday. He was leaning over the bars of the outer wall, watching
over the city was it hummed and throbbed below with pre-rush-hour traffic.
Hands
in her pockets, she wandered up to the taller being, and placed a hand on his
shoulder. It was only after a prolonged silence, when she finally stepped up
beside him to look down at where he was staring, that he responded; his hand
rested on top of hers, squeezing gently. After a moment his dark eyes shifted
to meet hers…but he looked back down at the streets below shortly after. There
was no smile on his face, none of that happiness in his eyes she’d become so
accustomed to.
Automatically,
her hands wrapped around the much larger one he offered; she knew something was
wrong. The soft sigh that broke the silence confirmed it a minute or two later.
Again, she squeezed his hand.
“Kazuya-san…what’s
wrong?”
Funny…he
was accustomed to ‘Kazuya-chan’ by now. He ignored the sudden polite reference,
and merely replied. “Nothing.”
She
gave him a light shove. “I know you too well to believe that.”
Again,
there was a long silence. “I’ve just been thinking, is all.”
Hanii
curled her arms around his upper arm closest to her. Today, she could smell
cologne on him…obviously he’d become a little self-conscious about the fact
that he didn’t smell of nothing any longer. “Do you want to share?”
Why
would anyone care about his thoughts? Who wanted to know? Why should he tell
her what he was thinking? No one had really given a shit in the past, after
all. Then again, she was different – like Jun was. She was different from Jun
too – young and energetic, lacking seriousness unless it was required. Jun had
always been so serious, down to Earth, and desperate to get through to the good
in his soul. His poor, poor Jun. Hanii, on the other hand, seemed to want
nothing more than his friendship…friends share, right?
He
sighed softly, and kept his eyes locked on the pulsing, luminescing veins of
the city below. “There was an article in the newspaper a few weeks ago, when we
discovered what the nanites were doing in my body; the article was outlining a survey
conducted on Japanese prisons nation-wide. Apparently
She
had a bad feeling she knew where this was leading. He continued. “Turns out
it’s Heihachi Mishima – my father.” The word father escaped his lips like
venom, like vile acid…as if he was spitting it out like one might a foul taste.
“Ever since I saw his disgusting name on that page I haven’t been able to stop
thinking about that wretched old bastard.”
Hanii
knew Kazuya’s story well – not that he’d told her much, if anything at all, of
his painful past. He wasn’t one for sharing his personal life with anyone –
even his friends. No doubt, though he wasn’t showing it, the mere memory of his
father was hurting him inside.
“I
haven’t slept in days because of him.”
She
hugged his arm against her chest, and rested her cheek against the hard muscle.
“No wonder you’ve been so quiet the last few days you’ve actually come to the
lab…”
So
very true; he was becoming inefficient because of this distraction. It was time
to get it out of the way the only way he knew how; confrontation. This time, he
was older, wiser, more mature – he could settle this in a much more grown-up fashion.
Besides, he had an ace up his sleeve…merely being alive.
“Well,
I think it’s time I paid the old bag a visit…”
For
some reason, that sent chills up her spine. She could sense him reverting to
his old self, becoming the old, miserable, reclusive, antisocial Kazuya that
dwelled on his pain and rejected comfort. At the very thought, she held him
even tighter.
Raising
a brow, he glanced down at her. “I won’t be able to go anywhere if you are so
intent on squeezing my arm off…”
Despite
the dark mood hanging in the slowly brightening air, she chuckled. “Don’t
worry, I’m just…” She sighed. “I just don’t want to see you become what you
once were.”
He
extracted his arm and rested it over the other, leaning both over the top of
the outer wall. “What was I before?”
“I
don’t know.” She shrugged, and shifted her weight to the other foot. “Depressed
and lonely.”
After
another silent moment, she felt an arm gently loop around her waist, and draw
her close. Resting against his chest, she felt once again like she’d died and
gone to heaven. She heard and felt him sigh, then kiss the top of her head,
bringing up the other arm to hold her in a friendly hug. “Don’t worry about me,
Hanii. I just need to get this out of my mind or it’ll eat at me forever. I can’t
let him think that he’s finally defeated me…I can’t allow him to die happy. Not
after everything he’s done to me…”
She
knew somehow that this was one thing she could never change about him. He’d
been hurt too badly. She could learn from history; where Jun Kazama failed, she
would succeed. She knew human nature better than Jun after all; who knew nature
better than anything else. Kazuya was perfectly fine and all…until he was
confronted with his father in any way. She was quite happy to let him do whatever
he felt was necessary to save his sanity – besides, Heihachi was an asshole,
and deserved punishment in any way. Nodding in acknowledgement eventually, she
wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly. “Do what you must then;
just be careful.”
***
The long session of sitting in the lab trying to explain to Carter, yet not
explaining much at all, was the most difficult thing he’d done in a while;
though it was nothing compared to the task ahead of him.
Finally,
however, the old man relented, and agreed to let him do as he wished for the
day. “Have Takani help you with whatever you need, she’s not busy at the
moment…”
***
It wasn’t long before the lab was vacated for the three of them – Kazuya, Hanii
and Takani, an older, wider woman. Kazuya was amazed the corporation hadn’t
done anything to help her fit into at least an extra-large lab coat…but hey,
that was her business. At any rate, she was good at what she did, and for that,
he didn’t complain.
Since
he was going to appear as if he had never died at all, and hadn’t any
connections with the G-Corporation, they decided to dress him up to look
exactly the same as the day he died. They had kept the old facial layer he’d
woken up with in this godforsaken automaton body; and since it fitted the part
perfectly, they were preparing to temporarily replace what he was currently in
with the older visage.
He
sat on the table he was so used to being operated on, and with a yawn, rested
back on it, letting the two women get to work. With commands from a computer
connected to him, his body was paralysed; without movement to hinder their
efforts, they removed most of the panels of skin from his face (which always
joined and rejoined seamlessly, and would only be removed with special
equipment) and replaced them with the matching pieces of the older synthesised
skin. The procedure, though delicate and just a little time consuming, was
swiftly done, and Kazuya found himself able to move again within minutes.
As
he sat back up and hopped off the table, he ran his hands through his hair,
then over his face. He could tell it was slightly different…the flesh moved
differently beneath his fingers. There were indentations on his cheeks – scars
– and his hairline was set further back. Beneath the widow’s peak that now sat
strongly on his forehead, his brows were more heavy-set and slightly thinner.
Yes, he looked fifty-eight once again, rather than twenty-five. Depressing, yet
for the purpose ahead, effective.
After
thanking the both of them, he retreated to his room – which was now more of an
apartment. There was a bathroom connected, of course, but the room beside it,
originally another living space, had been converted into a small recreational
area of some sort; a television and a sofa resided there, along with what might
be roughly defined as a tiny kitchen. He wandered inside, and headed straight
for the wardrobe. Of course, he had to hide most of his body, since it was no
longer scarred and blemished. And of course, in his traditional style, he had
to dress up.
He
searched amongst the rack of shirts and trousers – mostly casual shirts,
t-shirts, jeans, and casual slacks…then he found what he was looking for; a
dark blue business shirt, with a matching deep violet tie. With it, a thick
dark purple jacket – with a white collar – and trousers in the same colour.
Pulling the clothes out of the wardrobe one by one, he tossed them on the bed
and began to drag his current clothing off.
Though
it was simply a matter of old habit, Kazuya decided to take a shower before
moving on. He stripped himself of the remaining clothing he was wearing, and
wandered into the bathroom. By now it was almost mid morning, and he hadn’t
showered beforehand – so there was a good enough excuse to do so.
He
noticed, as the harsh shower-jets pummelled his muscular body with water, that
Hanii’s prediction had been right – the nanites were working on the nerves in
his ear, and were spreading the effect; he could feel the streams of water
against the top of his ear now, not just the lobe. It was almost enough to make
him smile – almost.
Five
minutes later, he hopped out and dried himself off with the large but scratchy
white towel hanging beside the shower. Typical G-Corporation spared no funds on
luxury; not that he objected. It was comforting to know that there were others
with his mind-frame; business before leisure.
In
passing, he glanced at the mirror; and regretted it. He shuddered…damn, he was
so ugly. He was unable to look back at the mirror for the time being, and
concentrated on getting ready for his second expedition outside of
G-Corporation walls. Slipping back into the room momentarily, he grabbed his
business suit and began to get dressed. Leaving the tie and pants aside for the
moment, he went back into the bathroom to continue getting ready; for the first
time in a while, he gelled his hair back into that trademark spike. After a few
other small details, he drifted back out into the room, killing the light for
the bathroom, and buttoning up the shirt.
Soon
enough he was completely ready, down to the shoes and coat, which he had
already buttoned up. For the time being, he even donned a pair of dark,
reflective shades…all the better to go unrecognised with.
Outside,
he managed to find the car Hanii had given him keys for. Nothing fancy…just an
unlabelled G-Corporation hatchback. It would get him to the prison. There was
no hesitation involved as he got into the car, and headed out into the outside
world. Thank god he knew
Fighting
the traffic was something he was used to, and it never ruffled his feathers.
After all, why get pissed off at people who are trying to do just as you are –
get somewhere – and waste valuable energy and time in your frustration? He was
a patient man. It was that patience that would serve him well, he realised, as
he finally reached
He
parked the car and headed inside – cheeky bastards made a roaring trade with
parking prices – to check in at the main entrance. He put in a request to
‘visit’ Heihachi Mishima, one of the notorious inmates, and security personnel
were assigned to escort him after a few moments of messing about with the
request. Following the armed and uniformed policemen, he headed in the
direction of his father.
***
Over the last year and a half, he’d been completely ignored in this godforsaken
place, so why this request all of a sudden for his presence? It was a
humiliating enough end for a great man such as he, but ultimately...he ended
the wretched life that was Kazuya Mishima.
No
matter. When security guards released him from the cell to take him to the
meeting room, he complied...he was curious to see who it was that had called
in. It can’t have been Kazama; that boy wanted nothing to do with him since he
took over the Zaibatsu. The stupid boy probably thought it would be against his
parent’s wishes to take action for his obnoxious father’s demise.
On
the way, the eighty-six-year-old noticed his back aching slightly from sitting
too long. Finally, his life of action and physical expenditure was catching up with
him. His arms and legs were often stiff in the mornings, and his back argued
heatedly with him for forcing himself out of bed in the cold to proceed to
breakfast. With his deteriorating physical condition came deteriorating vision
and hearing...which were becoming a nuisance. Still, he was feared amongst
other inmates for his reputation alone...that, and he still had his muscle
tone, even if the skin over the top had lost elasticity and sagged over the
years.
The
room he was led into was reasonably unpopulated – there was a two-to-one ratio
of criminals in orange overalls to blue-uniformed policemen...all armed with
batons or similar short-range weapons. Along one wall of the long, thin room
was a row of seats at desks. Each desk had a window facing out of the room, and
a telephone unit hooked to the wall. Outside, there were obviously rows of
chairs. Heihachi squinted; no one of interest was standing out there, and only
the chairs occupied had the window shutters drawn up. The others were all
covered from the outside.
He
was ushered into one of the seats, and the two security guards with him stood
back, out of earshot, against the back wall behind him. After a moment of
thought, the aging man picked up the receiver of the archaic-looking phone, and
pressed it to his ear. There was no one there.
After
a moment or so, he heard the phone pick up on the other end. The shutter of the
window, however, didn’t open.
“Who
is this?” He growled low, quietly, not sure what to expect.
There
was no reply for quite some time. Then, “Are you sure you want to know that?”
That deep, strong voice...so disgustingly familiar. The sarcasm in the man’s
tone was repulsively familiar too...but could it be? He snarled.
“Open
the window, bakayarou...”
There
was a soft snicker from the other end. “My my, you have gotten grumpy and
cranky in your old age...”
Heihachi’s
heart fluttered painfully in his chest, and the colour began to drain from his
extremities. It couldn’t possibly be that wretched man...he’d ensured he’d been
killed, never to return. There was no way a body as mutilated as his could
return from the grave!
Then
again, that’s what he had thought last time – with the volcano incident.
“Baka...who
are you?”
A
click, and the shutter began to move. After a second of fiddling, the entire
shutter flew upward, revealing the man on the other end of the phone line.
Heihachi’s heart might as well have stopped in his chest right there and then!
Sitting
on the other side of the window, only a matter of a metre or so away, was the
man he thought he’d destroyed once and for all. There he was, looking as if all
that energy had been wasted on nothing – he looked the same as he did before
Heihachi had committed the crime that had him sent here! And to add salt to the
stinging wound...he was smirking as if he deserved praise for somehow rising
from his own ashes!
“I
think you know who I am...”
Thank
god there was a thick pane of glass between them...because if not for that, Heihachi
would have a lot more difficulty resisting wrapping his hands around Kazuya’s
neck. His hand on the receiver almost crushed the old device into useless
ruins.
He
did, fortunately, regain his control. He hissed angrily as he spoke again, the
words being spat out like venom. “How are you still here, brute...”
Kazuya
sat back in his seat, still holding the receiver against his right ear. “Let’s
just say that while your efforts to get rid of me were admirable in effort,
they were insufficient in effectiveness...”
Typical
Kazuya. He always had to get the last word in, didn’t he? Heihachi snarled.
“There is no way in Hell’s name you could have survived what I did to you!”
The
younger man’s eyebrows rose substantially on his forehead. “Oh, you want to
confess it to the world now, do you?” Smirking at the vile look he received for
that, he continued. “Of course, we should get back to business. I didn’t just
come here to announce my presence, you know...”
Business,
with this abomination? Great, what did he want this time? “And what business
would I have with you?”
Honestly,
Kazuya couldn’t see why he’d bothered now that he was here. It was a waste of
his time...this would get nowhere. Then again, this may be the last time he’d
ever get to try and figure things out with the old bastard...after all, there
weren’t too many years left on the old timer’s clock.
“Not
a lot actually.” He sat forward again slightly, pulling the chair closer to the
table. “For once I can see beyond my own blind hatred, and I’ve realised that I
have no need to further punish you...the nation’s law system is doing it for
me. After all, I’m here – denying all the efforts you made to eliminate me.”
The look on the old man’s face was beautiful...so full of rage he could
explode, but unable to release it. “And I’ve been thinking about
our...interesting relationship...over this last month or so.”
He
should have suspected this would end up talking about how he ‘wronged his son’
so many years ago. He felt so revolted, that the temptation to simply get up
and walk away was almost too much. “Let me guess, you want to think of petty
revenge in some other way, ne?”
Somehow,
Kazuya managed to maintain control over his face...it didn’t display the anger
he felt. “No, actually, so far I’ve left that up to you.” He didn’t elaborate
further, since he knew exactly what aggravated his father – and that’d not what
he was here to do. “You know...after all these years...we don’t even know each
other. All we’ve ever done is condemn each other and try to kill each other.”
For
a moment, Heihachi considered his words...but, purely on the basis of who they
came from, he laughed them off. “And what’s so outstanding about that? What’s
your point?”
Surely
it was obvious. But no, it seemed he would have to elaborate for the old man.
“Isn’t there supposed to be more to it than that?”
The
older man sighed, and leaned back in the rather uncomfortable chair. “I don’t
know, is there?” What more was there to say to that horrible creature? That tarnish
in his perfect bloodline...he should have stayed down the bottom of that cliff
when he was five.
The
insolence and lack of cooperation was beginning to gnaw on Kazuya’s
nerves...but he, once again, tolerated it. After all, there was another reason
for the irrational behaviour now – Heihachi was getting old, senility may have
kicked in by now. “We’re meant to be father and son. There’s meant to be a hell
of a lot more, and you know it!”
The
terse tone in Kazuya’s voice, for once, made Heihachi feel just a little
inadequate. He was being scolded by a younger, lesser being...and that pathetic
life-form was right. There was supposed to be more.
“I
never understood why you condemned me for merely breathing the same air as you.
Shall I continue wondering for the rest of my life, or are you willing to put
the old demons to rest?”
What
sort of a decision was that? There was nothing left for him now. He’d thought,
when he was younger, that he would die in happiness – no Kazuya to get in his
way, an heir for his fortune waiting silently for the Zaibatsu, and the
Zaibatsu, his Zaibatsu, being the largest, most powerful in the world. He had
hoped he would die in glory. But no, now there was his son, still alive, and
standing on the wrong side of the bars – it was the little bastard’s fault he
was in here in the first place!
“I
owe you nothing.”
Kazuya
was beginning to lose his patience...he shouldn’t have bothered coming here. It
was so pointless. “You know you owe me an explanation, if nothing else.”
“An
explanation of what?”
For
a moment, Kazuya was lost for words. He was so close to ending this beating
around the bush it wasn’t funny. “An explanation of why you hate me so much!
I’m your son, damnit, I’m not supposed to be hated and condemned for crimes I
didn’t commit...by my own father! How about an explanation for why you threw me
off that cliff, huh? That would work well too...you at least owe me that!”
That
word...that word...father...he never thought it would be that which would make
him see the light. He’d tried to make sure he never saw the light. But here he
was, finally realising...he was a father. A father. He was a father, and a
terrible one at that. He was the abomination – one that ends its own
immortality through the murder of its offspring. He was unnatural.
And
to make matters worse, he had no answer. Those were the most difficult
questions he’d ever been asked – why does he hate his son? He didn’t know. He’d
long forgotten the reason, only held the grudge way past its expiry date and
let it grow, manifest, and take over. He no longer knew why he hated Kazuya. He
couldn’t figure it out, he didn’t know...and now, he didn’t want to know. He
just wanted his miserable life to end. It had been too long; he didn’t want to
die of old age. It was a shameful, glory-less way of passing into the unknown.
It
was staring into those dreadful dark eyes that snapped him back into reality.
It was those eyes that fuelled that hatred he held so strongly over the years.
Kazuya’s eyes had always been so dark, so cold, so emotionless. They’d always
seemed to represent truth, and to make it worse, they were his mother’s
eyes...without the love, without the emotion, the passion. Now, staring into
the grown and aging man’s eyes once more, he began to realise what the true
extent of his hatred had been driven by – Kazuya was everything he wanted, yet
at the same time, the antithesis of everything he wanted.
The
silence hung between the two for what seemed like forever. The younger of the
two Mishimas simply waited patiently for a response, while Heihachi sought
after one. None wanted to come...there was this horrible feeling in the pit of
his stomach; a feeling he had always resented, and had always pushed to the
back of his consciousness. He knew it was guilt.
“I
don’t know how to explain it.” The look of anger and condemnation in his son’s
eyes made the anger burn again, and the bile rise in his throat. “Damnit,
Kazuya...” The younger man pushed the seat back and leaned into it, still frowning,
awaiting an explanation.
“I’m
not leaving until you at least tell me why.”
That
cool, that calm...in so many ways, he saw his own image staring at him through
that window. What made it so much more painful was that if he looked hard
enough, he could see his long-passed wife in the younger man’s eyes. He looked
so much like her...he only inherited his eyebrows from Heihachi’s side of the
family. The rest of him was the spitting image of his mother. For that, he
hated him even more...a constant reminder. A constant reminder that, though the
child’s birth had made the poor woman terribly ill, it was ultimately
Heihachi’s fault that she fell pregnant. It was not Kazuya’s fault, it was his
own. The mistaken blame, then the realisation of the truth...it had fuelled the
hatred more than ever since it had happened.
“I
don’t know exactly why...I don’t know where to start.” Something inside him
somehow finally awoke, and had begun forcing him to try and resolve matters
with the last remaining embers of his own self. He sat forward, pushing the
chair back, and rested his elbows on the table in front of him. He knew he’d
regret it soon; his back wouldn’t want to straighten again soon enough.
Wretched old age. “There are so many reasons. I’ve forgotten most of them...all
I remember is that I hated you, I still do, and I always will...”
At
first one would think this was going nowhere once again, but Kazuya knew
better; the old man would go to great lengths to insult him – he always did –
but he was finally on to something. Kazuya simply sat back and listened
patiently...even if it was like getting blood out of a stone.
“Your
birth made your mother incredibly sick...you remember how she was bed-ridden
for much of the time during your youth.”
“What
youth I actually had...” Kazuya interrupted. He did, however, fall silent
immediately after, letting the elder continue.
Heihachi
ignored him. It was about time he got this out into the open. “I resented you
because you were the cause of her ailment. The hatred never faded...I was too
willing for it to manifest within me.” By now, the old man’s voice had lowered,
and he found he could no longer look into the younger man’s eyes. Instead, he
stared at the chipped wooden table below his elbows. “As you grew, I expected a
lot of you...I wanted you to be perfect, but at the same time, I wanted you to
be a failure...so I could feel satisfaction in you being a waste of my time.
But it turned out you wanted perfection...I tried to beat it out of you, to make
you lose hope, but you always fought back, you always survived. The more you
defied failure, the more my hatred grew for you...”
Kazuya
didn’t know how to take this particular information. It was an even deeper,
more sickening, darker reason for the resentment than he’d ever anticipated. It
was so deeply rooted in the old man, and in himself too, that he saw now that
it would never be resolved. It could never be resolved.
“I
adopted Lee to try and make a fresh start...but how stupid I was. I thought it
would work...I didn’t realise that I couldn’t simply dispose of one son and
take on another...I should have learned that from earlier experience.” He
laughed darkly at his own words, shaking his old, balding head. “So there you
go. From there, you know the story of how it escalated...I’ll admit you’ve
received the slightly more painful end of our little feud...”
For
moments afterward, there was nothing but silence, as the both of them thought
about what had happened. Kazuya shifted uncomfortably. “...Amazing. And I
thought there was a simple reason behind it all.” Another long pause ensued.
“Funny how I actually wanted you to be proud of me before you threw me down
that godforsaken cliff...”
Heihachi
switched the receiver to the other side of his head. “Fate has a strange way of
making people’s lives Hell.”
Kazuya
gave a soft snort of laughter. “I’d say you learned from Fate.”
If
it weren’t for the glass, Kazuya knew he’d get a hefty slap across the face for
that. Sure enough, Heihachi was bursting at the seams to do just that on the
other side of the barrier.
He
quickly changed the subject, however. He still had the will to preserve what
little was left of his once regal dignity. “So, Kazuya...now it’s my turn to
ask questions.”
The
younger of the two arched a brow, and sat back, waiting for what would be
asked.
“You
never did give me a straight answer as to why you are alive...”
He
sighed somewhat, and thought about actually answering that. He still didn’t
want to give the old bastard the pleasure of knowing he truly was killed. Thus,
he decided to bend the truth. “Luck has always been on my side. Remember last
time you tried and killed me? Let’s just say that lightning can strike in the
same place twice. There’s nothing stopping it from doing so.”
Before
he could respond, he felt a hand grab his shoulder just a little too roughly
for comfort. Damned old age. “Time’s up, Mishima. Back to the cell with you.”
The
old man offered no resistance; that is, after giving his only son a long, hard
stare – that was, after all, the most effective method of communication between
the two. His glare was returned with equal passion – or lack thereof.
***
It was now nearing sundown. He’d been standing on the edge of the cliff since
after midday, after he left the prison. He could’ve sworn he’d seen his father
standing off in the distance, his hair still black and standing in two tall
peaks above his balding head...but, of course, it was a figment of his
overactive imagination.
The
memories of his own screams echoed in his ears, as he watched himself fall down
the rock face over and over again...reliving the pain, the torment, the
rejection. Reminding himself of the very moment he was forsaken by his very own
father...it seemed like it was about to happen, it was so fresh on his
mind...it hadn’t even happened yet, and he was predicting it in every grisly
detail.
He
stared down between his knees...since he was sitting with his legs hanging over
the edge of the cliff, he could see all the way down to the bottom; it was a
ridiculously long drop. How a child could have survived that, he didn’t know.
No, yes he did...with great pain; more physical pain that anyone should be able
to endure – and with the aid of a spirit, an apparition with seemingly no
purpose and hidden agenda. He could remember that fall...so well, that merely
looking down the rock face made his head spin...he could see it rushing up
toward him at lightning speed. He could feel himself hitting the rocks on the
way down, feel them tearing his flesh from his body, hearing the sickening
ripping sounds of flesh and fabric alike being left behind.
Before
he let himself remember the impact itself, he pushed it from his mind. He felt
thoroughly nauseous. Feeling the vertigo from looking down so far finally, he
moved back from the cliff-side, and stood up. He’d been sitting there most of
the day...it was time to go home.
***
When he finally reached the G-Corporation, it was dark. He made his way inside,
feeling somewhat better after fighting the rush hour traffic. It made him feel
human again, after all – traffic was always a beautiful reality check.
He
didn’t find Hanii in the lab, which mildly surprised him. Takani was there
though, and he had her put him back to the way he was supposed to be again. In
no time, she had removed the older-looking synthetic flesh, and replaced it
with the youthful face everyone had grown to recognise around the building.
Quickly
thanking her (and agreeing to give her a hug...the payment she demanded
light-heartedly), he went in search of Hanii. Apparently, she’d been cooped up
in the computer lab on level 65 for the last few hours...strange. A few others
on his way confirmed it...the last anyone saw of her, she was there.
And
indeed she was when he finally found her. Staring at a computer screen, no
less.
He
sat down on the free chair next to her, noting at the same time that there was
no one else in the room. After looking at her for a moment, he realised she was
staring down, unblinkingly at her hands. She also had a slightly red
complexion, which was out of the ordinary.
He
placed a hand on her upper arm...as soon as he did, she exploded with
uncontrollable tears, her forehead sinking down onto the keyboard. Of course,
Kazuya had no idea how to react to this at all. He decided eventually, after a
moment’s startled pause, that it would most undoubtedly be best to comfort his
distraught friend. Pulling the chair close, he wrapped one arm around her back,
the other grasped one of her hands...her grip tightened around his fingers
considerably.
For
a minute or so, she just cried. She did finally turn and lean her forehead
against his shoulder. As she did, he held her appropriately; a hand on the back
of her neck, the other around her waist. He simply waited for her to calm down
before he spoke...it was best to let her calm herself down than force her,
after all.
She
did finally regain her composure, which is when Kazuya asked her;
“Hanii...what’s the matter?”
A
soft sob escaped her throat, and she drew him closer, wiping her eyes on his
dark shirt. “My...my uncle...”
He
could guess what that meant. He glanced at the computer screen, quickly reading
what it had to say...it turned out it was an email from her father – saying
that his brother had passed away in a tragic car accident. It seemed, from the
tone of the message, that it might have been one of Hanii’s favourite relatives
that had died.
With
a soft sigh, he pulled her onto his lap, hugging her against his solid chest,
letting her cry as she wished. He didn’t believe in hushing someone when they
needed to release their anguish. “I’m so sorry, Hanii...” What else could he
say?
It
was a while before she finally came to grips with herself, but when she did,
she smiled at him, wiping her reddened eyes on the back of her hand. “You’re
the best friend I’ve ever had, you know...” Sniffling, she rested her other
hand on his cheek. “I’ll be alright. He was ill anyway...I doubt he would have
lasted too much longer. He had cancer.”
Kazuya
didn’t know what to say...what do you say? Thankfully, she spared him the pain
and hugged him again. “I’m so glad I have you Kazuya. You’re like a big brother
sometimes, as well as a friend...”
He
smiled softly, and held her again. “If there’s anything I can do to help you,
just tell me, alright? You’ve done so much for me; the least I can do is
anything you ask of me.”
She
sniffled, then hugged him around the neck. “Just be there for me, okay? That’s
all I want...a friend.”