Fight or Flight * The Indignation of Capture
Kazuya Mishima slowly regained consciousness, his hand pressing against his throbbing temples beneath a mass of thick obsidian hair. His eyes harshly readjusted to the brilliance of the room, an uncomfortably warm, stale aire circulated around him.
“It’s about time you woke up.” The irritated voice of the silver devil, Lee Chaolan hissed as he exhaled smoke from between his lips.
“Where are we...what happened?” The young Mishima’s thoughts were a blur of snapshot like images. He recalled leaving the pool hall and little more then reaching a hand to Chaolan as red and blue lights flashed all around them, afterward. What in the name of hell had happened?
“You have to be kidding me right? You have no idea what went down in the alley? Where we are right now?”
Kazuya sat up, his elbows bracing against his thighs, allowing his fingertips to drip down between his legs as he tried to gather his senses. He could see dingy gray walls...an exposed bathroom...
“We are in the police lock up. They came and hauled us off after...after your other half made a guest appearance. The Cops said they were called on a ‘disturbing the peace’ violation and came up on us after our little scuffle. You really don’t remember?” Lee tilted his head down, giving him perfect view of the young Mishima, his own eyes shrouded by a wave of his silver mane.
“Devil?” A sudden look of terror came over Kazuyas’ eyes. The being had managed to manifest itself...disregarding the young Mishimas sense of total control. Total control....until now.
Kazuya jumped up instantly as if everything Chaolan said just took on a sense of intense, diabolical gravity. Grasping his hands around the iron bars of the cell, Kazuya began pulling at them mercilessly, as if expecting they should give beneath his strength.
At that moment, a familiar face peered around the corner, coming eye to eye with the young Mishima. With a hideous smile, Heihachi clasped his hands against the bars, between Kazuyas.
“There is no need to tug on the bars, my son. I am here to free you. Both of you.” Heihachi grinned maniacally, looking over Kazuya...to the low hung head of Lee Chaolan. With a wink of his eye, the elder Mishima lowered his voice, using an almost sing song tone. “Bars do not a prison make, my sons. Your gilded cages await you in more...familiar settings.”
Turning to speak with the police station official, Heihachi Mishima was nearly gleeful. His insolent boys were back in his grasp, at last.
Kazuya spun on his heel, pressing his back to the bars he had so hopefully pulled upon just a moment before. Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, the young Mishima drew in a prolonged breath, turning his gaze to the somber visage of the silver devil and the even more sullen spirit known as fate.
“We’re fucked now.” Lee hissed, flicking the burnt down cigarette against the opposite wall.
Freedom....was too blissful a concept to last forever.
“Nothing to say, no stories to tell after nearly a week of running like savages through the streets of downtown Tokyo? A pity your fun came to such an abrupt end by the Police. Though I suppose it was destined to happen. I did have them put out an APB. However, I believe it was the Commissioner who made it such a priority. I recall him saying ‘How urgent it was to return the missing children of such a well respected, prominent Family.’” Heihachi feigned a sigh, his feverish eyes devouring each of his sons...whole. “Imagine my utter relief and complete disdain once I received the phone call that my sons were safe in a downtown Tokyo Police precinct. Why were they picked up by the police, I asked the officer. His response was for disturbing the peace. Now, imagine my surprise to hear both my sons, intensely skilled in their own respective martial arts were caught...fighting on the streets.” The elder Mishima folded his arms as he arched a brow to both Lee and Kazuya. “At least you won.”
Kazuya looked to the window as the Limousine came to a stop before the Compound. In the reflection from the headlights, the young Mishima could see something on the facade of the Mansion had changed. Bars on the windows. Heihachi had put bars...on every window...save those on the West Wing. His wing.
“You have noticed the decorations I have had installed for both of your safety, in your absence, have you not, Kazuya?” Heihachi pursed his lips as an insanely angry smile fell over his lips. “What you don’t see is the alarm system I had installed, to which only myself and the staff know the code. And should either of you find a way to rip the digits from any one of them...I will of course, be forced to ‘do away with’ the entire staff. I will be more apt to sleep at night, knowing that if a bar along any window should so much as be bent...the sweet sound of sirens will alert me to whatever course of action is necessary....” Both Lee and Kazuya caught the drift of Heihachi’s not too subtle innuendo. Would he really go to the lengths his threats dictated?
“Come now boys, are you not happy to be home again?” The elder Mishima laughed as he stepped out of the limousine. Heihachi waited till both Kazuya and Lee stepped out to brace an arm around each of them...his fingers tightening along the back of their necks.
“Home is not just a place to hang your hat, it is also a place to hang yourself.” Chaolan tried to shrug the hand from it’s grip, forcing Heihachi to access the pressure point on the bend of the shoulder. The silver haired youth cried out in pain. As Heihachi led them both down the familiar path to the dojo.
“There are no bars strong enough to keep me your prisoner any longer, old man.” Kazuya hissed, walking with his back held rigidly as not to appear to be effected by the controlling grasp of his fathers hand.
“Is that so, you ungrateful bastard.” Heihachi pushed Kazuya into the dojo, the door held open by the ever loyal Baiko. “We will just see if your ideals change by morning.”
Kazuya quickly regained his balance, whirling around to face the elder Mishima.
“I trust in this past several days you boys have gotten rather...close. I am sorry to deprive you of Chaolans company this night. Try not to miss him too much, Kazuya.” Heihachi laughed, tugging Lee by the back of the neck as he turned to walk away, feeling Kazuya’s eyes hatefully burn into him. “Oh and by the way, my son...” The elder Mishima continued as he strode up the path with a vainly struggling Lee in his grip. “...the dojo has been fitted with state of the art equipment to record your every move. Should even one surveillance camera magically go down, I will just have to come down here and seek the cause, now won’t I? With that, I bid you pleasant dreams....”
Baiko slammed the door shut, coming a scant inch from the young Mishima’s face. He could hear the mechanical mechanism locking as the footfalls of the servant walked up the path to the compound.
With a growl, Kazuya turned to light the ancient torches that lined the dojo walls.
Captured.
Like an animal, the young Mishima paced along the confines of the expansive dojo, feeling the heat from the torches biting off the chill in the aire. His eyes shifted from one camera to the next, blatantly placed within each corner. Heihachi was taking no chances. The old man had been given nearly a week to prepare for their return, he had used that time wisely.
If you would not have fought with me for control of this body, I would have been able to send us in flight from the scene. I might even have brought that little silver shit you call brother. Might have. But instead you simply had to overtake me. And look where your persistence has gotten you, Kazuya. Right back where you started from.
“I really don’t need this shit right now...” Kazuya hissed aloud, folding his arms before his chest.
Really now? Well how about some of this shit. Devil laughed darkly, forcing a sudden current of pain to writhe along the young Mishimas’ flesh. Sparks of blue tinted lightning coursed against Kazuyas arms...scorching his flesh as the young Mishima fell to his knee.
“This...lightning is my..heritage. It did not..come from you..” Kazuya growled drawing himself to a stand, his arms falling outward as he forced his electrically charged Ki to simmer back into his soul.
Mark you this, little Mishima. I am the last being you wish to disregard with your insolence. Should I take my leave of you, you will be reduced to nothing more than the corpse you should have been when I came to you, years ago.
Kazuya slammed his fists against the dojo wall in sheer frustration...complete anger. No matter where he went, what he did...he would always be the puppet of some higher force...forever seeing life passing him by behind a brilliant glass he could not break.
Heihachi leaned closer to the display monitor, transmitting from the cameras within the dojo, wiping his hands free of Lee Chaolans blood. The silver haired youth proved to be less of a challenge than the elder Mishima had anticipated...though the pain the insolent child received was merely the beginning step to a more appropriate penance. Chaolan seemed less concerned with his own welfare than that of his adopted brother. How touching. What a pleasure it will be to destroy such a newly forged bond between two former rivals. Heihachi smiled, returning his attention to the display from within the dojo.
A flash of Kazuya’s fatal lightning caused static to flicker through the sensitive electrical components within the mounted surveillance cameras, damaging the integrity of the picture the elder Mishima could view. As the picture came back into focus, Heihachi narrowed his eyes. Who was Kazuya talking to?
Arching a brow, the elder Mishima gently rubbed the line of his jaw, tingling from the receiving end of Chaolans only connected attack. Who or whatever Kazuya had been speaking to, it appeared as though the answer he sought only frustrated him further. A far away look came over the young Mishima’s eyes as he sank down along the wall till he was seated on the floor. Dangling his arms over the bend of his knees, Kazuya pressed his head into his forearms.
Laughing maniacally, Heihachi Mishima watched the form of his filthy, disheveled son. The coming morning would carry the promise of the most beautiful machinations the elder Mishima could have ever planned. With the rise of dawn an alliance would be broken...and Kazuya would once more be forced into the isolation of utter loneliness. Only by punishing the young Kazuya to exceptional mental, emotional and physical degrees....would the son of Heihachi Mishima be prepared to take his proper place in the world...following the destiny cut through the stone which had been planned for him many years ago.
Fate is an ideal for the weak. Men of the Mishima line make their own fate...and the path is now prepared for my first born. Heihachi mused, rising from the display. He will grasp his Tekken by the throat, or die in the attempt to forsake destiny. Either way, the culmination is coming. My Path of Righteousness waits for no one, not even Kazuya Mishima.
The door to the dojo opened, spilling dawns’ first rays of brilliant light into the confines of the stale, lifeless walls. Kazuya rolled his head upright from the cushion of his forearms, his sleep weary eyes squinting from the intrusive beacon of early mornings’ vengeance. Cracking his neck as he rose, Kazuya locked his gaze ahead of him.
Enshrouded by the radiance of natures white light, the silhouette of Lee Chaolan entered amidst the ribbons of natures luminescence. Turning his head toward Kazuya, the silver haired youth entered the sacred space, his shoulders slumped in agony and exhaustion.
“Father is coming...” Lees voice was nearly whispered, drenched in a foreboding tone, limping into the line of the young Mishimas sight.
Kazuya pressed back a breath as his eyes widened with the first vision of Chaolan. One of Lees eyes was discolored a sickening shade of purple, swollen shut. His cheek was bruised, his lip slit and his nose...broken. Stained blood lined the silver haired youths beautiful features. He looked like a broken angel.
Kazuya stepped forward, reaching a hand toward the silver devils abused face. The young Mishima knew the pain of Heihachi’s vengeful fists all too well and for a moment he felt a tenderness, a true connection...a kinship toward the walking tapestry of agony formerly known as Lee Chaolan.
Before Kazuya’s fingertips could connect to Chaolans battered face, Lee reached his hand out, intercepting the touch as he took hold of the young Mishima’s wrist.
“No...” Lee mumbled, his eyes alight with a paranoid sense of fear. “If he walks in here and sees your sympathy, he will beat us both twice as hard. Father told me this punishment is all your fault...I disagreed...fearful for your safety. He hit me until he was sure I believed him.” Lee sniffed a still fresh droplet of blood as it ran from his shattered nose. “This week we had, just you and me against the world, was the most fun I have had in my life. Thank you Kazuya....” The silver devils words were like a bittersweet farewell as he leaned down, placing a quivering kiss on the young Mishimas open palm, staining it with blood. His kiss was a goodbye...a symbol of acceptance for the road ahead. Meeting Kazuya’s eyes once more, Lee released his hand.
“From this moment on, we are not brothers, we are not friends. We are as we have always been....as you have always wanted us to be. Enemies.” Chaolan turned away, fighting back the sting of tears in his swollen, discolored eyes.
Kazuya felt a sharp pain render through his soul. For a week he had come to accept Chaolans companionship and unfaltering loyalty. He actually started to like having the silver haired youth around, regardless of Lees momentary lapses in the areas of conscience and tact. Kazuya almost believed Lee Chaolan...he almost believed in the spirit and naive innocence of youth. Almost.
Exhaling solemnly, Kazuya nodded his head, listening to Heihachi’s footfalls coming down the well worn path to the dojo. The young Mishima was alone once more, the connections he had fostered, broken before his eyes. The old man had won the battle but not the war.
Chaolan backed away from the entrance of the dojo as the elder Mishima entered the sacred space. “Good morning boys. I have had a great deal of time to consider your punishment for disobeying my rules and running away like savages in the night.” Heihachi closed the dojo door, crossing his arms before his massive chest. “You will spar against one another and the loser will face me. You can see by Chaolans face some of my handiwork. I desperately wanted to continue his redemption beneath my fists....though I had to leave a little something for Kazuya to dismantle. Take your stances.”
Chaolans broken face met with Kazuya’s eyes...a moment of uncertainty flashing before the young Mishima. How could he further decimate the body of the silver haired youth he had come to befriend on the week of freedom they shared? Flashing a quick glance toward Heihachi, Kazuya fell into his stance...the realization washing over him. He is waiting for me to falter...to show mercy. If I do not send Chaolan down, he will beat him twice as hard. If I do defeat him...Father will come after me regardless of his decree.
The voice of the devil suddenly interjected, filling the young Mishima’s eyes with glowing red orbs.... You know what you must do, Kazuya.
Lee Chaolan watched as a crimson haze filmed over the young Mishima’s eyes...knowing the entity within was making itself known to Kazuya. Devil had something to say. Chaolan could only wonder what it was.
Heihachi’s eyes widened in disbelief as the eyes of his son became twin beacons of blood. The light fading in a split second was replaced by the forking currents of lightning shifting from Iris to Pupil in a vulgar display of Kazuya’s fatal birthright.
“Your weakness is in assuming I will follow your orders, old man.” Kazuya growled, lunging with a sudden burst of rage into Heihachi, blaring into the elder Mishima with the twin force of his fists. The first punch hit cleanly into the soft flesh of Heihachi’s face...the second, coming at him like a whirlwind of anger...deflected, nearly throwing Kazuya off his precarious, angry balance. Heihachi Geta stomped his leg into the dojo floor, charging a current of golden lightning through his rippling, electric Ki. Thrusting his hands outward, his wrists meeting together in a sudden vulgar motion, Heihachi let the blast of his soul thrust writhe through the body of the Young Mishima as he came in for the Ultimate Tackle maneuver.
Kazuya fell to the ground as the gold lightning shivered up his form, momentarily immobilizing him as the blackened char marks appeared over his flesh. Heihachi took full advantage of the moment, flipping himself into the Demon Scissors, his massive muscular form colliding with the prone, prostrate young Mishima. Kazuya winced in pain, his back arching in response to the collision. The young Mishima grit his teeth, rolling himself up from the floor as Heihachi grasped him, mid motion....for the jumping power bomb.
Smacking hard onto the dojo floor, Kazuya growled in immense pain. His body weakened from exhaustion, his resolve was none the less intent on revenge. Heihachi rose to full height over the young Mishima, crossing his arms before his massive chest. “Get up, boy.”
Kazuya rolled up onto his haunches, his face contorted in pain. Chaolan, having seen enough, ran at Heihachi from behind, preparing for the impact of the shoulder block to knock the Elder Mishima from his feet.
With a blur of motion caught from the corner of Heihachi’s eye, the elder Mishima whirled around, grasping hold of the charging Silver Devil...using his momentum against him....throwing him headlong into the dojo wall. Lee collapsed in a heap, barely conscious as he laid limply on his side...his back braced along the wall.
“Foolish move, boy.” Heihachi laughed maniacally. “Now you will have the pleasure of watching as I shatter the rebellious spirit you have injected into my blood son, beneath the force of my fists.”
Kazuya sprung from his haunches in an almost cat like motion, falling into a leaping sidekick. Heihachi buckled forward as the strength and accuracy of Kazuya’s movement impacted, a pained grimace falling over his features as his hands clutched along his spine. Whirling around to face a heaving Kazuya, Heihachi hissed. “That is the last time you disrespect me, boy.”
Lee Chaolans eyes widened in horror as he laid limply on the dojo floor. The elder Mishima, enraged past all sanity by the indignance and disrespect inflicted upon him during the week long escapade; unloaded combination after painful combination into the exhausted body of Kazuya Mishima.
Valiantly, Kazuya fought against and deflected Heihachi’s gruesome attacks only to fall by the approach of the first hour beneath the iron fist of the Elder Mishima. Screaming out in protest as merciless fists beat into Kazuya’s flesh, Lee’s cries of horror came...because he knew Kazuya’s screams would not.
Silence...Anguish...The young Mishima soundlessly hit the floor of the dojo, blood leaking from his mouth, his eyes sightlessly cast open in a blackened state of unconsciousness...as Lee Chaolan reached his fingers toward him.
Heihachi rose, wiping blood from his mouth and nose across his sweating forearm as his narrowed, cruel eyes bore down on his fallen son. With a hideous smile, Heihachi lifted one Geta leg, ruthlessly kicking at the unmoving body until he was sufficiently amused.
Leaning down over his son, the elder Mishima lifted Kazuya’s head by his thick, obsidian mane of slicked back hair. “I warned you, boy.”
Dropping Kazuya’s head to the floor once more, Heihachi rose, his balled up fists pressed against his hips as his cold eyes glared down into the pained visage of the silver haired youth. “Get up and call the ambulance boy. It seems your brother has had a horrible accident.”
Preparation
The Mishima family sat in silence around the table in the formal dining room. The air was still, austere with only the faintly metallic sound of pure silver European Cutlery brushing against antique bone china plates.
Looking up amidst his brandy snifter, Heihachi watched the way burnished candlelight played against the liquor in his glass, distorting the image of the bruised, beaten Kazuya, through the shifting liquid. The young Mishima had proven himself exceptionally well disciplined in the last training session with his Sire and he had the battle scars to prove it. Heihachi could teach him no more without endangering his own secrets, especially now when Kazuya had proved to be such a worthy adversary.
Several months had passed since the time of the young Mishima’s hospitalization for nearly five days. Kazuya had been unconscious for the majority of his most traumatic injuries. The doctors that attended the son of the wealthy, prestigious Mishima line dared ask no questions, writing the cause of the incident as a car accident by a careless teen, though somehow the family doctor seemed to know better. Oddly enough, it seemed to the doctor that Kazuya must have had the hand of the old gods on his side...his injuries healed quicker than medical science could explain, as if divine intervention had played a part in sparing the young Mishima an extent of tremendous pain.
Heihachi took a long sip of his after dinner snifter of brandy, clearing his throat authoritatively. “So now that you have graduated from High School, Kazuya, have you made a choice of the colleges I have propositioned for your acceptance?”
Kazuya set his dessert fork down, his hands falling into his lap as he stared into his half eaten plate, watching his own battered reflection glare back at him. “No sir.”
Heihachi raised a disapproving brow, “That is not acceptable, Kazuya. I have given you a choice of the finest business colleges across the civilized world. You will not waste your life with fruitless indecision. The same goes for you Lee. You graduate next year and it is time to begin thinking about your own continued education.”
Kazuya sat rigidly as Chaolan, across from him, slouched slightly in his seat, draping an arm over the back of his chair. Casting an annoyed glance through his long silver bangs toward the lecturing, paternal visage of Heihachi Mishima, Lee stifled the urge to sigh.
“I will expect a decision by tomorrow, Kazuya. Are we understood?” The elder Mishima somewhat growled, standing from his place at the head of the dining table.
Agree with him for now, young Mishima....our time has arrived. The Iron Fist of his rule is over and soon we will live as we are destined. The devil hissed darkly, sending a shiver along Kazuya’s spine.
“Yes Sir.” Kazuya hissed almost robotically, his nails digging into the sweet caress of his flesh almost reverently under the table.
“Excellent. You are both excused.” With that, Heihachi walked toward the library, his hands clutched by the wrists behind his back, a disapproving glint to his cruel, dark eyes.
Kazuya sat a moment as Chaolan rose, suddenly and aggressively pushing his chair back, as the silver haired youth snickered under his breath. “Old Bastard, who the fuck does he think he is.”
“Your father...” Kazuya snickered darkly. “And you are the golden child.”
Chaolan turned, glaring toward his adopted brother before taking his car keys in hand. “Fuck you, Kazuya.”
Kazuya smiled, venomously as Lee stormed from the compound, followed by the sound of his cars engine roaring to life beneath his angry turn of the ignition. The quality of Lee Chaolans insolence and youthful angst never seemed to fail to impress.
*
June 15.. <.br>
The gates of destiny have spread like leather wings; the yawning, untried path before me is littered with thorns. I must tread softly, carefully with an ever watchful eye and no regrets for what I do now.
Like a punching bag, hanging limp within the dojo walls, my sand has spilled with the blood of many beatings...unjust hands, unforgivingly painted with a tapestry of bruises on my body. Discoloration fades in time. Scars of the mind, abrasions on my worthless soul are not so quick to heal. The filthy, oozing...festering wounds made by sing song torment has ripped my divine essence until I have come to yield...to believe in the words the Demon whispers to me. The Devil is all I have. The devil is what I must become. Or have I been the Devil all along?
I leave my brother the legacy he will never be tortured enough to know. The angelic being, the warm light...drawing moths to the deadly glow of the hidden zapper. Father will not destroy him...his work of art, the good son. In my absence he will be held highest above all others, in a place I could never have reached as bare fists beat me down. The silver devil will glow golden once I am gone.
I must make ready now. Fear is like the touch of a lover, long forgotten. Pain, I leave you behind...yet knowing you will always find me. Find me where my Father can not..amidst a sea of dead faces, bloated along a flooded chasm of despair. I am alone, though I am never alone. Where I am going, I will never be found.
Time is of the essence...time is precious.
Time waits for no one. Not even for the demons that spawn the length of hell.
I am the devil...the devil...is me. Kazuya set his pen and notebook along the front of his travel bag. Slicking a hand through his hair, the young Mishima made ready to begin life anew within the Underground of the Tokyo streets. The car would be sent for him, silent at the end of the driveway as the clock struck the early morning hour. The next path awaited with the promises of freedom the young Mishima had only tasted briefly in his life.
Bowing his head in reflection, Kazuya sighed softly. Excitement and fear seemed to intermingle at the critical hour...was this the way to walk? To trade one master for another? Why now where there more questions, more second thought than the moment he agreed to these plans?
Quiet your shivering heart, Kazuya. Have I yet to lead you to the wrong path? Your anxiety will not falter destiny. I will not allow it! The demon interjected, it’s mocking voice ripping through a moment of peace and reflection.
Resigned, Kazuya shook his head gently. It was time and time waits for no one, faltering never attained glory. If only Kazumi, his mother would have been here, there might have been a reason to stay. Chaolan had turned his back, Heihachi showed no mercy at the force of his fists...it was only him...and the demon within.
Kazuya Mishima was ready. Kazuya Mishima was leaving one family...for another....
Lee Chaolan sat along the edge of his bed, his head dripping down amidst the mercury taint of his liquid silver hair...the orange glow of a burning cigarette his only solace. The overwhelming quiet of the early summer morning was nearly as unnerving as the knowledge rushing through him. Kazuya was leaving...running away again. Was he running from Heihachi this time or was he running from himself?
Flicking his cigarette into his art nouveau ash tray, Chaolan let a long sigh pass his lips. He was not comfortable with what Kazuya was doing, though he had no way to voice his opinion. He never told the young Mishima...he knew. The brothers had kept to their promise, made that solemn day so long ago....and though it killed Lee inside, he had adhered to it, flawlessly. And now it seemed Kazuya was being embraced by the Japanese Underground, working and earning money on the slide by running errands for the infamous Yoshimora organization, unbeknownst to the respectable Heihachi Mishima.
Chaolan had known of the situation for some time, thanks to a few contacts in the underground fighting circuit. Not to mention the resources he used when seeking a replenishing of his chemical supplies. Kazuya was walking on precarious ground, dancing with dangerous individuals...and all the silver devil could do was sit idly by and watch as his adopted brother planned, secretly for this moment. How did he know it was this moment? Brotherly intuition.
Leaning along the window seat of his well kept room, Chaolan stretched his strong, muscular arms as his dark, almond eyes turned to the fading stars in the lightening sky. Lowering his lashes softly, Lee Chaolan prayed silently in long lost native Korean...that one of those dying stars was not...Kazuya Mishima.