A Tekken Story: Through the Years - Volume I
A Change
Chapter Summary: A week after the funeral, Akira reflects on her
father’s murder, only to be consumed by her recurring thoughts.
you steal, be prepared to suffer. Chapter Warnings:
None, for now anyway.Notes: I know it’s short, I’m sorry, but it’s a bit like an
intro to Akira’s changing behaviour…a bit like Siegfried in Soul Calibur.
It will expand over the next few chapters (five, actually) and the warnings and
rating will go up. (Don’t worry about the mentioning of the hair dye either –
it will make sense later on).Extra Notes: Many thanks to SoulEmbrace2010 and Me-Be-Da-Mk-Fan14
for favouriting and reviewing my story, I appreciate it so much! *does a little
dance* I’ve also got 1110 hits for this story on AFFnet, so keep it coming! It
makes me SO happy!
Chapter 14 – The Darker Side will be up soon!
A Tekken Story: Through theYears
We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people
act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do
is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.
Charles R. Swindoll
Chapter 13 –
A Change
So, there it
was. My mother was pregnant with her third child from my now dead father.
“We were
going to tell you,” Mom said after we had left the crematorium,” We Shinjuku
after our anniversary…but…,”
Guess that explained why I had kept
seeing Mom holding her stomach constantly.
go to school the following week after the funeral. Instead, I lounged around in
my pyjamas, doing little things like my Art evaluation, or just generally
helping Mum with tasks around the house. I ate very little, my appetite demolished,
and rarely saw anyone outside the house during those two days.
The
police hadn’t found much either, which didn’t help my frame of mind. The London
detectives had established that it was most likely a murder – Dad had suffered
from multiple lacerations due to blunt force trauma, and judging from the
amount he received, he had been most likely attacked by a gang, ranging from
five to eight people, and he had died from a heart attack during the night.
They recovered eight sets of footprints going in, but only seven leaving – two were
identified as Steve and Dad, leaving six unaccounted for. There were no
eyewitnesses and closer CCTV footage they could find was two streets anyway.
When they arrived on the scene, the door was unlocked, so no forced entry was applied,
meaning that either Dad knew who they were or they disguised themselves as
individuals that people trusted. There was still money in the safe located in
the flat above the dōjō and no other valuables had been
stolen, ruling out a robbery. The only real evidence they did uncover was a piece
of blue cloth – cotton from a t-shirt – and a piece of black leather, most
likely from a glove or a pair of trousers. The Japanese detectives hadn’t done
much better – they were looking in Dad’s history to see if any enemies were
behind the attack.
A
dead end.
Most
afternoons and evenings, when I had finished helping Mom around the house, or I
thought I couldn’t write anymore on my evaluation, I’d go out to the garden and
sit on the wooden porch, letting my mind wonder aimlessly.
My father, a
harmless, peaceful, good, family man, was dead, while criminals and murderers
still walked on the Earth unpunished. It didn’t seem logical. Why did he have
to die? But, most importantly, who killed him?
A murder…it was planned…
Why? Who?
Who killed
him? Why did they kill him?
Oshimaki Naoya, a martial artist,
friend and father…
Why?
A father, a husband, a son…
Why did they
kill him?!
Pretty soon,
I got sick and tired of overthinking and overanalysing it, so I decided to go
for a walk to clear my head.
Everything
had changed, I felt since Dad had died. When I came back from England…everything
was different. The sun that shone down on me felt different on my skin…the
breeze that gusted past felt different as it wove through my hair…the morning song
that the birds would chirrup sounded different to my ears…
Everything had changed…and I didn’t
like it.
I never
spoke to anyone now – not Ryo, Sakura, Jin, not Satomi or Tae or Ichigo, not
Shin, not Xiao or Miharu, not even Mom or Hana…
All because my father
was no longer with us…
I never
spoke of feelings that prickled at my heart like a thousand needles…
What if someone else was experiencing
the same feelings I was?
“Not friggin’ likely,”
The wholefamily situation dynamics had changed too, I reflected as I entered the local
pharmacy in town. Mom was now the head of the household, but with the new baby
on the way, she couldn’t step up to the mark. Suwabe Taku, Dad’s best friend since the day he was born, moved in
with us (temporarily, of course) as a “duty” to help us out (did I mention he
was an ex-solider of sorts?), which, of course, had screwed everything up.
He could
never replace him. Why the hell did he think he could?
Why? Who?
Goddammit,
these questions were driving me insane!
How the hell
was I going to find out who had killed my father and why?
Suddenly, I
realised it as it exploded in my brain like blown-fuse when I slammed a box of black
hair dye on the counter.
Whoever killed my father and for whatever reasons
they did it, it didn’t matter…
…They have to pay.