The Re-Forging of the Blade

**Chapter Two**
Rituals of Purification

Jin sat with his back against his favorite tree. As a child he had climbed its massive limbs often, just to be closer to nature, to view the bird’s nests teaming with life as mother fed her young on juicy tidbits of reprocessed worm. It had taken very little time for the animals that were near to trust the curious boy: the sense of the child’s respect for nature was strong enough to break the barrier of language and species.

Now, Jin recalled those wonderful days he had explored long through the woods of Yakushima, with a sense of returned fascination and safety. The land was quiet and plentiful and he gently fed himself on the berries he gathered, much as he did in his youth. He was so hungry, so tired and yet he managed to find the strength to forage and slowly sate his appetites.

~Fire. Flames that leapt from tree top to tree top along a vast expanse of canopy forest. Lightning that forked from the demons liquid silver eyes would stop at nothing until the embers of the forest covered over every living thing remaining in ash and evil.

Massive black wings surged along the sky as the beast circled like a vulture over fresh carrion. The beat of the inky, feathery expanse fanned the lightning induced flames as wicked laughter rang out over the screams of the beasts below.~

Jin pressed his head back against the comforting bark of the tree that leant him strength. How long did the destruction continue? How much pain was reaped upon the world in the name of the agony and unnamed awakening within the Demon? First, he believed it had been his former mountain home of Yakushima that suffered the wasting of flame….but seeing the wood alive and breathing around him showed it had not been the case.

The smoldering embers of the radial outskirts of Yakushima had come, undoubtedly, from his crash landing to the ground itself. Perhaps it was the recollection of his mother that brought the beast down as it crossed into sacred air space. The home he once shared with his mother, burned down by his own hand after her death, remained like a charred skeletal edifice…a scorched earth policy as a way to prevent the beast Toshin from returning and spoiling the memories that had once been sanctified in this place.

Now, the question remained…how did the Demon gain control of him so thoroughly…and now that the creature had tasted freedom and flight for however long…would it happen again…? Jin could not remain on the isolated Yakushima forever and the nearest fishing village was clear across the other side of the island, several days walk. Even then, he had no money and the clothing he had worn for however long was tattered and dirty enough to make him appear to be a beggar. What few things he still possessed were in Hwoarangs former apartment, which…he believed would have been cleared out and rented to another…with the Blood Talon…dead.

There would only be one reason to return to Japan proper now and that would be the revenge against Mishima Kazuya. But that certainly could not happen until Jin found himself a way off of Yakushima. Perhaps the youth could return to Australia where the small apartment he had lived in for nearly two years still had a few months left on the lease, paid in advance. He could regroup there, withdraw the monies remaining in the bank account with an assumed name…and plan the strategy…

Rising up slowly, Jin gathered the remaining berries in his hand and set them down on the leaves he had tied together at the stems to make a temporary satchel. The fresh water river he had bathed in as a child was nearby and it was time to cleanse himself, sanctify his body in the waters of his home…cleanse the death and dirt from his body and form a plan suitable for this unexpected phase of his life.

//Why use the abstract when the obvious is just beneath our shoulder blades, dear Kazama Jin. We could fly long into the night, taste the spray of the water on bare skin…the surge of wind beneath our feathers…//

Jin shivered as he peeled the stained gi pants he had worn for how long he could not tell…charred and covered in blood, bramble and mud. He placed the tattered material over his arm and walked in toward the rushing cold stream, ignoring the voice that cooed so sardonically into his mind.

//You will not ignore me…no more than you will contain me. Your weakness is my strength…and in time your temporary vigilance will fail you…and return me to glory…//

“I will bind you and banish you however I must….I will give you to Mishima Kazuya myself before I allow another moment of destruction,” Jin hissed to the voice within, drawing himself waist deep into the frigid, fast moving water.

//And forsake the power to defeat the one that took HIM away from you….you know where it is we must go…and what it is we must do. To reunite me beneath Kazuyas skin will be your death and not his…but unite us beneath your flesh and your father will die, your lover avenged…//

“And my soul and body lost to me forever with you at the helm of them both? I will defeat him without your help…and when it is done, my reason to breath is no longer a concern. There is nothing left now for me but the revenge I harbor on Mishima Kazuya and Mishima Heihachi...and the end to your torment of me, Demon.” Jin dipped his face into the cold water, bare feet grounding into the sediment below to prevent being sent awash in the current. Forest bathing had once been something he enjoyed…something he could do alone that tied him to the land. Jin was no longer alone…and so long as the Devil within remained…he never would be again.

//I will not let you do such a thing, my host.//

“Stay quiet in your cage, Demon. There is nothing now to weaken my resolve…no more sorrow left to power you. I will see my determination through to the end this time. There is nothing more to distract me from the path, nothing to give me a reason to live once my vengeance is dealt…” The voice interrupted Jin’s own as the youth wiped away the filth of travels he could not recall from his body…

//Mishima Heihachi is dead.//

Jin stopped his ministrations and looked into the current swirling around him. “If that is so then there is only Mishima Kazuya to deal with…a faster end for the both of us.” \Was the demon right? Or was this a wicked ploy?\

The beast grew silent for a long moment before a slow and wicked laugh ripped through Jins mind, making him shiver more than the icy waters that caressed him. The Demon was searching for something. The Japanese youth could feel it drain his energy like a leech, the pulse of his brain starting to hurt…as though dehydration had robbed his thought of vital nutrient.

//Your attempts will be in vain, Kazama Jin. The hunt is changing…the spirit torn in two has now…become three. Your lover, now our lover…has touched native soil…//

**

Hwoarang checked the address and tipped the driver as he stepped out of the hired car service. Shouldering his army duffle and guitar, the Blood Talon stepped down onto Japanese streets once more. “This is it,” he said with a snicker as he made his way to the entrance of the building in downtown Tokyo, a few blocks away from the pier.

The entire plane ride from Seoul, the Blood Talon was waiting anxiously for this moment. Drawing in a breath, Hwoarang stepped into the door and wound his way to the second floor apartment marked 12F. He knocked with usual impatience, incessant until he heard a click of the lock on the other side of the portal.

“Took you long enough,” Chang said with a smile, leaning heavily on the cane beneath his right hand.

“Fuck, its good to see you.” Hwoarang grasped his blood brother in both arms, holding him firmly as not to make the balance precarious. He clung to Chang for a long moment before his blood brother pushed the overly tenuous hold away.

“I told you, man. I don’t swing that way,” Chang laughed as Hwoarang pulled back, wiping away the sentiment that gathered in the depth of his eyes. The last time he had seen Chang was in the hospital, still hooked to machines…torn apart by the beast that was Kazuya Mishima.

“That’s what they all say at first,” the Blood Talon said with usual, easy arrogance, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. “So, this is the new place huh? Nice.”

Chang led Hwoarang into the living room as the Blood Talon dropped his duffle and gently laid his guitar against the wall. “I had to use what money was left at your apartment. Luckily no one went to clean the place out. Good thing I paid your rent up for a couple months but the utilities and everything else I had to turn back on. I hope you don’t mind?”

The Blood Talon went into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator. He grabbed two beers, closing his eyes softly as he listened to the labored sound of Chang making his way to the sofa, only to fall back onto the material. His blood brother had told him on the phone that the cane might be a permanent thing…20 years old…and half crippled for life.

“Did you hear me, I said I hope you don’t mind?” Chang repeated his words, louder this time.

Hwoarang took a deep breath and put his party face on. Last thing Chang needed to see was pity….or sorrow. “Yeah, I heard ya. Hell, you and the den took care of making that money, spend every last penny on what you need man. I will make us some more.”

Chang took the beer extended in Hwoarangs hand, cupping his palm around the top as he tried to force it off. He just didn’t have the strength he used to. “We will be alright. There were a few soldiers left on the streets when everything went down. Been running the base of operations from here on the phone. You can understand no one wanted to go back there…after what happened.”

Hwoarang watched Chang struggle with the beer top a second time and reached in to grasp the long neck bottle, only to have his blood brother push him back, “You know I can fucking do it for myself, right?”

“Yeah, man. Just trying to…help.” The Blood Talon sat on the opposite end of the couch like a scolded lap cat. If it had not been for him…and for Jin…Chang would not have been in this condition…the others…would not be dead. “You know…I’m sorry…Chang. I am so fucking sorry…for all of this. If I would have known Jin’s father…was…” was what, a fucking demon just like his son? “…going to come after me, I would have disbanded the den….I didn’t mean…”

Chang grit his teeth as he tried the bottle a third time before thrusting his arm out to Hwoarang, “Just…open this, will you?”

The Blood Talon accepted the bottle and popped it open, handing it back. He took a long swig of his own and reached into his pocket to grab a cigarette. “You don’t mind if I smoke, right?”

“I quit but it doesn’t mean you have to,” Chang said, looking at the opened bottle of beer in his hand like the badge of his failure. “You know, I don’t blame you right? No one does. There is only one way Mishima Kazuya could have found out the location of the den…the same way the Military found you, or so I think. Saatchi. Fucking Saatchi.”

“I have had a lot of time to think about how things went down. And man, you took the words out of my mouth. Saatchi can’t hide forever. I’m gonna put the word out on the street and hunt that motherfucker down, myself,” Hwoarang said with heavy conviction, taking another long sip from the bottle.

“He’s gone underground….the network can’t seem to find him but then again, your name as a lot more weight than mine,” Chang said with a half cocked smile, leaning his beer over to clink against the neck of his blood brothers bottle. “It’s payback time.”

“For him and for Kazuya Mishima. We have some scores to settle now.” Hwoarang narrowed his eyes as he took a drag off his cigarette, the halo of cloy smoke encircling him like a shroud.

“So, you think Jin is really gone then?” Chang asked quietly, clearing his throat to make the words garble into the sensitive subject.

“Yeah…you could say…I can’t really…feel him anymore. Don’t ask, just call it intuition.” Hwoarang sighed and returned the bottle to his lips. “Do San sends his love, man.”

“I talked to him a few hours ago, he wants me to keep an eye on you, Seung. Says you haven’t really been yourself. I hate to say it, but you look like shit. So, what’s going on?” Chang held the amber of his blood brother’s eyes. Seeing him for the first time in two months really showed some drastic changes. Hwoarang had lost weight, though none of his muscle mass. It showed in the gaunt of his cheeks, eyes seeming hollow and yet full of a fire that made the intensity of his gaze nearly seem to glow against pale skin; like the reflection of a cats eye beneath low light. The tawny complexion that always seemed alive and tanned had lightened from far more than being out of direct sunlight. It bordered on sickly.

“Not really sure what’s going on. Haven’t really been myself lately,” Hwoarang said with slow assuredness. “Whatever it is, it will work itself out. Went to see a Mudang. I am sure Baek told you that.”

“Yeah, he did. He also said you refused to see a doctor on the base. Baek thinks you might have some anemia or something. Says you’re not really eating like you used to, kinda low on energy…” Chang breathed in slowly. “You should get that checked out.”

“Haven’t had much of an appetite, that’s all. Things have been a little off the fucking chain, if you know what I mean,” the Blood Talon snickered. \Anemia. So now Baek is a fucking doctor too? Maybe it’s fatherly fucking intuition…low blood iron…how about…low on blood?\

“He says you’re cutting yourself to. Right arm bandaged up for awhile now. What are you doing to yourself, Seung? You know you can’t bring Jin back, right? You can’t punish yourself because he…is gone.” Chang knew he was touching something sensitive.

Hwoarang shot upright and started to pace, brushing his hand back through coppery tendrils. His roots were showing more than he would normally have allowed…but the truth was, he just didn’t care anymore. He cleared his throat rapidly as though grasping at the last link of the chain to his sanity. “I’m not fucking cutting myself. God damn, Do San must think I’m some kind of head case! There ain’t shit wrong with me, Chang. I just need some time to work things out.”

“Are you really cutting yourself? Are you fucking around with drugs? Come on, Seung…this isn’t like you and you know it. Baek doesn’t toss random shit out into the wind. He’s worried...and I can see why.” Chang leaned forward, setting his beer bottle down. The already easily anxious Blood Talon was just too edgy.

“I’m not fucking around with any drugs and I sure as shit don’t cut myself. The wound on my arm is kinda slow to heal, so alright, I know that’s probably a bad sign, but then again I haven’t really been sleeping or eating. I keep the damn thing wrapped up so it doesn’t get infected.” \What a cool liar under pressure. I deserve a fucking Oscar, or at least a Golden Globe. No matter how much I rip the skin…Jins taste is gone. Fucking gone…and I am starving to god damn death without it.\


“Alright, Seung,” Chang said, knowing in his heart his blood brother was feeding him a line of bullshit…but just hearing that line was enough for the moment to satisfy his major fears of the Blood Talon self destructing. “Do you want to stay the night here or are you going to head back to the apartment?”

Hwoarang returned to the couch, crushing the dead cigarette he left burning in the ashtray. Taking a draught of his beer, he fell back into the cushion of the sofa. “I should probably go back to the apartment and see what the damage is.” \Jins scent would be all over that apartment…memories of endless nights…love, lust…pain and pleasure…blood strangled cries of ecstasy in the dark….\

“The place should be alright. I had a few of the surviving soldiers head over and clean up, repair what they could. I know they put in some new windows and replaced the game system, TV and entertainment center. We kinda ran low on funds so we couldn’t do to much about the table and some other effects. They had to rip the carpet up too, so the floors are bare in the living room. We just didn’t have the man power to make the cash before you got home.”

Hwoarang held his blood brothers eyes. “I’ll get to work tomorrow and make us enough money that you won’t have to worry for anything. Gotta register for the Iron Fist too,” he sighed. How could his world have gone to such shit, so fast. “You know you didn’t have to do anything for me, Chang. After all I have brought on you…and the others…I should be spat on…”

Chang gave the gang leader a stern, serious look. “Don’t say that, Seung. It wasn’t your fault…and if none of us blame you…then you shouldn’t blame you.”

“Easier said than done.” The Blood Talon snickered, finishing his beer in one full gulp.

**

“Father is dead.” Kazuya spoke in the most insolent and cold tone.

“So I hear,” Chaolan responded in like fashion, pursing his lips slightly. “Are you sure of this?”

“The Devil and I departed from the Honmaru, at the scene of the crime,” the middle-aged Mishima spoke, inhaling sharply. A long moment of silence between them.

“So, do you think he will come?” Lee Chaolan sat on the couch, his feet up and crossed at the ankles on the coffee table before the sofa. One hand gripped the crystal stem of the red wine goblet, swirling the liquid slowly as dark eyes beheld it with fascination.

“He will come because his lover is already here,” Kazuya snickered as he watched the Silver Devil swirl the red wine along the walls of fine crystal. Drawing his own drink to his lips, the middle-aged Japanese continued his pace about the living room of his adopted brother’s uptown Tokyo loft.

The dwelling was expansive, considerably minimalist as fashionable living dictated. The area was filled scantly with expensive smatherings of art and collectibles, showing the former street rat’s taste in finer things. Opened skylights in the ceiling radiated the warmth of the summer night as tract lighting filtered down an ambient glow, highlighted with perfectly placed candles. The eternal playboy ran a smooth operation, a gallery of memorable conquests through the elite social food chain.

Where once there was hatred, an uneasy footing remained between the two adopted brothers. Throughout their lives together, there were dark secrets that drew the two together no matter how jealousy and strife attempted to tear them apart.

“And how do you know this?” Lee asked, though he was sure his brother had ample resources. The Yakuza for one, remained closely tied to Kazuya…the mere mention of his brother’s name was enough to have the heads of the Japanese mafia fork over tremendous wealth to the G Corporation that had in fact, restored Mishima Kazuya to life. One of Chaolan’s best endeavors yet.

“There were informants on the Blood Talons plane. I understand he is in Tokyo now and will certainly register for the Tournament. We simply must find a way to manipulate the situation to our benefit…if we intend to ensnare Kazama Jin.” Kazuya leaned his elbow along the mantle, turning his eyes to Chaolan. “Can you get close enough to Do Sans prodigy to attain a sample?”

“I can get close to any whom I chose, Kazuya. You know this well enough,” Chaolan gave a cold, side long smile. “You think he has been infected, then?”

“I am positive of it. With what we have retrieved from the Zaibatsu’s research laboratory, there is certainly enough evidence that the Devil Gene can take to blood if the host is prime enough to handle the transition. You are the scientist, not I,” Kazuya snickered, sipping his wine. \Lovely bouquet.\

“It has failed in trial runs our dearly departed father ran on himself. There is a strong possibility that, in theory, the sample can not take unless the subject is in fact prime and open to receiving. I certainly would agree that lovers would be receptive. Much as you...and Jun...and the transmission in her pregnancy.” Lee sat like the pretty bitch he was, self absorbed in his own intellect. “But you do realize what that means, dear brother?”

“And what is that, Chaolan?” Kazuya snickered, setting one gloved hand into the pocket of his black slacks.

“Our potential subject, if infected, can be lured by the very thing that he undoubtedly craves,” Lee purred, leaning forward to grasp a slice of expensive cheese from the tray he had put out to entertain his guest, taking a nip from the end to taste the essence of the wine mingle with the sharp apricot white stilton. “That of course, being, blood.”

“Jin’s blood is in short supply.” Kazuya set the glass down on the mantle.

“This might be the case…however, your blood…is certainly plentiful and…accessible.” Lee leaned back on the couch, watching his adopted brother with cool, arrogant eyes. “…and could, if given enough, change loyalties on a pathogenic level.”

“We could create a perfect weapon to ensnare Kazama Jin…and the completion of the integration with the Demon would finally be complete.” One red eye gleamed from beneath the sunglasses Kazuya always wore to conceal the anomaly. “I would finally quest no more. Now, how do you intend to make this reality?”

“It seems we have similar tastes, Hwoarang and I. I am sure I can use a more elegant persuasion to corrupt the young pup….and lay down the trap for the taking.” Lee rose and drew toward the poised vision of Kazuya. The gleam in the eyes of his adopted brother was one he had come to know many times in their long years.

The gloved hand that rested in the pocket of black slacks rose, bracing against the curve of Chaolans cheek, a cool sneer of disgust falling over Kazuya’s lips. Power in exchange for power. “You are a disease, Chaolan…a dangerous infection….

“…as you have said, so many times before,” Lee snickered, holding Kazuyas eyes with the depth of his almond gaze…captivating beneath shocks of molten silver tendrils.