Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ Ashes To Ashes ❯ Dust To Dust ( Chapter 1 )

The ultimate sin had been committed, and there was nothing she could do but feel the pain, the scorching, burning heat of the agony she would bear in living with the aftermath of this sin.

Her tears had ceased to fall, since there was nothing left to cry. She had been drained to nothing. Her eyes stung with the salinity of her tears; they shared the same red, puffy, tender skin as her cheeks and lips from the hours upon hours of uncontrollable weeping.

As she sat back on the sofa, she raised a shaky hand to gently, lightly pet the red and white bundle in her arms. It was a mass of white sheets and towels, soaked in blood. She paused. Could she dare to look? She might as well. There was nothing left to cry. Once again, she brushed aside the towel covering the upper portion of the little bundle, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Even though she had cried till she could cry no more, tears came once again. The pain was too much to bear - for see too was committing the ultimate sin by still being alive.

The little bundle of sheets and towels had been masking the body of a child. The face of the little boy, pale with its lack of blood - of life - stared up into abyss through closed eyes. He was at peace. The young face, barely only five years old, was that of an intelligent young fighter…the sort of face fellow mothers all took great delight in kissing and pinching the cheeks in delight. He was a gorgeous young creature…now lifeless. Lifeless in his mother's arms.

She let out a silent whimper and stroked back the soft, fluffy raven hair on the boy's head. It was completely blood-soaked, but dry - he'd passed away hours ago. The little body, hidden beneath the red and white blankets, was ripped and torn beyond recovery…he would have died a slow, agonising death of blood loss, since it was that sort of injury alone that caused him to lose his young, innocent life. The five-year-old's rounded, chubby cheeks would no longer puff out with that rare, gorgeous smile he would occasionally bear in one of those moments of joy that seemed so few and far between. As a mother, she'd failed. And she'd committed the ultimate sin a mother could.

She'd outlived her only son.

And she could have no more children. Kazuya was to be her only child, since she was never supposed to be able to bear one in the first place. His birth had made her ill and weak, but at the same time, it had brought her indescribable joy in seeing her son growing up strong and healthy. Heihachi had hated the boy immensely for the inadvertent damage wrought upon the woman, and had punished the boy ever since he could talk and walk. And now he'd confirmed that hatred once and for all. He believed the boy deserved to die, and had disposed of him nonchalantly by thrusting him from the top of the cliff and leaving him to die. The ultimate sin for a father to commit - killing his one and only son.

Aiko had searched the base of the cliff for hours and hours afterward, seeking desperately for her young son. Her silly hope that he may have survived such a fall had been dashed upon the very rocks the boy had fallen upon when she saw his twisted and broken body lying on a rock directly below where he was dropped from. Broken bones and terrible lacerations would have ailed the youth as he'd lain there, but what would have killed him was blood loss - from an almighty gash across his chest, exposing tender crimson flesh from beneath. Fear and heartache had filled her weakened body with strength and energy; she had carried the boy hurriedly all the way back to the Mishima mansion, and even tended pointlessly to each and every wound.

Now she sat there, petting his hair, staring down at the dead boy's face, unable to believe fully what had happened. She felt as if she had died herself, along with the only ray of sunshine left in her bleak life beneath Heihachi's rule.

Speaking of which…she could hear his heavy footsteps echoing closer and closer, the wooden sandals he favoured creating that distinctive sound against the cold tiles of the mansion. Quickly she dried her tender eyes and cheeks, and covered the boy's face with the towel once more.

"Aiko-chan…" He entered the large family room, but stopped dead when he saw the shape of the mass of sheets she was holding.

She didn't respond, only looked up at him blankly. Agitated by her silence and insolence, he marched up to her and slapped her across the face. "I told you not to follow me!"

With the impact and force behind the strike, Aiko was thrown aside, and ended up lying sideways across the couch. Unwanted sobs escaped her throat, her torso heaving and jerking with her cries. Her arms clung to her late son's body tightly, not letting the cold, limp figure go.

The sight of his wife in such a state of hysteria evoked a sense of guilt within Heihachi's heart…he suddenly resented striking her. He shouldn't have lost his temper. Kneeling down, he reached out and stroked aside her dark hair from her face, and let his cool fingers rest upon her heated face. "Aiko…it's alright…you'll be alright…everything is okay…please stop crying now…"

She tried her hardest, and eventually her sobs subsided…she sat up, still clinging to the bundle of linen, and watched the floor.

"You should dispose of that thing before it rots." Heihachi's voice lacked emotion in reference to his son.

"I will." Hers did too, in reference to the cruelty of her husband.

"Soon." He insisted.

She ignored him, and squeezed the tiny arm gently through the sheets. She valiantly fought back another round of hysteria.

He sighed and sat down next to her. "Aiko…your attachment to him is only temporary. Soon you will forget him…just think of it. You will no longer need to run around after him, clean up after him…you can now peacefully rest…in fact, you may soon recover if you can rest!"

Aiko bit her lip, lest another explosion erupt from her.

"You're not going to keep it, are you?"

She stood indignantly with the boy still in her arms. "Mishima-sama, I am not a psychotic, sick woman…I don't keep dead bodies." With that, she left the house with what remaining energy she had.

***

It had been almost two years since the disaster, and Aiko had never completely recovered. Physically, she was better, but mentally, she had taken on all of her son's wounds, along with many of her own…life grew more and more painful every day.

And every day was as endless as the next - she had to force herself to sleep and force herself to eat…she would rather just lie around all day and cry, wishing she would die…and join her son, wherever he be.

Today she was sitting at the dining room table with a glass of wine…her third today. Heihachi was out somewhere, and was due back soon…he would tell her to put her drink away and stop moping about. She didn't care. She didn't care about anything any more.

It seemed he would be back home early today; Heihachi walked in the door with his usual lack of quietness, announcing at the top of his lungs that he was home. She gave him no response.

"Aiko, where are you, I have someone here for you to meet!" Heihachi's voice was enthusiastic, as were his footsteps. A moment later, he entered the dining room, followed by the pitter-patter of small feet. Aiko glanced up blankly at her husband, unsmilingly as ever, waiting for an explanation.

Heihachi's proud smirk grew. "I've noticed lately you've been a little depressed. I believe it's because your mothering instincts are unfuelled as of late…so I have a gift for you to help you recover." Little did he realise how insensitive his attempted sensitivity would prove to be.

Aiko followed his hand, and raised her brows slightly when she saw, standing behind the tall male, a small boy.

Surprised, and mildly curious, she stood up and walked over to the child, who was obviously frightened by the whole ordeal. And he was beautiful. Beneath heavy lashes were soft, gentle dark hazel eyes, partially hidden by thick locks of soft silver hair. His face was slender, as was the rest of his body…he looked so calm, so innocent…almost perfect.

Heihachi smiled at the both of them. "Aiko…meet Lee. Formerly Chaolan…now Mishima."

The boy seemed terrified as Aiko raised a cool, delicate hand toward him, but he stayed still as a statue. The thin fingers brushed over his cheek, and her head fell to the side slightly. "Hello Lee."

Though he was trembling all over, Lee nodded in return, trying not to display his fear. For such a young child, he was brave.

"Lee, you will refer to Aiko as 'Mother'."

"Y-yes, father…" Lee's voice was barely audible, wavering in its youthful heightened pitch.

Heihachi glanced at the both of them, smiling once more. "I'm glad to see you've taken a liking to him. Since your body is now stronger, you should be able to fully cope with the role of mother now…how about you go and show Lee to his room?"

She nodded, head low, and grasped the boy's hand gently. As she passed by Heihachi, he stopped her, and placed a kiss against her neck. "This is for the best, Aiko-chan." She only stood there a moment, before muttering an agreement, and led Lee away, up the grandiose stairs of the Mishima mansion, to the second floor - where the bedrooms resided.

The small hand buried beneath Aiko's fingers was sweaty and shaky, seemingly unsure whether to hold into her for dear life or let go and run…for dear life.

"Lee, are you okay?" Her soft voice purred weakly down at the little boy, forcing a rare, very slight smile.

He bit his lower lip for a moment, contemplating a suitable answer for the mysterious woman. Finally, he decided to go with his first idea - the truth. "I'm scared."

She squeezed his hand gently as she led him down the hall. "In this house, everyone is scared."

He tensed within her grasp. "…o-of what?"

Death, she thought to herself. No…of not dying. Scared of not dying. But she couldn't tell such a small boy something like that. "Of a lot of things…" She didn't want to worry the poor creature. "But don't fret…I'll protect you, Lee. I'll protect you from anything that scares you…"

From that point, she stayed silent for the rest of the journey to the end of the hall. Lee too, stayed quiet, still scared, but thoughtful along with it. This place, whatever it was, seemed better by far than the streets he had been taken from. It was like the rich-bitch houses his friends had told him of…somewhere you always wanted to be, because you got to eat every day and have clean clothes and a warm bed. Even so…it still seemed so very…wrong. He felt like he was in violation of some unspoken rule in being here.

They entered a room at the very end of the hall. It was behind a massive wooden door - he would have to train to get the strength to properly open it - and the doorhandle was just a little too high. The room, though it was smaller than all the others they'd passed by, it was still fairly large and grandiose in comparison to anything he'd ever seen before. Would he be sleeping in this mini-kingdom?

"How old are you, Lee-chan?"

He looked up at her from beneath those heavy lashes. "I'm six…"

Six...she thought. Kazuya would be seven in another month. Kazuya…oh Kazuya, you poor soul… She bit her lip to fight back the tears. "Six…you're a big boy now."

She ushered him into the room, and sat him down on the bed. "You can sleep in here until I can get your own room ready for you. Dinner will be in two hours…you can play in here, or downstairs, whatever you like…just be a good boy." He sat there, still disoriented and terribly nervous…to try and calm him, she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "You'll be okay Lee, I promise."

The small boy nodded, and looked about, starting to calm himself down. This room looked like it had been lived in before…the sheets on the bed were pattered with aeroplanes rather than the white silk he'd seen on the huge bed in the master bedroom on the way here. There was a shelf in the open wardrobe which had books stacked on it…probably colouring books or bedtime stories by the look of them. Beside it hung a few pairs of white gi pants. Other than that, it was an empty room, save a small desk at the end of the bed…but it had definitely been lived in.

"Excuse me…but who was in here before me?" Lee half-braced himself for a whollop…he knew he shouldn't ask questions. To his utter relief, Aiko simply gave him a weak smile…but what did he see in her eyes? Nervousness, sadness? A tear?

"There was a little boy just like you who lived here in the past. He doesn't live here any more…it's just the three of us now."

Lee nodded, and crossed his legs on the bed. Aiko leaned down and placed another kiss on his forehead. "I'm going to organise dinner now…the chef never remembers how to make what we're having. I'll call you when it's ready."

*

With a stomach full of the biggest, most delicious meal he'd ever had, the softest, warmest pyjamas he'd ever worn, and the most comfortable bed he'd ever lain upon beneath him, Lee felt great. Aiko was the kindest woman he'd ever met, and though she seemed so tired, she was truly beautiful. He would be proud to call her mother - since he didn't know his own. All he knew was that he was Chinese, and unwanted. Until now.

Lee let out a wide yawn, then snuggled down beneath the lush covers of the three-quarter bed. It had been a long day, so he was tired…tired enough to fall asleep right away.

His small arm reached out from under the covers, and switched off the lamp. Darkness filled the bedroom, with only a small crack of blue light from the moon peeking through the thick curtains covering the window beside the bed. The darkness didn't scare the former street-boy, though. He'd seen worse in his six years. He yawned again, and looked toward the door to his left. So large…so heavy…it would be so hard to open in the morning. He hoped they didn't forget he was in here.

Suddenly, he didn't feel alone. Someone was watching him.

"I hope you like my bed." The soft voice of a young child filled the room - slightly husky, definitely no older than Lee himself.

He gasped at the sudden sound, and sat up with a start, looking about the room frantically. His heart nearly stopped in his chest when he saw the culprit standing beside the window, a few metres from the end of the bed.

It was a young boy, barely his age…if not younger…only Lee could see straight through him. The ghostly figure stood tall and proud, his heavy glare boring into Lee painfully.

"Who…who are you?" Lee's voice wavered…he drew a ragged breath.

The translucent boy looked up. "I'm nobody." The thick raven brows lowered. "You better be careful…or you may get killed too."

Lee's eyes stung with tears, and he looked about frantically…when he looked back, there was nothing. Nothing but the light playing between the gap in the curtains upon the plush carpet.

He closed his eyes, and held his breath for a few seconds…then dropped down onto the pillow again, released his breath, and tried to go to sleep. The house was haunted, and someone was going to kill him. Terrified, yet mustering as much bravery as he possibly could, the six-year-old silver haired boy closed his eyes, letting a crystal tear drop from his eyes…soaking into the ghost's pillow.