Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ Clean Slate ❯ Path To Disaster ( Prologue )

Whoever said that working from home was more relaxing than in the office was a bloody fool.

Kazuya was trying to get some important work done, but with the screaming children in the background, it certainly wasn't an easy task. Damn near impossible, in his opinion. Why wasn't someone controlling those brats? As he often said to himself; Ragh, children. My price for trying to enjoy myself.

Maybe it was just his concentration. It was time for a break anyway; he'd been working for three hours straight already. The middle-aged Mishima stood from his work desk and wandered out of the office, down the hall towards his bedroom. The house he lived in was large - not the one he'd grown up in, and not nearly as grandiose, but definitely a mansion in its own right. The bedrooms, in accordance, were large; particularly the master suite.

It was large, and it was nearly perfect in its cleanliness. Everyone knew exactly where everything was, and the only messes were always in the rumpus room, where the kids (still making noise in the background) threw toys about. He headed for the wardrobe, and pulled out one of his white Gi...time for some training to get his mind off the irritation in the background. Next weekend, I shall work in the office, he decided.

After a moment, he drifted into the ensuite to get changed into his training clothes. Off came the sweaty work clothes, dumped in a heap just outside the bathroom. Kazuya found himself staring into the mirror, at his own reflection. A middle-aged Japanese man stared back...jet black hair hanging behind his head, a widow's peak starting to form on his forehead as his hairline receded. His face, with those fearsome eyes and high cheekbones, seemed almost frightening...his body, too, being as powerful and muscular as it is was another thing to consider frightening. The most striking feature, however, was the long scar still sitting across his chest, once a deep gouge through the flesh many a year ago.

As he stared at the reflection staring out at him, he had to wonder; what had he become over the years? Kazuya Mishima, now forty-two years old, was married with four children, a secure job, a loyal wife, and a nice home. This was the sort of thing that made most men's lives a joy - fulfilment of every human wish; wealth, family, love, loyalty, material possession...but still, Kazuya didn't feel the 'joy' or 'happiness' he was supposed to in having all these things. Life was still as much of a burden as it was in the old days when his father still tormented him. Here he was, a supposed businessman and family man...but truly an 'arrogant loner' inside.

He covered the scar on his chest with the coat of the Gi, and tied a black belt around his waist. Training always changed his mood slightly; the exercise invigorated him, releasing all the tension and stress of sitting still in front of a computer, coping with the idiots at the other end of the line. After putting on his gloves, he headed downstairs to the dojo in the basement. It was too hot to train outside today, after all.

The air was cooler downstairs than in the rest of the house - mainly because of the concrete floors. He stayed on the opposite side of the room from the punching bag hanging from the ceiling, and began to practise a kata; fits, feet, arms and legs brutally, but in perfect control, attacking thin air. There was nothing but the snap of Gi fabric against his limbs as sound in the air, and the occasional deeper breath from his chest. At last, peace and quiet.

Or so he thought; the door of the makeshift dojo flew open only a few minutes into his training, and a six-year-old boy raced into the room, closely followed by a rather enraged nine-year-old girl. Both resembled him rather closely - the eyebrows and high cheekbones - though his son seemed more like a younger version of him than the angered girl.

As his silence was shattered, he stood and watched with his arms folded across his chest as the boy ran around laughing, and his sister gave chase, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of hatred. She finally caught up with him, and tackled the smaller boy to the ground, wrestling maniacally with him for what seemed to be possession of a rather bedraggled-looking doll in his hands. The two screamed and cursed at each other on the ground, until finally Kazuya's deep voice boomed through the cool room.

"Akako! What are you doing to your brother?"

The two stopped dead and looked up at the older man, startled. Finally Akako rolled off the boy and stood, pointing at him disparagingly. "Daddy, he took my Barbie!"

Kazuya rolled his dark eyes. "Haven't you got hundreds of those things?"

"Yeah, but it's mine!"

He sighed. "Did it ever occur to you that he's just doing it to annoy you?"

She stamped her foot and balled her fists by her side. "It's my Barbie!"

Reasoning with spoilt children definitely wasn't his forte. "Hiroshi...just give her the doll."

Before he could, the door flew open again and slammed against the wall behind it...in marched an older girl, around thirteen years old or so. She looked it too; plenty of makeup, fancy overdone hair, a short skirt, and a revealing halter-neck shirt. She strode right over to the younger girl, pointing a painted nail threateningly. "You...you've been using my makeup, haven't you, you little brat?!"

Great, her too? Kazuya fought off the urge to give them all a sharp crack over the bottom with his belt.

She snarled. "You know I don't want your stupid makeup, Leiko, I don't want to look like a clown!"

With that, the two girls dove at each other, scratching and pulling hair. In the meantime, Hiroshi merely put down the doll, and began playing with a metal baseball bat sitting in the corner of the room. The noise in the room was cacophonous, and drew attention from all corners of the house. A middle-aged woman came down the stairs and into the room, followed by a girl that looked identical to Akako, only without the hatred and malice in her eyes. If anything, she looked a little shy and worried. The woman, average-looking, short in stature, and fine lines on her face from stress and worry, sighed and shook her head as her two daughters fought amongst themselves over something pointless.

Kazuya noticed her and gave her a condemning look. "Do they do this all the time, Sakura?" He sounded exasperated.

She nodded. "They do it often, mostly over material things. I've tried my best to teach them otherwise, but they never listen."

Hiroshi aimed the baseball bat at the Barbie lying on the ground where he left it. Akako saw him doing so and raced over, screaming blue murder at the top of her lungs, and tackled the boy, trying to wrench the bat away. "Don't you dare do it, or I'll rip your stupid head off!"

Of course, this resulted in a push-me-pull-you between the two, with the bat as a tug-o-war device. This was too much...Kazuya wasn't used to handling troublesome children. "Enough!" Again, his loud voice boomed across the room, but this time, Akako was so startled she let go of the bat. Hiroshi kept on pulling with all his might, which resulted in the bat flying away...towards Kazuya.

It happened too fast for him to react...he was hit in the head with the flying piece of metal with such force he was knocked unconscious, and fell backward; his head hit the concrete floor with full force.

The three girls in the room all screamed...Hiroshi and his mother gasped and ran to the fallen man's aid. There was a small pool of blood forming beneath his head...the impact had certainly caused some damage. Even when shaken at the shoulder, Kazuya did not awaken.

Sakura turned to the girl by her side. "Hana, go and call an ambulance!"

The girl raced off upstairs, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the rest of the family carefully took Kazuya upstairs. He was breathing, which was a good sign...but good enough, who knew?

***

The Mishima family sat in the waiting room of the hospital, all five of them wringing their hands nervously. They'd been waiting for well over an hour, and still no one had come to tell them if their beloved Kazuya - father and husband - was going to be alright.

Still, despite the sombre mood, the two girls had once again found something to bicker about in hushed tones. Sakura shook her head and put an arm around Hana, who was doing her best to hold back the tears. How could such a thing happen to her father?

Another half an hour of waiting ensued before any news came. A doctor, dressed in the full regalia, stepped into the room and headed for them. He bowed to Sakura, then began. "Mrs Mishima, there is good news and bad news. The good news is that your husband is now in a stable condition. With the bad, I can only tell it to you straight..." She subconsciously squeezed Hana's hand tighter in her own. The doctor continued. "We're not sure what the extent of the brain damage is yet. It could mean some of his functions are inhibited, or it could be as severe as him never waking again."

Hana's bottom lip quivered, as did Sakura's. The other two girls had fallen silent by now, the colour draining from their faces. "What are you gonna do?" Hana was the only one that dared to speak.

"Well, we've sent him over to the G-Corporation labs. They have technology that might just save his life. I can't promise anything, but as it stands, this is his only hope. He took two pretty sharp blows to the head after all."

Sakura nodded solemnly, and petted Hana's hair...as she did, the young girl finally lost control of her tears, and they flowed freely down her cheeks. "How long until we know if he's alright?"

The doctor frowned. "I think it'll be at least a month of treatment at G-Corporation, then who knows how long it'll take for him to awaken...if he does at all. My best guess is six weeks until he'll be well enough to be seen."

"Well, in that case, we'd better get home, there's nothing more we can do...I need to inform the office that he won't be coming in tomorrow. Please, if anything comes up, doctor...don't hesitate to call us."

***

After getting home in a cab, the five of them went their separate ways for the evening. The disaster that afternoon had shocked all of them - who'd have thought that any of them would miss their cold, emotionless father...even his anger when pushed too far?

Hana certainly missed him. She sat on her bed, fiddling with a little jewellery box she'd been given on her birthday...not from him directly, but from the family in general. It reminded her of him, for some reason. Then again, he'd never paid much attention to her. He was always busy with work, or occasionally with her brother, Hiroshi...or telling the other two to stop fighting...but to him, she barely even existed, so it seemed.

Still, she loved him, because he was her father. He was never harsh toward her, just...distant. She had to be the only one of the four that had never been scolded by him at any time...but also the only one that had never been hugged. Then again, he rarely hugged anyone, if at all.

After a moment, she dug around in the drawers next to her bed. The other side of the room belonged to Akako...the twins shared a room to conserve space for guest rooms. Not that they ever had guests, mind you. In the drawers she found a small photo of the family; she was standing beneath her father, next to Leiko. An idea came to her...she pulled her scissors from within the drawer, and cut out the section of the photo with her and her unsmiling father. She placed the cut-out inside the jewellery box, and locked it. She found a piece of ribbon, and tied it to the key...the key and ribbon went around her neck like a necklace.

The rest of the photo she put back in the drawer with the scissors. The box went back on the drawers beside her bed. Just as she sat back down on her bed, Akako came into the room, dressed in her pyjamas. She climbed into the bed at the other end of the room, and sat and stared at her sister.

After a moment, she broke the silence. "You know, he hates you."

Hana looked up at her, startled. "Who hates who?"

"Daddy hates you."

Something inside Hana hurt...something deep inside her. "That's not true, he loves all of us the same!"

"You know that's a lie. I'm his favourite...he always ignores you because he hates you." With that, she rolled over and turned out the light with the switch above her bed.

In the darkness Hana sat, wondering. Was it true - true that her father ignored her because he hated her? It couldn't be...a father never hates his own child. She huddled down beneath her blankets, clinging to her teddy bear, willing the tears to go away. Maybe she'll wake up in the morning to discover this whole ordeal was a nightmare...just a dream.