Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ Jakunen Mirai ❯ Hauntings ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: This flashback will continue on. You'll need to read this particular chapter rather carefully, or it'll seem weird. Reviews are nice, by the way. *hint hint*

~MiraiSonGokou, aka Kazuya-sama

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Jakunen Mirai: Chapter 3

Nothing but blackness. Blackness, and consciousness. Perhaps. Slowly, the blackness changed; it was cool, a little too cool. But it was still black. And what of this blackness? What is it? Who knows. The blackness suddenly seemed like a void, so empty, devoid of life. Except for this consciousness. This awareness. Then, like a trickle of water from a melting ice cube, there was sensation slowly crawling through…wherever this was. The sensation began to take on shape; a body. This is a body.

The blackness remained, but now there was consciousness, and a body. There was logic too; reasoning. But with so little to ground itself upon. There was a growing list; blackness, awareness, sensation, body, and reason. The perception of being an infant in a mother's womb became strong for a moment, then died. Infants do not have logic, or perception. Slowly, familiarity added itself to the list. This body was that of a human; a male human. And a sudden dryness completed the feeling of…life. The dryness was drawn into this body with a gasp. It was cold, but refreshing. Vital. It had always been vital. It was…air. The body was breathing; thus it was alive.

This previous logic became silly to think of. It was clear now that the consciousness belonged to a human, a man, and the man was merely…unconscious. Until now. The logic before was now like a dream. But dreams…they need memories, knowledge. And with sudden realisation…there were none. No dreams. No knowledge. No memories.

The humanity began to flow through his veins again; he was awake. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing but dark green haze. And it stung, hell it stung. He shut his eyes again, feeling a small rush of bubbles escape into the cold, around his cheeks. An oxygen mask? Well of course, you dumb shit; you wouldn't be breathing in here if you didn't have an oxygen mask!

Suddenly, he didn't want to be in here. Panic overcame him, and he shot out two hands, only to bash then painfully against something solid before he could even extend them half way. Claustrophobia wasn't something he felt, but he didn't like being in here. But then again, what would await him outside this? He couldn't remember.

A throbbing hum echoed in his ears, vibrating in the viscous liquid he was trapped in. Coolness hit the top of his head, and he felt it slowly lower itself to his chin. His eyes shot open; in front of him was a curved glass wall, still plastered with remnants of what looked like half-set gelatine. Raising his hands as the liquid drained to his shoulders, he pulled the mask off and took a gasp of air; it was cool, and sterile in smell. Yuck. A blurred reflection stared back at him as he stood in the thick liquid; raven black hair, plastered over his face, head and shoulders, with an unfamiliar face beneath the dark locks. One eye was a very odd colour; crimson red. The right eye was a very dark brown, from what he could tell by the blurred reflection. The liquid drained away completely, and he was left standing. He realised he was quite tall, and naked. He didn't remember a bit of this. Not one bit.

The glass tube rose noisily, and the fuzzy silhouettes became people, lots of people, standing before him in white lab coats, muttering and chattering excitedly amongst one another. The language he recognised; Japanese. '…Surprised he's even breathing…' '…Seems to have consciousness…' '…A miracle he's alive…' '…Wonder if he remembers anything…'

That last comment he overheard struck a chord in his mind. Come to think of it…who was he? Where was he?

A woman walked up to him, handing a towel to him to get the remainders of the liquid off him, and motioned for him to step down. Seeing no reason not to, he complied, towelling himself off, then wrapped the damp cloth around his waist. A young nurse held out her hand to him, smiling almost flirtatiously. "My name's Denise…I'll take you to the med lab to get you checked up…" He blinked, and grasped the hand, nodding once, and allowed himself to be taken to wherever he was going. Another nurse walked on his other side, looking up at his hair. "Ugh, how can you stand having that stuff all over you? It looks disgusting." He ran a hand through his wet hair, looking down at the gelatinous coat that was left all over his palm and fingers. It didn't bother him. Feeling his lips curve up a little at the corners, he slowly dragged his wet palm and fingers down the girl's bare arm, causing her to squeal in disgust, and the other to crack up with laughter. He chuckled himself; an unfamiliar voice taking the form of the laughing. Deep, clear.

They arrived at the medical section, with a hoard of scientists behind them, following in awe. The scientists in the room looked up, and seemed like they'd seen a ghost. He raised a brow. He raised the other when everyone suddenly started talking in some form of jibberish he had no idea how to understand. Seeing the confusion on his face after half a minute or so, the nurse, still wiping the muck off her arm, spoke once again in the language he understood. "They can't believe you're alive."

He glanced back at the scientists, and grinned a bit, then looked back at the nurse. But a sudden thought struck him…

"This may sound a little odd to ask; but who am I?"

He awoke with a start, and found himself tumbling to the floor helplessly, tangled in bed sheets from the waist down. With a series of thuds, he crashed to the ground, and lay there, a little dazed and confused. Sitting at an unfamiliar angle was his bedside clock, glaring at him in crimson. Three a.m. Lovely. And it was just another one of those annoying dreams. Flashbacks of his past, haunting him, so he won't get any sleep. How delightful; it seems Heihachi's stupid spirit will never let him live.