Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ The Stone Lotus ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter Two

He was reading at his table, which it seemed like that was all he did those days. Some days, his meals would go untouched, such as that very morning. His toast and eggs sat, several hours cold as he flipped another page in the thick novel he read silently. A nurse entered his room, and he looked up at the sound of the faint creak the door had made. He frowned at the woman as she picked up his tray, and he went back to reading.

His room looked like a studio apartment and was furnished in that fashion, unlike the stark pale rooms the other wards in the building had to suffer in. One of the walls was covered by a huge bookshelf filled with books and binders that held his writing from the years he had been living in the institution. Despite the large accommodations made, he did, however, feel just as trapped as any of the other patients and had long given up on being released, and he glanced up at one of the windows. Like the other windows in the room, it was covered by both screening and metal bars. However, the glass was opened, letting in fresh air that afternoon.

Despite the fact that he was dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and jeans, he wore a white ID bracelet on his left wrist and a tracker usually used to monitor criminals under house arrest.

The door opened again, and he looked up and frowned. Oh, yes, it was Wednesday. He had had forgotten about that. He bookmarked his spot and closed his book before turning fully to face the doctor that had entered the room.

"Good morning, Kazuya," the woman smiled when the man finally looked over at his visitor. He lifted a brow at the rather chipper woman. She was young, just out of medical school and still optimistic about her work, which bothered Kazuya. In her hand, she held a black leather binder, and she sat down across from Kazuya in an empty chair. "I have good news for you today."

"You're going to finally put me out of my misery?"

The doctor frowned, "No, I really think you'll like this news." She smiled again the older man sitting across from her as she opened her binder and flipped through it. It was filled with notes, though in one of the inside pockets, a women's fashion magazine was tucked away. Kazuya fixated his gaze on what he could see of it.

On the cover, there was a photo young woman with auburn colored hair and blue eyes grinning playfully, and she wore a white flowing sundress and a matching floppy hat. It reminded him of someone, though whom he couldn't remember exactly. Most of his memories were like that these days, coming in fugues and looping; a distinctive lack of time.

"We're taking you off of your medication for a little while."

He blinked once, still focused on the magazine instead of his doctor's face, and remained silent.

The younger woman's frown deepened, "Did you hear me?--"

"--Why?" He looked up.

"Your immune system's built up a resistance to treatment," she smiled gently. "We think it's safe to take you off until your tolerance drops to normal again."

"It's temporary, though," he mumbled as he looked down at the magazine again; his forehead wrinkled in thought.

The doctor grinned, "Not necessarily." She shut close her binder, which broke Kazuya's concentration. Startled, he shook his head and looked up again at the woman doctor. "If all goes well, this could be the end of your treatment. Then we can contact your family--"

"--How many times do I have to tell you people? I don't have any family."

"Everyone has someone out there."

He frowned, "I'm not everyone, though." He stood up and quietly strolled over to his opened window.

With his back to his doctor, he began again, "It's not fair to take someone's death away from them."

"You were given a second chance."

"A second chance at what?" He spun around angrily, "If living in a cage is a second chance, I'd rather be dead! And hell, I can't even remember how I got into this mess, if I even agreed to be cut up and shot up full of drugs, or...or..." His hands were trembling as he tried to think of what he was going to say next. Nothing came out, however. The doctor's face was placid as she soaked in Kazuya's rant, and she waited for him to finish.

"Get out," he replied finally. She nodded and stood up, still silent, then hastily exited the room.

It was true, though. When asked his name twenty years ago, he could only respond "Kazuya". The researchers and doctors that kept him there doubted that was his real name, and sometimes he did himself. However, it was the last thing he remembered hearing from before he woke up after surgery, covered in bandages and unable to walk then. A woman's voice in his head had called it, bright, cheery, European accented. Familiar.

They had had trouble figuring out Kazuya's age. It was known that he had to be at least in his forties; however, from the treatments and surgery, he still looked like he was in his early thirties at the most, and wasn't aging any. His surprisingly muscular body was covered in pre-surgery scars, however, none of which gave any clue as to who he was, the two most distinguishing being the large gash across his chest and the one etched across his face. Of course, he couldn't remember how he had received either one.

Kazuya sat down slowly on his bed. Though it was covered in a dark blue bedspread, it still didn't hide the fact that it was a stiff, hospital mattress. He looked forward at his door, numbed. Usually, he never had outbursts like that. That was one of the things that made him stick out as a ward there, his cooperation and mild manners. He knew, just from stories the nurses and orderlies told him in whispers, that most of the patients there were quite mad, all supposedly burn victims like he. The "treatments" they were given were accelerated versions of his, often resulting in grotesque mutations and failures instead of restoration of muscle tissue and skin like the results Kazuya had enjoyed. At times, he could hear screaming and moaning from the other rooms, as if there was some kind of torture being executed. Those nights, Kazuya would lie in bed, his head covered with his pillow, praying for the cries to stop.

He could hear voices muffled by the walls that morning, a woman whimpering in pain, speaking in a language he couldn't understand, and then the voice of his doctor replying in a bubbly manner in the same language. As he listened, he pulled his legs up to chest and hugged them. More crying, and then the shut of a door. He then stretched out on his bed and listened until he drifted off into sleep.

Several hours later, he awoke to darkness; the only light that came into his room was from the streetlights outside of his barred windows. As he laid in bed, his eyes adjusted to the dark, he stared up at the ceiling, again troubled.

It was silent. Not a sound from outside his door or beyond his walls. Kazuya then sat up and stared over at his door. The little window in the door was darkened as well, unusual since the hospital kept all its hall lights on at night, like any other medical facility. He blinked once, stood up, and crept over to the door.

He frowned and peeked out the window.

There were patients wandering around the hall, silent, and doors were wide open. Usually, the doors to the wards' rooms were electronically locked at night, and with that in mind, Kazuya glanced down at his wrist. The red LCD light that usually blinked on his tracker was off as well.

"You're free to go, Kazuya."

Kazuya's eyes widened when he heard his name, and slowly he looked over his shoulder.

A young woman stood behind him, her hands folded daintily over her stomach as she gazed back at the older man placidly. She was wearing a light blue summer dress with a white shawl thrown over her thin shoulders. Kazuya turned completely to face the girl.

Her face was familiar to him, though she wasn't particularly beautiful, a typical looking Asian girl with a plain kind of prettiness. Ordinary.

"I know you, don't I?" he asked softly under his breath; he squinted as he tried to get a better look at the girl. As he stared at her, his stomach gnawed on itself, and Kazuya felt ill.

The woman stepped towards him and held out a hand, "Do you need to be led out?"

"...No." She smiled weakly at that response and refolded her hands as she walked towards Kazuya, who stumbled back in fear, trying to get away from the woman as she approached him. He pressed himself flat against the door, and his eyes widened when she stopped in front of him. Cautiously, the woman lifted a hand to his cheek and lightly traced the scar there with her fingers.

At the first moment of her touch, Kazuya felt an overpowering wave of anger and fear rush into him for a split second. His bottom lip quivered, and he could feel his eyes tearing up. He gritted his teeth and did his best to fight them off.

She whispered, "I forgive you," before leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips.

He ran through corridor after corridor in the hospital, slamming into other patients and knocking them down as he frantically looked for an exit. Not once did he look back as he searched, until finally he found what had to have been the lobby. Unlike the rest of the facility, it was deserted, and the glass double doors gave off the only light in the large room. The front desk that should had been occupied by a guard or a secretary was empty. He scurried up to one of the front doors then stopped.

There was another moment of fear as he hands pressed cautiously against the metal bar on the door, and he hesitated. Instead of pushing the doors open, he stared down at his wrist again and frowned before ripping his ID bracelet off then began fiddling with the tracker. After a few seconds, the band of plastic and wires slipped off his wrist and fell by his bare feet onto the tiled floor. Kazuya sighed with relief then once again pressed his hands against the metal bar on the door to open it and stepped out into the cool night air for the first time in two decades.

He walked away from the building and towards a huge metal fence and gate several hundred yards in front of the hospital. When he reached the gates, he found that they were opened, and he slipped through them. However, as soon as he was through, the gates creaked shut, and he turned around.

One by one, the windows in the hospital began to flicker on, sickly yellow light, and he could make out figures rushing about in the building; probably orderlies gathering up the loose wards. He let out a heavy breath and turned his back to his former prison and looked out ahead.

There was nothing but open highway and sky before him.

Kazuya smiled.