Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ The King of Iron Fist Tournament 6 ❯ Transfusion ( Chapter 18 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

“Mmmm…what an absolutely succulent scent.”
The 20-year-old blonde man's nose sniffed the air as he followed the copper aroma throughout the lab. He was wearing a white lab coat, a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt with the design of the “Megaranger” cast: attire that truly hid the fact that he was a high-ranking official of the company that owned the lab he was in. After sifting through several scientists, he discovered the source of the scent: a beautiful Japanese woman on an operating table, hooked up to numerous machines, covered in blood. Judging from initial impressions, the blonde man guessed that she was mauled by a bear.
For reasons that only he knew, he took hold of her blood-stained kimono and twisted it until some of the blood began dripping from it. The blonde man put his mouth under the wad he was twisting, being sure to catch some of the drops in his mouth. Letting go of the cloth, he smacked his lips slightly as he examined the taste. “Can't be more than two hours old,” he murmured.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain to his back as he was sent flying towards a group of scientists. “Who-who dares!?” the blonde man quickly shoved the scientists aside and got into a fighting stance. When he looked in the direction of where he was struck, he saw a Japanese man in a dark purple knit shirt, and a pair of blue sports pants. Though the man was rugged, it was apparent that he was at least in his late thirties.
“If you EVER do that again Sorel, I will crush your spine as I would a candy cane,” the elder Japanese man said as he went over to the woman on the operating table.
“I was merely examining the body,” the blonde man said as he dusted himself off and approached the Japanese man, “so don't get your knickers in a twist, Mishima!” As soon as he said that, the Japanese man slowly let go of the woman's hand and got into a fighting stance. The blonde man did the same as the surrounding scientists backed away from the scene. Bloody combat was about to ensue.
“Kazuya, Jean, that's enough,” an old man's voice broke the air of animosity between the two men. He was an elderly and bespectacled Caucasian man with gray hair and short stature. “Mr. Sorel, if you don't mind, Mr.Mishima and I need to perform a blood transfusion for our patient.”
The blonde man smiled coldly and looked at his watch. “Very well, Head Scientist Larne. I shall take my leave for now,” he said as he turned around and headed for the exit. “Power Rangers is going to be on shortly anyway…”
“That man is sick in every sense of the word,” Kazuya muttered.
“Mr. Mishima, if we want to save what little life she has left, we must hurry,” Dr. Larne led Kazuya to the empty operating table located right next to the woman's. “It's fortunate that you managed to rescue her AND get the blood samples from Ogre. The President will be most pleased,” the scientist continued as Kazuya got onto the operating table and lay flat on his back.
“I don't know what's worse: the fact that it was Ogre who almost mangled her, or the fact that I can't do a damn thing to avenge her because that bastard Heihachi is looking for Ogre too and that would blow my cover,” Kazuya grumbled as he rolled up his sleeves. While he loved the woman a great deal, his hatred for his father was even greater. Nothing, not even the woman he loved, would get in his way of the grand scheme he had to take down Heihachi.
“Your friend here has suffered massive blood loss, but it seems that her…unique psychic abilities are keeping her alive. But if we are to revive her…we'll need your Devil Gene,”
Dr.Larne prepared a tube for the blood transfusion and washed his hands a nearby sink.
“Hmph, you really think I didn't know that,” Kazuya said as the doctor connected the tube to Jun's wrist.
“This will require a great deal of blood, you might feel disorientented,” Dr. Larne said as he lightly cut Kazuya's wrist and put the other side of the tube into it. Disoriented was putting it lightly, Kazuya was beginning to feel as if he was getting pounded on by Heihachi all over again. But he did not lose consciousness as he muttered the name of the woman…
“So instead of denying her of a chance to rest in peace, you chose to prolong her suffering…by turning her into one of us!” Jin clenched his fists as he spoke, “You are sick…”
“DON'T BE SO QUICK TO JUDGE ME, JIN!!!” Kazuya's voice boomed with such ferocity that even Jin jumped up in surprise. “Let's say you were in my position, would you do any different? Or better yet…” Kazuya's single crimson eye began to glow softly as his gaze met Jin's, “Let's say it wasn't your mother, and instead it was…that Chinese brat you love so well? How far would you go to save her?”
For this, Jin had no answer. He knew, deep down inside, he would do exactly as his father had done. If it had been Xiaoyu, Jin would do everything in his awesome power to save her. Even if it meant using inhumane means to do it.
“So why are you telling me this so openly…father?” Jin winced as that last word left his mouth. It sickened him to call a man as cold-hearted as Kazuya his father, but if he was going to get anywhere with this conversation, he would have to get used to the idea. “It seems just so unlike you to love anyone, especially considering how you left her to fend for herself as a single mother!”
“…even if I had a valid answer for the latter comment, I doubt you would believe a word of it,” Kazuya crossed his arms as he spoke, “but the reason I'm telling you is because that Jun seems to have lost her memory. The disorientation of death still lingers, and all that remains in her right now is the desire to fight.” He began pacing back and forth as he spoke, “I'm going to need all the help I can get to bring her mind back to 100%...and I'm certain that the memory of her children will do just that.”
“Children!?” Jin raised an eyebrow as he heard that word.
“You said children. Plural.”
“…a mere slip of the tongue. Look nothing more into it,” Kazuya said as he began walking towards the gate, “Now come, the tournament continues without us…”