PASSAGE OF LOTUS

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Battle One: Passage of Rage

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200,000 dollars for the polishing off of a French politician? Surely he must have been joking. With a disappointed sigh, Sharon turned the dossier over and rolled those shining marble eyes of hers. Wrapped in a thin cream towel gently clinging to her damp flesh, Sharon flopped onto the comforting pillows of the sofa she had imported from Germany. Though she appeared to be in leisurely throws, Sharon’s mind was troubled. The moment she relaxed herself, she began to think about certain issues. About her life, about her sister, about many things, but mostly, these thoughts were of her career. Being a professional assassin didn’t come easily.

And one of her more ‘active’ clients, Giovanni, had become one hell of a taskmaster recently. It wasn’t enough to hire her for the elimination of a rival company owner, but now a diplomat? Even for Sharon, that was pushing it. Any fool could kill a conglomerate leader and leave with their hands stainless. But doing over a man in the public eye was a completely different story.

Sharon sighed once more then stood up from her position on her couch. Her damp fingers ambled through some more of the loose folders at her coffee table. Anything to get some more work under her belt. It had struck her in the middle of her shower that Giovanni was not the only one who had requested her services recently. But it had struck her even harder to know that these requests were contemptibly fewer than they had been previously, say three weeks ago.

Sharon idly scanned through each dossier, each one proudly proclaiming another highly paying assassination job and the details for each ‘execution’. There were at least five, those that had piled up in the space of a few weeks. But that was it. Sharon was stunned by this when she first realized the meaning behind it. In previous seasons, her order would have been three times this amount. But not now. Not since that day. It was almost one month to the day since defeat had fallen upon Sharon. And with it her unblemished hit list finally bit the dust.

All due to her defeat at the hands of Shadow Geist.

The thin muscles in Sharon’s face contorted into a scowl. It annoyed her to simply think of that ravenous beast. She could clearly picture him in her mind’s eye. She could see that thick gleam of a grin carved into his face. She could smell that wafting scent of his, that powerful odour of testosterone and blood. She could still hear the sounds of his dirty, dry laughter, his demeanour exuding more of that casual over-confidence.

It infuriated Sharon to know that her streak had ended at the hands of such a man. What made it worse was the hatred she felt for him. Sharon was not a good woman and she knew it. She killed for a living, she battled and murdered for all that was in her possession. She couldn’t come out a proclaim her enemy to be evil when she had done nothing to epitomize goodness. But regardless, her feelings toward Shadow Geist were that of loathing and she did know herself to be better than him. What kind of madman kills for no reason? But in the end it didn’t matter much. Sharon had been hired to end his life and she failed. Not only to kill him, but also to defeat him in face-to-face, hand-to-hand combat. It was one thing to miss her mark with the Assault Rifle, to fail with her own two fists, well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The young woman stood up from her sitting position and walked over to the massive glass window of her penthouse suite.

She placed one of her wet hands against the cool glass of the window and looked out on the scene below the building. Cars and trucks all buzzed through in the traffic of the bustling city street, while eager consumers and passers by strode along the pavements. Sharon had the power to kill all of them, effortlessly, whether she wanted to or not. It filled her with great pride, responsibility and fear to know that fact. But there was one man out there that she just didn’t have the power to kill.

Sharon lowered her eyes. “That damn Shadow Geist.”

Sharon shook her head to get those memories out of her head. She had enough reminders of her defeat as it was. Namely the bruises and cuts she had sustained. It was thankful that an old married couple had come by though. They were passing by after visiting their daughter at a nearly town, and one of them spotted an unconscious Sharon down the small canyon that she had led Shadow Geist to. Naturally the old couple helped her out and Sharon was soon after admitted to a hospital. Since her injuries were not too damaging, she was discharged the following day.

But Sharon had lost more on that day than just a few scraps of skin. Not only had she been beaten, she lost her perfect record of successful kills and word had gotten out. Suddenly she was less useful to crime lords because it was revealed that she didn’t have the power to kill everybody. Which was also probably the reason why Giovanni had been so fervent with offering her work. Perhaps pity? Or maybe it was his way of sneaking her into his bed. No matter what the case might be, Sharon was focussed on two things.

Shadow Geist was one of them, the second was his words.

At first Sharon had dismissed his ramblings as just that. Ramblings. But the more she thought about what he was saying, the more it stuck in her head. How different was her killing from Shadow Geist’s killing? Did getting paid for it make the job even cheaper? And most of all, was Sharon lacking as an assassin for thinking herself to be ‘different’ from other killers?

“Am I not,” Sharon began. “A true assassin?”

Before she could even search for an answer, the phone went off. Sharon rose up from her couch, then pulled off the towel that had been wrapped around her head after the shower. The redhead ambled over to the phone and held the receiver to her ear.

“Hello?” She breathed in an irritable voice.

The person responding was a blast from the past. “Well, well, well. You sound extremely chipper, Sharon. Please do not stress yourself on my account.”

Sharon sighed. “Blair. What exactly do you want?”

“Now, now.” Blair offered through the earpiece. “I just heard the news. It seems your legend has spread even all the way here to Europe. But with the good comes the bad. I also heard about your last hit. Ended in failure, I believe?”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Have you called to gloat?”

“No. Regardless of what you think, earning victory over you is not the centre of my existence.”

“Then what do you want? It should be obvious that I’m not in the mood for sister-to-sister chatter right now.”

Blair sighed over the phone. “I was thinking maybe you’ll want revenge for your defeat.”

“I don’t exactly see how this is any of your business, but you’re right, Blair. I do want to get my own back. But not now. I am in no condition, physical or mental, to face him again. But I will be, all too soon.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Blair asked sceptically.

Sharon took a glance at the piece of paper under her job dossiers. It was given to her by Giovanni. And although it looked more or less worthless, it held some valuable information.

“I plan on meeting someone.” Sharon supplied.

Blair was still clueless. “Meeting someone like who?”

“I don’t know what his real name is. No one does. But I have been told about this man from quite a ‘helpful’ acquaintance of mine. I will meet with him.”

“Who is this person?” Blair repeated.

Sharon’s eyes were as cold and as solid as steel when she answered. “His name has been given to me as DOCTRINE DARK.”

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Tokyo, Japan.

To many, Tokyo symbolizes the power and development that the Japanese government had achieved. What was once the unknown fishing village had become the hub of Japanese industry, tourism and trade. The politics of the yesteryears had led to this by shedding some of Japan’s deeply seeded traditions and beliefs. Casting away the old for the new gave rise to the magnificent city that adorned this nation with its beauty. But there were those who did not cast away their beliefs. Those who stayed true to their heritage and continued to use powers that had long since believed to be hidden, or at best, the fragile misconceptions of myth.

One of these men just happened to be in Tokyo right at this point in time. Deep in the seamy underground of Tokyo’s Shinjuku district, those who mastered the fist heard the call of blood. On occasion, they would gather in the back streets and stage makeshift fighting tournaments to satisfy their need to wage combat. One of those said tournaments just happened to be taking place at this time. A huddled group of around 20 people watched and jeered in a circle, as two new hotshot fighters tore into each other with their polished fighting techniques. It was the middle of the day, so it was not likely that blood would be shed now. Once the beating sun gave way to the heartless moon, all the gloves would come off. Then heaven help those who were unfit to take part in street fighting.

Within the nameless crowds that gathered around the duelling pair, a very significant man stood and watching the fight keenly. His body was completely swathed in the folds of a long white cloak, concealing him in a veil of mystery. But the darkness of the hood could not hide the burning rage in his flaming crimson eye.

Like the ever-shifting wind, he blew in from nowhere and made such an impact on the underground fighting scene that people had referred to him as ‘the one-eyed demon’. Very few people knew who he was by his given name, but those had met him under the alias of the one-eyed demon had come to know what fear truly was. Under the rage of his taped fists, an unbeaten street fighting record had been made. Not to mention a vicious trail of blood and misery.

The people surrounding the one-eyed demon were ignorant of his significance, so did not focus on him, rather the street fight that was taking place inside the circle of spectators. A battle that had just been decided.

A young woman, clearly of south Asian descent, pulled off a furious flying roundhouse, spinning her leg over her body and around, crashing into the jaw of the unlucky man whom she had been fighting with. The street fighter was tossed into the crowds by the force of the blow and just to rub some salt in the wound, the south Asian woman danced in celebration of her victory. Her hips wiggled swiftly, her arms moved elegantly. Those around smothered the girl in cheers of appreciation for her skill (and in the case of the many males there, her beauty). A old businessman with a satisfied smile walked up to the dancing girl and handed her a bag full of money.

But before he could even get near her, a taller, muscled and toned man stepped in between them. His pointed moustache, tanned skin complexion, and broad muscles stood strong amid the jeers and spectators, the sun gleaming off the gold of his belt.

“Stop there.” He declared in a powerful voice. “What business do you wish to transact with Mistress Pullum?”

The old businessman suddenly felt like a possum compared to this hulking giant. “I uh, just need to give her the money for that wonderful fight. Such skill could take her so far.”

The young woman, Pullum Puruna, ended her bounding dance and smiled sweetly, ignoring the crowd’s hungry eyes for the time being. She walked up to the businessman, both of her hands clasping together behind her back in a childish manner.

“No need to be hostile, Darun.” Pullum said happily. “He just wants to pay me for the tournament. But I really don’t need payment you know. I just want to spread my dance technique all across the world, regardless of money and profit. That’s my dream you see.”

Darun Mister nodded slowly. “I understand, Mistress.”

“So!” Pullum turned back around to the crowds that had surrounded she and Darun. “Does anyone else have a desire to see my dancing skills once more?”

The crowd erupted once more, though no one stepped forward. It seemed that all the street fighters that were operating in this makeshift tournament had been defeated by Pullum and her south Asian dance style. Just when she pouted with this realization, the cloaked figure slowly barged his through the crowds and made his way into the large circle that Pullum and Darun were waiting in. Pullum looked at him curiously while Darun watched his strident movements with great caution.

This man pulled down the hood of his cloak, to reveal his face. A face so worn by his destiny. A face broad and hard with a soulless passion for fighting. His black hair danced in the slight wind, as did the cloak that flocked around his torso. One of his eyes burned brightly with red hot fire, while the other was absent, slashed away under the streaky scar over the left of his face. The crowd all gasped as this man revealed himself. Talk of the ‘one-eyed demon’ was not lost on the street fighting community of Shinjuku. And although Pullum and Darun were just passing through Japan on their journey toward America, they had also heard tales of this upcoming young rebel. Even his hometown of Osaka couldn’t contain this man’s fighting streak.

This man was Kairi.

Darun narrowed his eyes. “That is him. The demon from Osaka. The man who we were told of.”

“So he is powerful?” Pullum said eagerly, turning her smile toward the dark haired fighter. “I would love to test my dance against a worthy opponent!”

Darun was not so eager. “I do not think that-”

Just that instant, Kairi shifted his stone cold glare at Darun. Though Darun was a full head taller than him, Kairi showed no fear or concern. Quite the contrary. Kairi’s demeanour beamed nothing less than sheer contempt.

“Then perhaps you’ll challenge me.” Kairi said simply.

Suddenly the frightened whispers of the crowd turned to jeers again when the grounds for a new fight had been laid to the floor. Pullum watched quietly as Darun narrowed down on Kairi, his glare forced onwards by his desire to protect his mistress.

“I feel great power in you.” Darun said respectfully. “So I will take Mistress Pullum’s place as your opponent.”

The old businessman who had been watching this smiled with glee, then stepped back to give them room to begin this fight between the two of them. “I’ll pay for his entry fee!” He said. “It’ll be worth it to see the demon in action!”

Darun looked back at Pullum. “Please step back, Mistress.”

Pullum just nodded, not questioning Darun’s desire to do battle with Kairi. She walked backwards against the crowds and joined them as spectators. Now that their space had been taken care of, Darun looked down at the silent Kairi and cracked his large knuckles.

“So you are the ‘demon’ of the Osaka fighting circuit. I was warned of you. I hear that you have an unbeaten record under your belt.”

Kairi’s response was one of silence.

After which, Darun stopped cracking those powerful knuckles of his. “I suppose that is meaningless in the long run, eh? So be it. We shall fight to resolve this. Rraaah!”

Darun growled fiercely, like a great bear displaying its anger, then charged at the stone faced, emotionless Kairi. The taller man branched out his arm and gathered strength within his fist, then swung that colossal arm at Kairi. The one-eyed demon acted instantly by ducking under Darun’s lariat and crouching to the ground. He rolled forward, his cloak and his ponytail spinning around his body as he moved. Kairi and Darun both ended the motions and swung back around to look at each other, their positions now alternated.

It seemed as if Kairi had escaped from the attack without fail, but the smile on Darun’s face indicated otherwise. The beige cloak that was keeping Kairi’s body obscured seemed somehow loose, a trait reaffirmed as this article slipped free from his firm shoulders. The cloak fell into a limp pile swimming around his ankles, revealing Kairi to his fullest. The crowds marvelled at his body, wracked with elongated scars, both blotted and jagged alike. The only clothing on his body was the reels of tape around his fists and feet, and the sheared white leggings held up around his waist by a red and black belt. Though it seemed like Kairi was just another street punk, his rough clothes saying as much, there was something about him that set him apart from the masses. He was different somehow. Special. Almost ethereal in his ruggedness.

Darun brought up his fists and narrowed his eyes. Unexpectedly, Kairi seemed a bit more imposing than before. His boots hit the dirt one after the other, as he charged at Kairi once more. Darun extended his massive arms at both sides and brought them back together in an encircling grip around Kairi’s upper body. But what Darun thought he had, he didn’t. Kairi slipped through this grip before Darun’s flesh came within a centimetre of his own, leaping into the air. Darun blinked when he realized his arms were empty, then looked around. His dark eyes stalked back and forth, searching for his opponent, seeing nothing but the crowds.

Darun continued to look around. “Did that coward run away?”

Of course it seemed that way, until Darun felt Kairi’s presence first hand in the form of a fist. Darun yelped angrily as Kairi’s punch knocked him senseless. His jaw jerked back, his skin already blemished with a purple bruise. Now that Darun was dazed, Kairi took the initiative and struck once more. Kairi kicked Darun’s leg in one swift clubbing blow, sweeping the large man off his feet. Darun crashed to the ground with a jarring thud, sweeping up a wave of dust from the dirty ground. Kairi launched his leg upwards then brought it down vehemently to strike his downed enemy. Darun blocked the axe kick with both of his meaty arms. Grabbing Kairi by the leg, Darun dragged him down in one powerful swing, hurling the demon across the floor. Kairi tumbled to the stone floor and rolled along, just before stopping himself and flipping up into a standing position.

Darun charged head first at Kairi, his large feet pushing him forward like a raging bull. Kairi gritted his teeth hard, then braced himself as he jumped up over Darun’s shoulders. It was a risky move but was preformed successfully, as Kairi bounded over Darun’s heavy frame, both legs swinging above Darun, alternating their positions once more. Kairi landed swiftly then turned his body around to meet with Darun. The pony tailed man thrust his fist at the face of the larger Darun, jerking his jaw line back with the blow. Kairi followed that punch with an equally vicious second, then drew back his right hand for a third. Darun caught this fist the moment it was thrown at him, then gripped down hard on it.

Kairi grunted with annoyance but could not free his hand. Darun decided to capitalize on Kairi’s predicament and dragged him inward. Kairi was pulled towards Darun sharply with a jerk of the arm and his upper body was nodded downward. Darun laughed with momentum and curled his muscled arms around the bowed Kairi’s stomach. Now that his adversary was caught in a deadly grip, Darun launched himself and Kairi up into the sunny morning sky.

Kairi was unable to stop the flow of Darun’s brilliant contact grappling ability, so could only wait as Darun folded his body in the air to position it, back-first. The necks of those in the crowd (including Pullum) looked up and then down as Darun rose and fell, but Kairi was the one who felt the rage of this attack as his body crashed, along with Darun’s legs, into the ground. The pavement below chipped when Kairi’s shoulder and upper back were forced into the stone. For a while all was still, even the gasps of the crowds were quieting, till Darun rose up and lightly pushed Kairi’s limp legs to the side.

“Hmmm.” Darun mused at the downed Kairi. He didn’t expect to get an opening for the Brahma Bomb so early on in the match. Maybe Kairi wasn’t as skilled as he had heard. But while Darun believed that the match was over, Pullum’s concern grew when she saw Kairi’s eyes flash open.

“Darun!” She yelled. “Look!”

Darun looked back around him as Pullum requested, and saw Kairi rise from the ground, pushing himself up with strong and unfazed arms. Darun gasped in shock as Kairi stood up with a resolution of iron. Though his back had been smeared with dust and ground chips of the pavement, the Brahma Bomb, one of Darun’s more complicated and powerful moves, had done almost nothing to Kairi. But what was worse, was that Kairi seemed somehow different now. What once was a disposition as cold and as placid as ice, was now fiery and somewhat awakened. Kairi’s cool stone glare had become a devilish grin, his fists breaking out in sparks of sapphire. And it might have been a trick of the eye, but it seemed that Kairi’s normally raven black hair was flashing a pallid grey every few seconds.

The air became felt thicker and the sky just seemed to lose a tad of that brightness it held. Kairi’s burning eye focused on Darun, while his hands dangled loosely at the sides of his body. He advanced, one step after the other, moving towards the larger fighter in a slow march. Darun altered his curiosity to action and ran for the first strike, aiming to punch the risen man. Kairi grinned with deviousness and sidestepped Darun’s punch, his body moving speedily through the air. The demon spun around Darun’s heavy frame and was instantly behind him, shifting so fast that the neither the crowd, nor Pullum, could see him move.

Kairi jumped into the air with his newfound momentum, a circle of dust blowing along the pavement as he made the jump. Darun was still unaware of Kairi’s location, and was therefore unable to block any attack that he might cast. Not that Darun would have been able to defend against it anyway.

Kairi screamed his attack then performed it, launching his leg out then descending towards the back of Darun. The large man cried out as Kairi’s energy charged foot rammed into his spine with deadly and ruthless accuracy. As Kairi landed he was back on the attack and thrust his knee into the same spot he had struck before. With a snap, Kairi’s knee proceeded to rend flesh and muscle, and break bone. Pullum winced with horror as she heard the distinct sound of a snap in her guardian’s back. Darun was thrown off his feet and hurled into the crowds. They scrambled to get out of the way and they managed to get the job done, but Darun was not so lucky. The Asian wrestler smashed against the wall of a nearby building, creating a huge imprint. His body drooping to the ground, his energy spent and his body in an even worse condition.

“Darun!”

Pullum barged through the stunned crowds and past Kairi, then went over inspect the condition of her friend. The crowds looked from the downed Darun then toward Kairi whose smile and bloodlust hit a peak. His raging eye looked upon Darun and Pullum. That rage and glee suffered as Kairi’s mind was struck with a pang of guilt. Kairi’s smile fell and he clasped his head as wracking pain burned and oozed inside the grooves of a troubled brain.

“Graaaaaaaahhhhh!!” The beastly cry of the struggling Kairi began to worry the people around, and they backed away from him, frightened at his power and his seemingly outrageous reaction. But Kairi was concerned with none of them, just gripped his head and fell to his two knees, his bloodlust and rage warring mentally with his human conscience. High above that sight, standing on the ledge of a two-storey building, a tall presence stood, watching the fight with his arms crossed and his expectations fulfilled.

The figure stood in the burning sunlight, that brief darkening of the sky became a thing of the past. His body was dressed in furious and wild armour, colours of brown and blue in the mix, giving him an animalistic appearance. His hands were gloved and his feet sandaled under the material around his legs. One both of his shoulders were plates of more brown armour, both plates shaped with the face of a tortured soul. His face was hidden beneath the protection of a hideous iron mask, his breathing sharp and contained under it. Behind that mask was a wild and outrageous bushel of hair, sweltering and glowing with the faintest shades of white gold. But what was most frightening about this creature was his aura. Unlike anyone or anything on earth. His aura was cloudy and mysterious, but brimming with anger and knowledge that took thousands of years to develop.

Was he human? Was he a demon?

That was unknown. But was known was his name. A name that struck fear and respect in those whose ears were blessed enough to hear it.

That name was Garuda.

“I see. So this is the one who broke the seal.” Garuda exclaimed in his slow and powerful voice, looking down toward the ailing Kairi. “He struggles with the Dark Way. But no matter. He will soon be ready to give this body what it needs.”

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