Thread: The Queen of Iron Fist Tournament (iridium248)

They had all arrived. No attendant came to Heihachi with this news he simply knew. He had counted the whirling buzz of each helicopter as they arrived at the island throughout the day but even before that he knew. Only a fool would pass up such an offer as these women had been given, though they still had yet to be told what that offer even was. Only a fool would turn down the renowned Heihachi Mishima to begin with, even, or perhaps especially if they knew. It is time, he said, opening his eyes. Day had given way to evening, evening way to the beginnings of night when the warrior rose from his meditative crouch. Dressed in his usual attire, half ceremonial and half combative, for one should never dress in a way that restricted their movement ability, Heihachi wore loose, flowing, rich blue pants with a gold and black dragon stretching from one leg to the other. A similar gold and black belt, though this design a tiger stripe, held two swords at his waist, the first a katana for if a blade were ever to be needed and the second a shorter blade, its one and only duty to be used for when its bearer failed to a point where he could no longer honorably live, and needed to take his own life. Thankfully Heihachi didn't fail, his power, his money, his island an existing testament of that. Finally he wore thick wooden sandals on his feet and black armbands covering the length of his forearms. Aside from that the man wore nothing, his entire torso bare, bare and muscled, a wicked scar ever present at the center of his chest. Heihachi dressed like this for all of his tournaments, right up until it was time for him to compete, at which point he changed into a black marital arts gi. But for now it would be this. When he felt it time, only the slightest bit of sunlight still on the horizon, the aging warrior stood from his meditative sit in the middle of the mahogany floor of his dojo at the island's center. One of the room's walls was completely removed, only columns existing every sixteen feet for support, allowing for a wide, picturesque view of part of the beach, and the thick forest from there to here. Heihachi smiled as he looked onward, recalling in a flash which was to be Asuka's. Third from the left. And so forth he went. Traversing the depth of the jungle was a feat neither challenging nor time consuming for the man well into his seventies. Tigers and snakes, bears and packs of wolves, the beasts bowed to him whether ahead of time or by force. They had been included as an extra challenge to the women, as if they were so weak as to succumb to a stalking leopard or a hungry bear then they were not worthy of the gift they had been brought here to receive. Heihachi, for his part, knew every part of the woods like a man knew the crevices of his home, knew which route would be the fastest and which direction would take him to his granddaughter, a girl with no lack of beauty whom he held every bit of confidence would be waiting for him. His pace had been nothing short of a solid dash from the moment of setting foot beyond his dojo, and as he emerged from the treeline to step out onto the beach his chest was rising and falling with only a slight harshness to his breaths. Ha. Seventies indeed! How long had it been since he'd seen her? Too long. Too long in person, anyway. He was well aware of Asuka's beauty, that very much the reason she had been left a personal gift. That very much the reason he visited her at her guest house tonight instead of any of the other stunningly attractive women. Spies were everywhere. Cameras were even more places. He was well aware of many things about each participant invited, his granddaughter's voluptuous, womanly form amongst an elite few thoughts often at the forefront of his mind. And now came the time to again wait. All that he had done so far, there would be a little more still, as he saw Asuka had not yet taken to the beach as her note instructed. Did she decide against such a forward, blunt request? Did she even show up? ...Of course she would have. And of course she would come. When Heihachi reached her home he walked right past it, past it and to the beach where he would wait standing at the very tip of the tide. Arms crossed along his chest, muscled back facing the back of the extravagant home, the eccentric billionaire gazed out at the coming moonlight upon the waves as he waited. Patience was one of many things he could afford not even time would bring about his death, as many often hoped.