Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Tekken.

Author's Note: Hey guys. Been holding onto this one so I could post it when Uni got busy. It's shortish but it's someone that needs more love! Enjoy!

THUNDERSTORM

He was like a deluge throughout Asia, barging into dojos and seeking to claim the strength of others. They who knew nothing of the world, who did not need their might as much as he did. After all, he had discovered something that they had not, and he wanted it at all costs.

Feng Wei. God Fist Prodigy.

At least, that was what his weak master had called him many years ago.

It was that same man who had hinted at scrolls in his youth, scrolls that possessed unparallel knowledge into that same art that he was such a natural at. Secrets Scrolls of the God Fist, with techniques that were thought to be lost through time.

He had read books and heard legends of these scrolls – that they would only appear to one who was deemed worthy and strong enough. They apparently had not been seen for almost a thousand years. Feng had every intention of becoming the next person to see their secrets, so then he could learn more and become a true master of the art.

After all, fighting was his life. There was no one and nothing else.

The man fell to the floor with a heavy, dull thud. Feng watched for a sign of life, finding that he still breathed shallowly. He had been a nice challenge compared to others he had come across in recent weeks, so he supposed that he would allow him to live rather than kill him. He watched as students rushed over to help, and somewhere in the background, someone shouted for outside assistance.

Apparently his quest for power had garnered him some attention from the police... But he cared not. They wouldn't understand.

He left the man and his dojo, walking many hours to the next one undetected by other humans. The moon, which had been high in the sky, had vanished, making way for the sun.

Once he arrived at the next dojo, he inspected it carefully. The sign mentioned a homemade martial art, something he had not yet faced.

His blood boiled. Whether it was excitement or exhaustion, Feng couldn't tell.

He was greeted by a nasally short girl, who allowed him to enter despite his silent disposition – though she did regard him suspiciously. After she bid her cat goodbye, she rode her bicycle away, presumably to school given her clothing and her age. It was only when he could no longer hear her pedalling did he walk beyond the dojo's fancy entrance.

It was quiet and empty, save for the man meditating cross-legged before the steps. To garner his attention, Feng made sure his final two steps were harsh on the ground. It had the desired effect, for the man looked up and spoke, "May I help you?"

Feng furrowed his eyes and spoke, his voice gravelly from disuse, "I wish to take your strength."

He attacked with no warning and no mercy, as he always had. His foot slammed onto the man's shinbone, causing discomfort. His opponent stood in a hurry and twisted to hurl his elbows into Feng's form. With a small degree of surprise, the prodigy quirked a brow before slipping into a quick stance and delivering two kicks, sending the man airborne.

The man's style was definitely unique, full of elbows and shoulders that were beginning to form bruises on Feng's face and arms. But too often the strikes were large, leaving him open for a palm to the face, or a knee to the side. For all of this man's calculated speed, even in the growing rain, Feng was too strong.

Towards the end of the battle, he became much more interested in watching the man's attacks. There was some standard karate sprinkled in, but there was still so much of the martial art that was unique and entertaining. But still... He didn't know how long the battle raged on for, but he was amused to find that this man fell like the rest of them.

What was of most interest to him was that nobody came to his aid, not like the other temples. Perhaps the man lived here on his own – or only with that girl... His daughter, maybe? Well, she would find him.

Feng placed a hand on the man's shoulder and shook him, watching as his did not respond – but he continued to breathe. As thunder crackled overhead, he supposed he would spare this man as well. He already took his strength and humiliated his 'unique art' in his own dojo. It felt as though he could feel the power coursing through him.

And as always, he left as silently as he came – but he noticed something bright on the wooden post, twitching against the coming wind. He tore it off and had a closer look.

It was a flyer.

He smoothed it out against his leg and squinted, reading it carefully in the rain. His eyebrow twitched when he made out 'world's strongest fighters'. Kings of Iron Fists, apparently. He'd never heard of such a thing before, having been secluded in the temples for so long... Having been too focused for so long.

He was looking in the wrong place. His future was there, destroying the world's strongest. Because only then would he receive the scrolls.

Without another word, Feng folded the flyer, placed it in his pocket, and stood, walking through the rain to the nearest taxi.

Those other martial artists better be ready. They'd not yet dealt with the thunderstorm.