A Long Day's End - Tekken King REDUX

"Guys, guys, hurry, he's coming!"

Light, rapid footsteps shuffled around the main building of the orphanage, a gaggle of children excitedly hurrying about. Through the hallowed hallways, dozens upon dozens of kids skimmed through their daily duties as fast as they could. A handful of night owls hastily made their cluttered beds, others vigorously scrubbed the walls until both paint and crayon scribbles were bleached white, and others readied gifts, trinkets, and any small tidbits they had for their esteemed guest's arrival.

In droves, the children piled out to the front door, many giddy with excitement, while some didn't get the memo and were still half-asleep. Their eyes suddenly widened with glee upon seeing the familiar sight of a taxi speeding towards the orphanage, a billowing cloud of dust trailing behind it. They cheered and applauded, and as the taxi cab stopped before them, their cries for jovial acclamation erupted into a cacophony of cheers.

The cab's door swung open, with a massive unit of a man stepping out. Children cheered and chanted their savior's name, jumping about as the famed wrestler stepped out with his luggage.

King's body welled with pride upon seeing so many of his adopted youngsters greet him, even with the hyperrealistic jaguar mask barring any attempt at gauging his emotions. He thanked the cabbie with a purring growl, the latter somehow understanding his "words", possibly due to the generous tip he received. The wrestler set his luggage aside, rushing forward to greet the army of tykes with a growl as the taxi slipped out of sight. One by one, the kids piled on him, with a lucky few managing to receive an endearing embrace from the wrestler himself. King ensured that each and every one received equal attention, be it hugs, growls or purrs of delight, or flamboyant riles to entertain them.

For a moment, time seemed to slow.

As the children clung to him, laughing and shouting his name, King found himself drifting. The scene before him, the joy, the warmth, the chaos, it was all so achingly familiar. Years ago, he had stood in their place, just another wide-eyed boy in the crowd, watching a towering figure step out of a cab with the sun at his back and hope in his stride.

Now, he was that figure.

The weight of it all settled in his chest, not the burden, but the meaning. The legacy he carried. The lives he shaped with every match, every dollar sent back home, every embrace he gave these children.

Stooping low, he opened his arms and let the sea of tiny hands engulf him. They tugged at his gloves, peppered him with questions, and showed him their drawings and handmade gifts. He gave each one his attention, rumbling soft growls of affection, lifting some onto his shoulders, bumping fists, letting them hang from his arms like jungle vines.

But even through the laughter, his gaze drifted upward. The sky stretched wide and golden above them, and somewhere beyond it, he knew the first King was watching.

He closed his eyes briefly, and a low, heartfelt growl rumbled from his throat—a thank-you, a promise, and a prayer, all in one.

---

The sun was finally setting, capping off the end of the day. Only a handful of kids stayed awake, wishing to see King one last time before heading off to bed. The wrestler himself sat alone in his humble resting quarters, now fully suited up in a more comforting set of threads, somewhat. He sported the more casual, suave light-blue button-up shirt, a clothing that was groaning quietly against the steady heaving of his mountainous pecs. His white slacks creaked slightly with a flex of his thighs, while a long jaguar tail dangled from his rear end. A soft growl escaped his lips as he stared out into the window, feeling the elusive moment of peace after years of wrestling and war. Perhaps for once, the Silent Jaguar can spend some time in relaxation before the next tournament.