The Woman of White Wings

Chapter One: In Which Jin Receives an Ally

Since Jin Kazama's two tournament winning streak was purely off the record, commentators and fans alike of the King of the Iron Fist Tournament regarded him as something of a reappearing underdog. Back when he was nineteen years old and the third tournament was getting underway, Heihachi Mishima's mysterious grandson had been a fan favorite for the title. They looked at him and remembered his father's domination at the first tournament, and how Heihachi had returned from the dankest pits of wherever it was he disappeared to to win the second. What he was lacking in maturity and experience as a fighter, they had said, he made up for in youthful speed and resilience. There were plenty of Americans backing Paul Phoenix or Forrest Law out of national pride or wrestling fans cheering for King, but to most, the Tekken Tournament meant Mishima victories above all else.

The title after the third tournament had stayed with Heihachi. Phoenix, who had been undefeated protested, but the fact remained that he never showed up for the title bout. Jin, the boy who had defeated Ogre, True Ogre and Heihachi knew that the title really belonged to him, but he didn't care about the fame, the money or the Zaibatsu. He just wanted his mother back. If he couldn't have that, he would have settled for the grandfather he knew for four years. His grandfather had been a wonderful teacher, a good provider and the only father-figure the boy had ever known. He knew now that it had all been an act and that Heihachi really wanted him dead, so Jin had fled and abandoned the title.

The fourth tournament played out more or less the same way, minus the mythological fighting god. Jin defeated all of his opponents and ran away. He left them alive, though his goal in participating was to kill his grandfather, and his father, who had suddenly reappeared, so Jin had to wonder why he had even come out of hiding at all. Really, he had not accomplished a thing in the tournament. What's more, he knew his mother's memory would never allow him to kill another human being while in his right mind. And his right mind was losing the battle against the mindless monster known as his 'devil' side, something he'd inherited from his father. Maybe a part of him hoped that he would lose control fully long enough to kill Heihachi and Kazuya. As unpleasant as it was, it was the only answer Jin had to the question of why he came back for a fifth tournament.

And come back he had, to the Fifth King of the Iron Fist Tournament, where he was hailed as a tenacious underdog with a never say die attitude. Opinion polls showed he was the most popular fighter among girls ages twelve to twenty-five and that no less than eighty-three percent of fans thought this tournament would be his year.

As such, Jin, mysterious young heartthrob that he was, was used to the stares of people on the streets and in his hotel during the times the tournament was in session. He would have liked to wear his jacket hood over his face, but as that had been branded his trademark at last month's tournament, doing so would result in more people recognizing him, not less. Jin would have liked to hole himself up in his hotel room, but he didn't think it beyond the scope of likelihood that his grandfather's men would storm the place. He certainly didn't believe his grandfather was dead, no matter what the newspapers were reporting.

Once again, Jin was forced to consider why he came to the tournament at all. There was always an ulterior motive, he knew that. The first was a poorly masked contest of wills between Heihachi and Kazuya. The second, Kazuya was trying to draw out his father. Then Heihachi baited Ogre with the best martial arts the world had to offer, serving up his own grandchild on a silver platter. For the fourth tournament, Heihachi sought to pull Kazuya out of wherever he'd been hiding for over twenty years. But as for the fifth, Jin didn't know what anyone was planning, which meant he could very well be part of the mysterious benefactor's goal. That put himself and anyone between him and the Mishima Zaibatsu at risk, which was why he had to keep moving.

And ask himself, why, if he was the target, was he willing to play into this person's hands? For another chance at murders he knew he couldn't commit? Or was it because he knew he was losing his mind to his Devil side and he wanted the true Jin to go out in a blaze of glory, proving to Heihachi and Kazuya that he would fight their dark influence to the last?

He was mulling all of this over in a coffee shop, a quaint place that served its beverages in chipped ceramic mugs that looked as though they'd had long and useful lives in this café. It was the sort of place he thought his mother would like, it had a simple, homey feel to it. Both his mother and Heihachi had taught him that caffeine was unhealthy, so he drank decaf partly because he knew his mother was right and partly because a martial artist couldn't tolerate fluctuating energy levels, especially if hordes of mercenaries are apt to attack you at any moment. He drank his coffee black, in the hopes that its bitterness would keep him alert.

Every now and then, someone would ask for his autograph. Jin always told him that he didn't sign things. The idea of encouraging the spectators of the tournament made him feel slightly ill. Some people walked away angry and muttered to their friends that Jin Kazama was a snob who thought he was too good for his fans. Others gushed that he was a mysterious loner, just like they'd always heard and were delighted that he had spoken to them.

One asked if she could sit down at his table and took a seat before he could respond that he preferred to be alone. She looked Westernblond hair, blue eyes—so he said in English, "Please, I would rather be alone."

She responded in Japanese, with an accent that sounded like she hadn't spent a day of her life outside of Tokyo. "Don't speak to me aloud, Jin Kazama, lest you wish to appear as though you are talking to yourself."

Jin ignored that comment, considering it made no sense. "If you don't want to talk to me, why did you sit here?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "I suppose someone wants me here. It may be you, Jin Kazama, after all, I saw you first. I thought you might have been Kazuya, when I saw you, but then I remembered he would have aged. Has anyone ever told you that you look like your father?"

"Yes, quite a few times." Jin kept his voice neutral. It sounded like the woman was trying to imply that she knew his father. He didn't know if she was ignorant of the bad blood between the Mishimas and trying to get on his good side or if she honestly knew him. Either way, he the comment had his opinion of her turn from indifference to dislike.

"You shouldn't be so quick to judge others." If Jin didn't know better, he would have thought she was scolding him.

"Judge?" he questioned. Maybe his tone had given more away then he'd wanted.

"You shouldn't dislike me because I know your father. Your mother knew your father and you don't hate her. Paul Phoenix knows your father and you don't dislike him, though from what I understand they didn't have a good relationship… It was something of a rivalry, not unlike yourself and Hwoarang. Anna Williams knows your father, Lee Chaolan knows your father, Bruce Irvin—"

"You can stop."

"What?"

"Listing people in the tournament who knew him. I don't care." It was somewhat true. Jin didn't care because those people didn't have affection for Kazuya, didn't call him by his given name while referring to Jin by his full name. Come to think of it, Kazuya called Jin by his full name the only time they'd met. The last thing Jin needed was strangers copying his father's mannerisms in front of him.

"It's not copying, exactly. Jin Kazama."

She had told him not to speak out loud. It was a strange request. "Can you read my mind?"

The woman smiled. "Yes. And before you ask, no one else even knows I'm here. Of all the people in this building, the only one who can see me is you. Twenty years ago, your mother could see me."

"And my father?"

"Well, I'm a part of him. I'd be insulted if he couldn't see me."

Today was a victory for Jin's curiosity, apparently, because he leaned closer across the table and asked in hushed tones, "How is that possible?"

"Yin and yang, Jin Kazama." She flexed her shoulders and large white feathered wings grew from her back instantly. Those were what his wings would have looked like, Jin realized, had they not been black. "For every devil, an angel, for every man, a woman." Apparently, she found that explanation good enough. Jin did not. "And you are still speaking aloud." She sighed, shifted in her chair to a more casual position. "But then, your father never listened to me, either. I don't see why you would."

Being compared to his father made Jin comfortable and it showed clearly.

"He's the same way, you know."

Jin glared.

She reached over the table to tug on one of the locks of hair arranged over his forehead. "You look just like him. Do you wear bangs to be different?"

Jin swatted her hands away, not concerned at all that by now he'd gathered a few audience members, all of whom tried to look like they weren't staring. He had worn his hair like that long before he ever knew what his father looked like, though he could remember his mother brushing his bangs to the side and looking at him in such a way that had always made him think she was looking past him. She had been looking for Kazuya, hadn't she?

"My mother…" he finally mumbled, "wore her bangs like that. I want to look more like her."

"Yes," the woman said with that same sort of look, "of course…"

"Did you know my mother well?"

"I barely knew her at all. Anything I saw was limited to what Kazuya let me see. All I knew of her was his perceptions of her and that she could always see Devil and I, trailing behind him. I only met her as something other than a shadow of Kazuya once."

She bowed her head. "I'm sorry for all of this, Jin Kazama. It's my fault. I thought I had been successful. I see now what a failure it was."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was born when your father met your mother. She was a person who radiated goodness and he loved her; he couldn't bear to be near her as he was. I grew to combat Devil. In those days, Kazuya wanted his freedom. Freedom to be happy, to be his own person, to be someone who could be good.

"When he was thrown into the volcano, Devil fled Kazuya's body so that he wouldn't die as well. I thought I had won. Devil surrendered. Then Devil went after you." She smiled, humorously. "Marvelous way to find out that you've become pregnant by a man who left you for a fight to the death, isn't it? By this time, your father's soul had been saved and your mother and I fought together to defeat Devil. I thought that you had been saved as well and that my mission was over.

"When Kazuya was resurrected, only Devil returned to his body. He'd lost everything and thought only of getting it all back, anyway he could. I was never summoned to return. I don't know why I've been summoned now."

Jin didn't like putting anyone on the same level as his mother, but… "Maybe he's met someone else."

She thought it over and dismissed it. "That doesn't sound very likely. Any feelings I have originated from Kazuya and I still love her. He won't have moved on."

"You do know..that's she's dead, right?" Jin had probably never managed to force a more difficult question from his throat.

She sniffed indignantly. "I know better than to believe in mortality, Jin Kazama. There is no death to the soul."

It was perhaps the best and worst thing anyone had ever told him.

"I also know this: I am Angel, the ally of those who would fight Devil."

Next—Kazuya is forced into a frank discussion.

Disclaimer: The Tekken Franchise is property of Namco. They make money from it, I do not. Here's the easiest way to tell the difference: They make video games, I write fanfiction.

Author's Notes: Yeah, Angel. Remember her? Blonde, winged Kazuya-hugger? Yeah, her. She rules.