One year after the events of Tekken 6, Jin Kazama has taken over a great deal of the world, abusing his power as head of the Mishima Zaibatsu. His father, Kazuya Mishima, and the G-Corporation, though their intentions are far from good, are all that stands between Jin and complete world domination. Jin himself is battling his own personal demons, as the Devil Gene becomes more and more aggressive.

Meanwhile, Heihachi Mishima has become more desperate than ever and has devised a plan along with his adopted son Lee Chaolan to reclaim the Zaibatsu from his overzealous and power drunk grandson. The power struggle and confusion in the Mishima Bloodline has reawakened Jinpachi Mishima.

Asuka Kazama, Lars Alexandersson, and Hwoarang, along with a handful of Lars's old task force allies, have formed a resistance against the Zaibatsu, intending to bring Jin down. But Lars has become a drunken recluse, refusing to leave his room.

The ancient god of fighting, Ogre, has reformed more powerful than ever.

And, deep in the heart of Japan, someone long believed dead has been found.

Tekken 7

"Lord Heihachi, I have an urgent message from Lee Chaolan."

"Ichiro," Heihachi began, in-between puffs from his cigar. "How many times have I told you not to interrupt me while I'm with my girls?"

He rubbed the hair of one of the four young women surrounding his throne, each of them maybe a quarter of Heihachi's age, yet all of them seeming inexorably drawn to him.

Ichiro, a man in his early thirties, wondered why he was never able to get a single woman as beautiful as one of those at Heihachi's feet, let alone four. He removed a black lock of hair from his face and cleared his throat. "A thousand pardons, sir, but—"

"No buts. Just leave."

"Sir, he says it's extremely important—"

Heihachi glared at Ichiro. The cigar burned a little brighter. Ichiro cleared his throat again, adjusted his glasses, and smoothed his tuxedo. Heihachi acknowledged the gesture.

"That's a beautiful suit, Ichiro. How much was it?"

"Um...four-hundred-dollars, sir."

Heihachi nodded. "It would be a shame to get blood all over it."

He started to get up, but then someone opened the door and stepped in. It was Lee. He was wearing a black silk shirt with frilled cuffs and a frilled collar, covered by a white suit jacket, given a touch of color by a bright red rose adorning the lapel. His pants were white as well.

"Hello father." He looked at the petrified Ichiro, then back to the half risen Heihachi, and back to Ichiro. He smiled. "Oh, you poor soul. Run along now."

Ichiro's expression changed to one of complete gratitude, and he ran out of the door. Lee turned back to Heihachi and clicked his tongue, wagging his finger.

"Don't kill the messenger, father."

Heihachi responded with a frown. "What is it that you want, Lee?"

"To help," he said. He helped himself to a nearby martini. He sipped it and closed his eyes, savoring the drink. "My nephew, he still won't let go of that Zaibatsu throne, will he?"

"No, he will not."

Lee inched closer. "And I'll bet that just infuriates you, doesn't it?"

Heihachi didn't respond. Lee continued.

"Well, Father, I'm going to be completely honest with you. You've gotten weak."

Heihachi nearly flew out of his throne, grabbing Lee's collar with one hand and slamming him against the wall, pinning him there. Lee's martini fell out of his hand, and he looked at it regretfully.

"Am I still weak now, boy?" He scowled, and blue lightning sparkled around his cigar.

Lee's expression betrayed no feelings of fear or anxiety, however. "Beating me won't solve your problem, Father. You might as well put me down. That is, if you want me to help you get your real throne back."

Heihachi slowly unclenched Lee's collar and backed away. "What do you propose?"

"The two of us against him. Hand to hand. We could dispatch him all too easily."

"So you just want us to go to Mishima Zaibatsu HQ and stroll into Kazama's main chambers?"

"Yes."

Heihachi was silent for a while, and then he suddenly burst into raucous laughter. "We have a better chance of kidnapping the Prime Minister!"

"I didn't say it would be easy, Father. But we do have a slight edge."

He snapped his fingers, and into the room stepped a beautiful young girl who Heihachi knew all too well.

"Hey, that's the android that Lars was running around with!" he said. "What is she doing here?"

"Relax, Father. Allow me to give you a little history lesson. Alisa was originally created by Doctor Bosconovitch to serve as Jin Kazama's bodyguard. When she was found by Lars, she served, unbeknownst to him, as Jin's eyes and ears. That's all history now, however, due to the fact that Lars gave Alisa to me to repair after he had to defeat her in combat. I lied to him, however, and told him that she was beyond my repair. With him out of the way, I reprogrammed her. She now works for us."

Heihachi remained skeptically silent. Lee chuckled.

"Well, Father, I'm not going to force you." He turned to one of the girls and pointed at her. "No need to stare, darling. Come."

The girl got up slowly and walked over to Lee, wary to remain outside of Heihachi's reach. Lee wrapped his arm around her shoulders and picked up another martini.

"Think about it, Father. When you've decided, you know where to find me."

He raised his glass and left.

"I have a present for you," Hwoarang said to Asuka, the woman he'd been dating for nine months now. She looked up from her book and smiled.

"What is it?" she said eagerly, standing up and placing her hands on Hwoarang's chest. He slowly lifted up a small, black velvet box and opened it. Inside was a beautiful golden ring with a sparkling amethyst gem crowning it. Asuka gasped.

"Asuka Kazama," Hwoarang said, kneeling down on one knee. "We've been together for almost a year now, and I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think it was time. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I don't care if that means awkward dinners with the in-laws and having to deal with you fighting your cousin all the time. So, Asuka, my joy, will you marry me?"

Asuka's eyes welled up with joyful tears. "Yes! Yes, I will!"

Hwoarang smiled and stood up. He placed the ring onto Asuka's finger, and she jumped onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. Suddenly, Hwoarang's phone began to ring. He reached for it, but Asuka stopped his hand.

"Uh-uh," she said, wagging her finger. "It's time for some celebration." She began to unzip his vest, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" He began to kiss her again, and they fell to the bed, giggling. Then, Hwoarang's phone rang again.

"Ignore it," Asuka said in between kisses.

"I am," Hwoarang replied. He moved his hand up the curves of Asuka's body, and leaned over to kiss her neck. After five minutes, the phone began to ring again. Hwoarang sat up.

"Hwoarang, don't you dare pick up that phone."

"But what if it's important?"

"What's more important than me?"

"That's a loaded question, and you know it." He began to reach for his cell phone.

"Hwoarang—"

But he flipped open the phone and stuck out his tongue, earning a dirty look from Asuka. "Hello?" His expression quickly changed to a more serious one. "What? Wait, Baek, slow down! What's happening? Okay, hold on, I'm coming. I—I know, I'm on my way." He hung up.

Asuka's brow was furrowed with worry. "What is it?"

"Baek is at the docks. He says there are a bunch of Mishima Zaibatsu soldiers, and something else about a creature." Hwoarang leapt off the bed and began to redress himself.

"Should we get Lars?"

Hwoarang shook his head slowly, regret filling his eyes. "No, Lars is…dealing with his own problems."

Another Vodka finished and in the trash. What was that, his third bottle? Lars was losing count. He reached up and wiped the alcohol off his stubble covered chin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd left his room. He stank like a wet dog, and his room was a wreck. In his hand, the one that wasn't clenching the drinking glass, he held a picture of the girl he fell in love with: Alisa Bosconovitch. He rubbed his thumb over the photo, and a tear fell from his eye onto the picture.

"Alisa…" he whispered to himself. Then his jaw clenched, and he gulped down the rest of the alcohol in his glass. He stood up and looked into the mirror on his wall. Then, he punched it, breaking the glass. He collapsed to the floor and began to sob.

Baek was bleeding. He didn't realize it until he stopped to catch his breath, hiding behind a stack of freight containers, and he felt a searing pain in his shoulder. Indeed, a bullet had grazed him. And many more would likely follow, if the Zaibatsu foot men caught up with him. So he had to keep moving.

After checking to make sure the way was clear, he began to sprint for the next stack of freight containers. He was almost there when three Zaibatsu soldiers appeared out of nowhere, each armed with a baton. Without hesitation, Baek struck the closest one with a devastating roundhouse kick and elbowed the next one in the face, shattering his head gear and breaking his nose. The third attempted a right cross, which Baek deflected with his wrist and countered with a hammer fist to the groin. As the soldier hunched over in pain, Baek broke his skull with an axe kick and kept running to the stack of containers. He slid down and sat, aiming to rest for a while before moving again.

That's when he heard a roar; a loud, deafening roar that nearly shattered his eardrums. And then something huge shifted in the darkness, and a pair of glowing red eyes set themselves right on him.

"No," he whispered, terrified. "N-not you!"

"Can't this bike go any faster?" Hwoarang called over the wind back to Asuka as they sped down the road on her motorcycle.

"Hey! If my bike is so bad, why didn't you use yours?" Asuka replied.

"She's in the repair shop!"

"Right! So stop complaining, and focus on getting us to the docks!"

A couple of minutes later, they pulled up to the shipyard. They removed their helmets and hopped off of the bike. Asuka looked around.

"Just how do you expect to find your sensei in this mess?"

Hwoarang smiled. "Just follow the unconscious soldiers."

Then they heard someone cry out in pain. Hwoarang's head snapped up.

"That was him! Come on!" He grabbed Asuka's wrist and they sprinted after the sounds of exertion. Finally, they found Baek, badly beaten and lying on the ground. Hwoarang ran to him.

"Master? Master, what happened?"

Baek's eyes widened, and his expression became urgent. He grabbed Hwoarang's head and, voice cracking, whispered:

"Run!"

Then Asuka called out. "Hwoarang? What the hell is that?"

Hwoarang looked back to where Asuka was pointing and saw, against the moon, the silhouette of a hulking figure with enormous wings and horns, floating in the sky. His left hand was three-fingered, each digit tipped with a sharp talon, while where his right arm should have been, only six black snakes writhed about, baring their venomous fangs. Its red eyes scanned the shipyard until it saw them. Then, with a loud shriek, it began to fly straight at them.

"Should we run?"

Hwoarang's eyes were wide with fear.

"Yes. Yes we should."

He reached down and picked up Baek, supporting him by his back and legs. Baek tried to object, but was too weak. He fell unconscious.

"Go!" Hwoarang said to Asuka, and they began running back to their bike, the deafening cries of the demon ringing in their skulls.

They rounded the corner and, at the sight of the bike, began to sprint full out. But then a red beam of energy shot down from the sky, hitting the bike. The motorcycle immediately erupted into flames.

"My bike…" Asuka said. Then they felt the ground shake as the creature landed. They turned around to see it standing about ten feet away, baring its fangs. The snakes hissed and snapped at the air hungrily. Hwoarang placed Baek on the ground and assumed his fighting stance.

"Okay, Plan B."

"Hwoarang, this is not going well!" Asuka called to her fiancée, dodging the creature's massive arm as it made to knock her fifty feet away.

"I'm sorry; I'm currently wrestling a snake!" Hwoarang replied as he tried to force one of the snakes away from his face. "Please call back later!"

Asuka let out a piercing battle cry and leapt up, slamming her knee into the creature's jaw. Then she called Hwoarang.

"Hey babe, gimme' a hand!"

Hwoarang managed to get away from the snake. Asuka jumped down and grabbed the demon's arm. She twisted it, and the creature began to wobble. Hwoarang understood exactly what he needed to do. He stuck out his leg and tripped the monster. Then both he and Asuka kicked it in the back, sending it skidding across the ground. They smiled and high-fived.

"We did it! Take that, ugly!" Asuka stuck up the middle finger at the seemingly unconscious beast. "Okay, let's get your master and get out of—"

Before she could finish, the monster suddenly picked up its head and roared at them, causing them both to scream instinctively. The beast got up and flexed its titanic wings. Then all the snakes began to extend and shoot out toward the two. Asuka ran behind Hwoarang, and both of them closed their eyes, embracing.

Then they heard the unsheathing of a sword, and the sound of flesh being cut. The monster shrieked in pain, and Hwoarang and Asuka each opened one eye to peek, and saw Yoshimitsu standing before them, facing the monster, with his sword raised. Yoshimitsu was another member of the resistance against the Zaibatsu, but he was always going off on his own.

"Yoshi," Hwoarang said, relieved. "You saved us!"

"No," Yoshimitsu replied. "I have only made him angry."

The monster roared again, and then, unexpectedly, spread its wings and took to the air. Yoshimitsu dropped his guard.

"Huh," he said. "Perhaps I did save you."

Asuka ran up and hugged him. "We both owe you big time, Yoshi!"

"No, I simply assisted some friends in need."

"Well, can you assist us again?" Hwoarang pointed over to Baek, who lay unconscious on the ground behind them. Yoshimitsu ran over.

"He's lost a ridiculous amount of blood," he said. "I don't know why he's not dead yet."

"Can you help him?" Hwoarang's voice was desperate.

"I will do my best." Yoshimitsu knelt down, stuck his sword into the ground, and held both hands over Baek. A green light washed over Baek, and most of his cuts and wounds healed themselves. Then his eyes opened, and he coughed. The green light faded, and Yoshimitsu's shoulders sagged slightly from exhaustion. Hwoarang's mouth widened into a smile.

"Master!" He leaned down and hugged Baek. "You're alive!"

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Baek softly pushed Hwoarang back. "It's good to see you, Hwoarang, but slow down. I'm still very sore."

"I have stabilized him and sealed all the major cuts," Yoshimitsu said, breathing heavily and using his sword to prop him up. "He still needs a doctor, or at the very most an IV."

"He'll get it back at the base," Hwoarang said. "Come on, everyone. Let's go home."

Hwoarang wrapped his arm around Baek's waist and put Baek's arm around his neck to help him stand. Then they all began to walk out of the shipyard. Yoshimitsu used the sword as a cane.

"By the way, master, have you met my fiancée?"

Baek studied Asuka. He squinted his eyes. "I'm almost certain I fought her once. And lost. You've made an excellent choice, student. She is a very beautiful and strong woman."

Asuka blushed. "Aw, shucks."

"I hate to interrupt this sentimental moment, but I am famished," Yoshimitsu said.

"Same," Hwoarang agreed. "How about we all grab a burger on the way back?"

The entire group cheered, except for Baek.

"Who's paying?"

The punching bag was supposed to be a tough one. Reinforced leather over several layers of foam, connected to a five-inch thick steel chain. There was a six-year money-back guarantee of durability. And yet Jin knocked it right off its hinges in two minutes. It sailed across the dojo and landed right next to its package. He inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"Can't sleep?"

He turned around to see Nina approaching. Jin shook his head.

"No." He tightened his gauntlets.

Nina came up next to him and shook her head. "That was a brand new punching bag." She eyed Jin. "I know what you need."

Before Jin could ask what she meant, Nina's foot came soaring toward his face. He caught it and twisted it. Nina rolled with the counter and stood up into her fighting stance.

"Maybe some midnight sparring will cheer you up?"

"Trust me," Jin began, turning away, "You would lose."

Nina scoffed. "Oh yeah?"

She ran forward and attempted to grab Jin. He caught her hand and flipped her over his shoulder. She landed safely and smiled.

"I'm not leaving until we spar."

"Fine." Jin bent into his fighting stance.

He lunged forward with a jab, but Nina dodged it and rattled Jin's skull with an uppercut. He stumbled backwards and grimaced, rubbing his chin. He lunged forward again, feinting a right cross. She made to dodge again and ran right into his left hook. He then grabbed her and kneed her in the stomach. She fell to the floor, gasping. Jin grabbed her ponytail and picked her up.

"Are you done?"

"You must not know me." She kneed him in the groin. He groaned and let go of her hair, and she punched him across the jaw. He blocked her next kick with his forearm and punched her twice, once in the stomach and once in the face. She rolled with the impact and recovered, replying with an elbow strike to the chin, a shuto chop to the neck, and a kick to the ribs. Jin tried to counter, but his attack was sluggish, and Nina easily evaded him, flipping over his head and sweeping his legs from beneath him. He landed on his elbows and cursed as the pain eagerly ran through his arms up to his shoulders, where it sat and made itself comfortable. He was about to get up, but Nina stopped him.

"Enough," she said. "You're distracted. You could have countered that sweep. What happened?"

Jin frowned. "You were too fast."

Nina folded her arms. "Speed has nothing to do with it. You deliberately held back. Why?"

"I told you, I'm not in the mood for sparring." He rejected Nina's outstretched hand and stood up, ignoring the pain in his arms. "Now, leave."

Nina wanted to argue, but decided against it and did as she was told. Jin stood in the same place quietly for a while. Then he heard the voice again.

Jin my son, come to me. I am waiting.

"Shut up," Jin said.

Jin, come find me. I am alive. Your mother; Jun.

"Shut up." Jin's fists tightened. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to stave off his mental torment.

Don't you love me?

"SHUT UP!" Jin roared. Then a searing pain struck him in the chest; a white hot flame, ignited just above his heart. He gasped and fell to his knees. Runic black tattoos began to appear on his chest and stomach. He felt the sensation of two bones beginning to protrude from his temples, and felt his shoulder blades begin to shift to make room for his wings. Quickly, he formed a claw with his right hand in front of his heart and, with effort, pulled his hand outward and away; a ritual for removing evil from the heart. He slowly felt himself return back to normal, and the tattoos disappeared.

Then he sank to the floor.

He was known throughout the town as "The Old Man," though certain traits about him lead some citizens to question whether or not he could be definitively called human, and exactly how old he was proved just as much of a mystery. All that could be said was that he was very old indeed.

Yet another mystery was his physique. By most standards, there was no reason a man as ancient as he should be able to lift entire trees from their roots, much less carry them back to his home on the mountain to make firewood. And yet he did so, and on a regular basis. His biceps were the size of boulders. There was a power that emanated from him, a dark, demonic energy that seemed to seep out of his pores and encamp around the woods he called home. His face was nearly always hidden by his black sandogasa. His skin was the color of rusted steel, or perhaps something darker like molasses. His beard, which came to a sharp, triangular point at his chin and bent upwards into two long spikes on either side of his head, was mostly white, but some frayed hairs had started to turn yellow, yet another sign of age. The rest of his hair hung off the back of his head like a white curtain all the way down to his lower back. He never really came down from his mountain, but the occasional hiker could see him meditating in the woods, or catch glimpses of him strolling through the clearing. He never wore anything to cover his extremely muscular torso, but wore black hakama and a white scarf around his waist. Black leather wristbands stretched along his arm from the wrist to the middle of his forearm.

The children of the village were told never to enter his section of the woods, marked by dead trees, on which perched dozens of crows. His house was a small wooden hut with only one window. They were told that he was a demon, and that he would snatch and devour their souls if he caught them. Or, if he was not hungry, he would simply eviscerate them or feed them to his crows. And all of the children heeded these warnings and never set foot in any part of the forest, no matter how far away it might've been from The Old Man's hut.

But one day, the village held its breath. Because one day, The Old Man descended his hill and went into the town. The sky, once sunny, became cloudy, as if the sun itself were trying to hide from the nomad. He walked all the way to the town square and stood in the middle of it. For several moments, he just stood, silently. People began to emerge from their houses, now more curious than afraid.

That's when he began to transform.

First, his muscles rippled, and he appeared to grow taller. His nails grew into claws. From his back, several spiked rocks burst out. His skin took a more reddish pigmentation, like cherry wood. Several cracks and crevices appeared in it, revealing what appeared to be magma beneath. His sandogasa fell off to reveal glowing red eyes. But the most horrifying part was yet to come.

His broad stomach parted. Millions of tiny, sharp rocks appeared at the top and bottom of the tear, and a black tongue flickered from within. Finally, a purple aura of energy flowed off and upwards of him.

The townspeople screamed and began to flee, but they weren't fast enough. The mouth on his stomach let out a devastating screech, and the entire town, along with all its inhabitants, dissolved.

The Old Man no longer lives in that town. Having absorbed what energy he required, he burnt down his house and left. The crows followed him, blotting out the sun in a flurry of black.

The psychoanalyst was an uptight individual. He was at least in his sixties, wearing a tweed jacket, brown suspenders, black pants, a white shirt, and a red bowtie. His crescent-moon spectacles hung limply on the bridge of his nose. His slicked back hair was mostly gray, but some black stubbornly refused to succumb to the wiles of age. He sat in the chair right in front of his desk, upon which was a mug full of pens, a pile of paperwork, a picture of him and his wife long dead, and his nameplate: Dr. Hermann Maurer, PhD. Various plaques, awards, and photos adorned his walls. He placed his pen to his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes as he looked at the two people sitting in chairs across from him. He pointed the tip of his pen to the woman.

"What did you say your name was, ma'am?" Clearly, he was straight from Germany. His accent was unmistakable. The woman adjusted herself in her seat.

"Williams, Nina," she said. "This is Jin Kazama." She gestured to Jin, who was sitting sullenly beside her. Dr. Maurer raised an eyebrow.

"Jin Kazama, eh? They call you the most powerful man on the planet. Currently abusing that power, I hear."

Jin almost opened his mouth to reply, but decided against it. Dr. Maurer wrote something down on his pad. Nina stood up.

"I'll be outside if you need me." She gave Jin a look that suggested: behave yourself. Then she left. Maurer turned to Jin.

"So, you say you are plagued by nightmares involving your mother."

Jin was silent. The doctor continued.

"And these dreams, what are they like?"

Still no answer.

"Mr. Kazama, answer the question, please."

Jin sighed. "They start out completely black. Then, I see her."

"Who?"

"The woman."

"Your mother?"

Jin shot him a fierce look then. "No. She's not my mother."

The doctor sat back, engaged. "Could you elaborate on that?"

"She looks like my mother. She walks and talks like her. But she isn't her. I know my mother."

"Do you know the name of this impostor?"

"No."

"What makes you so sure she is an impostor?"

"She just isn't my mother. There is a…coldness about her. A harshness."

Now thoroughly interested, the doctor leaned forward in his seat. "Go on."

"She'll approach me and, instead of asking me how I am or telling me she loves me, she'll say 'It's been a long time,' but not like she's interested in catching up. It's like she knows me, and hates me."

"So why would she be in your dreams?"

"I don't know," Jin said impatiently. "She must have some sort of vendetta against me, whoever she is."

The doctor removed his glasses and touched them to his lip. "This is very interesting. I believe I have just the treatment for you. You must enter the dream in a lucid state and communicate with the impostor, expose her—or him—so that you can finally have peace. I have a serum that will put you into lucidity, but the rest is up to you. Of course, it is your decision."

Jin thought for a while, and finally nodded his consent. The doctor told him to lie down on the Freud sofa behind them. After Jin did as he was told, the doctor got up and went over to a cabinet near the window. He opened the door, reached in, and pulled out a small syringe. He sterilized the needle and asked Jin to pull up his sleeve. He did so, and the doctor stuck the needle into one of the veins running through the joint of the elbow. Then he attached two monitors to Jin's temples.

"Now, the serum will help you fall asleep, while the monitors simultaneously stimulate your brain and allow lucidity. It's completely safe."

Jin gave a small nod of understanding as he drifted off.

The first thing he felt was the cold, as if there was ice growing on his body. He shivered slightly, but then remembered he was in a dream. He willed a coat onto himself, and it appeared. Feeling much warmer, he began to call out.

"Hello?" He called. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Jin," said a voice. He turned to see the woman who was supposed to be his mother sitting at a white coffee table. She was wearing the same white summer dress. She smiled invitingly. "You're here. I'm so glad you could make it. Sit."

She pointed to the chair. Slowly, Jin walked over and sat down in the chair. The woman cocked her head, noticing the apprehension.

"Is something wrong, Jin?"

"You can stop that right now," Jin said. The woman tilted her head again with confusion.

"Stop what?"

"Acting friendly. I don't know who you are, but you can't fool me."

"Honey, I'm not trying to fool you. I'm your mother."

"NO YOU'RE NOT!"

The woman suddenly jerked her head back. Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she scoffed.

"Of course I am. Jin, you're being ridiculous."

Jin stood up, clenching his fists tightly. "Who are you, and where is my mother?"

The woman twitched some more, trying to keep her cool. "Jin, take your seat—"

"WHERE IS SHE?"

In response to Jin's exclamation, the woman let out a terrible, wolfish howl that knocked Jin off his feet. He looked back to see the woman standing up, and she had begun to transform.

Her dress melted off, leaving her naked. Then it seemed as though the darkness itself wrapped around her, oozing up her legs and ending just above her chest, clothing her in an ink-like substance. Her hair, once neatly cut, had become long and unruly, waving about in the air and seemingly growing longer. Her eyes were bright yellow, and most terrifying of all was the gigantic gray werewolf torso that floated behind her, partially engulfed in blue flames; the Forest Spirit. It growled viciously at Jin, who once again began to feel the white hot flame as his Devil Gene reacted to this spirit before him. She approached him, arms outstretched as if she wished for a hug.

"Jin, my boy. My beautiful boy." Her voice was like three voices compounded onto one another; one like his mother's, one high and falsetto like a small child, and one deep and baritone like a man. "Look how tall and handsome you are. Oh how you've grown. Boy, beautiful boy."

"What…who…?" Jin managed to stand up and had begun slowly backing away. The woman's hair lengthened still, steadily creeping up invisible walls and entwining around imaginary branches of some dark tree. "Get away from me!"

Jin began to run, but was halted by some unseen force. It dragged him backwards toward the woman, still holding her arms out. He let out a small squeal of fear.

"It's alright, my love," the woman said. "You don't have to be afraid."

Her hair had begun to wrap around Jin, binding him as the woman approached. She smiled, showing gleaming fangs.

"We should never fear the unknown."

Jin struggled with all his might against Unknown's hair. She advanced upon him, getting closer and closer until she was finally right in front of him. He grimaced.

"Don't you understand Jin?" she said, stroking his face. "I need you. Once I have absorbed you, the Devil Gene within you will make me whole, and I can become all that I once was; your beloved mother."

Jin tightened his jaw and began to shake.

"You…" he began slowly. "…are not…MY MOTHER!"

He let out a piercing battle cry and struck her forehead with his own. She gasped sharply, and her hair retracted. As Jin fell free, he felt the Devil pushing for control. He fought past the urge and clenched his fists, ready to fight. Unknown growled, and so did the Forest Spirit. She looked like she was getting ready to attack, but suddenly a white crack appeared on her forehead. It began to spread. She screamed as the cracks appeared over more parts of her body, and finally she exploded in a burst of light. Jin covered his eyes to avoid being blinded. When he looked back, Unknown was gone. He began to turn away, but then he heard a sound like a match being lit, and a deep growling noise rolled over his shoulders. He whirled back around to see the Forest Spirit standing before him, its eyes glowing even brighter. The blue flames were gone, replaced by a hungry brown smoke. It lunged for Jin, but he merely drew back a fist and then punched straight through the demon's chest. It roared and dissipated, melting into the black.

Jin collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily from the exertion of the encounter. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled, long and controlled.

"I'm ready," he said.

Jin woke up, back in the doctor's office. He sat up and removed the monitors from his head. The doctor was staring at him, pen to lip, waiting.

"Well?" he asked.

"It worked," Jin said. "She's gone."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure you could call what I saw a 'who.'" He turned to the doctor. "But I do know it won't be bothering me again."

He stood up and threw on his overcoat. The doctor stood as well. Jin extended a hand.

"Thank you, doctor."

They shook. "Anytime, Mr. Kazama."

Then Jin turned and exited the office.

Nina sat patiently, her legs crossed and her eyes focused on her nails. The door opened and Jin stepped out of the office, closing the door softly behind him. Nina stood as Jin walked briskly past her.

"How did it go?"

"Fine. Order the air strike."

Nina blinked. "What air strike?"

Jin put on a pair of sunglasses. "He knows too much."

"He helped you! And there are innocent people here!"

"Casualties of war."

"What war?"

Jin stopped walking and turned to her. "I don't know why you're so upset about it. Call base. Nara should pick up. He already knows."

"But—!"

"Do as I say. That's it."

He spun back around and walked out of the building. Nina shook her head and followed him, punching a number into her phone. She held it into her ear.

"Yeah, Williams. Order the strike."

She clicked the phone shut, but just before she stepped out, there was a loud noise, and Jin came crashing back into the office, shattering the glass doors and falling onto the receptionist's desk. The woman screamed and ran into the next room. As Nina made her way to Jin, Kazuya stepped in through the wreckage, frowning and cracking his knuckles.

"You," he said. "Tell me where she is."