A Grandson's Fall
The behemoth roared in agony upon defeat, clawing the air futilely as it was engulfed in supernatural flames before finally falling and vanishing in a bright flash of silver-white light.
Heihachi Mishima stood in his fighter stance until True Ogre was no more. Only then did he sigh, dropping his stance and allowing his 73-year-old body to relax slightly, having just fended off death itself. Taking a deep breath, he turned and gazed to his left. His grandson lay sprawled on the stone floor of the Aztecan temple, battered and unconscious. 19-year-old Jin Kazama, Heihachi's grandson, had fought his way through the King of Iron Fist 3 for the right to fight the beast, but had been knocked out when the monster had transformed into its true self. Only then did Heihachi, who had been watching from the shadows, interfere in the match, coming to Jin's aid and ultimately destroying Toshin before it could wreak any more havoc.
Sighing, Heihachi walked over to Jin and lifted him off of the ground, struck by memories that were nearly two decades old. Shaking them off, he carried Jin out of the temple and toward the small flock of helicopters that he had called to the temple. A Tekkenshu soldier took Jin from Heihachi and laid the unconscious youth on a stretcher. Another handed his boss his purple and silver fur-lined jacket, which Heihachi shrugged on non-chalantly. He climbed into the same helicopter that held Jin, then gazed back at the temple before take-off.
"Where to, Mr. Mishima?" the pilot asked.
"Fly back to Japan, Marquez," Heihachi ordered. The pilot nodded as he directed the aircraft over the Mexican desert and led the other three helicopters through the sky.
With that taken care of, Heihachi pulled a chair over to Jin's side and watched the youth. Jin was still unconscious, but strangely enough, there were no scars. No marks of battle, although he had fought Toshin ruthlessly. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Heihachi shook his head and kept watch over his grandson, even as the helicopter flew into Australian skies, headed for Japan.
A strange, eerie feeling wafted into the small helicopter. Heihachi shivered slightly, his eyes widening. The feeling was hauntingly familiar; it was pure evil. He kept his eyes on Jin's face, and stifled a gasp.
Though unconscious, Jin Kazama's face was undergoing a transformation. Black markings formed on his face. His bangs grew longer, to about chin-length. A strange red marking appeared on his forehead. He was transforming into Devil. Heihachi's worst fears were confirmed.
Heihachi knew what he had to do. With the memories of Kazuya ringing in his head, Heihachi stood and lifted Jin into his arms again. Jin already weighed about 160 pounds, but the fact that he was also unconscious during the transformation made him seem heavier. With Jin in his arms, Heihachi walked over to the open door of the helicopter, gazed out over the Australian outback, and threw Jin out of the helicopter.
Jin Kazama's arms and legs flew haphazardly as he was thrown into the air, then plummeted to the desert below.
Heihachi watched, emotionless, as his grandson fell to the ground, knowing that in the grand scheme of things, it had to be done. In order to stop the catastrophic ways of the Mishima bloodline, Jin Kazama had to be sacrificed. Sighing deeply, Heihachi watched for a few moments more, until Jin was no longer visible; only then did he return to his seat in the helicopter, holding his head in his hands.
The behemoth roared in agony upon defeat, clawing the air futilely as it was engulfed in supernatural flames before finally falling and vanishing in a bright flash of silver-white light.
Heihachi Mishima stood in his fighter stance until True Ogre was no more. Only then did he sigh, dropping his stance and allowing his 73-year-old body to relax slightly, having just fended off death itself. Taking a deep breath, he turned and gazed to his left. His grandson lay sprawled on the stone floor of the Aztecan temple, battered and unconscious. 19-year-old Jin Kazama, Heihachi's grandson, had fought his way through the King of Iron Fist 3 for the right to fight the beast, but had been knocked out when the monster had transformed into its true self. Only then did Heihachi, who had been watching from the shadows, interfere in the match, coming to Jin's aid and ultimately destroying Toshin before it could wreak any more havoc.
Sighing, Heihachi walked over to Jin and lifted him off of the ground, struck by memories that were nearly two decades old. Shaking them off, he carried Jin out of the temple and toward the small flock of helicopters that he had called to the temple. A Tekkenshu soldier took Jin from Heihachi and laid the unconscious youth on a stretcher. Another handed his boss his purple and silver fur-lined jacket, which Heihachi shrugged on non-chalantly. He climbed into the same helicopter that held Jin, then gazed back at the temple before take-off.
"Where to, Mr. Mishima?" the pilot asked.
"Fly back to Japan, Marquez," Heihachi ordered. The pilot nodded as he directed the aircraft over the Mexican desert and led the other three helicopters through the sky.
With that taken care of, Heihachi pulled a chair over to Jin's side and watched the youth. Jin was still unconscious, but strangely enough, there were no scars. No marks of battle, although he had fought Toshin ruthlessly. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Heihachi shook his head and kept watch over his grandson, even as the helicopter flew into Australian skies, headed for Japan.
A strange, eerie feeling wafted into the small helicopter. Heihachi shivered slightly, his eyes widening. The feeling was hauntingly familiar; it was pure evil. He kept his eyes on Jin's face, and stifled a gasp.
Though unconscious, Jin Kazama's face was undergoing a transformation. Black markings formed on his face. His bangs grew longer, to about chin-length. A strange red marking appeared on his forehead. He was transforming into Devil. Heihachi's worst fears were confirmed.
Heihachi knew what he had to do. With the memories of Kazuya ringing in his head, Heihachi stood and lifted Jin into his arms again. Jin already weighed about 160 pounds, but the fact that he was also unconscious during the transformation made him seem heavier. With Jin in his arms, Heihachi walked over to the open door of the helicopter, gazed out over the Australian outback, and threw Jin out of the helicopter.
Jin Kazama's arms and legs flew haphazardly as he was thrown into the air, then plummeted to the desert below.
Heihachi watched, emotionless, as his grandson fell to the ground, knowing that in the grand scheme of things, it had to be done. In order to stop the catastrophic ways of the Mishima bloodline, Jin Kazama had to be sacrificed. Sighing deeply, Heihachi watched for a few moments more, until Jin was no longer visible; only then did he return to his seat in the helicopter, holding his head in his hands.