Chapter I: Come and Knock on My Door, I'll Tell You to Fuck Off

Oh, how I hate the world. A world filled with Kazuyas and toilets. I've got a job, a toilet cleaner at the Mishima Zaibatsu office building. It used to be Hwoarang's job, but when I came in need of work, he got promoted to Head of Office Furniture, so I could have a job that "is suitable for a young boy like yourself".

Oh, how I hate the world. Such a backwards world, a world of Kazuyas and toilets.

"So the karaoke's on at Law's tonight," Hwoarang shouted from the cubicle he was occupying, while I cleaned the toilet in the one next to it.

"You comin' along, Kazama?"

Despite being reviled as one of the evil despots who plunged the world into war, I was well loved at Law's karaoke nights for my wonderful singing voice.
"Where else would I be tonight?"

"When are you ever anywhere else, on any night?"
Okay. So I'm a big drinker. Scratch that - I'm an alcoholic. Though luckily, I possess a super devil liver.

"Shut it."

Hwoarang flushes the toilet and steps out to wash his hands.

"Bryan and Yoshimitsu are gonna be there as well."

"Great, we can do Bohemian Rhapsody."

That's me, Bryan and Yoshimitsu's party piece.

"In fact, I think everyone's gonna be there," Hwoarang said over the thundering sound of running water.

"Oh, that's it. I'm quitting," I proclaimed to the sight of an unflushed toilet that shocked me so much, the cigarette fell from my mouth.

This would probably be a good time to mention I've started smoking like a chimney, but it's a high pressure job.

"Man, that thing could take on a life of it's own!" Hwoarang said as he leaned over my shoulder to get a look.

So this is my flat. Come in the front door into the hall, to the left, there's the living room, which has an old couch I found in a dumpster, and a small black and white TV that I bought off Paul for a fiver.

Further up the hall to the left, there's a large room which I use to store junk. To the right, there's my toilet/wet room/kitchen. By that I mean, there was a toilet, a sink and a drain, so I attached a watering can to the ceiling in place of a shower, and a portable stove which is just sitting in the corner, and straight onward, there's my bedroom. I couldn't afford a bed because I bought the stove, so I've got a hammock, and several sculptures I've made. Yes, I sculpt. Mostly Kazuya, and then I punch the faces off my sculptures.

I've gotten ready in my fanciest clothes; a pair of black trousers with a flame going up one leg, which I call the "Jin Jeans", a black t-shirt, some boots, and my heavy hooded jacket. Yeah. I look smart.

As I was getting ready to leave, there was a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole to see it was the man of the annoying American couple who live below me.

"What do you want this time, Tom?"

"Mr Jin, your cat's been rifling through our garbage again."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, that cat's NOT mine!"

"Then why does it have 'Property of Jin' shaved into the side of it?" he asked, holding up the cat, which he had had under his arm.

"Mmm, I must have done that when I was legless."

"You're always drunk, Mr Jin."

"Yeah, fuck off Tim."

"It's Tom!" he screamed as I slammed the door in his face.

Anyway, I've got a night out to look forward to. You'll probably know my involvment with Nina Williams over the sixth tournament. Since Kazuya's taking over of the Zaibatsu, she's been made his secretary.

I've tried to maintain our friendship through this time, and hopefully something more, (yes, that's right, all of you who wrote fanfictions on the subject were right) but there's just one problem.

She seems to have forgot I exist.

Oh, how I hate this world, this world of silent Ninas, invisible Jins and filthy, unflushed fucking toilets.