I'm adding another chapter to this story because I was suddenly inspired with it today. It's the same topic, but from the moping guys' points of view. Sort of a sequel, I guess.

… I may or may not be alittlekindofsortofokayreallyreallyreally obsessed with the Xiaoyin pairing.

And if Tekken 7: Fatal Retribution comes out with not one hint whatsoever about Jin and Xiao getting together, after stringing fans along for so long and pairing them up in various non-canon games and media, then WNFURPEHGNU43;GHVN43UPORGNG43HGNVJF;DNVSA I WILL BE SO IRRITATED.

… Moving on.

Please enjoy the story.

Oh, and I own nothing, etc.

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Another day, another round of fighters knocked out of the tournament – and another day closer to leaving this world behind. Closing his eyes and leaning back in the chair at his desk with a long sigh, Jin couldn't help but ponder how wonderful it would feel to finally go to bed. His head pounded with the stress of making more decisions that would get people injured (or worse), staying one step ahead of his father and grandfather, anticipating his upcoming confrontation with Azazel, and trying to suppress the Devil gene whenever it started flaring up.

He was exhausted. He really should get some sleep. He really should. Definitely. Go to sleep.

That's what he kept telling himself as he opened his eyes, leaned toward his computer screen, closed the security document he had been perusing minutes earlier, and clicked on a password-protected folder full of pictures.

Pictures of Xiao.

Most of them were taken during their time together as high school students and participants in the third tournament, but there were a few more recent ones that he had saved. Clippings from newspapers covering the fourth and fifth tournaments, saved shots from the handful of times that she happened to pop up on a Mishima Zaibatsu security camera somewhere, her student ID – he tried to keep whatever he could find.

Only once a week or so would he allow himself to actually look at them. Most of the time, he focused all his attention on pursuing ways to eliminate the Mishima bloodline and the Devil gene within him.

But when he let himself have just a few precious minutes to study her face, especially on nights when his energy was totally depleted, he found that it helped him get up the next morning.

There was one picture that always clenched his heart. It was a shot that he had saved from a time when she was trying to talk some of his armed guards into letting her use the elevator to go up to his office. She looked confused, even a little desperate. By the time she finally agreed to turn away, he could tell that she was holding back tears.

As much as he hated making her cry, he found her tears infinitely easier to handle than the idea of shedding her blood.

So he had ignored all of her attempts to contact him.

His eyes moved on from that picture to an old one, a candid photo that Miharu had snapped of her when they were all hanging out after school one day. Her cheerful grin was as infectious as ever; he found himself unable to keep a smirk off his lips as he stared.

And then came the memories.

Later in the same day that this photo was taken, he remembered sparring with her at the Mishima manor. He beat her in a match, and she had spread herself on the floor in the shape of an X, laughing at her mistake that had led to her loss.

Jin had laid himself a foot or so away from her, both to rest from their fighting and watch her laugh from the same level. When she had quieted, he had said to her, Don't you think you should take this a little more seriously? You could really be great if you wanted to be.

She had flipped her hand dismissively at him. You sound like my grandfather, she had said.

Well, don't you want to build your amusement park? Jin had asked. You'll be facing people much older and more experienced than you are. You can't hope to beat them if you're not more serious about this.

I do want to build my amusement park, she had answered. But… I don't know. I guess fighting just isn't really that important to me. He waited a few moments for her to elaborate, and she did. I enjoy it, I really do, but if I'm going to become really great at something, I think it will have to involve making people happy. That's why I want to build the amusement park, after all.

Jin had nodded respectfully, finding her answer heartwarming despite his concerns. It just seems like such a waste of your talent, though. You could be very powerful.

Then she had turned her head to shrug and smile at him. Power isn't everything.

Even now, he could hear that sentence echoing in his mind whenever he reminded himself that power is everything. He had to tell himself that in order to find the motivation to do terrible things that would enable him to destroy the Devil gene and his father and grandfather. Deep down, however, he knew that Xiao was right. It was something that his mother had taught him repeatedly. Power isn't everything.

Xiao and his mother had two completely different personalities, but their hearts were the same. They probably would have gotten along well.

As he reminisced, Jin heard a knock at his door. "Come in," he said.

It was Eddy Gordo who entered. "You asked to see me, sir?" he explained in nearly flawless Japanese as he softly shut the door behind him.

Right. Almost forgot about that.

"Yes," Jin replied, pretending like he had been expecting Eddy for hours. "I noticed that you took a detour during your security rounds today to check up on Christie Monteiro." He waited for a reaction, but Eddy kept his face carefully blank. "I trust you won't be allowing distractions to compromise your work, especially on company time."

"Says the guy who regularly gawks at pictures of his old high school girlfriend," Eddy countered, his face still devoid of expression as he met Jin's gaze levelly.

This guy could be so mouthy. That was usually okay, though; it told Jin that he could always trust Eddy to be honest. Regardless, that particular comment had him fighting to keep the blood from heating up his cheeks. He didn't know how Eddy could possibly know about that, but he supposed it was just another reason to believe that he had made a good decision in hiring him.

His mind wrestled with itself in trying to think of a response. She was never his girlfriend, for one thing. For another thing, it was… different? How was it different? It really wasn't. There was nothing Jin could say here.

Fortunately, Eddy broke the silence. "I don't want to put her in danger, but I do worry about her and try to make sure she's all right. I'm sure you understand."

It was true. Jin understood perfectly. "Maybe we're both cursed to be alone," he found himself saying, the words tumbling out thoughtlessly, and he quickly realized how absurd they sounded. He usually tried to keep himself aloof from even his closest subordinates. Admitting that they might have something so personal in common threatened his image as an unparalleled authority figure. His separation in every way was key to helping him earn respect almost instantly. That respect in turn inspired obedience to his commands.

However, Jin reminded himself, Eddy had clearly already known about Jin's habit, and he had still been a magnificent bodyguard. Perhaps Jin could let this pass.

Eddy hadn't responded to his comment while Jin considered these things. Instead, he stood motionlessly, hands clasped in front of him, waiting for more instructions.

With a curt nod, Jin said, "Just see to it that you don't shirk your duties. You're dismissed."

Wasting no time, Eddy turned and exited the room as quietly as he had entered it.

Jin sat with his chin on his knuckles for a quarter of an hour afterward, staring at nothing in particular. In his mind, Xiao was laughing, dancing, kicking, yawning, smiling, glaring, biting her thumb, running to class.

In his mind, she was stuffing her face full of food, watching him leave one of their outings with a fond expression on her face, offering him a bite of Peking duck, sighing over her math homework, talking animatedly about something she loved, defending a bullied student at school, excitedly proclaiming that she'd won him a teddy bear at the carnival, hugging him gently after he told her what happened to his mother, telling ghost stories and bad jokes when they couldn't sleep, confiding her deepest fears and insecurities to him, taking a nap with her head on Panda's belly, reaching for his hand while they explored an outdoor marketplace, walking gracefully in a stunning maroon floor-length dress at a tournament reception, congratulating him on winning a match.

In his mind, she was crying, asking him why he had changed, what he was thinking, how he could do so many terrible things, and what she could do to help him.

In his mind, she was laying on the floor of the Mishima manor gym, rosy-cheeked, panting and sweating, moving her shoulders against the hardwood, looking at him with that smile that she always reserved just for him, and saying, Power isn't everything.

In his mind, she was lifeless on the ground, her blood smeared all over his hands, his shirt, and his horns.

With one last glance at her grinning face on his computer screen, he closed the folder and turned off the monitor.

When it came to protecting the world – and protecting her – power had to be everything.

He really should get some sleep.

Alone.