Jin


Once I got to Japan, I managed to get a ride to a village outside of home...my old home...Yakushima. After buying myself some food and supplies, I made the walk to the site of the place where I had lived for fifteen years.

It had taken a two hour walk. But when I got there, I remembered the last time I saw her...


I ran to the house, knowing something was wrong. Some...thing...green...with red glowing eyes was fighting Mom. She caught me watching. She quickly screamed, "Run away, Jin! Run!"

I didn't listen to her. I wasn't going to let her die. I hurried over, but she kept screaming for me to run. I don't even remember getting knocked unconscious, but I did. When I woke up, the entire house was burned to the ground, and there was no sign of Mom...


I removed the lily that I had stuck in my bag, smoothing out the stems and petals. I hardly recognized the place. The ashes that were the remains of the house were probably washed away by rain or blown away by the wind. No one could tell that this was where I had been raised. I set my bag down and removed my hood. Kneeling, I placed the flower on the ground and bowed deeply.

"Hi, Mom," I spoke up, feeling awkward. It'd be the first time I really 'spoke' to her out loud. "Sorry that I haven't been visiting...There's a lot that's been going on...But you probably know that already..."

The wind picked up. Almost like she was there...

"I missed you over the years..." I took a deep breath. I wonder what she'd think of me now...after all these years?

For the last two years, I've been wondering what went wrong in my life. I was really alone in the world. Mom being my only family...I lost her years ago. And...ever since I got shot by Heihachi Mishima...that was basically an indicator of not wanting to be family...And Kazuya...I never had Kazuya to begin with. I've asked myself so many questions. And I've hated myself every day for being part of the Mishima bloodline. Why? Why me? The only thing I can really be proud of was having Mom in my life. She's the reason why I wasn't so messed up. If she was still alive, I wouldn't be where I am now.

"I loved your father very much," she said a couple times years ago. "And he loved me. I know...that if he were alive...he'd be very, very proud of you, Jin."

Immediately, I started feeling guilty. Staring at the ground, I said, "Sorry, Mom...I can't take that chance with Kazuya. I trusted his side of the family before...and it nearly got me killed. I won't let that happen again. I hope you understand..."

The breeze picked up again.

"I'm really sorry," I said. "I'll be back later...when the tournament's finished..."


Hours later, I arrived in Tokyo to register for the tournament. But I made a quick stop at the Mishima Mansion, slipping a letter inside the mailbox. Then I headed over to the Mishima Zaibatsu to sign up for the tournament.

The building was just as I remembered. I came to this place years ago...wanting to meet the man who was my grandfather. I was young and naive back then. How could I have been so blind as to...All right. Now was a bad time to start having regrets about what happened.

I entered the building, the marble floors and high ceilings a very familiar sight. The wide oak desk the two receptionists sat at was in front of a wall, the logo of the zaibatsu hanging on the wall behind them. Large, velvet plush chairs were scattered throughout the waiting room. Two hallways beyond the reception desk led to conference rooms and the elevators leading to the offices. The place hadn't changed much at all.

"Excuse me," I spoke up. "Where can I sign up for the Iron Fist?"

The receptionist, a woman of mixed ethnicity, pointed to the hallway. "Marketing and Special Events, fifth floor, first door on the right."

"Thanks." I walked into the hallway, to the elevators. I decided to wear a plain T-shirt, blue jeans, and a black zipped sweatshirt with a hood that day. I didn't want to seem too conspicuous. If I looked like a bum, that was fine.

I pushed the button for up and stepped back, away from direct view of the elevators. Never know who I might run into. In a few minutes, an elevator came, opening to let out a small group of people. They all got out and I walked inside the elevator.

"Mr. Mishima, I am pleased that you have decided to let us advertise during your tournament..." I heard a voice say.

I looked up as I pushed the button for the fifth floor. There he was. White hair that stuck out, and he was dressed in a dark suit. Traitor. He was walking out with some guy also dressed in a suit. The elevator doors closed, and I was on my way to the fifth floor.

When I got to Marketing, there was a sign inside the office that read 'Late entrants apply here'. A stack of applications was piled beneath the sign. I picked one up and began filling out the survey that they provided prior to the actual application.

"Tamiya, where is the list of current participants?" came a voice.

Grandfather. I immediately turned away so he couldn't see me.

"Right here, Mr. Mishima," she stated. I heard some papers rustle.

"Excellent. As soon as the list for the late participants comes in, I'd like it in my office."

"Absolutely."

"Thank you." I heard footsteps. I peeked over my shoulder and he was gone. I released a breath. Good.

"I'm exhausted," came a voice as she entered the room. I looked over my shoulder again, and she had placed a stack of papers on a desk. "I think I'm going to call it a day."

Ling. She works here? Geez...If she wasn't in trouble already...she could be in even more trouble later on. She looks...different. More...grown up. And less like a little girl. She's still wearing those pigtails, though...Will she ever get rid of those things? But she was wearing a white blouse and black pants that got loose at the ankles. Her idea of business attire, I guess.

I filled out the rest of the application, absently listening to her conversation.

"Excuse me," she spoke up. "Sir?"

Oh. She was talking to me. "Yes?" I said, without turning around.

"Tournament applicants are required to take a photograph before their paperwork processes. The photographer's gone for the day, but he'll be here first thing tomorrow at ten," Ling told me.

I already knew that. "Okay. I'll be back tomorrow, then."

Silence. I kept my back turned. I could feel her staring at me. Ignoring the urge to turn around and say hi, I continued writing. She'd find out who I am soon enough.

"How long does the paperwork take to go through?" I asked, still not facing her.

"Considering how busy we are...Yours will be finished by the time the tournament begins," she said.

Perfect. "Thanks." I put my entry form in the tray next to the applications before heading out.