After yet another long night at the office, Jinpachi was very much looking forward to getting a good night's sleep. Stepping out of his car, he relieved his driver for the evening and fumbled in his pocket for his house keys. He was just about to pull them out when he tripped over someone and both of them tumbled to the ground in a heap. Sitting up, he saw that he had in fact nearly run over a young woman carrying some boxes. "Sumimaseng," he apologized with some embarrassment, as he watched her gather her things.

She looked up from her task and gave him a small smile. "Daijobu," she said softly.

He had to look again to see if he was really seeing what he thought he saw. It was like turning back the clock and seeing his beloved Hanai before him again, and to meet her like this, almost exactly as he had when they'd first met, it was all too strange. "H-Hanai-chan?" he whispered.

Her smile was exactly his wife's. "Gomen, you must have me confused for someone else. My name is Sakura."

Another girl with a flower name. Was it a coincidence? It couldn't be. Gaping at her for some time, he finally recovered his speech and stammered, "I'm so sorry, you look so much like someone I used to know."

"I hope she was pretty," Sakura joked.

"Utskushi," Jinpachi breathed.

She blushed and ducked her head, flooding his mind with memories of when he first took her as his own. Loading the boxes into her arms, she stood up and shyly bowed, "Well, good night." She was about to walk away when Jinpachi stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Doshta? Is something the matter?"

He knew that touching her like that was incredibly rude but unable to let her get away, he barely managed to say, "Would you…mind having a drink with me? I wonder if you're related to the person I knew."

"Well, I have to get these home, they're a bit cumbersome," she noted, indicating the boxes with her eyes.

"Oh, of course. Please, let me help you." He took them from her arms. "Where do you live?" When she motioned for him to follow, he was amazed to find that she lived only a few blocks from his home in an apartment complex. When she opened the door to her unit, he saw that she lived in a tiny studio with few possessions. Some bedding, a closet not even half filled with clothes as well as a small hot plate were all that the apartment contained. Setting her boxes down, he led her out of her building and into a local bar. "Would you like a drink?"

"Oh, I don't drink," she said, shaking her head. "But you go ahead, if you want." She sat across from him, her hands resting timidly in her lap.

"A scotch, neat, and one cola please," he told the waitress. Turning back to the girl, he couldn't stop staring at her. "Hanai – "

"Sakura," she reminded him gently.

"Oh, of course, my sincere apologies." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Sakura, what is your last name?"

Quiet for a moment, she answered his question with one of her own. "Might I know who is asking?"

Embarrassed, he stammered, "Oh how stupid of me! Call me Jinpachi. Mishima Jinpachi." When he noticed that she still looked uncomfortable with his question, he pleaded, "Please, I just want to know if you're connected with this person in any way. I need to know."

She appeared to be studying his demeanor and finally admitted, "My last name is Minami."

"Were you at all related to a woman named Murokami Hanai?"

"Not that I know of." She took a sip of her coke.

"Okashina," he murmured. "You look like you could have been her sister, or daughter."

"Who was she?"

This girl must think him to be so odd. "My wife. My…late wife."

"Well, I suppose I can understand why you were so curious about me, then," she said with understanding. Taking out his wallet, Jinpachi removed the worn photograph of him and Hanai when they had gotten engaged and handed it to the girl. Taking it, she scrutinized the photo and agreed, "I do look a great deal like her. What are the odds?"

"Indeed, what are the odds," he repeated. "Han – Sakura, how old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Do you go to school?"

"No." She looked ruefully at her hands. "I can't afford it."

"What about your parents?" he asked.

"They've both been dead for a few years now."

Saddened to hear it, he continued, "How do you support yourself then?"

"I have odd jobs here and there, usually cleaning people's houses and the like. I get by." She set her coke down.

"Are you working right now?" He couldn't disguise the eagerness in his voice.

"Not at the moment, no," she said hesitantly.

"Come work for me," he urged. "I'll see to it that you don't have to worry about a regular income ever again."

"Mishima-sama," she began reluctantly, "I'm – I'm not one of those types of girls."

"What?" Oh god, she thinks I've mistaken her for a prostitute, Jinpachi thought to himself with chagrin. "No, no, no, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to make it seem as though I was propositioning you. I meant that you could take a job in my household, a legitimate job."

Her face was skeptical. "I don't know, sir. It all sounds a bit strange. I mean, you tell me that I look exactly like your former wife and suddenly ask me to come work for you?"

He had to concede that it did sound somewhat sketchy. "I loved my wife a great deal, and she died giving birth to my son." He lowered his head dejectedly. "I couldn't do anything to save her. I think perhaps helping you would make that pain go away, perhaps make me feel like I had helped her."

Her eyes reflected her sympathy for his sadness. "Give me a few days to think it over, Mishima-sama."

His heart leapt at the fact that she didn't reject the idea outright. "How will I know what your answer is?"

"Is there an address where I can go to tell you my decision?"

Rooting in his pockets for his business card, he wrote his home address as well on the back and gave it to her. She took it delicately in both hands and read it. "Owner, President, and CEO of Mishima Corporation International. I'm honored that you favor me so."

Remembering when Hanai had said the same thing to him, his pulse quickened even more. "I will await your answer." Paying the bill, he held the door open for her as they exited. "May I walk you home? It's on the way to mine."

"I suppose that would be alright," she nodded. They walked in silence the whole way and Jinpachi couldn't recall the last time he had been so nervous. "Thank you Mishima-sama," she bowed when they had reached her building. "I will come see you in a few days."

"Thank you," was all he could say. He watched her until she disappeared from sight and walked home in a daze. Excited by what had happened, now he couldn't sleep and knew that the next few days would pass slowly for him until she either accepted or rejected his offer.


"Good evening, Sakura. How did your first performance go?"

Misano lowered her eyes submissively. "I did exactly as you instructed."

"Good," Heihachi praised her. "And what was the outcome?"

"Exactly what you predicted it would be, sir."

"Excellent!" He noticed that the corner of her mouth turned up in the slightest of smiles at his approval. With the specialized "training" that Misano had undergone in the last three months, not only had she successfully taken on the external persona of a prim and proper girl, he'd also discovered that she had developed a paradoxical attachment to him as a result of the strategic sequence of abuse and nurturance that he employed. He'd heard of this phenomenon before - Stockholm Syndrome. It was a psychological condition in which captives became dependent on their captors, often forgoing the option of freedom in order to stay with the very people who held them prisoner. Never had he imagined that Misano would succumb to it as well, but it was yet another unexpected bonus he had uncovered. "You've done well, Sakura," he began. "But I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are to continue to be reluctant, but not too reluctant when our target asks you for things. Eventually give him what he wants but always act like it is only after an internal struggle on your part. If you acquiesce too quickly, it will dampen his obsession with you."

"Hai."

"I think you deserve a reward for having done such a wonderful job," he said as a smile lit up her face.

"Sir, really?" Her eyes sparkled with delight.

"But of course, I have to keep my Sakura-chan happy." Patting her on the head like a puppy, he asked her, "What is it you'd like?" He smirked, as he already knew what her answer would be.

She hastily avoided looking directly into his eyes and whispered, "If you would…" her sentence trailed off.

"If I would what?"

"If you would fuck me," she whispered, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

He fought the urge to laugh victoriously. The first month that he had raped her as punishment were agonizing for her, but with time, she began to crave it, interpreting it as a sign of his absolute approval. Turning her over on her hands and knees, he pulled down her underwear and sure enough, she was already soaked with anticipation. Rubbing her clit skillfully, he murmured in her ear, "Sakura-chan, where do you want it?"

Breathing hoarsely from the pleasure she was experiencing, she cried, "In my ass!"

"Say it in a complete sentence, Sakura," he corrected her gently.

Writhing under him, she begged, "I want your cock in my ass, Sir!"

"Perfect," he said smoothly. Taking his dick in his hand, he rubbed the entrance to her pussy to lubricate it and then slowly stuffed it into her asshole. Digging her fingernails into the floor, she nearly wept for joy as he sank deeper and deeper into her bowels. "You're such a good girl, Sakura-chan," he continued. "Do you want to cum?"

"Yes, sir, please let me cum!" she cried.

"Very well, Sakura-chan, you may cum on my cock." He felt her thrust her ass back towards him and felt his own orgasm threatening to explode. Jerking erratically, she came as he unloaded inside her.

"Thank you, Sir," she whispered between gulping breaths.

Father, you don't stand a chance, he thought triumphantly to himself, as he looked at the obsequious girl trembling on the floor.


sumimaseng: I'm so sorry

daijobu: it's okay

gomen: sorry

utskushi: beautiful

doshta: what is it

okashina: strange