.

(After)

"I don't think I can make it."

Jun sat on the floor. Across the table, her grandmother stirred her tea. She wore a vibrant, bright yellow kimono with magenta and purple flowers.

"Yes, you can."

Her words were crystal clear; she could even hear the spoon scrape against the cup every time it turned in her grandmother's fingers, but she couldn't focus on her face. It was blurry and difficult to make out. Jun remembered being in that kitchen so many times, drinking tea and eating her grandmother's homemade dumplings.

"How?"

"Just like walking over a mossy log on a rainy day. Don't try to pirouette over it or do any fancy moves. Put one foot in front of the other, and go as slowly as you need to. The only thing that matters is making that next step. You'll get to the end eventually. It might take you a while, but you'll make it."

Jun opened her eyes. She wasn't at her grandmother's house. She was in her parents' house, in her childhood home, in her bed. And that was where she wanted to stay. She wanted to sleep because it was a respite. Because when she was awake, she saw Kazuya running away from her in her mind's eye. She saw his father disposing of him like a piece of trash. Her sleep was dreamless most of the time, and the few dreams she did have were comforting. But now her grandmother was telling her to put one foot in front of the other. She wished she could be back in that dream, in her grandmother's warm, cozy kitchen, where she could feel safe, comforted, and unaffected by the emotions of others.

Jun opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. "In the woods," she whispered.

She rolled out of bed and put on the first pair of jeans she pulled out of her bag. She pulled on a T-shirt and walked out of her room. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a dusty jar from the shelf beside the window. When she opened it, she pulled out an old brass key.

She found her mother hanging the washing outside. She sensed her concern when she told her she was going for a walk. It weighed her down and almost made her go back inside and curl under her blankets. Put one foot in front of the other. Her grandmother's words replayed in her head. She gave her mother what she was sure was an unconvincing smile when she handed her a bottle of water and let her be on her way.

Jun put one foot in front of the other and slowly made her way through the narrow streets of Yakushima, then onto a less traveled dirt road. Soon, the houses were behind her, and the trees and foliage surrounded her. Her eyes welled up with tears when she heard the wrens for the first time in a year. She had cried so many times in the past few days, and each time, she felt like it was wearing her down, turning her into something that was hardly human anymore. But this time, it felt like a release.

She put one foot in front of the other, guided by muscle memory, and continued straight as her shoulders shook, and the wrens and the trees were the only ones that heard her sobs.

She came to a clearing and, through blurry vision, tried to make out the little house up ahead. She wiped her tears, her chest still trembling, and walked to the front door. Very little remained of the red paint on the door. One of the windows was falling off its hinges, and the little garden plot was overrun with weeds.

She pulled the old key out of her pocket with a long, drawn-out sigh.

She removed her shoes, unlocked the door, and pushed it open, wincing as it gave a long, loud creak. The electricity was cut off years earlier, so she skipped the light switch and opened one of the windows. Sunlight poured in, revealing nothing but thick layers of dust and damaged, old furniture.

Jun walked into the kitchen of her grandmother's house, leaving footprints behind her on the dusty floor. She opened the window above the sink and looked around. It looked nothing like it had in her dream. The shelf above the stove had fallen off the wall and lay dusty on the cooktop. The cabinet doors were open and bare, and no herbs were hanging from the ceiling. There was no warmth. But the table was in good shape, and it was so quiet, so peaceful.

Maybe she could make it warm again.

Lee stood in front of the mirror, tying his navy blue tie. He had to take a break halfway through. His shoulder still hurt. It felt weak. He finished tying it and sighed as he looked at himself. He didn't like the color, but living out of a suitcase, he had few choices. He picked up his dark gray jacket from the back of the chair and put it on before walking to the bed where Sayuri lay sleeping.

He sat on the bed beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. "I have to go."

She sighed but didn't turn to look at him. "And what am I supposed to do?"

"Go shopping. Buy whatever you need."

She turned and looked at him. "I don't know the area, and I don't speak the language."

"A lot of business owners speak English here, especially at the high-end stores. I'm sure the hotel staff can tell you which ones."

She turned her back on him. "I don't speak English."

"We both know that you do."

"Not that well."

"Well enough." He stood up. "I'll be back in a few hours. We should go out to dinner tonight."

"The food here makes me feel sick."

He exhaled slowly. "I'll find a Japanese restaurant. I have to go."

He grabbed his briefcase and didn't wait to hear what else she had to complain about. He understood how she was feeling, but hearing her complain about every minuscule thing was beginning to grate on him. He was grateful to have her there. She had been supportive the first few days and brought him out of his dangerously negative mindset. She noticed when he had been sitting too quiet for too long. She did her best to distract him when the overwhelming sense of failure threatened to consume him. But the past two days, she had been doing nothing but complaining.

He nodded in greeting to the hotel staff in the lobby and went outside, where his taxi was already waiting. He greeted the driver when he stepped inside the vehicle. After settling in his seat, he pulled a pen and notepad from his briefcase. He didn't talk with the driver, try to relax, or watch the buildings as they passed. He needed to focus on concrete and necessary tasks.

He wrote on the first page.

To do (in order of importance):

1. Buy a condo (Schedule showings for tomorrow morning)

2. Find a good tailor

3. Buy new clothes

a. Work clothes

b. Casual clothes

4. Buy a car

5. Kill Heihachi

He exhaled, pulled the page off the notepad, and crumbled it up. Tasks were supposed to keep the dark thoughts at bay. There was no way to kill him now. Lee had his chance and royally fucked it up, losing everything and getting Kazuya killed in the process. If he had not let Heihachi get in his head, Kazuya would still be alive, and he would still be in Japan, and–

"We're here."

Lee paid the driver and got out of the taxi. He stood on the sidewalk and focused on the warehouse across the parking lot. He had been so excited about it just a couple of weeks earlier. Now, it was just…disappointing. The building was not large, certainly not impressive. It was functional. It was nowhere near downtown, and he was leasing it. It didn't even belong to him. If he had killed Heihachi–

He tried to inhale deeply to clear that thought from his head, but his ribs still hurt. He made himself walk forward and wondered how the employees would react to having him there, what they would say behind his back or even to his face about the outcome of the tournament. But to his dismay, everyone looked genuinely pleased to have him there. And no one even mentioned the tournament.

Even with the warm welcome, he felt out of place. But the manager was so excited to show him charts, order forms, and client lists that Lee found it somewhat infectious. Soon, he felt comforted by the smell of metal and oil and the sound of working machinery on the factory floor. He got into a spirited conversation with one of the programmers about improvements he wanted to make and about a smaller, more delicate prototype that would be perfect for the food industry.

Lee listened as he watched one of the workers test one of the robot arms. It swiveled at the joint with such ease. The way it moved side to side almost made it look like it was trying to hit something.

"What about a combat robot?" Lee wondered out loud.

"Why combat?"

To kill Heihachi. "You never know what kinds of contracts we might get in the future."

Even doing what he loved, he couldn't escape his dark thoughts.

Sayuri picked at the bowl of fruit in front of her. It was the only food the hotel offered that was remotely appetizing, but she didn't even want to eat it. She looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was close to four p.m. She had thought it was later. She felt disoriented. The days were running into each other, the hours felt excruciatingly long. She had tried venturing out of the hotel again, but everything was so different. The people were loud and abrasive, sometimes snapping or yelling at her in a language she couldn't even understand just for standing in the wrong spot. The air felt heavy, and the smell was…odd.

She leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. It felt like the wrong Mishima had died. Logically, it didn't make sense because Kazuya being dead meant she got to live if she or Lee didn't do anything to invite Heihachi's wrath. But how could she never go back to Japan? How could she never see her father or her family again? A wild thought crossed her mind. If she went back to Japan, would Heihachi even care? She shook her head. That was naive thinking. There was a reason why she didn't even dare go to California. It was because she believed the threats of a Mishima.

She gasped at the sound of the door handle turning. Lee stepped inside and closed the door. He was wearing another suit that he didn't like. It fit well enough, but it wasn't tailored. He didn't look comfortable or confident. To people who didn't know him, the suit looked good enough, and he looked confident enough. But they didn't know what he used to be. They had never seen his smile light up an entire room. She couldn't leave him or go to California even if she wanted to.

"I didn't expect you back so early."

He took off his shoes. "I had some things I needed to get done, so I took half the day off."

"Did you find a tailor?"

He set his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it. "No. No one even uses a tailor." He shook his head. "I'll have to open the phonebook and just start calling people." He took a folder out of the briefcase and handed it to her. "I bought a condo."

She took it and began to look through the photos inside. "Just like that?"

He shrugged. "Something had to come easily. It has some very basic furniture that will definitely have to be replaced, but we can move in this weekend."

"Good," she smiled. "We need somewhere to hang all those tailored suits you're about to buy."

He gave her a half-hearted smile before walking to the desk and picking up the phone book. "Did you go anywhere?"

"Just for a little walk. I don't want to go shopping until we have a place to store things."

He nodded as he flipped through the pages. "How are you feeling? Is the food growing on you?"

Her heart began to drum in her chest. "I'm fine. I'm sure I'll get used to it soon enough."

She didn't feel fine. She felt worse. And she knew the food wasn't the problem.

Jun had spent the last two weeks working on her grandmother's house. Her house. Her father had reluctantly put it under her name. He wanted her to get a job. He said the only way to get through a tragedy was to get on with life. But Jun's mother and brother told him that working on the house was the only thing that made her get out of bed, and nagged him until he agreed to sign the house over to Jun.

Jun had wasted no time. She packed some clothing, food, and a sleeping bag and promptly moved into the dilapidated house, where she could be alone with her grief. At her parents' house, their emotions and worries mixed with her sorrow, and she couldn't distinguish her feelings from theirs. In her new home, no one knew that sometimes she couldn't get up until noon. No one knew that most nights, she cried herself to sleep. No one could hear her sob or stop her from feeling whatever she needed to feel—sadness, anger, hopelessness, helplessness.

She had a little money saved up and was able to have the electricity restored, and had bought some tools and paint. She was making progress, little by little. The kitchen was where she started cleaning, patching, and painting. It was where she put down her sleeping bag at night. It was clean and tidy, but it still wasn't right. Once she had the garden cleaned, she would plant some herbs. Within the month, she could have shiso and mitsuba hanging from the ceiling. She was going to become quite the homemaker.

I wonder what Kazuya would think of that.

The ache in her throat told her to get busy. To find something to clean or repair. But she let gravity pull her to her knees. Her shoulders shook, and tears streamed down her face for the third time that day. Then, an odd, hot feeling began at her neck. She barely had time to run out the door before the bile rose to her throat. She didn't make it to the treeline before she threw up.

Why? She wondered as she sat on the ground, trying to recover. She didn't have time to get sick. She needed to patch the leaks on the roof before it rained again. She had been lucky that there had not been much rain in the past two weeks. Maybe she wasn't sick. Maybe her body and mind were just overwhelmed. She needed to start making time for meditating and walking barefoot in nature. She had gone too long without grounding herself.

But grounding didn't work. Jun was exhausted to the point where she couldn't even cry because all she wanted to do was sleep. She wasn't eating much and could barely keep down what little she ate. Jun's mother noticed when she joined them for dinner and ate only plain steamed rice and didn't touch the beef udon or the vegetables. When she offered sweet dumplings, and Jun declined, her mother asked for help in the kitchen.

"What's wrong, Jun?" She asked once they were inside.

"I think I'm sick."

Her mother gave her a long, piercing look. "How long have you been sick?"

"A few days."

"Have you done any…calculations?"

Jun shook her head. "Calculations?" She covered her face as understanding dawned on her. "Mother, please."

She looked her in the eye and put her hands on her hips. "If I'm wrong, tell me I'm wrong."

Jun's heart was thumping in her chest. She felt like she was going to throw up again.

Her mother took her to the doctor the following day. She was right. And Jun was mortified.

When she went home, she didn't go into her little house. She walked toward the treeline and didn't stop until she had lost sight of the house and all signs of civilization. She kept walking until the birds and the babbling stream were the only sounds she heard. She sat on a rock and looked up. She could barely see the sky through the thick, green branches, and it gave her a sense of privacy.

"Well," she said, "you would hate the news." She closed her eyes and sighed. "But I don't hate it." She stood up and walked toward the stream. "I think you would have pushed me away because you would be too afraid to be a father. Then I would be back here, exactly where I am now."

She stopped when she reached the stream. "But maybe I'm wrong. I have been wrong on so many things. Made so many mistakes." The tightness in her throat made it hard to talk. The tears in her eyes blurred her vision. "I'm going to raise this baby, and I'm going to do a good job." She wiped the tears with her hands. "I have a feeling it's a boy. I'm going to love him and care for him the way that you should have been loved and cared for. And maybe, wherever you are, you'll feel it."

Lee sat at his desk, leafing through a proposal written by his head programmer, but he couldn't concentrate. What the hell was he supposed to do with a baby? He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen a baby up close. He sighed and fixed his eyes on the little blinking cursor on the computer monitor. He had to think about it logically. It would at least give Sayuri something to do instead of sulking all day. The downside was that it would give him something to do as well. Unless he paid someone else to do it. There was a soft knock on the door, and his secretary walked inside.

She held up a stack of envelopes. "I have your mail." She handed it to him.

"Thank you." He took the stack and set it on the desk. "I have a very important task for you."

She smiled. "Of course. Whatever you need."

"I need you to hire someone. A woman who is good with children, no older than thirty, must be Japanese, fluent in Cantonese, and know her way around the city."

She nodded slowly, then her brow furrowed. "That might...take some time, sir."

He straightened in his chair and looked her in the eye. "I've seen nothing but top-quality work from you. I have the utmost confidence that you will find exactly the person I need."

She blushed and smiled. "Thank you, sir. When do you need her?"

"As soon as possible."

"You can count on me." She bowed before walking out of the office.

With a solution to his problem, Lee felt a little lighter. Things were going well with his new company, and it was growing faster than anyone had anticipated, but the first few days had been difficult.

It was his company and his vision, but he still expected someone to strike his ideas down. When that didn't happen, he imagined his employees whispering about his failures. But everyone was more than receptive to his plans. They worked hard to make them happen. They tried to impress him. Little by little, he began to feel like the leader he was supposed to be.

He was coming up with innovative ideas that made powerful companies take notice. He had been actively leading his company for less than two months, and there were already talks of expanding. If he could keep the momentum going and continue to have his finger on the pulse of the robotics industry, in just a few years, he would be able to spend his time and money on more indulgent projects.

A combat robot. Something sleek. Completely different from Prototype Jack.

It was as if a weight had dropped on his shoulders.

Every time he thought he had moved on, every time he had a couple of good days, the thoughts resurfaced. The Zaibatsu, Heihachi's threats…Kazuya's death. He was glad that Nina had failed to kill Kazuya because if she had succeeded, Lee would have felt responsible, and he honestly didn't think he would have handled the guilt very well.

He looked through the mail. Nothing from Anna. He had probably scared her off when he told her he loved her. He knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear. But things had seemed so final, and he had just wanted– He sighed. He wasn't getting a damn thing done, and it was already close to noon.

He stood up. When he couldn't concentrate, a walk through the factory floor always cleared his mind. He didn't need a quiet room to get inspired. Hearing the metallic clanking, humming, and whirring inspired and revitalized him. Watching the grace with which the machines moved was like watching a dance, like attending a symphony. It was art.

And he created art. Week after week, month after month, he worked early in the morning and late into the night. He threw himself into his art and began feeling alive again. Through all the new products he and his team were producing and the new industries they were supplying, a thought never left his mind. A combat robot. He had his plans and notebooks full of notes. But technology had not yet caught up with his vision.

He spent little time at home. He didn't feel guilty because Sayuri seemed to have adjusted to her new circumstances. His secretary had done a fantastic job finding the perfect helper for Sayuri. A thirty-year-old Japanese woman named Mayumi Mori. She took Sayuri shopping and to her appointments. She kept the place clean and was a good cook. He didn't have to worry when he traveled for work because he knew Sayuri was being taken care of.

He received a phone call one clear July morning as he left his hotel room in Paris for a work conference.

It was Mayumi. "The baby is here, sir."

He stopped in the middle of the hotel lobby. "Oh…" He ran his free hand through his hair. "Is Sayuri all right?"

"There were complications, but everything is fine now. She's resting, but she wanted me to call you."

"Thank you."

"Do you want to know about the baby?"

He held his breath for a moment. "Is it fine?"

"She," Mayumi said. "It's a girl, and she's healthy."

"...A girl…huh."

There was an inexplicable sense of relief. Maybe raising a girl could be doable. It had to be different than raising a boy, and she would have her mother to look to as a role model. Maybe it wouldn't be terrible.

He still kept his distance from the baby as much as he could. Aya. Sayuri had named her Aya. Being around her was somewhat terrifying. She was tiny and looked fragile. Sayuri assured him that she was an average size for a newborn and that he wouldn't hurt her if he picked her up. But he thought that if he tried, she would fall out of his arms. So he kept his distance. His work kept him away from home often. He could see Sayuri's resentment growing, and it made him stay away more.

Aya was changing very quickly. She looked less fragile but moved more, so now he was afraid to pick her up because he would definitely drop her. But she smiled whenever she saw him. He didn't think much of it at first, but she did it every time. And there was no ulterior motive behind her smile. She was just happy to see him—every time.

Soon, he caught himself thinking about Aya at work. Where was she going to go to school? What was the best school in Hong Kong? Were there advantages to an all-girls school? He started looking forward to going home just to see what new things she had learned. She always surprised him with some new skill she had picked up. And she always smiled when she saw him.

Things were going well at work; thoughts about Heihachi and the Zaibatsu were becoming a thing of the past, and he felt closer to Aya. But things were not good with Sayuri. They were almost like roommates. She spent more and more nights in the baby's room, and he spent more and more nights at work. It had to end. It wasn't fair to either of them.

Sayuri knew she would never get used to life in Hong Kong. Though, to be fair, she had not really tried. It had been a year and a half of monotony and tedium. She was there because she had wanted to be there for Lee. He had been so alone, and she could not bear to leave him. When he didn't need her anymore, she stayed because she feared how far Heihachi's wrath could reach. But eventually, that fear began to lose its hold on her. While Lee was busy and his company was thriving, her life was quiet and uneventful.

Her father sent her a Japanese newspaper in the mail every week. There were often articles written about the Mishima Zaibatsu or Heihachi himself. He was building a school, donating to various charities, and partnering with philanthropic organizations. But there was never any mention of Kazuya. She wondered which Heihachi had done, bribed, or threatened the media to pretend that Kazuya never existed. Sayuri knew better than to trust Heihachi or his seemingly noble image, but at the same time, he seemed to have moved on.

She opened the newspaper and sat on the couch to read about the cherry blossom festival in Japan. A few minutes later, Lee came out of the bedroom. It was one of the few nights he had come home that week. He sat in the chair opposite her. He didn't even sit next to her anymore.

"A Japanese newspaper?" He asked as he settled in his seat.

"My father sends it to me every Sunday." One year and a half, and he hadn't noticed.

"How is he?"

"Missing me. Wishing he could meet his granddaughter."

Lee said nothing but nodded and inhaled deeply.

Sayuri closed the newspaper. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"I've been thinking…I should move closer to work."

"Just you?"

"I think it would be best."

"I suppose you're right."

He exhaled, looking a bit relieved. "If you don't like this place, I can buy a house for Aya…and you. I don't want you to feel like you have to be tied to me. I want you to try to be happy. You can take classes, find a job…or start dating. Whatever you want."

Sayuri folded the newspaper. Her heart was racing, but she tried to keep her face impassive. "I'm glad you're thinking about what I want."

She stood up, walked into the baby's room, and closed the door. She thought there would be tears when it finally happened, but she didn't want to cry. She was angry. Her hands were shaking, and her heart felt so heavy. After everything she had been through, everything she had done for him, it was over, just like that. It wasn't even dramatic, just— If he didn't want to see her anymore, he would get his wish.

Traveling with a baby was exhausting. If she didn't have Mayumi, Sayuri didn't know what she would have done. There was so much to carry, so much more to worry about. But none of that mattered because she was home. Her eyes welled up with tears when she stepped out of the airplane. The faces, the language, the helpful staff; she was home. Mayumi carried the diaper bag and the carry-on suitcase as Sayuri pushed a sleeping Aya in the stroller.

Sayuri looked around until she found the sign she was looking for. "Let's rent a car before we pick up our luggage." Her father had offered to pick them up, but it was after midnight, and she didn't want to bother him. She turned the stroller and began to walk away.

"Wait." Mayumi took hold of one of the handles and stopped the stroller. "She just fell asleep. You go rent the car, and I'll wait with her here." She pointed to a bench next to the wall. "You can come get us when you're ready."

Sayuri nodded. "You're right. It's been a hard day for her. Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Mayumi smiled and took a seat on the bench. Sayuri turned her back on them and walked away.

She was able to get around much faster without having to push a stroller. It was a relief to find a short line, and she was extremely grateful to the Universe that her Japanese driver's license had not expired. The clerk gave her the paperwork and the key, and she began her trek back to Aya and Mayumi. But as she passed by the row of pay phones, she stopped.

She picked an available phone and sighed as she dialed Lee's number. He picked up at the first ring.

"Hi, it's me."

"Where the hell are you?"

She shook her head. "Don't talk to me like that."

"That number is from Japan. Where are you?"

"At Kansai Airport."

"Are you-" He exhaled. "You have to come back. Get on the next flight and come back."

"Don't worry. I'm not in Tokyo. I'm only going to be here for a couple of days, then...I'm moving to The States."

"You can't take Aya out of the country without my permission."

"Your name is not on the birth certificate. I don't need your permission for anything. Once we're settled, you can visit her whenever you want."

"Are you putting her in danger just to spite me?"

"I'm not putting her in danger. I just want to be free. I'm tired of living like a prisoner because you're afraid. I have to go." She hung up without waiting to hear what else he had to say.

As she walked back to Aya and Mayumi, she began to feel anxious. What if Lee was right? What if the mere act of visiting her father was putting them in danger? But it was ridiculous because Heihachi Mishima didn't rule the world. He didn't rule anything other than his God-forsaken corporation. And she would only be in Japan for a couple of days.

When she returned to the bench, all she found was the carry-on bag. And the world went dark.

The rest of the night was a rush of panic and helplessness. No one had stopped a woman from walking out of the airport pushing a stroller. The cameras caught her when she was inside, but once out, it was as if she were a ghost. The police found nothing. Sayuri cried in her father's arms until she couldn't cry anymore. Until she was left with nothing but regret and a black hole in her heart.

At fifty-six years old, Heihachi Mishima did not feel like he had peaked. Most men his age were counting down the days to retirement and longing for quiet evenings. But Heihachi stood in this office on the top floor, surrounded by priceless artifacts, tapestries, and paintings, admiring the beauty of his city. It made him feel like an emperor, and emperors didn't retire.

The phone on his desk began to ring. It made Heihachi take notice because his secretary had gone home for the night. He walked up to the desk and was surprised to see the call was not coming from the building. It was a foreign number connecting directly to his phone. He sat in his chair and let it ring a few more times before picking up.

"Who is this?"

"Was it you?"

Heihachi chuckled when he heard his son's voice. "Hmph, not even a proper greeting."

"Was it you?" Lee repeated.

"Are you referring to the misfortune your girlfriend suffered? It's plastered all over the news."

"You know that I am."

Heihachi leaned back in his chair. "If you have not forgotten our last conversation, and if you have not gone against my wishes, you can rest assured that it wasn't me. And don't you dare think that your little family drama gives you any right to set foot in my country. I have heard that there's no greater pain than losing a child, but I can think of a few things that come damn close. Don't test me." He slammed down the receiver.

He stood up, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a glass of bourbon. If Heihachi had spent his entire life being truthful and kind and trying to do the right thing, he would not be at the top. Being at the top meant he had to punish traitors, even if the traitors were his sons. And if he wanted to stay on top, he had to rule with an iron first. No exceptions.

A/N: *Sweats nervously*