Hush, my child, in shadows deep,
Where secrets stir and darkness sleeps.
A tale untold, a path untread,
A dance with demons, in shadows' spread.
…
The absolute blackness of the abyss enveloped Kazuya Mishima as he plummeted into the unknown. The air screamed past him, tugging at his body with suffocating force, but Kazuya's broken body no longer had any strength left to fight gravity's firm grip. It seized him with an unforgiving tightness, guiding his descent. The ferocious wind roared in his ears, drowning out any semblance of the world he once knew.
The child's body and his consciousness teetered on the edge of oblivion, and in the final moments before impact, fragments of memory danced through the shadows of his mind. Like a beacon against the tumult, a faint and distant melody emerged.
A lullaby, tender and haunting, carried by the phantom winds of memory. It was a song that his mother would often sing for him to quell his fears of the dark of the night. Now, as the ground rushed up to meet him, the spectral voice of his mother, Kazumi Mishima, whispered the verses of a lullaby that had cradled him in gentler times.
…
Close your eyes, let shadows sway,
Embrace the night, where shadows play.
In depths unseen, a power lies,
A shadow's secret, a devil's prize.
…
The haunting melody wrapped around Kazuya like a fragile wings, and in the ephemeral lull between descent and impact, the warmth of his mother's voice caressed his senses. The timbre soothed him, a fleeting embrace that cut through the chaos with the tenderness only a mother's voice could convey.
In those fleeting moments, as the abyss drew him closer to the earth below, his mother's warm, maternal whisper accompanied him into the depths. The ground awaited, and in the final heartbeat before impact, Kazuya clung to the echo of his mother's lullaby.
"Mother," said Kazuya with his final breath.
With a shattering impact, the child's body collided against the unforgiving stone floor of the mountain's valley. Bones shattered, and pain reverberated through his small frame. The last vestiges of consciousness clung to the echo of his mother's lullaby, now a distant refrain, as darkness encroached upon him.
As the fractured pieces of his body settled against the cold ground, the final verse of the lullaby lingered in Kazuya's darkening mind like a poignant serenade to the fallen. The whispered words, laden with both love and foreboding, trailed away into the abyss, leaving Kazuya submerged in the shadows, alone.
…
Rest now, my son, in shadows' keep,
Where light may fade, and shadows weep.
The iron heart, the demon's kin,
In shadows deep, the dark within.
…
As breath escaped him, so too, did the light from Kazuya's eyes. In the silence that followed, darkness claimed him, and the echoes of the lullaby dissolved into the void along with him.
YAKUZA の TEKKEN
CHAPTER ONE - THE FALL
As a child, Kazuya Mishima had been a small, skinny kid, a target for the merciless cruelty of those who saw his petite frame, skinny, feeble arms and his diminutive stature as an invitation for their cruelty. As a result, he had often found his face in the mud, pressed down under someone's boot. The world had been a place of relentless hardship, and the shadows of his upbringing had left deep scars on his body as well as his psyche.
His father's fists had been a different kind of torment, a merciless, unyielding force, molding Kazuya into a vessel for pain. The echoes of his youth were stained with memories of the grueling trials, an exhausting and inhumane training regimen that became a twisted rite of passage under his father's iron fist.
Days and nights blurred as Kazuya endured the relentless demands. The regimen knew no respite, a continuous onslaught that tested the limits of human endurance. Physical exhaustion was paired with the mental strain of unyielding discipline, forging a resilience born from the rage, pain, suffering…
His father's demands were uncompromising, each blow in training a lesson. Slowly, the discipline inflicted upon him was brutal, relentless, stripping away any remnants of the small, frail kid he once was.
In the dimly lit alley of Kamurocho, as Kazuya's fists meted out their own brand of punishment, the memories of that training lingered. The tragedy of his past was intertwined with the power he now wielded, a testament to the endurance forged through inhumane trials and the unrelenting force of his father's fists.
As a child, it was his face pressed into the mud, subject to the whims of those stronger than him. Now, everything had changed. The script had flipped. The tables had turned. The roles had reversed.
No longer face down in the mud, Kazuya Mishima stood mercilessly above all, a symbol of resilience carved from the harsh experiences of his youth. The shadows that once haunted him had become the cloak of his empowerment, and the small, skinny kid had transformed into a force to be reckoned with.
In the narrow confines of a dimly lit alley in Kamurocho, the neon glow of the city's nightlife barely penetrated the shadows. The booming music, the lustful laughter of drunken men and the gleeful squeal of women drowned out the cries for help that rang out from an empty lot that was tucked away behind a labyrinth of bars and hotels.
Kazuya Mishima, now aged 22, dressed in black slacks and boots, a purple dress shirt left carelessly unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a black vest, towered over a disheveled salaryman. His sharp, cold eyes glared down at the beaten, bloodied man in his grip. The disheveled salaryman gasped for breath as Kazuya delivered a relentless barrage of punches with his left fist. Each strike landed with a sickening thud, a visceral punctuation to the grunts of pain that echoed in the confined space.
The salaryman's body crumpled to the ground like a broken marionette in the hands of a merciless puppeteer. But Kazuya wasn't finished. He brought his heel down on the man's chest, hard, a grotesque snap coming from his ribs.
"Ahhh!" The man cried in agony. "Stop… please!" But Kazuya leaned down, and with both fists now free, began to rain blows on the man's face. Desperate pleas for mercy were muffled by the sound of fists meeting flesh. Blood splattered on the grimy alley floor, staining the walls around him.
"Al..right! Alright!" The salaryman stammered, spitting out blood and panting for air as he fumbled for his wallet. "I have it… I have the money. Take it all, it's yours!"
Kazuya, looming over the broken figure at his feet, pulled back for a moment, relishing the desperation in the salaryman's eyes. He sneered, a cruel satisfaction flashing across the ugly scar that dashed across his face. "You should've paid on time and saved yourself an ass whooping. Maybe next time, you'll learn."
Snatching the wallet from the man's trembling hands, Kazuya flicked it open and scanned its contents with a cold, calculating gaze. As expected, the man was loaded. He had cash, several times more than enough to pay his debt at that, a picture of himself, a young, beautiful wife and a child who looked just like him, three packaged condoms and a note with a phone number written in pink lipstick.
Kazuya sneered and pocketed the money, tossing the empty wallet on the man's chest.
"You're pathetic," Kazuya spat, his tone dripping with contempt. "Cheating on your wife, taking out exorbitant loans so you can indulge in your sick perversions. You're not even worth the dirt on my shoes."
A cruel amusement danced in Kazuya's eyes as he delivered a final, brutal kick to the man's ribs. The man groaned in agony, his body contorting in pain. Kazuya leaned down, his face inches from the man's ear.
"Consider this a warning," he hissed, the menace in his voice sending shivers down the man's spine. "If I catch wind of you screwing up again, I won't be so merciful. Tell your wife you fell down some stairs or something. She'll believe you. I bet she always does."
Kazuya used the salaryman's neck tie to clean his bloodied fists and then straightened, casting a final disdainful look at his defeated victim. The dim glow of the neon lights reflected in his cold eyes as he turned away, leaving the alley swallowed by the shadows of Kamurocho's unforgiving streets.
Kazuya stepped out of the labyrinth that lead to the empty lot and emerged into the chaotic streets of Taihei Boulevard, one of the main arteries that ran across Kamurocho, pulsing with the heartbeat of the city's nightlife. The neon lights bathed the streets and its people like a million flames of fire that danced and flickered in the night. The distant sounds of revelry served as a stark contrast to the clandestine brutality that had just unfolded. Nobody noticed.
No, this god-forsaken city never did.
Kazuya took a left turn and continued to walk for a couple of blocks toward Theatre Avenue.
Navigating the crowded sidewalks, he ascended the stairs leading to the Kamuro Theater Rooftop Garden—a secluded haven above the urban chaos. The city's chaotic sounds and blinding lights faded as he reached the rooftop, where a quiet sanctuary awaited him.
It was not peace that he sought along the city's skyline, for peace eluded him like a mirage in the desert. Instead, it was a momentary respite, a place where the clamor of the streets softened, allowing him to think with a clarity seldom found in the tumultuous, fast paced world of a rising Yakuza like him.
It was a place where, rather than running from the shadows, Kazuya could blend in with the darkness.
The garden welcomed him, glowing with the beauty of the moonlight. A row of cherry blossom trees stood sentinel against the cityscape, their delicate blossoms whispering promises of renewal, of innocence still untainted by the perversion, greed and violence that made Kamurocho the city that it was. The night air, though still filled with distant echoes, carried a semblance of clarity, allowing Kazuya to think.
His gaze wandered over the skyline, tracing across the rooftops of buildings that rose like monoliths to the heavens. In this elevated solitude, the weight of his past felt momentarily lighter.
Reaching a solitary perch overlooking the city, Kazuya's cold eyes gazed over the sprawling abyss of the city, and for a moment, it was like a familiar echo of the void that had once sprawled beneath him as a child. In those distant memories, he recalled the sensation of being held, not by comforting arms, but by the unyielding grip of his father, Heihachi Mishima, who, after hours of cruel, torturous blows, finally carried his broken and battered body to the edge of the mountain and tossed him off its side into the abyss.
In a way, Kazuya still felt like he was falling.
The winds subtly picked up, rustling the blossoms, shrubs and potted flowers, whispering remnants of a time long past, carrying with them the weight of a mother's last words. He could almost hear her voice in the breeze…
"Kazuya, if I die... If I can't stop Heihachi... then you must do it for me."
His mother's plea, uttered with the desperation of a woman trapped in the clutches of a dark fate she could not escape. But Kazuya was a child, he wasn't strong enough to keep his promise to her. And after squeezing the life from her neck with his bare hands, Heihachi set out to do the same to Kazuya. In that moment on the rooftop, the abyss of Kamurocho mirrored the abyss of the mountain from which Heihachi threw him from.
And yet, fate had other intentions for him. He survived the fall.
Kazuya's gaze drifted along the bustling city below. In his mind, the vivid hues of Kamurocho faded into the monochrome of his past. A nine-year-old boy, broken and battered, stumbling across the unforgiving streets, his hungry eyes scanning the faces of the rushing crowd.
His tiny hands, one of them broken, reaching out for assistance, his voice a feeble crying for help. But the indifferent throng swept past, oblivious to the wounded child in their midst. No one spared him a glance, no one stopped to help. The world continued its relentless pace, uncaring and unyielding.
The lesson etched into Kazuya's young mind was one of solitude and harsh reality.
Nobody was coming to save him.
The city, indifferent to his suffering, taught him that survival demanded more than pleas for mercy. Not even money could save you.
Power.
Power was the currency of survival.
Never again. Kazuya would never again be the weak one. Power was everything, and he would use his strength to bend life to his will. That was the only way life made sense in this city.
In the years that followed, Kazuya's relentless pursuit of strength became an obsession. Every punishing training session, every grueling battle in the unforgiving streets of Kamurocho transformed him into a formidable force, an embodiment of the power he sought to wield over the indifferent world around him.
The city, which once rejected him, now yielded to his formidable presence. Kazuya, the boy abandoned by the world, had become a force to be reckoned with.
The Iron Fist of the Kazama.
Yet, beneath the veneer of power, a lingering emptiness burned at him. The memories of his tumultuous past, the pact he had made with his mother, the unyielding training, and the sacrifices made to reach this point haunted him. Kamurocho, with its dazzling lights and hidden shadows, was both his sanctuary and his prison. And there was one other thing.
Heihachi was still alive. Until Kazuya fulfilled his promise to his mother, he would always feel empty.
As he continued his solitary contemplation, the sound of footsteps approached him from behind.
"Kazuya," a calm and measured voice cut through the silence. "I just heard about what you did to the salaryman. You really don't hold back, do you?"
Kazuya didn't need to turn, for he already recognized the familiar presence emerging from the light to join him in the shadows.
KIRYU KAZUMA
OF THE DOJIMA FAMILY
Kiryu, dressed in a sleek black suit with a white shirt underneath, stepped forward, hands stuffed in his pockets with a calm, yet stern glare.
"It's none of your business, Kiryu," Kazuya retorted, his tone defiant.
Kiryu folded his arms, his gaze steady. "You made it my business when you decided to cause a scene in the middle of Kamurocho. What's gotten into you, Kazuya?"
"I don't need to explain myself to you or anyone else. That guy owed money, and he needed a reminder of the consequences."
Kiryu, stepped closer. "Kashiwagi met with the man personally on behalf of the loan shark that hired us, Kazuya. He gave him an extra three days to pay off his debts. Violence like that only leads to trouble from the police."
Kazuya scoffed, clearly unmoved. "Trouble from the police doesn't concern me, Kiryu."
Kiryu sighed, his frustration evident. "You need to be more careful, Kazuya. We can't afford unnecessary attention. Especially not with Kazama-san so close to being released now."
Kazuya brushed off Kiryu's concern with a dismissive wave. his gaze remained fixed on the city below.
"I can handle myself, Kiryu. I don't need your babysitting. And I can handle whatever Kashiwagi throws at me. So do us both a favor and stop worrying about me like we're still kids back in Sunflower Orphanage. We're grown men now."
"I know that," Kiryu's expression softened, genuine concern in his eyes. "Just be careful, Kazuya. This city can eat you alive if you're not cautious."
"In this world, you can't afford to be weak, Kazuya responded, turning to lean his back on the rail, resting his elbows on it. "If you do, you end up like that guy in the alley."
Kiryu, his expression unwavering, took a step closer. "There's more to strength than just beating people down. Remember what Komaki-sensei always says: Power without restraint is just chaos. You've got to find a way to rise above the chaos, not just become a part of it."
"Good people rise above the chaos, Kiryu," Kazuya said with a warm smile, looking up at his childhood friend and fellow Yakuza. "The rest of us just keep falling."
Kiryu, meeting Kazuya's gaze with a steady look, countered, "Falling might be inevitable, but it's how you land that defines who you are."
Kazuya's warm smile turned into a sardonic grin and he let out a scornful laugh.
"HAHAHAHA! You really believe that, huh? But I've seen enough of this city to know that the only thing waiting for us at the bottom is nothing but the cold hard ground."
Kiryu, unfazed, crossed his arms. "Maybe. But there's got to be something more to life than just survival; something worth fighting for. A purpose."
Kazuya chuckled, a bitter undertone in his laughter. "Purpose, Kiryu? In a place like Kamurocho? You're living in a dream if you think you can find purpose in this cesspool."
Kiryu's expression remained stoic. "Maybe it's a dream worth holding onto. I don't know, but I feel like there's a chance for something better for all of us."
"We're orphans, Kiryu," Kazuya reminded him. "The only dream worth holding onto in this dump of a city is a full stomach."
At the mention of food, Kazuya's stomach growled loudly, breaking the tension, and the corners of Kiryu's lips curled into a smirk.
"Well, I guess now we know why you've been acting like an ass, Kazuya," Kiryu teased.
Kazuya shrugged, a sheepish grin appearing on his face. "Can't argue with a hungry stomach. It tends to make me a bit more... convincing. Come on, then. Let's call the loan shark so we can get paid and get something to eat."
"The loan shark is in Thailand for the next three days," Kiryu responded dryly. "That's why he gave the salaryman three more days to pay. Which means you beat that man to a pulp for no reason."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh."
"Well, what do we do now, then?" Kiryu asked, turning to follow Kazuya down the stairs. "I can't go back to that empty fridge in my apartment."
"Let's head back down to Tenkaichi Street," Kiryu suggested. "Nishiki just got paid, and he was inviting us to a new Ramen spot to get some beers."
Kazuya's eyes lit up at the mention of food. "Ramen and beers, huh? On second thought, this city's not so bad."
…
Kazuya and Kiryu strolled through the heart of Kamurocho, their silhouettes cutting through the crowds that filled vibrant neon-lit streets in front of the famous red neon Kamurocho gate.
Kazuya moved with purpose. His strides were measured, and his gaze, ever vigilant, scanned the surroundings like a predator assessing its territory. Beside him, Kiryu walked with a composed demeanor that spoke of disciplined control.
As they moved through the kaleidoscope of Kamurocho's nightlife, the contrast between the two was palpable. Kazuya, a tempestuous storm on the verge of eruption, and Kiryu, a calm but formidable force, together traversed the city's arteries.
Kiryu glanced over at Kazuya, and noticed the subtle winces in his face. "You seem a bit on edge. Something bothering you?" Kiryu asked.
Kazuya's eyes flickered briefly, a guarded expression crossing his face.
"Uh, it's nothing," he replied, attempting to dismiss the inquiry. "Just hungry, is all."
Kiryu, however, persisted. "You sure? We've known each other long enough for you to drop the act."
"Grr," Kazuya growled, his shoulders slumping, his voice dropping discreetly. "It's this damn tattoo," he admitted, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "The fresh lines on my back are driving me crazy!"
Kiryu raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're not used to the pain?" he asked, recognizing the discomfort of new ink all too well.
Kazuya grunted in agreement, a hint of frustration in his voice.
"I've been through worse, but this... it's something else. It… itches!"
Kiryu chuckled, patting Kazuya on the back reassuringly. "Don't worry. The skin will heal soon, and the itching will go away."
Curiosity flashed in Kiryu's eyes. "What kind of tattoo did you get, anyway?"
Kazuya smirked, a sly glint in his eyes. "That's a secret, Kiryu. Only one man is worthy of seeing it for the first time, and I'm saving it for the day I face him. I guess you'll have to wait until then."
They continued to wait for several long minutes until a high-pitched beep caught their attention. Kiryu reached for his belt and pulled out his pager.
It was Nishiki.
"189. I'm on my way," Kiryu relayed the message to an exasperated Kazuya. "I guess he's running a little late."
"Of course he is," Kazuya responded with a scoff and a wry smile. "Little Nishiki's finally getting some real pay. He's like a kid in a candy store, tossing cash around."
As they waited for Nishiki to meet them, Kiryu shifted the topic. "By the way, Jun's coming back from Yakushima."
Kazuya's nonchalant demeanor faltered momentarily at the mention of her name, but he quickly recovered. "Hmph, why should I care?" he said, crossing his arms. "Let the little princess stay in that cozy forest house she ran off to."
Kiryu raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eye. "You don't have to pretend you're not excited to see her, too, Kazuya. It's been what, three years now? She's always been a breath of fresh air in this world."
Kazuya continued his rant, a defensive edge in his voice. "Excited? Please, Kiryu, I've got more important things on my mind than some forest-loving girl. Besides, she's probably off hugging trees and talking to animals."
Kiryu chuckled, shaking his head. "You can't fool me, Kazuya. I remember when Jun found you all those years ago, wandering down Pink Street like a lost puppy. She's the reason you ended up at Sunshine Orphanage in the first place, remember? You two were inseparable!"
Kazuya's scowl deepened at the reminder.
"Yeah, yeah, she found me. So what? Doesn't mean I owe her anything. I can take care of myself."
Kiryu raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You're tough as nails, Kaz, but we both know that deep down, you're not as heartless as you want people to believe. Jun saw something in you, and I'm pretty sure she still does."
Kazuya scoffed, brushing off the comment. "Whatever, Kiryu. Let's just grab some food and Nishiki can catch up whenever he finally decides to show up. I'm not in the mood for sentimental crap." The facade of indifference was back, but the mention of Jun had undoubtedly stirred something beneath the surface.
Suddenly, a cheerful voice cut through his tirade. "Hey, hey, what's all this gloom and doom?" Nishiki's voice rang out from behind them. "Sorry I'm late, traffic coming back from the airport was insane."
Kazuya turned to face Nishiki, a scowl still etched on his face. "About time, Nishiki. You're lucky I haven't starved to death waiting for you."
Nishiki chuckled, unfazed by Kazuya's grumbling. "Well, good! Because you're in for the feast of your life, Kazuya. Not to mention, a little Karaoke. Now, come on, lighten up. I've got someone you might be excited to see. Look who's finally back by popular demand!"
As Nishiki stepped aside, revealing the figure standing beside him, Kazuya's scowl softened.
The tall, slender woman that was walking with him radiated an undeniable beauty that had only enhanced with the passage of time. Her shoulder-length black hair framed her face in a cascade of glossy waves with hints of auburn, a stark contrast to the white headband that adorned her hair. Her bangs gracefully fell, framing her expressive brown eyes that sparkled with a warmth and joy at seeing her old friends again.
It was Jun Kazama, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she locked eyes with Kazuya again. Kazuya found himself momentarily lost for words as he took in the sight of Jun. Her presence stirred something within him. The memories of all the time spent together in the orphanage, the hardships they'd endured together and the unspoken connection that had persisted despite the years apart, all rushed to the surface.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still.
"Kazuya," Jun's voice broke the silence, her tone filled with warmth and sincerity. "It's been too long."
A/N: Here it is, everyone. A proper Yakuza x Tekken fic. I'm surprised nobody has written anything for this xover. There's just so much potential here.
Although the story follows the Yakuza storyline, I'm integrating a lot of Tekken elements, too. So far, the plan is to have Yakuza no Tekken (YNT) 1 and 2 focus on Kazuya as the protagonist, YNT 3 and 4 will shift focus towards Jin, YNT 5 will star Asuka, YNT 6 will star Lars and Lee, YNT will follow Kazuya one last time and YNT 8 will finish off the story with Jin and ahem, the new challenger ;)
That's the plan so far. Of course I fully intend to add more Tekken characters here and there to make it a truly connected Xover.
Anyway thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.
Until next time, get ready for the next battle!