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Devil Awakened

Summary:

Two years have passed since Jin Kazama’s mysterious disappearance, but with the announcement of the King of Iron Fist Tournament 4, the call for revenge beckons him from the shadows. How will Jin balance his connections to the Mishima bloodline with his close relationships with his friends Xiaoyu and Leifang?

This is a crossover of Tekken 4 and Dead or Alive 2 with a focus on Jin and Leifang. This story is part 2 of 6 in a series of stories.

1. Devil Reborn
2. Devil Awakened
3. Devil Within
4. Devil Released
5. Devil Revealed
6. TBA

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Brisbane, Australia. A bustling city in the southern hemisphere known for having a large population of foreign-born citizens, Brisbane served as a hideaway for a young man on the run. Jin Kazama lived in this city for the past 2 years with a singular goal in mind. 

After that fateful night in Mexico, Jin took off, screaming into the night, his dark black wings flapping vigorously, pumping him higher and higher into the atmosphere. His vision was tinged in shades of red. His only emotion was an unbridled rage. And that was the last thing he remembered.

Night had fallen and Jin found himself staring right up into the full moon. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, allowing his vision to normalize. His skin was damp with sweat. He awoke in an unknown city locale in an alleyway, uncertain of the amount of time that had passed. He stood up and flexed his muscles and was surprised that nothing hurt. Suddenly remembering that he had been shot multiple times, his hands flew to his chest, not finding any wounds. He gingerly touched the pads of his fingers to his forehead where his grandfather had shot him point blank and was shocked that the area was fully healed. 

“This couldn’t have been a dream,” Jin murmured to himself as he pondered this development

Just as he spoke, Jin felt a swell of energy within him. It swirled inside of him growing in strength and power. It seemed to search for somewhere to gain purchase within Jin’s being. A knot began to form in the pit of his stomach.

Jin Kazama… the lightning of fate… give into the anger… give into the curse…

The voice inside of his head sounded smooth and seductive, but Jin knew better. There were tendrils of dark power intertwined in the words, weaving its way towards Jin’s heart. He remembered reading snippets about a “Devil Gene” in Heihachi’s research. From what he recalled, this seemed to be a gene that was present in Kazuya’s blood, its ultimate origin unknown. The gene gave Kazuya otherworldly powers and abilities, but at a price. A pulse within confirmed Jin’s thoughts that he, too, had inherited the Devil Gene and that it was the voice that was speaking to him.

Jin closed his eyes and softly began to chant an incantation he had learned from his mother, a prayer of protection from evil spirits. With each passing word, the evil threads receded and the voice began to disappear. When Jin reopened his eyes, he was left with the sounds of a city zooming by him. Realizing that he couldn’t stay in this alleyway, he exited and began to walk.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was no longer in Japan. He walked by several English language storefronts. Jin’s English was conversational at best, but it would have to be enough for now. He continued on until he spotted a little building nestled amongst the taller ones. It wouldn't stand out to any other person, but to Jin, it was a sanctuary. The Japanese characters on the front of it indicated that it was a dojo. With nowhere else to turn, Jin entered the building seeking refuge.

The dojo master was a kind older man originally from Kyoto. The man provided Jin room and board and, in exchange, Jin would provide menial labor for the dojo. Truthfully, the arrangement was made to assuage Jin’s discomfort; his pride wouldn’t allow him to accept the lodgings without giving anything in return. Still, the dojo master was astute and quickly noted that Jin was a martial artist. Eventually, he agreed to train Jin in the evenings.

2 years had passed since that day. Following Heihachi’s betrayal, Jin worked tirelessly to undo his training in the Mishima Style Fighting Karate and, instead, he learned traditional karate in its stead. He trained in a small, inconspicuous dojo all in an effort to channel his growing hatred for himself and the Mishima bloodline into something more productive. He honed his craft until every trace of the Mishima way had left his movements, but it still wasn’t enough.

With each passing day, Jin’s desire for revenge grew to a fever pitch. He wanted nothing more than to end the Mishima bloodline and himself with it. Soon, there was a murmur among the students of the dojo, something about a tournament. The dojo master, having seen the fury grow more and more in Jin’s eyes, brought it up, thinking that the tournament could be a chance for the mysterious young man to let off some steam. Little did he know that this tournament would be the answer to all of Jin’s problems.

Jin packed what little belongings he had into a duffle bag. He was about to grab his bag and exit his room when a thought crossed his mind. He sat down at the desk and booted up the computer. Wanting to remain off the grid, Jin had never bothered to log in and maintain an online presence. But, today, there was someone that he needed to contact.

Jin carefully crafted his message before hitting send. Ling Xiaoyu had been one of the only people he cared about before he left. He knew that the announcement of this tournament would pique her interest. She would enter solely for the chance to face Heihachi. He had to warn her against it. Heihachi had proven himself to be far too dangerous. Jin would deal with the elder Mishima himself. Jin’s finger lingered over the power button. There was one other person that he would consider contacting. Leifang had gained his trust fairly quickly and had proven herself to be a kind and thoughtful young woman. His last meeting with her before he fought Ogre had been an emotional one. While he believed that she deserved an explanation for his disappearance, he also was realistic. Why would she wait for him? In reality, she barely knew him and she probably was busy with her own life. Jin sighed and shut down the computer. He grabbed his bag and sought out the dojo master.

“Sensei, thank you for all that you have done for me,” Jin said, bowing lowly to his master.

The man returned the gesture, “Remember, Jin, ‘only with a clear mind and conscience can the karate practitioner understand the knowledge which he receives.’”

Jin nodded his assent and offered his final regards before leaving the dojo. His sensei’s final words swirled around his head causing Jin a slight pause. Why would his master choose those words to say to him? He pondered it, but returned with no clearer understanding than when he started. He sincerely appreciated all the teaching that his master had given him, but Jin also knew that it was a means to an end. The Mishima bloodline needed to be destroyed and he had to be the one to do it.

Chapter Text

Ling Xiaoyu bounded into her room, throwing her arms around her pet and bodyguard, Panda.

“Look what just came in the mail!” she exclaimed, waving two envelopes in front of the sleepy bear’s face.

She didn’t await an answer as she tore open one envelope and pulled out a piece of paper bearing the insignia of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Seeing this piqued Panda’s attention and she sat up fully, tilting her head questioningly.

Xiaoyu nodded happily in response, “Yes, Panda, it’s another tournament! Looks like old man Heihachi wants to test our mettle again. We’re definitely joining!”

Panda grunted aloud and clapped, signaling her agreement with the plan. Xiaoyu sat down on the ground beside her and rested her head on Panda’s side.

“I hope that Jin will be there,” Xiaoyu said quietly.

Panda let out a sigh and wrapped her arm around her companion. For the past 2 years, she joined Xiaoyu as she tirelessly searched for her friend and classmate, Jin Kazama, but he seemingly vanished without a trace. Friends have tried to push her to move on, but Xiaoyu couldn’t let go. She believed that Jin was alive somewhere, but without any proof, she was left to what amounted to a wild goose chase. As time passed, her search lessened, but she never gave up hope.

Xiaoyu nodded resolutely, seemingly coming to a conclusion, “I have to be strong. I’ll make it all the way to grandpa Heihachi and demand answers from him. You’ll help me, right, Panda?”

The bear growled, signaling her affirmation. It would seem that the two would begin their training anew for the next tournament.


Similarly, Leifang, who had returned to China following the end of the first Dead or Alive tournament, exhausted all of her resources in her search for Jin only to turn up empty handed. Reluctantly, she gave up her search and instead focused on her training. Her goal to defeat Jann-Lee at the next Dead or Alive tournament was well ingrained in her head. She often reflected on the conversation she and Jin had following her defeat in the last tournament. His encouragement at the time had meant the world to her which made his disappearance even more distressing. 

But two years went by without a single word from Jin, and Leifang realized that she would have to move forward. She was thankful for his friendship and also that through Jin, she developed a friendship with Ling Xiaoyu. The two spent time together in China during Xiaoyu’s school breaks. She found out that the younger girl still harbored intense feelings for Jin, vowing to find him one way or another. It was clear that Xiaoyu had a school girl crush on Jin, even if she wouldn’t admit it aloud.  

And it was because of her strong feelings for Jin that Xiaoyu was able to persevere. Leifang couldn’t help the small pang of guilt that she felt over abandoning her search. Was it the right thing to do? Would it be considered betraying Jin’s memory by no longer pursuing him? That last thought in particular made her very uncomfortable as the parallels between her actions and Heihachi’s implanted themselves in her mind. And she absolutely did not want to be compared to Heihachi Mishima.

When the second Dead or Alive tournament was announced, Leifang was delighted that she would have something to focus on: another chance to test her might against the famed Jeet Kune Do fighter. Maybe this would be the distraction she needed and allow her to move forward definitively. Excitedly, she registered for the tournament and packed her bags for Japan. 

Upon her arrival, she eagerly contacted Ling Xiaoyu to catch up. It had been almost a year since they had last seen each other. The two women decided to meet for a quick bite to eat. Xiaoyu was informing Leifang about the tournament invitation that she received.

“I can’t wait!” Xiaoyu exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with a child-like giddiness, “We’ll also be able to get answers from Heihachi himself.”

Leifang nodded, her lips pursed in thought, “Or maybe from Jin himself.”

The two fell silent at the mention of their friend, but they both also couldn’t deny the bit of hope that they felt at the mention of the new tournament. The thought of reuniting with Jin filled both of their heads.

Xiaoyu bit her lower lip anxiously, “Speaking of Jin… I received an anonymous email warning me against entering the tournament. It said that the tournament was too dangerous and that I should just stay away. When I tried to respond, it bounced back.”

“Do you think it was Jin who sent it?” Leifang asked, but even after the words left her lips, she felt that she intuitively knew the answer to this question.

“I think so. I never gave up hope that he was out there somewhere,” Xiaoyu whispered, her forehead creased in worry, “I just hope that he is doing alright.”

It was this email more than anything that convinced her that Jin was still alive. Who else would contact her via her school email address? Conversely, Xiaoyu also realized that it could be a hoax from one of the many students who teased her for her continued connection to Jin. She couldn’t put it past them to do something so cruel. Regardless of the source, Xiaoyu knew that entering the tournament was the only way to figure it all out.

“I have a feeling that we’ll get our answer soon enough,” Leifang responded, “You have to be careful, Xiaoyu. Remember what Jin said to us: Heihachi is not to be trusted.”

The younger girl nodded, her pigtails bobbing up and down with the movement, “Right.” She paused thoughtfully, before a mischievous smile found its way to her face, “If given the opportunity, I’ll take down old man Heihachi myself.”

Leifang chuckled, “You and I both.” 

She allowed her mind to wander as she thought about the illustrious owner of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Despite his portrayal to the general public as a strong yet benevolent businessman, Heihachi Mishima carried a sinister air about him. Leifang remembered Jin’s warning shortly before his disappearance, in particular his fervor about the subject. Although she refused to say it out loud, she often considered the dreaded possibility that Jin was killed for his knowledge and that Heihachi was covering it up. But she kept these thoughts to herself, not wanting to bring them up to discourage Xiaoyu. 

Still with the announcement of the next King of Iron Fist Tournament, Leifang knew that there would be some level of danger lurking in the shadows of the tournament. Xiaoyu would need to remain sharp and keep on her toes, but with how happy-go-lucky she’s been all along, Leifang was worried that the younger girl may inadvertently get caught up in something nefarious.

Leifang bit her lip anxiously as these thoughts swirled in her mind. It seemed as if her connection to Jin wouldn’t become completely severed after all.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Hi there! Thank you so much to all those who’ve been reading so far. I’m going to try to post a little faster just to keep up the momentum. I promise that the full story will be worth it. Feel free to let me know what you all think. :)

Chapter Text

Jin’s return to Japan was bittersweet. It had taken him about a year after the events with Heihachi before he stopped constantly looking over his shoulder in Brisbane, but those habits quickly returned the minute he set foot on Japanese soil. Truthfully, Jin was shocked that Tekken Force officers were not awaiting him at the airport. He later figured that Heihachi would not want to make a public scene and would plan a more covert operation. 

Once Jin settled into his room, he reviewed the docket that he was given which included his scheduled matches for the tournament. His first fight would be against a man simply called Violet.

There wasn’t much background information listed for this combatant. His fighting style was listed as “martial arts.” It seemed that this man wanted to be shrouded in mystery. This was something that Jin understood.

The match was set at the airport early in the morning. A car awaited Jin and drove him to the designated area. As he stepped out of the car, he was immediately hit with the brisk, cool air. He instinctively drew his hoodie over his head. The covering had become a sort of safety blanket for him these past 2 years as he endeavored to stay incognito. Yet, he knew that it would do little to hide his identity in this tournament and it would only be a matter of time before he faced his grandfather.

The arrival of another vehicle shook him from his thoughts. Jin turned in time to see a man step out of the car. He instantly understood why the man was named Violet. Donning purple hair and the same colored shirt, the man exuded a flamboyant nature. For someone that seemed so mysterious, his actual appearance screamed “all eyes on me.” Jin couldn’t get a good read of him as his eyes were hidden by dark aviator sunglasses. Violet caught sight of Jin and sauntered over.

“And you must be Jin Kazama?” Violet spoke English with what appeared to be an American accent.

“I am,” Jin responded, realizing that if he was to speak English that short answers would be best for him. Despite living in Australia for the past 2 years, Jin felt that his English was still a little shaky.

“Excellent!” Violet exclaimed, giving Jin an unprovoked thumbs up, “I never would have thought that I would have the opportunity to meet you.”

Violet looked his younger opponent up and down, appraising him silently before stating his conclusion aloud, “You are a delightful mix of both of your parents, but overwhelmingly, you are most definitely Kazuya’s child: you have the same dark and brooding eyes as he does.”

“I’d prefer not to be referred to as Kazuya Mishima’s son,” Jin glowered at Violet. His ever growing hatred of his Mishima blood began to rear its ugly head. 

“Hmm… you really are both cut from the same cloth,” Violet continued, blatantly ignoring Jin’s apparent discomfort at being compared to his parents, “That’s fine. Jun Kazama was a lovely woman. Graceful yet strong. Demure yet prideful. Gentle yet powerful.”

Violet removed his sunglasses, and Jin caught a glimpse of his brown eyes before he closed them, a wistful look crossing his features as he reminisced about events from 20 years ago. 

“Hey… I’m your opponent,” Jin interrupted his musings, “I’m neither Kazuya Mishima nor Jun Kazama.” The younger Japanese man stood tall and stalwart, demanding respect. 

A smile of acknowledgement appeared on his lips and Violet bowed lowly, “My apologies, Jin. Of course, you are your own person.”  He then adopted his fighting stance, “I’ve heard some rumors that you’ve strayed from the Mishima Style Fighting Karate. I’d certainly like to see it for myself.”

Jin wasn’t thrilled that this man seemed to know so much about him including his background and lineage. He spoke with a familiarity that was unbecoming of a stranger. Just who was he? Knowing that he would likely not get any answers until he was defeated, Jin raised his fists, “Happy to oblige.”

Violet grinned and adopted his fighting stance. “Come on!” he called out, beckoning Jin to make the first move. 

Without hesitation, Jin surged forward, closing the gap with a powerful front kick aimed at Violet’s chest. The force of the kick sent a gust of wind through the air as his foot sliced forward. Violet sidestepped, his movements fluid and evasive, letting the kick pass by with only inches to spare.

Violet countered immediately with a quick jab aimed at Jin’s face, but Jin deflected the blow with his forearm, using his other fist to throw a sharp cross aimed at Violet’s ribs. This time, the punch landed, and Violet is forced back, feeling the sting of Jin’s strength as he stepped backward to regain his footing.

Recovering swiftly, Violet pivoted gracefully, launching into a spinning back kick aimed at Jin’s side. Jin blocked the kick, but the impact pushed him back a few steps. Violet chuckled, eyes glinting with a mischievous gleam.

“Come on, Jin! Is that all you’ve got?” Violet taunted, arms open wide, inviting Jin to make his next move.

Jin tightened his stance, unphased by Violet’s provocation, and charged forward again, determined to end this quickly.

Jin lunged with a left jab, quickly following up with a right hook and then a brutal roundhouse kick aimed at Violet’s midsection. The wind from his kick whipped past Violet’s face, and Violet just barely managed to dodge, feeling the raw power behind each strike.

Jin’s relentless onslaught forced Violet to retreat, sidestepping toward a nearby luggage cart. As Jin approached, Violet grabbed the cart, pulling it between them as a makeshift barrier. Jin reacted instantly, leaping over the cart with surprising agility, aiming a downward kick toward Violet from mid-air.

Seeing Jin airborne, Violet rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the kick as Jin landed hard, the impact sending a small tremor through the tarmac. Violet sprang up and launched a swift kick aimed at Jin’s knee, attempting to destabilize him.

The kick connected, causing Jin to falter momentarily. Violet capitalized on the opening, pivoting with a high, acrobatic kick aimed at Jin’s head. Jin ducked under the strike at the last second, narrowly dodging the blow as Violet’s foot sliced through the air just above him.

Realizing that Violet’s agility was making him difficult to pin down, Jin adjusted his approach. Instead of chasing Violet, he grounded himself, waiting for Violet to come to him. When Violet finally stepped in with a flashy, spinning kick, Jin caught his leg mid-kick, gripping it tightly.

With a powerful twist, Jin threw Violet off balance, sending him crashing to the ground. Violet rolled, quickly scrambling back to his feet, but it was clear he was shaken by Jin’s sheer strength.

Now visibly more serious, Violet abandoned his playful grin, narrowing his eyes as he approached with renewed focus. He advanced slowly, analyzing Jin’s stance before executing a rapid combo of kicks—a low sweep, followed by a high roundhouse aimed at Jin’s head.

Jin blocked the low sweep but the high kick forced him to step back, feeling the sting of the blow through his guard. Violet followed up by flipping backward, creating distance before launching forward with a flying knee aimed at Jin’s torso.

Refusing to let Violet take control, Jin steadied himself and prepared for a final push. He charged forward, initiating a powerful left hook that Violet barely dodged. Before Violet could recover, Jin followed up with a lightning-fast spinning back kick, catching Violet in the side and sending him stumbling backward.

Violet tried to regain his footing, but Jin closed in, delivering a fierce uppercut that knocked Violet off-balance, lifting him slightly off the ground. Violet crashed down onto the tarmac, his sunglasses clattering to the side, and as he struggled to sit up, Jin stood over him, breathing heavily but steady, his eyes blazing with determination.

Realizing he’d been bested, Violet raised his hands in surrender, catching his breath as he nodded at Jin. “Impressive, Jin. I see… you really are something else,” he said, allowing a faint, genuine smile to break through his usual bravado. Then, after a beat, he added, almost casually, “But I wouldn’t expect anything less from my nephew.”

Nephew? Jin’s brow furrowed, his mind racing as he scrutinized the man before him. Violet—no, Lee Chaolan. It all fell into place: the name, the familiarity, the confidence. Memories flashed through Jin’s mind—a locked room down the hall in the Mishima mansion, one he passed by countless times, always sensing a presence, a story he was never told.

“Lee?” Jin finally asked, holding out a hand.

“In the flesh,” Lee replied with a grin, dropping his fake accent and reverting to Japanese. He took Jin’s hand and pulled himself up. He dusted off his clothes, that playful spark in his eye tempered by something more genuine.

Jin studied his uncle, noting the way Lee carried himself—comfortable yet cautious, a survivor of the Mishima family’s cruelty, just like him. He wanted to ask about the horrors Lee might have faced under Heihachi’s watch, wanted to understand how he endured. But the words felt heavy on his tongue. Now wasn’t the time for past scars.

“You must have experienced your fair share of pain from the Mishima clan,” Jin finally said, his voice low. “Don’t worry. Once I’m through, it will all come to an end.”

Lee’s expression softened, but his response was measured. “While I appreciate the sentiment,” he said, his voice tinged with a knowing edge, “Don’t think the Mishimas will go down so easily without a fight. You’re in for an uphill battle, Jin. They have power and loyalty in places you might not expect.”

Jin nodded, understanding the warning, though his resolve remained unshaken. He held his uncle’s gaze for a moment longer, fists relaxing, as he let Lee’s words settle. Without another word, he turned, heading toward the vast stretch of the tarmac and his next battle, the morning wind tugging at his hoodie.

Lee watched him go, a faint hint of admiration in his eyes. As Jin disappeared into the haze of the airport lights, Lee murmured, almost to himself, “Maybe you’re the one to finally break this chain, Jin.”

Chapter Text


With the King of Iron Fist Tournament 4 well underway, Xiaoyu was riding high on her first victory. Her opponent was a woman named Christie Monteiro, a young Capoeira practitioner from Brazil. Though vivacious and headstrong, Christie could not hold her own against Xiaoyu’s evasive kung fu and was summarily defeated. 

With a bit of time between her next fight, Xiaoyu decided to check out one of the other matches scheduled to take place in Shinjuku. She invited Leifang to come along, the older girl having never been to Shinjuku before. The fight was scheduled to take place in the entertainment district at night allowing the city’s dazzling lights and sounds to take center stage. Xiaoyu’s energy matched the atmosphere as she led Leifang through the growing crowd, her enthusiasm palpable.

“Xiaoyu, slow down!” Leifang laughed, quickening her pace to keep up.

“We’re almost there! I don’t wanna miss it!” Xiaoyu tugged her through the dense throng gathering around the makeshift ring in the square. The King of Iron Fist Tournament was in full swing, and tonight’s match had drawn a huge crowd. 

Leifang scanned the sea of people, catching glimpses of the fighters preparing in the center. One of them– a tall, blond man with slicked-back hair and an open Hawaiian shirt– was stretching, throwing loose jabs into the air. “Who’s that?” she asked.

“That’s Steve Fox,” Xiaoyu explained with agrin. “He’s this hotshot boxer from England. He’s really quick, like all punches. I saw his first match against Marshall Law, a Jeet Kune Do fighter. Steve made quick work of the guy!”

Leifang nodded, her mind straying at the mention of another Jeet Kune Do fighter. With the second Dead or Alive tournament scheduled to start tomorrow, Leifang felt ready to face Jann-Lee again and she sincerely hoped that this time, her training would be enough.

“I’m not sure who the other guy is,” Xiaoyu continued, snapping Leifang back to the present.

The older woman’s eyes shifted to the second fighter. He was dressed in a matching tracksuit with flame motifs throughout. The jacket’s hood was drawn up, making it difficult to see his face from where they stood. He stood perfectly still, his posture controlled, almost eerily calm. Yet, there was a budding tension in the air between the two fighters as they appeared to size one another up.

Just as the tension in the air was about to reach a fever pitch, the tournament announcer’s voice pierced through an outdoor loudspeaker, “Fight!”

The two men instantly sprang into action. Steve launched a flurry of punches, his jabs and hooks lightning-fast, but the hooded fighter moved with precision, dodging with minimal effort. Each counter strike was exact, his low kicks and sudden strikes landing with brutal efficiency.

“Steve’s opponent uses a form of Karate,” Leifang said after observing the hooded fighter for a few minutes.

Blow after blow, the fight escalated. The crowd roared in response to each exchange, but something about the hooded fighter’s style felt familiar to Leifang. The way he moved– controlled, powerful, yet holding something back.

And then, in a flash, Steve’s opponent was downed and the hood slipped from his head, revealing his face.

Leifang’s heart skipped a beat, “Jin?!”

Xiaoyu gasped beside her, her voice almost drowned by the crowd, “No way… Jin?!”

It was unmistakably him. Jin Kazama in the flesh. His dark hair had grown longer, falling into his eyes, and his skin was tanned, his expression more serious, more guarded than they remembered. His fighting style had drastically changed, too.

The fight continued, but Xiaoyu and Leifang were frozen in place, their initial lighthearted banter and commentary falling away as their attention locked on Jin. He fought with a strength that was almost overwhelming, his strikes relentless, his focus unwavering. Steve fought hard, but Jin was on a different level, despite his change in fighting technique. With a final powerful kick, Jin sent Steve to the ground, ending the fight decisively.

The crowd erupted, but Jin didn’t linger to celebrate. He turned his back on the cheers, walking calmly toward the edge of the ring, his face unreadable.

“We have to talk to him!” Xiaoyu exclaimed, grabbing Leifang’s arm. Without waiting for a response, she pushed through the crowd, calling out, “Jin! Jin, wait!”

He hesitated, his steps slowing, but he didn’t turn right away. The space between them seemed heavy with everything unsaid, everything unresolved.

Finally, Jin turned, his face meeting Xiaoyu’s first. Her breath caught in her chest and she faltered for just a moment before rushing forward.

“Jin!” she said, punching him lightly on the arm, though her voice trembled with emotion, “You jerk! You disappeared for two whole years! What happened? Where did you go?”

Jin’s expression softened, but only slightly. His eyes drifted between Xiaoyu and Leifang, as if weighing his words carefully, “I had to leave. It wasn’t safe.”

“Not safe?” Xiaoyu’s brows furrowed, his voice rising, “We thought something happened to you! We even thought—” She stopped, casting an anxious glance at Leifang before continuing, “We thought Heihachi might have been involved. But we couldn’t find proof. People were saying things, spreading rumors, and I–” Her voice broke, frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface, “I defended you. I told them they were wrong, that you’d never just… vanish.”

Jin lowered his gaze, the tension in his posture lessening, though his tone remained quiet, “You were right to suspect him.”

Xiaoyu blinked, her eyes wide, “Heihachi? So… it was him? He– he did do something to you?”

Jin nodded, his voice tight but measured, “He’s the reason I left. But… I can’t tell you more than that.” He met her gaze again, his expression softening further, “I’m sorry Xiaoyu. I didn’t want you to get involved. Either of you.”

Leifang had been silent until now, but she stepped forward, her voice gentle, “We’ve been looking for you, Jin. You could’ve told us. We would have helped.” She searched his face for any sign of the boy she used to know, but it was hard to tell how much of that person was still there.

Jin’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, his guard dropped even further. There was something raw, something vulnerable that passed between them in that instant– an unspoken connection. “I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he reiterated, his voice lower now, “I couldn’t risk it.”

Xiaoyu sighed, her frustration giving way to concern, “Jin, we’re your friends. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

For a moment, Jin seemed conflicted, torn between the weight of what he carried and the urge to protect them. But before he could respond, Xiaoyu grabbed his arm again, tugging him toward the street, “Come on, you’re coming with us. We’ll talk about this over food. You owe us an explanation.”

Leifang nodded, her eyes still locked on Jin, “At least let us understand why you’re fighting in this tournament.”

Jin allowed himself to be pulled along, though he remained quiet, his mind clearly racing.

The small ramen shop was warm and quiet, a welcome contrast to the noise of the streets outside. Jin sat across from Xiaoyu and Leifang, his bowl of ramen untouched. He listened as Xiaoyu rambled, recounting everything they had been through after he left– the rumors, the worry, their failed attempts to find him. Jin remained silent, nodding occasionally, but his expression was hard to read.

Leifang observed him quietly, waiting for a moment to ask the question that had been on her mind since she saw him again, “Jin… Why are you really here? In this tournament?”

Jin sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not here for the title. There’s something I have to do. Something I can only do if I win.”

Xiaoyu leaned in, her eyes narrowing, “What’s that supposed to mean? What could be so important that you’d just–” She stopped herself, realizing she was pushing too hard, “Jin… you know we care about you, right?”

Jin’s expression softened as he looked between Xiaoyu and Leifang, “I know. I care about you both, too. That’s why I can’t involve you in this.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” Leifang said softly, her voice filled with quiet conviction.

Jin’s eyes met hers, and this time, the connection between them was palpable. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words seemed to get caught in his throat. Before he could decide, Leifang reached across the table, gently placing her hand on top of his.

“Whatever it is you’re facing, we can help,” she said, her voice steady, but filled with emotion.

For a long moment, Jin didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on their hands, the warmth of her touch steadied him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked up, meeting her eyes, and something softened in his expression– something real, even if just for a moment.

But then, just as quickly, he pulled away, standing from the table, “I can’t drag you into this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I have to go.”

Leifang’s hand lingered on the table, and for a moment, she thought he might say something more. But Jin stepped away, his resolve hardening again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his back now to them, “I’ll see you both again. I promise.”

And with that, he left, disappearing into the night once more, leaving Leifang and Xiaoyu in the warmth of the small ramen shop, their hearts heavier than before.

Xiaoyu sat back in her seat, her arms crossed. “He’s so stubborn,” she muttered. “Always trying to protect everyone else but himself.”

Leifang didn’t respond right away, her gaze still lingering on the door Jin had walked through. “He’s afraid,” she said quietly, “But… I don’t think it’s just about protecting us. I think he’s carrying something he doesn’t want anyone to see.”

Xiaoyu sighed. “Yeah… well, we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t push us away next time. I’m not going to let him disappear for two more years. I’ll drag him back kicking and screaming if I have to!”

“We’ll find him again,” Leifang said, her voice resolute. “And when we do, he won’t be able to hide from us.”

Xiaoyu nodded firmly. “Exactly! I’m not letting him vanish again. Next time we see him, I’m dragging him back to school or whatever it takes. He owes us that much.”

Leifang leaned back, her fingers still tingling from that brief contact with Jin’s hand. She wasn’t sure what the future held for him—or for any of them—but she knew one thing for certain: they wouldn’t give up on him. Not now. Not ever.

They had found Jin once. And no matter what came next, they would do it again.

As the two girls finished their meal, the noise of the bustling streets outside faded into the background. Their resolve to bring their friend back—to break through the wall he had built around himself—had only grown stronger.

No matter what Jin was facing, he wasn’t alone. And someday soon, he’d have to accept that.


Jin didn’t go very far after leaving the ramen shop. Preferring the cool night air over the stuffiness of his hostel, he ducked into a building that allowed rooftop access and sat astride the edge of the building, peering at the city below as a light breeze brushed across his cheek. The noise of the bustling streets felt distant, as if it belonged to a world far removed from his own. His mind, however, was far from quiet.

Seeing Xiaoyu and Leifang again had stirred emotions he had tried to bury over the past two years. His life had become a series of battles—both inside and outside the ring—and he had grown accustomed to shutting out everything that wasn’t essential to his mission. But the moment Leifang’s hand touched his, something shifted.

He could still feel the warmth of her fingers, a brief, fleeting connection that brought with it a flood of memories he had forced himself to forget.

“I trust you more than anyone,” he had told her back then, in those last days before everything fell apart. And he had meant it. Leifang‘s words and her valuable insights had done more for him emotionally in the short time he had known her than Heihachi ever did in the four years he was with him. He remembered how she had looked at him, her eyes full of understanding and compassion. She had promised to stand by his side, to help him in whatever way she could.

And yet he had left her behind, just like everyone else.

Jin exhaled slowly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He had told himself over and over again that cutting ties with the people he cared about was for the best. They didn’t need to be caught up in the darkness of the Mishima bloodline. They didn’t need to see the monster he feared he was becoming. And yet, now that he had seen them again, he wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore.

Leifang had waited for him. Despite everything, despite his silence, she hadn’t moved on. She still cared—he could see it in her eyes, in the way she looked at him as if she had been waiting for this moment. For him.

She hadn’t said much during their reunion, but he later realized it was because she was hurting. And he was the cause of that. Knowing this only added to his growing self-hatred. 

A part of him had expected her to forget him, to move on with her life without him in it. After all, two years was a long time. But her actions today had proven otherwise. She hadn’t forgotten. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him.

And, if he was honest with himself, neither had he.

Even during the darkest moments of his journey—when he had been lost in his quest for revenge, consumed by the rage he carried inside—her face had crossed his mind more than once. He had pushed those thoughts away, told himself that she was better off without him. But now, after seeing her again, the guilt weighed heavy on his chest.

Leifang had been there for him, had promised to help him, and he had repaid her loyalty with silence. He had walked away, leaving her to wonder what had happened to him, and now he could see the hurt in her eyes, even if she hadn’t said it outright.

Jin closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he tried to push the feelings aside. He couldn’t afford to dwell on this. Not now. His focus had to remain on the tournament, on his ultimate goal of ridding himself of this curse and ending the Mishima bloodline. He couldn’t let himself be distracted by emotions he had long since buried.

But Leifang’s touch had made it clear that some things couldn’t be buried so easily. The connection they had shared wasn’t something he could just ignore, no matter how much he wanted to. And as much as he hated to admit it, being with her—even for those brief moments—had reminded him of something he hadn’t felt in a long time: warmth.

It had been so easy to push everyone away, to convince himself that he was better off alone. But standing there now, with the memory of Leifang’s hand in his, Jin couldn’t help but wonder if he had been wrong. She had trusted him, and despite everything, she still did. Even after all this time, she had never stopped caring.

And he hadn’t stopped thinking about her either.

Jin let out a slow breath, staring out at the distant glow of the city lights. He knew that reconnecting with her, allowing himself to feel something again, was dangerous. The path he had chosen was dark, and anyone who got close to him would only get hurt. But despite that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had missed something—something important—when he had walked away from her.

The way Leifang had looked at him today, the quiet strength in her eyes, had stirred something deep inside him. She had waited for him, just like she had promised. And part of him, the part that hadn’t been completely consumed by the need for revenge, regretted leaving her behind.

But what was he supposed to do now? Let her in again, knowing that the darkness within him could destroy everything? Or continue down the path he had chosen, alone?

Jin turned away from the edge of the rooftop, shaking his head as if to clear the conflicting thoughts. He couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now. He had made his choice, and he had to live with it. Leifang was better off without him, even if her presence made him feel something other than the cold emptiness he had grown accustomed to.

But even as he resolved to push her away once more, a small, nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the trust they had shared, of the promise she had made.

She hadn’t forgotten. And neither had he.

Chapter 5

Notes:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I managed to finish 2 chapters so I figured I’d post them both rather than wait. Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

The elevator hummed quietly as Leifang leaned against the cold steel wall, her eyes unfocused, lost in thought. The digital display above her blinked with each floor, but she barely noticed. That fight in Shinjuku still replayed in her mind: Jin’s sudden reappearance, his quiet presence, and how his hand had felt in hers when they’d spoken after his match.

“Why didn’t I reach out sooner?” she wondered, a pang of regret tightening her chest. She’d waited, unsure if Jin even remembered their last conversation. He had said he trusted her more than anyone. And she had promised to stand by him, to help him however she could.

But then, he disappeared without a word.

Leifang thought he had moved on. Yet, despite the years of silence, it was clear that neither of them had truly forgotten. She had tried to focus on her martial arts, on competing with Jann-Lee and proving her strength, but even now, Jin lingered in her thoughts.

“Why am I thinking of him now, when I should be focused on my fight?“

The elevator chimed softly, jolting her back to the present. The doors slid open, revealing a figure standing in the center of the hallway. A tall and formally dressed woman, her long blonde hair tied back with a red velvet bow. Helena Douglas, poised and elegant as ever, stood waiting for her, her red coat tails flaring out behind her.

“Ah, you must be Leifang,” Helena greeted coolly, her expression unreadable, “I was wondering if you’d show up.”

Leifang straightened, her fists tightening as her resolve returned. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

They faced each other in the grand opera house, the chandeliers casting warm, golden light over the ornate stage. Their movements were like a beautiful dance—Helena’s Piguaquan was graceful and fluid, similar in style to Leifang’s T’ai Chi Quan. Strikes landed, parries were executed, and the clash of their martial skills reverberated through the hall. Leifang’s focus sharpened with every hit, her mind finally clear of distractions.

With a final, powerful hit, Leifang managed to knock Helena down. Panting, she extended a hand to help her opponent up.

Helena accepted, rising to her feet with a small nod of respect. “You fight with a passion I have not seen in someone so young,” Helena observed, dusting herself off, “Whatever, or whoever, you fight for must be worth it.”

Leifang blinked, Helena’s words cutting deeper than she’d expected. Her mind flashed briefly to Jann-Lee—her longtime rival, the one person she had trained so hard to surpass. But then, just as quickly, her thoughts shifted to Jin. There was a conflict in her heart, a struggle between the admiration she had once felt for Jann-Lee and something deeper, more personal when it came to Jin.

“Thank you,” Leifang said quietly, her brow furrowing, unsure if she was thanking Helena for the fight, or for making her confront the tangled web of her feelings.

The next fight came sooner than expected. Leifang stood opposite Jann-Lee, her heart pounding as they squared off. She had trained years for this moment, for the chance to prove herself against him.

“I mastered Kung Fu to live in your world!” she declared, her voice filled with the passion and determination that had driven her for so long.

The battle was fierce but short. In the end, Leifang was defeated, and the sting of Jann-Lee’s words lingered far more than the bruises on her body. His final blow hadn’t just knocked her down physically; it had shaken something inside her.

Jann-Lee remained as stoic as ever, his lips set in a firm line, “This is not the place for you.”

He didn’t offer a hand or a word of encouragement as he turned and walked away, leaving Leifang dismayed on the ground. She had lost—not just the fight, but something greater. Perhaps she had been fighting for the wrong reasons all along.


Night had fallen, and the park was bathed in a soft, silvery light from the moon. Leifang sat on a cold metal bench, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The evening air was crisp, but it was the heaviness in her chest that made her feel cold. Her thoughts were a storm, whirling between the sting of her defeat and the memory of Jin’s touch, his steady presence that lingered in her mind ever since they reunited.

She had lost. Again. Jann-Lee had been right—she wasn’t strong enough. And yet, as much as it hurt, her mind kept circling back to Jin.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. She looked up, her breath catching when she saw him. Jin, in his familiar windbreaker hoodie, the hood pulled up, shadowing his face. Truthfully, she was surprised that he came. He sat down beside her, his presence grounding and intense, though he said nothing at first.

“I’m sorry to hear about what happened,” Jin said quietly after a long pause, his voice low and resonant in the stillness, “But I wouldn’t let one loss define you as a martial artist.”

Leifang clenched her fists in her lap, staring hard at the ground. “It’s not just any loss though,” she muttered, frustration bubbling to the surface, “Jann-Lee constantly looks down on me like I’m this damsel in distress. I want him to show me the respect I deserve.”

Jin eyed her steadily, his expression unreadable, “So you fight primarily to be recognized by Jann-Lee?”

The way he phrased it made something in her chest tighten, a sense of dissonance settling in. She opened her mouth to protest, but the truth of his words stung. “No… it’s not just that,” she said, her voice softer now, “I fight to prove my strength. To prove that I can stand on my own. Jann-Lee is just… part of it.”

Jin turned his gaze back to the darkened trees, as though seeing something far away. “Living a life as a martial artist is a lonely one,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Especially for someone like me. It’s rare to find a kindred spirit.”

Leifang’s brow furrowed as she considered his words. She had always thought of Jann-Lee as her rival, someone to aspire to beat. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how distant he had always been. A bouncer and a college student—could they really be kindred spirits? Did Jann-Lee even give her a second thought when they weren’t fighting?

Her gaze drifted to Jin. He had always been different. Quiet, thoughtful, but with a storm beneath the surface—one she had only glimpsed. He had opened up to her once, told her he trusted her more than anyone. But after that, he had disappeared, leaving her with questions and lingering feelings she didn’t fully understand.

“Do you think you have a kindred spirit?” she asked softly, her voice hesitant.

Jin’s body tensed beside her. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes focused on something unseen. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained, as though the words cost him something. “No,” he said, his tone sharp, “One of me is already enough. I have Mishima blood running through my veins… it’s made me an abomination.”

Leifang’s heart ached at the weight of his words, the self-loathing that hung heavy in the air between them. She had seen the coldness in his eyes when he fought. But she had never understood the full extent of what he carried.

“I don’t believe that,” she whispered, her brow knitting in consternation, “You’re not an abomination.”

Jin shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him, “You don’t know what I’ve done, Leifang. What I will have to do.”

The cryptic statement hung between them like a cloud of darkness. Leifang could feel the chill of it, but she didn’t understand. Not yet.

Jin turned his head away, as though the shame was too much to bear. “That’s why I don’t want you getting close to me,” he continued, his voice raw now, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Leifang’s heart squeezed painfully at his words. She had always seen Jin as someone strong, someone who could handle anything. But now, sitting beside him, she realized just how alone he truly was. He was pushing her away to protect her, but it only made her want to draw closer.

Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on his, threading her fingers through his. Her fingers were warm against his cold skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. Jin stiffened at the contact, his breath catching, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re not alone, Jin,” she said softly, “You’re not an abomination. I promised you once that I’d be by your side, and I meant it. Whatever it is you’re going through… I’ll walk with you. I’ll help you carry it.”

Jin was silent, staring down at their joined hands. He could feel her warmth seeping into him, a warmth that he had long believed he didn’t deserve. For a moment, something in him stirred—a fragile hope that maybe, he didn’t have to face his fate alone.

But that hope was fleeting, chased away by the ever-present shadow of his bloodline, the curse of the Devil Gene.

“She doesn’t know Jin thought, his heart heavy. “She doesn’t know what I am. What I’m planning to do. If she did… would she still look at me this way? Would she still want to be by my side?”

Leifang’s grip tightened ever so slightly, as though sensing his hesitation. Her eyes met his, filled with a quiet intensity that made his chest ache. She didn’t know the full truth, but in this moment, she was here with him. She trusted him.

And for a fleeting moment, Jin allowed himself to trust her, too.

Neither of them moved. The intimacy of the gesture—their hands entwined, the quiet words exchanged—felt heavier than any confession could. It was a promise, unspoken but real.

But deep down, Jin couldn’t shake the fear that if Leifang ever learned the full extent of his darkness, she might not be able to keep her promise.

***

As Jin walked away from the park, the night air cool against his skin, Leifang’s words echoed in his mind. “You’re not alone.”

The softness of her touch, the warmth in her voice, stirred something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. She had always been there, hadn’t she? Even when he had vanished, even when he had let the weight of his family’s legacy drag him down, she had waited for him.

I trusted her more than anyone. He remembered telling her that once, long ago. He had meant it then, and even now, he found himself drawn to her. Her strength, her resolve—it reminded him of something he had lost in himself. And yet, despite his feelings, he had kept her at arm’s length, too afraid to let her see the truth.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Leifang didn’t know about the Devil Gene, about the darkness coursing through him. She didn’t know about his plan to eradicate the Mishima bloodline, to end the cycle of violence once and for all—even if it meant destroying himself in the process.

If she knew… would she still look at me the way she does? Would she still want to be by my side?

The question weighed heavily on him, fueling the doubt and guilt that had become his constant companions. He had seen the hope in Leifang’s eyes tonight, the way she had reached for him, offering comfort. He had wanted to believe her, to believe that maybe there was a way to break free from the darkness. But deep down, Jin knew the truth.

He was an abomination. And no matter how much Leifang cared for him, no matter how much he wanted to believe in her promise, he couldn’t escape what he was.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Happy New Year! We’re nearing the end of this story and the action is about to ramp up. I can’t thank everyone enough for taking the time to read this crossover. I have exciting things planned for future stories in the series. Stick with me if you want to see it all play out. :)

Chapter Text

“King wins!” the announcer called out as the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. The cheers felt like little  knives in Ling Xiaoyu’s heart as she knelt on the floor, fists clenched tightly against the ground. Her chest heaved with the strain of the battle, but the weight of her defeat was heavier than any physical exhaustion.

She had come so far. She had fought with everything she had and still it wasn’t enough. Her hopes of winning the King of Iron Fist Tournament– the hope of finally creating her own amusement park, Xiaoyu Land– were shattered before her eyes. 

King, the masked luchador, finished soaking in the adoration of the crowd and then approached her, offering his hand.  He made some unintelligible roaring sounds as he patted her on the shoulder, likely his way of comforting her while keeping kayfabe. 

She hesitated for a moment, but took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. His gesture was kind, and it softened the sting of her loss just enough for a small, tired smile to break through her disappointment. Although she didn’t win, she had zero regrets.

As King gave her shoulder a final pat and walked away, Xiaoyu watched him go, her thoughts already drifting towards the future. But just as she started to leave the arena, a sharp crackle of commotion cut through the air.

Swarms of armed guards stormed into the arena in tight formations, their expressions grim and focused. The suddenness of their arrival sent ripples of panic through the remaining spectators, who scrambled for the exits. 

“Hey, what gives?!” Xiaoyu shouted over the growing chaos, but the guards ignored her, their attention focused elsewhere.

“Jin Kazama is not here, sir,” she overheard one of them say into a communication device.

Alarms went off in Xiaoyu’s head. Could these be Heihachi’s goons that are after Jin? It made sense, considering that Jin confirmed that Heihachi was the reason he left. Participating in the tournament automatically placed a target on Jin’s back. Maybe the old man was finally making his move. 

“Hey, you guys need to back off and leave Jin alone,” Xiaoyu yelled to the guard that had relayed his message to his superior, “You’ll have to get through me to get to him.”

The soldier turned, his rifle trained straight at her, “You know where he is? If you tell us, we’ll spare you.”

Xiaoyu’s eyes narrowed as she widened her stance and raised her arms, “Fat chance!”

She quickly dropped down and swept the soldier’s legs out from under him. The soldier crumpled to the ground, his rifle clattering on the ground beside him.  This action immediately caught the attention of nearby soldiers who then proceeded to crowd Xiaoyu, their rifles raised and ready to fire in case she made any more sudden moves. 

“It’s over! You’re completely surrounded,” one of them shouted over the din of the crowd’s frantic evacuation of the arena, the metallic click of their guns an ominous threat. 

Realizing that she had gotten herself into a predicament, Xiaoyu bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest, as she slowly raised her arms up in surrender. But before they could apprehend her, behind them, a feral roar echoed through the arena, followed by the unmistakable whistle of a sword slicing through the air. 

The soldiers flinched, momentarily stunned, as King– still in the arena– charged at them, his massive frame barreling through with sheer brute force. At his side, Yoshimitsu danced like a specter, his katana a blur of light as he dispatched the soldiers with precision.

“Get out of there!” Yoshimitsu’s robotic voice called out to Xiaoyu as he cleared an exit path for her with a well timed sword swing. 

She bolted towards Yoshimitsu, and once she was securely beside him, he threw down a smoke bomb, blinding the officers with a thick, swirling mist. This provided the cover they needed to escape. King stayed behind, his roars reverberating through the chaos as he continued to fend off the soldiers.

Once they were safely outside of the arena, Yoshimitsu released Xiaoyu. “You should return to your hotel room. It’s no longer safe here,” he said, his voice now calm.

“But they’re after Jin!” Xiaoyu protested, “I have to do something. I can’t just let Heihachi take him.”

Yoshimitsu was silent for a moment, studying her. His masked face revealed nothing, but there was a strange weight behind his gaze, as though he was deciding whether to share something that had long been kept hidden.

“The Mishima bloodline is cursed,” he finally said, his voice lower now. 

Xiaoyu blinked, confused, “Cursed?” 

Yoshimitsu nodded, “For centuries, the Mishima family has been bound by a terrible fate. Fathers and sons locked in endless battle, driven by a darkness that consumes them. It’s in their blood, Xiaoyu. The fighting… the violence… it’s inevitable. They are cursed to destroy one another.”

Xiaoyu’s mind reeled. Her thoughts flashed to Jin– the boy she had once known, now hardened by something she couldn’t fully understand. Was this the reason for his torment?

“I don’t care about any curse!” Xiaoyu shot back, her voice trembling with conviction, “Jin isn’t like that, He’s still a good person. I know it! I can’t just walk away.”

Yoshimitsu regarded her quietly, “Even if it means getting caught up in their war?”

“Yes!” she shouted, surprising even herself with the force of her answer, ”I’ll do whatever it takes. I won’t let him be consumed by this curse. There has to be a way to break it.”

Yoshitmitsu sighed softly, though the sound was more like the release of steam from a machine. “Perhaps,” he said, “But know this: the path you are choosing is not an easy one. The Mishima family has been plagued by the darkness for generations. You’re fighting against something far greater than any one person.”

Xiaoyu remained unshaken without a trace of doubt in her heart, “I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll find a way to free Jin.. and the Mishima family from this curse. I’ll save him.”

Yoshimitsu stared at her for a long time before finally nodding, his respect for the young girl evident, despite his reservations, “Then may fortune guide you on this dangerous path, Ling Xiaoyu.”

As he disappeared into the shadows, Xiaoyu stood alone in the quiet streets, her heart racing,. She had a new purpose now– something far more important than an amusement park.

She was going to save Jin, no matter the cost.


Jin fought his way through the tournament, toppling each opponent with an almost methodical intensity. The road to the finals had been paved with his victories, and with each match, he inched closer to his ultimate goal: to face Heihachi Mishima once and for all. Only the semi-final match stood in his way, and he was eager to end it swiftly, to put this cycle of violence behind him.

However, when the notification of the match arrived, Jin’s entire plan fell apart, the ground shifting beneath him in an instant. The name on the docket stopped him cold: Kazuya Mishima. His father.

Jin’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Kazuya had been presumed dead; at least, that was what he had read on Heihachi’s encrypted files two years ago. His father had been out of the picture for nearly two decades, and if he had truly been alive all this time, Jin found it hard to fathom why he would remain in the shadows. Yet now, after all these years, Kazuya had resurfaced—here, at the tournament.

“Why now?” Jin wondered, his mind racing with suspicion. What could possibly bring him back after all this time?

Yet, whatever Kazuya’s reasons, Jin’s mission remained unchanged. This encounter would serve more than one purpose. He would finally get answers—the kind that only Kazuya could provide. Answers about his absence, about the Mishima bloodline, and above all, about the Devil Gene that lurked inside him.

Donning his new training gi, Jin prepared himself for the match. The black and white fabric, symbolic of yin and yang, draped over his frame, representing the duality of his existence. The Kazama family crest—a stylized triple pinwheel—was emblazoned on the back of his gi and across his gauntlets, a constant reminder of his mother’s legacy, her teachings, and the calm he still sought to emulate.

But as he prepared, a dark thought snaked its way into his mind: “If Kazuya was alive and had access to such power… would Ogre have killed my mother?”

His blood simmered at the possibility. The rage, sudden and untamed, surged up from within, as if trying to claw its way out from the depths of his soul. The Devil Gene was reacting to his anger, the frightening power swelling up, threatening to consume him.

“No,” Jin told himself, “Not now.”

Clamping down on the dark energy, he took a deep breath and began quietly reciting the prayer of protection his mother had taught him. Her voice echoed in his memory, a calming balm against the burning rage. He would not lose himself to the darkness—not now, not when he was so close.

Stepping out into the brisk night air, Jin could feel the cold biting against his exposed skin as his unfastened gi top fluttered in the breeze. He continued to murmur the prayer under his breath, each word grounding him as he made his way toward the location of his match: a towering building in the heart of the financial district. Yet, something was off. The streets, normally bustling at this hour, were unnervingly quiet. No cars. No pedestrians. Only the hollow whistle of the wind through the narrow alleyways.

His senses heightened, Jin slowed his pace, eyes scanning the shadows. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with unease. He was being watched.

Suddenly, without warning, figures clad in black combat gear surged out from the darkness, Tekken Force soldiers swarming him on all sides. Jin’s muscles tensed as he sprang into action, his fists raised in defiance. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t a matter of if Heihachi would make his move, but when.

Jin leaped forward, smashing his fist into the faceplate of the nearest soldier and spinning into a roundhouse kick that sent two more crashing to the pavement. But no matter how many he took down, more emerged from the shadows, their sheer numbers threatening to overwhelm him.

“These guys are relentless,” Jin thought, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he swept another soldier off his feet with a low kick.

Before he could catch his breath, he sensed a figure behind him. He spun around just in time to hurl one of the attackers over his shoulder, using the momentum to slam the soldier into a group that rushed forward. The effort was draining, though, and with each passing second, the pressure mounted.

“This has gone on far too long,” one of the soldiers growled, pulling a gun from his holster and leveling it at Jin.

Jin’s eyes flicked to the gun. His instincts screamed at him to act. Even if he could disarm the man before he fired, the others would have their weapons trained on him in an instant. Still, he had no choice. He pivoted, aiming a kick to knock the gun out of the soldier’s hands.

The gunshot echoed, but it wasn’t followed by the sharp pain Jin expected. Instead, there was a dull prick in his chest. His gaze dropped to find a dart protruding from his skin. Tranquilizers. A dozen more darts struck his limbs in rapid succession, each impact sapping his strength.

Jin’s vision blurred as his legs gave way, the world tilting on its axis. He struggled to stay conscious, fighting to keep his thoughts clear. But even as darkness closed in, one last image rose in his mind—Leifang. Her smile, her voice… 

“I’m sorry,” he thought, before everything went black.

Chapter Text

Kazuya Mishima stood atop a building’s rooftop for his scheduled battle, arms folded and eyes closed as he awaited his son’s arrival. The brisk night air surrounded him, yet he did not notice the cold. Spotlights hit the statues dotting the rooftop, casting foreboding shadows. A helicopter swept its light back and forth periodically, likely a tournament official keeping a close eye on the situation. Five minutes turned into fifteen. Soon, a half hour had passed without any sight of Jin. 

Kazuya was beginning to grow impatient, wanting nothing more than to get this fight over with. His conflict with Jin was nothing personal, but was born due to circumstances. His death at the hands of Heihachi inadvertently released his Devil power, but after he was revived by G Corporation, Kazuya noticed that only half of his power was present. He had wondered about it briefly, but didn’t dwell on it, instead focusing on harnessing and controlling the power that he already had. 

It wasn’t until the broadcast of the King of Iron Fist Tournament 3 that Kazuya found his answer. Seeing Jin Kazama on his screen felt like a gut punch. Jun Kazama had borne him a son, but because she assumed he had died at the end of the second tournament, she moved on and raised him herself. Kazuya knew instantly that his other half of his Devil had found purchase in Jin, laying dormant until the gene was activated. He wasn’t even sure if Jin was aware of this secret in his blood. Regardless, Kazuya needed to reunite his two halves of the Devil, no matter the consequence.

“Attention! The winner of round 7 by default is Kazuya Mishima. Please proceed to the final stage at the arena,” an announcement came from the circling helicopter, shaking Kazuya from his thoughts.

“Hmmm…” Kazuya hummed with mild interest. He opened his eyes revealing a red left eye and a brown right eye, a lasting effect from G Corporation’s experimentation and his own work to gain control of his Devil.

He immediately suspected that Heihachi had a hand in Jin’s disappearance. Go figure. The old man thought himself clever. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Kazuya headed towards his final fight.

As he entered the arena, the roar of the crowd assaulted his ears. He perceived them as an annoyance, an unnecessary party to this long-awaited battle between father and son, the culmination of twenty years of stewing and planning his revenge. Kazuya purposefully entered the hexagonal arena where Heihachi stood waiting, his arms folded, his expression stern. 

“When I win this fight, you’ll take me to Jin Kazama immediately,” Kazuya demanded.

Heihachi chuckled, “Certainly.”

The two men raised their fists, their decades long feud culminating here in this arena. Father and son facing each other for the first time in twenty years. The tournament announcer’s voice reverberated throughout the arena, signaling the start of the match.

The two men met each other blow for blow, each using their own variation of the Mishima Style Fighting Karate, their trademark electricity illuminating their fists and supercharging their moves. Heihachi’s attacks were steeped in raw power, the force of them shaking the chain links of the arena. Kazuya’s moveset was just as powerful, but also offered a more technical component, his punches and kicks coming in short combos. Despite this, his technical skills were not enough to overcome Heihachi’s devastating hits and Kazuya fell to his father.

“Heihachi Mishima wins!” the announcement rang throughout the arena and was received with loud applause from the crowd.

Kazuya stood up, panting, “You may have bested me… but my demand still stands.”

“You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here,” Heihachi said, “Come with me if you want to see your son.” And with that, he turned and exited the arena.

The journey to the Mishima compound took them a few hours. The forest region lay shrouded in a dense fog, the thick mist curling around the ancient trees like grasping fingers. As the two men approached the Mishima ancestral temple, Hon Maru, the silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves as if whispering secrets of old. The stillness of the environment was oddly soothing to Kazuya. It had been years since he’d been on the Mishima property, much less the temple. A memory came to him unbidden of a time he visited the temple with his grandfather, Jinpachi Mishima. His grandfather had been doting, showering Kazuya with the attention and love that his father failed to give him. The elder Mishima particularly enjoyed the walk between the temple and the lower gardens, allowing young Kazuya to run ahead and hide amongst the overgrowth, peeking out to “surprise” Jinpachi in varying intervals. 

Kazuya shook his head, clearing his mind of these old images, now seeing them as a weakness. His only focus should be obtaining his other half. Nothing more. Even exacting his revenge on Heihachi can wait until his two halves are reunited. 

Heihachi and Kazuya continued their silent trek until they reached the entrance gates of Hon Maru. Heihachi glanced back at Kazuya, a smirk on his lips, before pushing the door open and entering the temple. The wooden planks beneath their feet groaned with age, and the cold air carried the faint scent of incense. Inside the golden deities loomed over them, illuminated by the flickering torch light. But Kazuya’s gaze was drawn past them to the figure hanging high on the back wall– Jin Kazama, unconscious and chained by his arms.

Seeing Jin triggered a sudden power surge within Kazuya, a familiar darkness welling up from deep within, “So you were with him after all, my half”

Heihachi shot Kazuya a disturbed look. Hearing the otherworldly reverb in his voice, Heihachi instantly knew that something was not right. 

“Who… are you?” he questioned suspiciously. 

Kazuya turned to face him, both of his eyes glowing a bright crimson, a twisted smile spreading across his lips, “I am what you refer to as 'Devil'. Twenty years ago, I lost a part of myself when you nearly killed me. Now, I'll retrieve what's rightfully mine from him! The time has come for my resurrection!”

The shock nearly paralyzed Heihachi as he stood with his mouth agape. He took a cautious step back as if he was quickly trying to devise an exit strategy. 

"You saved me the trouble of having to search for him," Devil continued, "For your troubles, I'll give you a taste of my power!"

With a glint from his eyes, a shockwave burst forth, hurling Heihachi against the temple wall, knocking him unconscious.

Devil laughed, finding joy in Heihachi’s pain, "What's the matter? Didn't your precious science provide all the answers you needed about my power?"

He then turned his attention to Jin, raising his arm in an effort to reclaim the power that was rightfully his. Yet, as he attempted to draw the energy, Jin’s body glowed with a fierce light, black markings spreading across his skin. Devil grimaced, his power repelled. 

Confused, he drew his arm back, wracking his brain to figure out why he couldn’t take Jin’s Devil power, “What? Why won’t you change?” 

What made his version so different? That’s when it hit him, “Is it because of that Kazama blood?”

Before he could act further a sudden crackle of blue electricity circled Devil causing him to cry out in pain. 

“Kazuya! What are you do-…?!” Devil gasped as he fell to his knees. He struggled to retain his control of Kazuya’s body, his influence growing weaker with each passing second. Kazuya’s body trembled with the immensity of the power threatening to take over. Then, suddenly, it was as if Kazuya yanked the invisible chains that held him, “No, it can’t be!”

Eventually Kazuya’s body stilled, opening his eyes to reveal that they reverted back to his baseline heterochromic appearance. 

“I see,” he murmured, the timber in his voice gone signifying that he was no longer under the Devil’s influence, “Didn’t know about this method of unifying our power.”

He stood up, feeling stronger now that he wrestled control of his Devil. Now it will bow to his every whim. “This is the end of you. Now you’ll become… a part of me.”

Kazuya looked up, glaring at his son, “All I need to do is destroy you, then everything will be mine. Rise, Jin Kazama!”

Jin awoke with a start, adrenaline coursing through his veins like fire. As his senses returned, the cold bite of the chains digging into his wrists jolted him back to the present. With a roar of defiance, he wrenched himself free, the metal links snapping as he landed on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. 

But something wasn’t right. The immense power that was coursing through his body was struggling to find a way out. Jin’s breath came out in haggard gasps as he fought to maintain control, his body glowing again like before. After a moment, the markings on his chest and arms disappeared, and Jin felt the power settle inside of him, resting until it was awakened again. 

“You…” Jin breathed, still struggling to catch his breath as he pushed himself to his feet, “If only you were dead. Once I kill you, it’ll all be over!”

He charged after Kazuya rearing his fist back to throw a punch, but Kazuya side stepped it and hit Jin with a tsunami kick, sending him crashing to the wooden floor. 

Jin pulled himself up, breathing hard and wiped his chin with the back of his gauntlet. He stared at Kazuya, feeling nothing but hatred for the man who was supposed to be his father. This wasn’t how he imagined this reunion to go. He imagined he would have had the upper hand and would have pressed him for answers to his questions, but it seemed that their fists would have to do the talking for them. 

“You? Kill me?” Kazuya scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain, “The very thought is laughable. Stand down, boy. It’s not too late to save yourself from this foolishness.”

“The Mishima bloodline ends here with me,” Jin growled, his voice trembling with conviction, “For too long, this family has brought nothing but suffering and destruction to the world. We are a curse– a poison that needs to be eradicated.” His eyes burned with intense resolve as he glanced at Kazuya, then to Heihachi’s prone form, “I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure no one else suffers because of us. Everyone in here will die by my hand.”

This was the first time Jin had spoken of his plan aloud. It was something he had mulled over for a long time, but ultimately decided it was a necessary sacrifice. Between the Devil Gene and the evilness of the Mishima clan, Jin believed that the world would be better without the Mishima bloodline in it. And he endeavored to do whatever possible to make that a reality. 

Kazuya huffed and raised his arms in a fighting stance, “We’ll see about that.”

Jin also raised his fists, preparing himself for Kazuya’s move. The elder Mishima dashed forward, his movements swift, and aimed a lightning charged punch into Jin’s gut. Jin blocked the move, absorbing the impact with his arms. He mirrored Kazuya’s movements, his red lightning dancing along his fingertips as he threw a right hook. Before Kazuya could recover, he launched into a feint kick combo, catching him across the temple. 

“What is this bastardization of the Mishima Style that you’re using?” Kazuya spat out as he righted himself.  

“I no longer use it,” Jin glared at Kazuya defiantly, “It no longer aligns with who I am.”

Kazuya grimaced, clearly unimpressed with his son’s reasoning, “You’ve inherited nothing, but your mother’s sentimentality. The Mishima way is tried and true.”

Before any more words could be said, Kazuya stormed forward, hitting Jin with a signature Mishima move, the Electric Wind Godfist. Jin managed to block it, dampening the blow, but the force of Kazuya’s punch still pushed him back, his feet sliding on the hardwood floor of the temple. 

Kazuya pressed on, aiming powerful punches at Jin’s torso and face, hitting him hard. When his father broke his block, Jin absorbed as much as he could, but he realized that he had to turn this battle around before it was too late. 

Jin swept his father’s feet from under him, finally putting an end to the brutal assault. Although his muscles screamed at him in protest, Jin had to keep going. He had to succeed. His plan had to happen. 

Despite the raw power behind Kazuya’s attacks, Jin stood firm and steady, using his newfound abilities in Kyokushin Karate to find and exploit his father’s weaknesses. The battle shifted in Jin’s favor as he continued to wear down Kazuya until one last kick sent him sprawling across the wooden planks, his body landing a few feet from Heihachi’s. 

This was enough to wake the older Mishima. Heihachi grunted as he pushed himself off the ground. He walked towards Jin, regarding Kazuya’s prone form as he did so.

“What a pathetic wretch…. coward!” Heihachi spat in disgust as he stepped over Kazuya. His steely gaze finally rested on Jin, “I’ll make your power mine! Get ready for your death!”

The two men raised their fists, adopting their respective fighting stances. Jin couldn’t help the anger that flooded him as he was once again pitted against his grandfather. He thought back to when he attacked Heihachi shortly after transforming into the Devil. This time, he intended to finish the job.

Compared to his fight against his father where the focus was on technique, this bout against Heihachi was all about power. The winner would be determined by who could overcome their own limitations and push himself beyond. To that end, Jin had the edge as he felt wells of power threatening to bubble up and engulf him completely, but he kept it suppressed. However, the stirring of said power was enough to give him the strength he needed to overcome Heihachi in combat.

Jin grasped Heihachi by his tattered gi, his left palm flattened and aimed at Heihachi’s neck. Now he held the power. The reality of his plans coming to fruition was his greatest motivator. Holding Heihachi like this triggered something inside of Jin. There was an insistent grating inside of Jin’s head, calling for more and more power. Its voice sounded sweet and enticing, pulling Jin into a warm abyss. Before he could fully realize it, Jin’s body began to transform, the dark markings from before reappearing on his chest and arms. Thick, black angel wings sprouted from his back. But unlike the last time, Jin realized that he was still aware of what was happening; he hadn’t lost control.

Heihachi, having witnessed Jin’s terrifying transformation to his Devil form up close and personal two years ago, gasped. The realization set in that Jin intended to deliver the final blow. He turned away, his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to face his fate. 

But just as Jin raised his fist, he stopped, suddenly seeing something from the corner of his eye. A woman clad in a plain white dress, her dark chin length hair pushed back with a white headband, and stringy bangs falling over her face. Her brown eyes met his, her expression soft. Jin’s mouth fell agape. He felt as if his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Mother…?!”

And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone. Jin blinked in an effort to correct his vision. His mind was racing. Why would he see her now right before he was planning to kill Heihachi? Would she dare stop him? No, she was never the controlling type. This was different. Not a warning, but a plea for reconsideration.

Jin dropped Heihachi and straightened his posture, standing at his full height. He had come so close, but ultimately, it was not meant to be. 

“Thank my mother, Jun Kazama, for sparing your life,” Jin said sternly, but it did little to mask the reverence in his voice. 

Before Heihachi could react, Jin took flight, his wings pumping him upward. He crashed through Hon Maru’s ceiling, entering the night air, flying as far away from the temple as he could.

Chapter 8

Notes:

We’ve made it to the end of this second story! Thank you so much to all those who stuck with me. Jin and Leifang’s story will not end here; there’s so much still left to be told! The next story will focus on Tekken 5 x Dead or Alive 3. Things will start to heat up a bit. Stay tuned!

Chapter Text

Jin sat on the same park bench where he and Leifang had met a few days ago. He kept his hood pulled up, concealing his face, as he waited for her to arrive. His mind replayed the events at Hon-Maru: his father, his grandfather, the battle, and the choice not to finish them. He questioned whether reaching out to Leifang had been the right decision, but he needed to see her, to explain why things had to be this way.

Footsteps on the gravel drew his attention, and Jin glanced up as Leifang came into view. She approached her brows knitted in concern, her eyes meeting his as she stopped a few steps away.

“Jin,” she said softly, her voice even despite the worry he saw in her gaze. “You asked to meet. What’s going on?”

Jin’s expression remained guarded, his gaze drifting away from her. “Things have changed,” he began quietly. “It’s not safe for me anymore. I have to leave… again.”

Leifang frowned, and she took a step closer, her concern deepening. “What happened? Is this because of Heihachi?”

“It’s more than just Heihachi,” Jin replied, his voice strained as he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. “You and Xiaoyu need to stay away from both him and Kazuya. My father… he’s alive, and he’s dangerous. More dangerous than I thought.”

The weight of his words hung between them, and for a moment, Leifang just stared at him, processing the implications. Then, she shook her head, her resolve hardening. “Jin, two years ago, you told me to seek out the truth. You wanted me to be strong. I’m not going to walk away just because you’re telling me to now. You don’t get to push me away like that.”

His jaw tightened, and he glanced at her, the conflict in his eyes visible despite his attempts to suppress it. “It’s different now,” he said, his tone quieter but with a hint of desperation. “You don’t understand what’s at stake. If you’re near me, you’ll be in danger.”

“I don’t care about that,” Leifang replied firmly. “I care about you, Jin. You’re not a danger to me. I know you’re trying to protect me, but you don’t have to carry this burden alone. You don’t always have to push people away.”

Jin clenched his fists, struggling to maintain his composure. He had spent years trying to distance himself from others, convinced that it was for their safety. But hearing Leifang’s words, seeing the unyielding resolve in her eyes… it stirred something in him that he wasn’t prepared to confront.

“Leifang…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can be the person you think I am. There’s too much darkness… too much anger. I can’t promise you anything.”

She took a hesitant step forward, her gaze softening as she sat beside him and reached out to touch his hand. “I’m not asking you to promise me anything, Jin. I’m just asking you to let me in. Even if it’s just a little. You’ve already been through so much on your own. You don’t have to keep fighting by yourself.”

Jin looked down at her hand on his, and for a moment, the weight of his loneliness and grief seemed to catch up with him. He had told himself countless times that he didn’t need anyone, that it was safer that way. But now, sitting here with Leifang, he felt the walls he’d built around himself start to crack.

“I…” He struggled to find the right words, but before he could continue, Leifang leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was soft and tentative, as though testing his willingness to accept it. Jin’s eyes widened in surprise, his mind reeling at the sudden intimacy.

For a very brief moment, Jin found himself leaning into the kiss, feeling the warmth and closeness he had denied himself for so long. But just as quickly, he pulled back, moving away from her, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

“I can’t do this,” he said, his voice hoarse as he tried to regain his composure. “I have to go.”

Leifang’s hand fell back to her side, but she didn’t back down. “Will I see you again?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost pleading

Jin paused, his back still turned to her. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression pained but touched with a hint of gratitude. “You’re strong, Leifang,” he said quietly. “Stronger than you realize. I believe in you. And… one day, I know you’ll defeat Jann-Lee.”

She took a step forward, wanting to reach out to him again, but she knew he was already retreating, pulling back into the safety of his solitude. She could see it in the way he was standing—rigid, withdrawn, as though he was already preparing to walk away.

“Jin,” she said, her voice almost breaking, “I’ll wait. No matter how long it takes… I’ll wait for you.”

His shoulders tensed at her words, and for a moment, he was silent, as if weighing whether or not to respond. Then he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and walked away, his steps echoing softly against the gravel path.

As Leifang watched him disappear into the distance, a sense of longing filled her heart. She had seen a side of Jin that few others had—a side that was vulnerable and conflicted, but still capable of feeling. If he ever returned, she would be there, ready to stand by his side, no matter what darkness he faced.


It had been several days since the tournament ended. Xiaoyu had tried to immerse herself back into her classes, but focusing was a losing battle. Her thoughts kept drifting to Jin. She had received a brief email from him shortly after the tournament concluded, and the words had replayed in her mind over and over since.

“I have to leave. Don’t worry about me, Xiaoyu. If you want to make your dreams come true, you have to work on them yourself.”

It felt like a brush-off, and she couldn’t shake the hurt. As Xiaoyu, Miharu, and Panda walked back to Miharu’s house after school, Xiaoyu’s head hung slightly, her usual energetic bounce noticeably absent.

“Maybe he had to leave in a hurry?” Miharu offered, glancing over at her friend. Her tone was light, but the concern in her eyes was unmistakable.

Xiaoyu pondered this briefly, then shook her head. “Even if he did, Jin knew how worried I was the last time he left without saying anything. He knew how much it hurt.” Her voice was tinged with frustration. “The least he could’ve done was say goodbye In-person.”

As if sensing Xiaoyu’s distress, Panda let out a low growl, catching both girls’ attention.

“What is it?” Xiaoyu asked, glancing back at the bear.

Panda stopped walking and stood up on her hind legs. She adopted a fighting stance, her long front legs moving in deliberate, graceful circles.

“What is she doing?” Miharu cocked her head to the side, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Xiaoyu, however, understood immediately. “Leifang…?” she murmured, recognizing the martial arts stance that Panda was mimicking. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about her too.” She trailed off, her gaze growing distant as a thought crossed her mind. Did Leifang even know that Jin had left again? She deserved to know. 

“Hold on…” Xiaoyu murmured, rummaging through her school bag until she found her phone. Her panda-shaped charm dangled playfully as she flipped the device open and scrolled through her contacts. When Leifang’s name appeared on the tiny screen, Xiaoyu’s thumb hovered over the button for a moment before she pressed it.

“I’m going to invite my friend over, okay?” Xiaoyu said to Miharu as she quickly composed a message and hit send. She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but Leifang needed to hear it from her.

Miharu opened her mouth as if to protest, but the determined look in Xiaoyu’s eyes made her think twice. Instead, she quickened her pace to keep up with Xiaoyu and Panda as they continued down the street.

The trio made it back to Miharu’s place, a small and tidy single floor home that she lived in with her mother. Having Xiaoyu stay over had livened up the space as Miharu was used to a mostly empty home since her mother often worked late hours. 

As they slipped off their shoes and began to change out of their school uniforms, there was a firm knock at the door.

“That must be her,” Xiaoyu said, glancing toward the entryway. “Panda, can you get the door, please? Miharu and I will be there in a minute.”

The large bear nodded and ambled over to the door. She rose up on her hind legs, grabbed the handle with her paw, and opened the door softly.

Leifang stood at the threshold, her eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise when she saw Panda, but a warm smile quickly spread across her face as she remembered Xiaoyu’s unique pet.

“Long time no see, Panda,” Leifang greeted with a small bow of her head.

Panda growled softly in response, then lifted one of her arms to gesture for Leifang to come inside. Leifang slipped off her shoes at the door and made her way to the living area, just as Xiaoyu and Miharu entered.

“Leifang, this is Miharu,” Xiaoyu said quickly, introducing the two girls. “Miharu, this is Leifang.”

“Nice to meet you,” Miharu said with a polite nod, though her curious gaze lingered on Leifang.

“You too,” Leifang responded with a slight smile, before turning her attention back to Xiaoyu. Her smile faded when she noticed the serious look in Xiaoyu’s eyes.

Xiaoyu took a breath and grabbed Leifang’s hand, guiding her to sit on the loveseat. “I need to tell you something,” she began, her voice soft, but urgent. “It’s about Jin.”

At the mention of his name, Leifang’s expression changed in an instant. She straightened in her seat, her body tense as if preparing for a blow. Her eyes locked onto Xiaoyu’s, searching for answers. “What happened?” she asked, her voice steady but filled with concern.

Xiaoyu swallowed, feeling a pang of guilt at the way Leifang was looking at her. “He’s… gone,” she said, her tone flat and matter-of-fact. “He left right after the tournament.”

Leifang tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing as a strange look passed over her face. “…I know,” she replied slowly. “I saw him before he left. He told me he was going.”

Xiaoyu blinked, taken aback. “What?? You saw him?” Her voice rose in disbelief. “He actually spoke to you before he left?” She stood up, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Why didn’t he say anything to me?”

Leifang nodded, her gaze steady as she took in Xiaoyu’s reaction. “I don’t know why,” she answered, her tone gentle but cautious. “He… didn’t say much. Just that he had to leave, and… and that it would be safer for us to stay away from him.” Her voice softened as she recalled their last meeting, the unspoken tension between them, the kiss that lingered on her lips. But she kept that detail to herself, unsure how much she should share.

Xiaoyu’s eyes widened, and a mixture of frustration and sadness flickered across her face. “He could’ve at least said goodbye to me face-to-face,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I thought I meant something to him. I thought we were friends.” She took a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of it all had finally settled in.

Miharu placed a comforting hand on Xiaoyu’s shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you, Xiaoyu,” she said softly. “Maybe… maybe he didn’t want to drag us into whatever he’s dealing with.”

“That’s exactly what he said to me,” Leifang added, her gaze shifting to the floor. “But… there was something else, Xiaoyu.” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “When I saw him… he seemed different. Like there was something weighing on him. I don’t know what it was, but… I don’t think he left because he didn’t care.”

Xiaoyu shook her head, her emotions a jumble of hurt and confusion. “Then why does he keep coming back to you? Why do you always get to see him before he disappears?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, laced with a tinge of jealousy that she hadn’t meant to show.

Leifang looked up, meeting Xiaoyu’s gaze with a calm steadiness. “I don’t know, Xiaoyu,” she answered honestly. 

She thought to say more, but she knew that any more than that would be harmful to Xiaoyu. Leifang couldn’t deny the electric sparks that flew back and forth between Jin and herself. Acknowledging it aloud in front of Xiaoyu would do nothing but send the younger girl into a tizzy. 

Leifang thought back to the heart to heart conversation she and Xiaoyu had following her first fight against Jann-Lee. She wanted Jin’s attention desperately, wanted him to acknowledge her as an equal, but it wasn’t the same as Leifang and Jann-Lee’s situation. In this case, Xiaoyu felt strong emotional feelings for Jin and he was completely oblivious. 

But even if she didn’t mean it intentionally, Leifang’s appearance into their lives became the driving force for Jin’s ignorance to Xiaoyu’s feelings. He was too enraptured with Leifang. 

The room fell into a heavy silence, with Xiaoyu’s thoughts swirling like a storm. As Miharu squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, Xiaoyu took a breath and tried to push down the sense of betrayal she was feeling. Leifang wasn’t the enemy—she knew that inherently. But it was hard not to feel as though something had shifted between them, and she wasn’t sure if it could be easily mended.

Leifang, meanwhile, was left with her own thoughts—haunted by the memory of Jin’s departure, and the promise she had made to herself to become stronger. She glanced at Panda, who was watching her with an almost knowing expression. Whatever lay ahead, she had to keep moving forward.

“Ummm, why don’t I make us some snacks,” Miharu eventually said, trying her best to brighten the mood. She had her arm draped protectively around Xiaoyu, “Xiao, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen.”

Sensing that the tension was threatening to reach boiling point, Leifang stood up, smoothing her pleated skirt, “Thank you, Miharu, but I think it’s best if I leave now.”

Leifang closed the distance between herself and Xiaoyu, clasping her hands and squeezing gently, “Xiaoyu, we can’t lose faith. Whatever Jin is going through must be big enough that he doesn’t want us involved. He wants to keep us safe.” 

She paused, taking a moment to take a breath to decide how to say the next bit. “I promise that he knows how much we care. That’s why he reached out before leaving. And I know you’re hurt because he didn’t meet with you in person… I would be, too, if I were in your shoes…”

“Leifang…” Miharu tried to interrupt, but Xiaoyu stopped her. 

“But you’re not in my shoes, Leifang,” Xiaoyu said sharply, tears stinging her eyes. She swiped at them harshly and sniffled. “Jin chose you to meet with. He has his reasons. I guess I just have to accept it.”

Realizing that she had inadvertently made things worse, Leifang’s calm facade finally broke, “Xiaoyu… please!”

But the pigtailed girl ripped her hands away from Leifang’s grasp and backed away from her, finally allowing the tears to fall from her eyes freely. 

“Just go… please…” Xiaoyu whispered. 

Leifang wanted to say more, to apologize, to explain herself. But the moment she saw Panda and Miharu close ranks around Xiaoyu, her voice died in her throat. They formed a protective barrier, their backs turned towards her in a quiet but unmistakable dismissal. She could see it in their stiff shoulders and the wary look in Miharu’s eyes; they didn’t want her there, didn’t trust her presence to bring anything but more hurt.

So, she turned and walked away, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her chest. As she exited Miharu’s home, the crisp evening air stung her cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the coldness that had settled in her heart. She walked briskly back to her hotel, the silence of the empty streets giving her nothing to distract from the thoughts that swirled and collided inside her mind.

Jin. His name lingered like a bitter taste on her tongue. She wondered if he even realized the ripple effect of his absence. Did he know how his choice to disappear had fractured everything between them? Did he understand that his silence was more than just a personal withdrawal? It was a wound that was slowly bleeding the people who cared about him dry. She doubted he had any idea, and for the first time, she felt a flicker of real anger towards him.

Leifang’s footsteps quickened as she recalled the countless times she’d tried to reach him, to chip away at the walls he kept so firmly in place. She had been patient, so patient, telling herself that every rare moment of openness—those glimpses of something real beneath his guarded exterior—was a step in the right direction. But now, as she walked alone under the pale streetlights, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that maybe she had been wrong. Maybe she had been foolish to see those moments as anything more than fleeting lapses in his otherwise impenetrable defenses.

He was always so distant, so mercurial, his moods shifting like the wind. She was growing weary of it, weary of the way he retreated without warning, leaving her standing on the outside, helpless to understand what was going on inside his head. The more she thought about it, the more the anger built inside her, unfurling from that dark pit in her belly. It wasn’t just anger at Jin, but at herself too: for putting his needs ahead of hers, for being so eager to reassure him that she was willing to wait, that she could shoulder his burdens if he would just let her in.

Leifang’s pace quickened. What had she been thinking? Did she truly believe that he would change, that he would suddenly decide to let down his guard and be the person she needed? She had spent so much time accommodating him, holding back her own feelings in the hope that, eventually, he would see that there were people who cared for him deeply. But now, she wondered if she had been naive. Maybe Jin was right all along. Maybe he couldn’t be the person she wanted, the person she needed.

As the thought settled in, a wave of exhaustion swept over her, the kind of tiredness that went beyond physical fatigue. It was the weariness of having fought for something that, perhaps, was never hers to begin with. She slowed her steps, taking in a deep breath as the seed of doubt began to take root in her mind. It whispered insidiously, feeding on her uncertainty: What if he never lets you in? What if waiting for him is nothing more than waiting for a ghost?

The voice grew louder, pressing in from all sides, and she found herself struggling to come up with a reason to push it away. She had done everything she could, hadn’t she? She had given him time, space, understanding—everything that he needed. But what about her? What had she received in return except for confusion and heartache?

A small, fragile voice—one that barely registered in the maelstrom of her thoughts—spoke up from somewhere deep inside her: “And maybe… that’s okay.”

It was a quiet, unexpected acceptance that fluttered at the edge of her awareness. The idea that letting go might not mean giving up, but rather setting herself free from the burden of waiting for someone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—change. For the first time, she considered that there could be a kind of freedom in releasing the hold Jin had on her heart. Maybe it was okay to stop trying so hard to reach someone who didn’t seem to want to be reached.

The thought left her feeling both hollow and relieved, as though a weight she hadn’t even realized she was carrying had been lifted off her shoulders. As she approached her hotel, she took one last look at the empty street behind her, as if expecting Jin to appear out of the darkness and prove her wrong. But he didn’t. And as the door to her room clicked shut behind her, she made a quiet promise to herself: if he ever returned, his reentry into her heart would be on her terms, not his.

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