Author's Notes: Sorry about the lack of yaoi once again. This story is the pre-tekken 4 tale, AU style. This is going to be rather brief compared to my usual stories… it’s just a plotless idea I had after having a round of Tekken 3 for no reason at all.
DISCLAIMER: I dun own Tekken. So there. Nyah.
Before the End
Part 1 - Fallen Guardian Angel
Well, at least now the pain in his head had decided to subside…for now. The last thing he could remember was being shot between the eyes, by his own flesh and blood; his grandfather. And now, here he was, sitting in a derelict warehouse, in the dark, all alone. It just didn’t make sense; he remembered the pain, and everything going black…then waking up, lying on the floor in a musty old building that didn’t seem to have a waterproof roof. The rain outside was leaking through, making a terrible noise as what didn’t go through after hitting flowed down the corrugated iron, which was probably half rusted out anyway.
He paused. Though his mind was still hazy, his senses were at a peak. Footsteps; he could hear footsteps outside. Then they stopped. Carefully, the young boy stood, and found the outer wall of the old building. The flames on his pants wouldn’t give him away, the pattern just wasn’t bright enough to show through the night’s darkness. Good, maybe whoever it was would just go away.
Apparently not...the footsteps got closer and closer, then stopped again...they seemed so close he might lean around the door and crash into whoever it was that had approached. After a few anxious seconds, something flew through the door as a black silhouette, and hit the ground several metres away with a soft thud. Then, the footsteps started again, only this time, they seemed to get further and further away, until the sound of the rain drowned them out completely.
His first thought was that it could be a bomb. Not wanting to risk getting blown to pieces, he ducked swiftly around the corner he was standing in, and outside into the cold rain. After glancing around, there was no sign of the mysterious intruder anywhere. The unfamiliar streets were deserted.
After a minute or so waiting, he cautiously crept back inside, and eyed the thing that was thrown inside. It seemed pretty harmless so far...upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a regular old school backpack. He put his slender hands over his muscular upper arms, and shivered. He was only wearing pants and gloves, after all, and the night was cold. Whatever that pack was, it had to be important. No one would just throw it in there for no reason and just leave, since they no doubt knew he was in there. Besides, at this point, he'd grown past caring whether he was blasted to hell or not. He knelt down on a slightly drier patch of concrete, and pulled the pack open.
No explosion, no release of toxic gas...in fact, hardly anything happened.
He tipped it upside down, and let the contents tumble to the floor. A few soft 'whump' sounds, and a slightly harder clatter or two. There was a dark object lying over the top of everything. When he pulled it up, he found it to be a thick hooded jacket. In the dim light, he could barely make out a sewn on silver and gold flames pattern. Another dark object was strewn across the other things that fell to the ground. This too, he raised in front of him; a pair of trousers with a similar design to the jacket. Both items seemed brand new, and thick; as if whoever threw the bag in here knew it was going to be cold and wet. The other items lying on the ground were easy to identify; a dark wallet, and a paper envelope.
Carefully, he lifted the wallet. Inside it were a few paper notes, but it was too dark to see their value. Placing it down next to the clothes, he picked up the envelope, and tore it open. A note, written in Kanji. In the dim light, he could barely make out the characters; but they were beautifully written, large, and black on white paper.
He had no idea who this may have come from. It was a mystery to be solved, but in any case it seemed he had someone on his side. A wave of tiredness washed over him, and a resounding headache returned with it. He gritted his teeth, and held his hands to his head, willing the pain away. After a moment, it finally did ease off. And once again, the cold hit. Glancing around to make sure the place was still abandoned, Jin took his own drenched pants off, and put on the new clothes. Everything else, he put in the backpack. A few moments of wandering about the old warehouse brought him luck; a slightly warmer, drier area of ground. he couldn't return home tonight, that would be the first place Heihachi would look. Looks like it was the ground tonight.
He threw the pack down, and threw himself down after it. The hard ground certainly wasn't a comfortable bed, and the buckles on the bag took away the image of it being the ideal pillow; but he was so tired, none of it mattered. After a few minutes of lying there on the ground, sleep came.
But not before a feeling he was being watched came over him.
The morning came with a jab of pain. Jin sat up with a start, and regretted it as soon as he'd done so. His back was painfully cramped from the hard night on the floor. However, pain was something he was used to, and he simply scraped himself up onto his feet and stretched. The first thing that came to his mind was the wallet in the backpack. He found it, and looked at the notes. There were about ten of them, he'd counted that last night. But he wasn't expecting the denomination to be hundreds! It was in dollars, too...not Yen.
Slightly shocked by the massive amount of money, he cautiously shoved the wallet into the pocket of his trousers, and decided to use it sparingly. Who knows how long he'd be on the run. And who knows when he'd have to pay back his guardian angel - whoever they were.
The first thing he did once he left the warehouse was to get his bearings. The bright morning light was almost painful, but in the distance he managed to make out a few familiar towers; he was a long way from the city. A short walk away from the warehouse revealed just how far away from the city he was; there was hardly a soul in sight, nor a window left intact. The entire place was a mess of graffiti and wreckaged buildings. A few streets down a little more life began to show itself. A sleazy area, to say the least. He strode into a nearby dairy, planning to change a note into something a little more usable. On the way to the counter, he spotted a morning newspaper; the headlines were odd to say the least.
"Tournament ends in bloodshed - Mishima missing"
Below was a black and white picture of Heihachi, sitting in a pile of broken bricks, a hole in the second storey of a building, and what appeared to be something with massive raven wings flying away in the distance. Looks like something attacked the old man...and no doubt, he was the missing Mishima.
"What can I do for you, son?"
An old man was standing behind the counter. The raspy but kindly old voice shook Jin back into reality; he smiled and nodded, and dug out one of the notes.
"I'd like to change this into twenties, please...and two of those into yen."
The dairy owner gave him a slightly suspicious look, but did so nevertheless. As the old man flicked notes about in the cash drawer, Jin's stomach growled loudly. Two hard-looking women looked over at him from he fruit stand, and tried not to laugh. Slightly embarrassed, Jin smiled slightly to himself and grabbed a bread roll from a basket on the counter.
"I'll have this too, please."
"No problem." The old man handed him a few more notes than he'd given originally, and let him take the roll. Jin put the money in his pocket, and the bread roll in his mouth, after giving the dairy owner a word of thanks and a polite nod. Then he exited the shop.
It was later in the morning when the bus stopped outside his regular bus stop in central Tokyo. By now, he'd pulled the hood over his face so the upper half couldn't be seen unless in extreme light. So far, no one had recognised him. But from now, it was going to be a risky business. He had to get back into the Mishima mansion to at least get some stuff, and to find out what Heihachi was up to. It didn't occur to him that his grandfather might actually want him dead; he'd thought the shot was accidental.
The guards would be hell to get past, so he decided to scale the rear wall; a place he knew they never really looked. Mainly because it was too hard for most to get up. He, on the other hand, was a skilled martial artist. A tree was located about a metre and a half from the wall, and twice as high. Leaping upward, he placed his feet on the tree trunk, then sprung off and upward, and did the same to the wall. As he sprung off the wall, he caught the tree trunk with his feet, and sprung up again. He reached out, and grabbed the iron spikes on top of the wall. A neat swing over the top of the spikes had him on the other side of the wall, and from there he just dropped to the ground and landed on both feet at the bottom.
Eventually, by playing it safe and keeping unnoticed, he managed to sneak around to the back of the garage beside the mansion. It was nearly pitch black inside, but he knew where the inner door was. Silently sneaking along the inner wall, he approached the door and prepared to swing himself around through it. Once he'd sone so, it'd be home free and on to Heihachi.
But then a shot rang out, right next to him.
Just when he thought he'd be hit once again with a bullet, two unnaturally strong arms grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back around again, slamming him painfully into the wall in an area of complete darkness. No more than a second later, one of the hands clamped down over his lips.
A clearly male voice whispered almost angrily into his ear.
"What are you trying to do, Kazama, get yourself killed?!"
He tried to pull free, but whoever it was had superior strength by far. he shook his head, and the hand released his mouth.
"No, I want to find out what's going on..."
There was a whispered sigh from right next to him. "Don't go in there. Heihachi wants you dead."
His eyebrows rose. "What!?"
The stranger had no time to respond; the gunman finally found them, and shot again. Jin ducked for cover...but the shot never hit. Rather, there was a guttural groan and a sickening thud, then a series of thuds as someone hit the ground. A second later, Jin felt the handle of a gun being placed into his hand.
"Get out of here while you still can, Kazama, and take this with you."
He heard footsteps. His saviour was walking away again.
"Wait...what about you?"
A pause. "I have an unnatural habit of avoiding death. You don't."
And the footsteps took his guardian angel away again. However, Jin took his advice, and headed back out of the Mishima compound, avoiding all of the security. He'd return, when he had a better plan.
Sitting with a cold slice of pizza in his hand and an empty pizza box at his feet, Jin felt just like everyone else in the area; cold and useless. The only problem was, he was always used to having a roof over his head. He threw the cold pizza back into the box, and pulled out the handgun to inspect it. A regular Desert Eagle, with Mishima Zaibatsu insignia along the barrel. He tucked it away inside the jacket. It would definitely come in handy for when he'd try and infiltrate the Mishima grounds again. After all, he wasn't going to let this one slide. Then again, maybe Heihachi wasn't going to have him killed. Maybe this stranger was masquerading as an ally, only to have him finished off anyway. Then again, maybe not. At any rate, it was going to be another cold night.
And there he was again, inside the Zaibatsu estate...only this time, he'd made it inside the mansion. He knew exactly where Heihachi would be; in his office. That was on the third floor.
Best thing to do would be take the back stairwell, which is what he did. As he reached the second floor's flight of stairs, someone grabbed him and hurled him into a dark closet. Before he could retaliate, a piece of paper was slapped into his hand, and he was shoved back out into the open again.
Bewildered, Jin shook his head about, and looked down at the paper. Again, it was written in that kanji...the style, somehow, looked familiar. His mother never wrote quite like that...but there were pieces of paper he remembered that had that handwriting on it. Shrugging it off, he read the note:
He had no idea what that was supposed to be. Quickly, he glanced about to see if anyone was still there. Apparently not. With a sigh, he looked at the paper again; then it hit him.
A minute or so later, he was in his own bedroom, hiding in the wardrobe with his laptop he snagged from the desk. He'd gone onto the main server, and typed in the string of numbers and letters. It had come up with an unfamiliar page, that asked him to 'input data'. So, he entered 'Kazama', since that was what the paper had instructed. Seconds later, another page came up...with his photo heading it.
As he read down the page, his eyes widened. So it was true after all...they were instructions to the Tekkenshu to have him destroyed!
He spent a minute running things over in his mind. So, whoever it was that kept on helping him truly was on his side. And he didn't even know who this kind soul could be. He decided it best to try and get out of here, alive. Perhaps he could use some of the money to get himself to another country and start a new life for himself. Quietly sneaking out of the wardrobe, he took the laptop and placed it down on the table where he found it. Then he headed for the door.
Before he was half way across the room, the door flung open. Standing behind it, was Heihachi himself.
Jin had no time to respond before he found himself being thrown into the floor. This time, however, he was ready. With a swift kick between the legs, Heihachi was crippled momentarily; long enough for Jin to push him off and get back to his feet.
"No way you're going to get me this time, old man..."
He had no idea he sounded exactly like someone else Heihachi had heard before.
In a mere few seconds, an immense battle exploded through the room as the two warriors pummelled each other, throwing and pounding one another across the room, sending splatters of blood here and there. The fight had gone almost half a minute, when Jin was distracted for a second. Standing in the doorway, was his exact silhouette. The black figure was the same height, same size, and with the same hair...the distraction was enough to give Heihachi an opportunity to gain the upper hand, and he did just that. Jin found himself unable to breathe, and being pressed up against the wall.
As he struggled, the figure came closer. There was a thump, a crack, and a loud scream of agony from Heihachi. He fell to the floor, holding his abused neck.
Trying to regain his composure, Jin watched the battle that ensued. The figure that was fighting Heihachi kept his back to Jin the entire time, but from what he could tell, he might as well be his twin. The same raven black hair swept back into a spike, the same height and size, but oddly, the same fighting style, save a few moves. He did notice, however, that Heihachi seemed to recognise him, and did not like him. The man's wrists were a lot thinner than Jin's as well, and beneath the dark blue suit, he may have been much thinner too. But he had a speed Jin did not possess...and apparently neither did Heihachi.
The figure's concentration broke for only a second, and he found himself being served a painful uppercut to the jaw. He was thrown backward, and landed with a resounding thud against the wall next to Jin, and slid down, wincing in pain and holding his jaw line with one hand. The youth quickly examined the man; and found him in a state of shock. Eyebrows remarkably similar to his were knitted together in pain and anger - beneath them, fierce raven eyes. The face was older, possibly closing in on forty years of age, and bore a scar across each cheek. Somehow, the man looked terribly familiar. And then it hit him; but not before Heihachi launched himself at the both of them.
This time, Jin was the one to react. He grabbed onto the incoming fist with both hands, and swung for all he was worth. This manoeuvre sent Heihachi flying around, out the window, and falling into the large swimming pool below. It would be a minute or so at least before either of the two still in the room had to face him again.
Jin looked around again, only to see the mystery man getting up to leave. He grabbed his wrist, and pulled him back down to the ground.
"So you're the one who's been watching over me..."
The man's voice was somewhat unexpected; a little deeper than his own, but much sharper and clearer, quiet but dangerous. "Yes, I am." He tried to rise to leave again; Jin pulled him down again.
"I've missed finding out who you were twice before; I'm not letting you go a third time."
The man pulled his arm free. "It's best we don't get too close. It'll give Heihachi more of a reason to have one of us killed."
This time, Jin didn't pull him back as he got to his feet and headed towards the door. Instead, he stopped him with words. Words which came out softly, yet confidently; a slight hint of sorrow and fear, but at the same time, a mild glimmer of hope.
"You're my father...aren't you?"
The suited man turned to look at him in slight disbelief. Obviously, Jin wasn't supposed to know that. It took a few seconds for him to formulate a reply.
He didn't make a move to leave. Jin stood. All this time, Heihachi had been spoon-feeding him lies. How could a so-called hateful, self-centred, heartless bastard put his own life on the edge for someone he didn't even know? And why would his mother allow him to be born if the circumstances had been unpleasant? She wouldn't have. She wasn't the kind of woman to give birth to a product of rape. He should have seen it earlier; Heihachi had killed his father, that's why he was never there when he was young. But it would seem he'd escaped death, or he wouldn't be there before him.
The silence finally got unbearable. And so did the emotions inside Jin. He couldn't stand it any longer; he threw his arms around his father's shoulders, and hugged him so tight he almost broke the bones in his upper arms.
The look on his father's face was classic; surprised beyond words, battling with disbelief and confusion. But it slowly melted away, as did his stoic resolve, and he put his arms around Jin in response. Jin had by now been moved nearly to tears, but he wouldn't let them come. That would ruin this precious time with his thus far unknown parent. "So you're my father...Kazuya Mishima..."
He nodded slowly. "I had to lay low, since I knew Heihachi would have fed you shit about me. It wouldn't have done either of us any good if I'd made an enemy of you merely by name."
It was true, Jin would have never trusted him if he'd known who he was. He let go of his father's shoulders, and at the same time the arms around him dropped.
"Listen Jin. You need to get out of Japan, to somewhere Heihachi will never find you. I can take care of things from here."
Jin was about to respond, when gunshot shattered the mood and a bullet soared through the air, right past his ear. Unfortunately, that meant only one thing; he wasn't the target, his father was. He looked behind him, to see Heihachi holding a handgun. A soft thump snapped his attention to the other direction, as Kazuya crumpled to the floor. In mere seconds, the floor had a pool of dark red blood forming on it, and above Kazuya's closed eyes was a round wound, gushing blood. Heihachi had shot him. He'd killed his own son.
"No!" Rage spurted through the boy's veins, and tears formed in his eyes. he'd lost the only person who actually cared for him, once again. Then, everything went blank.
Heihachi froze as the creature once again leapt at him, knocking the gun from his hand. A second later, a large raven wing slapped him in the face, sending him soaring out of the room, and crashing into the wall opposite. He fell unconscious.
Slowly, everything began to grow a little clearer. Jin looked down to see black feathers hanging in the air, drifting to the floor delicately. He felt surprisingly heavy, yet somewhat electrified. Glancing down at his feet, then over his shoulder, he noticed the wings; so large, they dangled by his feet at the tips. And over his shoulder, further away, was the sight once again that stung his eyes with tears. He slowly approached the bleeding figure, but found himself unable to look at it for any more than a second. His eyes filled with tears, and he turned away.
"...I love you father..."
After biting back an outburst of anger and emotion, he leapt out the window, spread his wings, and flew. To where, he didn't know. Just far from here.
Return to Archive | epilogue