Jin lay sprawled across the cold sand, his blood seeping into the earth beneath him. His breaths came ragged, shallow, each one a struggle. And in that fragile space between life and death… he thought.
Who am I, really?
He could no longer remember his true name—the one he was born with. That had been stripped away when he came here. What remained were fragments, foreign memories that had fused with his own, tangled with the identity of another—Jin Kazama—the body he now inhabited.
With no name to call his own, no family to reach for, no one to understand him… he chose that name. He embraced Jin Kazama's memories as if they were his own. And in those memories, he found love. Joy. Pain. The spectrum of a life that wasn't his, yet had become his truth.
That was how he became Jin Kazama in this world.
As Jin Kazama, he had wanted nothing more than a normal life. To move forward without fear. To stop pushing people away as he once had, afraid of losing them, afraid of the unbearable ache he'd felt when he lost his mother.
But his reality was solitude.
He lived alone.
Walked alone.
Ate alone.
Existed alone.
Until… there was her.
Kuno.
A stubborn little girl, as lonely as she was, yet brave enough to cling to him. Brave enough to nag him day after day until he could no longer ignore her. Until he began to feel that fragile thing again—hope.
And then, one day, she was kidnapped.
All he wanted was to save her—a small, innocent girl who had given him light in his darkness. But in saving her, he had become a killer.
Afterward, his house was burned. He was beaten. He would have died that night had luck not intervened.
For months after, he hunted the Manji clan through the streets of Kuoh. His life constantly dangled on the edge of death. And even then, he refused to kill needlessly. He told their men to run, to abandon the life that shackled them.
How foolish.
Every time, they came back. Every time, they tried to kill him again. And every time, the frustration inside him built like an inferno.
He had even reached out to Zero—to end it peacefully. But the bastard spat on every offer.
Cornered, seeing no path forward, Jin had been forced to do what he didn't want to. He killed Zero. This time not out of necessity, but because he chose to.
And even now, lying here, he still couldn't decide… had he killed Zero because he was out of options, or because a part of him wanted to?
And now this old man—Oishi—stood above him, proclaiming the weight of the world, of clan and might and pride. Ready to kill him where he lay.
All his potential, wasted. All his strength, meaningless. His body tried to stitch itself back together, but the sword's energy burned through him, rejecting the healing. Time was slipping away.
Whose fault is this?
Not his. He hadn't asked for this. He had just wanted to save a little girl. He had just wanted to carve out a place for himself in this world.
And yet… would he die here, just because others willed it?
Am I really going to be killed just because everyone wants me dead?
The thought made his blood boil. His jaw clenched.
It's not fair. I can't stand it. It pisses me off.
Hatred surged inside him, raw and consuming.
I want to kill everyone who dares to think they can kill me.
Fuck it.
Screw justice. Screw evil too.
Good, evil—it didn't matter. I rejected them both.
From now on, I would live by one thing alone: his own will.
I, Jin Kazama, will write the rules of this world and carve my place in this world by whatever means .
A sudden surge erupted from him—an aura like molten fire. Red light bled from his body, crackling through the air, clashing against the sword energy still lodged in his wounds. The burning pain dulled. His limbs grew heavy with power instead of weakness.
The guards, frozen mid-breath, watched in disbelief as the broken boy pushed himself up from the sand. His eyes gleamed crimson, his aura snapping like chains being torn apart.
Jin stood tall, his claws sliding free once more. His voice was low, dangerous, dripping with defiance.
"...Old man."
Oishi stared at the figure standing before him. A ghost. A boy who should have been dead. His knuckles tightened around the hilt of his sword, disbelief twisting into fury.
"You should have died, boy," Oishi growled, his voice heavy with venom.
He raised his blade and stepped forward, but his body betrayed him. His knees buckled, trembling under the weight of exhaustion and strain.
"Grandfather!" Mira caught his arm before he fell, her voice tight with urgency. "You've pushed yourself far enough. Let us deal with him."
At her words, the guards around unsheathed their swords with a chorus of steel. The air thickened with killing intent. They were ready—ready to kill, or be killed.
But Jin raised his voice, calm yet sharp, cutting through the tension.
"Old man… listen. Listen to me about your heir's last moments."
The words froze them.
The guards stilled. Mira stiffened. Even Oishi's breath caught.
For Jin could not know what they all knew—that it was Oishi himself who had raised Zero. Who had trained him, molded him, loved him as his own. And it was Oishi whose heart had broken when Zero lost his way.
Jin's gaze burned.
"We fought one on one. He mimicked your swordplay, your movements, but… that wasn't how it end."
Oishi's jaw tightened.
"You know he had an ability," Jin continued. "The power to see into the future, to glimpse how a fight would unfold."
He clenched his fist.
"He was drowning in drugs. His senses dulled, his body ruined. That should've been the end of him. But in our fight… his swordplay sharpened. He fought like you. He adapted. That means one thing—" Jin's voice darkened, "—I killed him over and over again in those futures. Until his instincts came back."
Oishi's face twisted, his composure unraveling. "What are you trying to say?"
Jin's tone grew heavier, each word deliberate.
"I want to say… today wasn't the first time I've seen sword energy. At the very end, he unleashed it. He cut off my hand."
"And at that moment, he said something to me. He said he wouldn't waste his life on drugs after killing me . That he'd find his path. That he'd become a sword master."
The words slammed into Oishi harder than any blade ever could. His chest tightened. His throat burned. He wanted to deny it, but the truth clawed at him, merciless.
Yet confusion followed. Jin shouldn't have an arm. That sword energy should have crippled him. But when Oishi looked again—really looked—his eyes widened.
Jin stood tall, whole, unbroken. His body, once torn and battered, was fully healed. His wounds had vanished, his posture strong and defiant, as if he had risen from death itself.
Jin raised his hand, flexing his healed arm, pointing at himself with a bitter smile.
"I want to say… he truly wanted to live. But I gave him no chance. I crushed him beneath a building. No escape, no hope. No matter what future he tried to grasp, it ended in death. A worthless death. The heir of the Manji clan… died a pathetic, meaningless death."
His eyes turned crimson, his voice a growl of rage.
"I am done with you guys and now… I'll wipe out every last member of the Manji clan."
Oishi's blood boiled. His grip shook. His anger surged so fiercely it felt as though his body would tear itself apart.
"You… monster. I'll kill you with my own hands, Jin!"
He tried to lunge forward—but his body betrayed him again. His legs trembled, refusing to obey. Pain wracked him.
"Grandfather, stop!" Mira cried, clutching his arm. "You'll destroy yourself!"
But Oishi roared over her, his voice thundering with fury.
"GUARDS! KILL HIM! EVEN IF IT'S THE LAST THING YOU DO IN THIS LIFE!"
The guards erupted into motion, charging at Jin with blades gleaming, their cries echoing through the night.
Jin only smiled. His claws extended with a sharp, metallic snap, gleaming under the pale light.
As the wave of steel rushed toward him, he stood waiting—hungry, ready.
Enoufh being hunted , today he would be the hunter .