Brisbane, Australia.

In a small dojo huddled between the city’s numerous buildings, a young man dressed in a sweat suit trained fervently. The pants were purple with yellow flames decorating the sides, and the jacket matched with flames along the sleeves and front. The jacket’s hood obscured the young man’s face.

He was Jin Kazama.

His movements were of a different breed than the ones he had learned from Heihachi. The attempted murder on his life had left Jin bitter. The hate swelling in his heart fed the silent Devil in him and in turn grew more and more to the point that Jin didn’t just hate Heihachi. He hated himself. He hated the Mishima bloodline. He hated the Mishima style of fighting. He hated his father, Kazuya. He hated his devil gene. He hated everything having to do with any of them.

With all his burning hatred, Jin had decided to learn a new style of karate and unlearn the one he now held in contempt.

The dojo master of this place had consented to teaching Jin upon Jin’s request and offer of working at the dojo. He had no home, nowhere else to go, Jin explained. He would leave if he became a bother. The teacher considered the young man’s plight and after Jin demonstrated what he did know, agreed to help. The young man had a great deal of promise and was already self-disciplined. The arrangement was mutually beneficial.

When Jin wasn’t having lessons with the instructor, he kept to himself and his training. He kept contact with other students to an absolute minimum. Some of the other students were fascinated by his aloofness and stoic nature. They found him mysterious. Others were quite put off by it and disliked him. When challenged by other students, Jin would reply with a few short words of acceptance, followed by proving himself to be the superior fighter among them all.

By nature, Jin preferred to be alone. However, there was more than one reason for his behavior to the other students at the dojo. He didn’t want to risk growing closer to anyone. He’d developed an inherent distrust to others since Heihachi’s betrayal. Also, he wanted to protect them from both Heihachi and the devil lurking in his body. He kept a distance to all of them.

Over the course of two years, Jin unlearned the Mishima-style karate, as he wanted, and mastered the one taught by his instructor.

Eventually, he heard about the King of Iron Fist Tournament 4. His blood stirred with quiet rage, and he immediately resolved to enter.

He reflected back on his life with his grandfather from those previous years, wondering if Heihachi would use anything from that life against Jin now. Xiaoyu popped into his head. She was the only one Jin ever showed to be genuine friends with during that time. Concerned for her safety, he sent her an anonymous e-mail forewarning her about Heihachi having evil intentions. When Xiaoyu received the e-mail, her intuition told her it was probably Jin, and she wondered if she might see him at the upcoming tournament.

Jin told his teacher that he would be leaving shortly to partake in the tournament, and the teacher soon after presented Jin with a gift. It was a black and white karate gi with the symbol on Jin’s arm on its back.

Jin politely thanked his teacher and said he would wear it at the tournament. Although the mark on his arm was from the Devil, everyone always assumed it was a tattoo Jin had picked himself. Jin had grown accustomed to it and had started to take it as a symbol of himself as well. At the back of his mind, he was nervous about his devil gene activating again at the tournament, but he decided not to let that deter him from his goal.

He needed to put an end to the Mishima bloodline. He needed to kill Heihachi. And then…he needed to kill himself.

He still knew nothing of Kazuya being alive. He had stopped wearing his father’s gloves though he kept them tucked away in the closet of his small apartment. Occasionally, he would pull them out to think and ponder if he should throw them away. His heart burned with sorrow for losing his mother and resentment towards his father. He blamed Kazuya for the Devil lurking in his body. Still, he could not bring himself to let the gloves go. They were the last material possession his mother had passed onto him. They were his heritage, whether he liked it or not, and in a sense, they were from his mother as well as his father. So instead, he simply chose not to wear them anymore.

He packed his belongings and took a deep breath. “The Mishima bloodline ends here,” he thought to himself. “I will put an end to this.”

His blood stirred. Both he and Devil were anxious to fight though Jin only recognized it as his own excitement.