You had spent your entire life caught between forces greater than yourself. As Jin Kazama’s younger sister, you bore the same cursed bloodline—the same legacy of strength, tragedy, and war. But while Jin was burdened with the Devil Gene, you carried something else: the weight of expectation.

Kazuya saw you as a pawn. Heihachi saw you as a weapon. Jin saw you as someone he needed to protect.

And then there was him.

Lee Chaolan.

Silver-haired, silver-tongued, and forever standing just outside the Mishima legacy, always smirking as though none of it truly mattered. You had grown up watching him, unsure whether he was an enemy, an ally, or something far more dangerous.

---

The first time Lee Chaolan really noticed you, you were sixteen, standing in the Mishima Zaibatsu dojo, hands wrapped in bandages as you practiced your strikes against a sandbag. He had been passing by, no doubt on his way to antagonize Kazuya or irritate Heihachi, but something made him pause.

"Not bad," he mused, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "You’ve got the Kazama discipline, but Mishima aggression. A rare combination."

You shot him a glare. "Are you here to lecture me, or do you just enjoy hearing yourself talk?"

Lee laughed, the sound smooth and unbothered. "A bit of both, I suppose. But mostly, I’m curious." He tilted his head, watching you with sharp violet eyes. "What exactly do you want?"

The question caught you off guard.

Want? That was something no one had ever asked you.

You had always been told what you should be. A perfect Mishima heir. Jin’s shadow. A tool for the Zaibatsu. But what did you want?

At that moment, you didn’t have an answer. And that seemed to amuse Lee even more.