The world watched in silence.
The G.O.D. Arena, once a battlefield of might and spectacle, now pulsed with the quiet aftermath of a reckoning. Rain sizzled on cracked stone, evaporating in slow tendrils from where Genji had stood reborn. The feeds kept rolling, broadcasting to every nation, every household, every corporation with a stake in the outcome of the greatest tournament ever constructed.
But now, the tournament was over.
Not with a trophy.
But with a truth.
From the heart of the central tower, Shin Mishima stepped forward, flanked by guards and drones. The cameras adjusted, catching every line on his solemn face, every glint in his silver eyes. His coat was pressed, but his heart heavy.
He spoke.
"This is not a declaration of victory. This is a confession."
Across the globe, rooms fell quiet. In neon-lit cities, war-torn provinces, and high towers where investors whispered and rebels watched with clenched fists—everyone heard.
"My name is Shin Mishima, Chairman of Mishima Corporation, architect of the Global Ordered Dominion Tournament. Today, I end it."
Shouts erupted in the streaming panels. Broadcasters scrambled.
Shin raised his hand and continued.
"The G.O.D. Tournament was built on legacy, control, and blood. We called it merit. We called it progress. But it was only ever a stage for the war of ideals within this family."
He turned, eyes falling to the arena where Genji still stood—burning from within like a phoenix that refused to dim.
"He is my son."
The words crashed through the system.
Juliet Carl nearly dropped her glass. Rin of Ashes stiffened, breath caught. Blaze and Xao Min Feng, watching from their medical recovery suite, froze in disbelief.
"No way…" Blaze murmured. "That kid… is his son?"
Xao Min said nothing, lips parted. A dozen readings on her cybernetic retina screens flickered red. But all she could do was stare at the broadcast, trembling.
Shin Mishima continued.
"Genji Takashima is the son of Naomi Takashima and myself. He was hidden. Forgotten. Exiled by my cowardice and Naomi's bravery. She chose to live outside the system… to raise him free. And for that… Mishima hunted her."
His voice cracked then—raw, vulnerable.
"I let it happen."
Gasps. Even the guards at his side shifted uncomfortably.
"I claimed to be building a world of order. But my own house was built on lies and betrayal. So hear me now."
Shin turned to the camera. His tone sharpened.
"The G.O.D. Tournament is canceled. Effective immediately. All matches, all rankings, all sponsorships—nullified. The world will not find strength through spectacle. Only through truth."
A siren blared within the tower as emergency alerts triggered across every Mishima broadcast channel. Chaos brewed in the financial servers. Stock values plunged. Protests sparked. Uproar swept across the globe.
And through it all, Genji remained still.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
Later, in the high chamber of the Mishima Command Spire, Genji stood before a polished obsidian table surrounded by walls of data streams and family crests.
Lady Kirika Mishima stood opposite him. Regal. Cold. Unflinching.
Shin sat between them, weary.
"I ask not as your husband," Shin said, voice quieter now. "But as the head of this house. Accept him. Accept the son we tried to forget."
Kirika stared at Genji like he was dirt on her blade.
"This boy," she said slowly, "was born of rebellion. Of impurity. He has no place in the legacy we've carved."
"I don't care about your legacy," Genji said sharply. "I came here for answers. Not a throne."
"You came here to destroy everything," she hissed. "And you succeeded."
"Enough," Shin snapped, rising.
His voice thundered through the chamber.
"I made mistakes. I buried my truth. But no longer. Genji is of us—by blood, by fire, by spirit. Whether you accept it or not, the world already has."
Kirika turned, cloak sweeping behind her.
"You chose your bastard son. Then live with your broken house."
And she left.
The doors slammed shut.
Silence followed.
Genji stared at the floor, hands balled into fists.
"…I don't understand."
Shin stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to. Not yet. You've been fighting so long, son… maybe it's time to lead instead."
Genji flinched.
"What?"
"I want you to succeed me," Shin said. "Not just as heir to the Mishima Corporation—but to change it. To make something better. To burn down what we were and rebuild something worthy of your mother's name."
Genji backed away slowly, eyes narrowing.
"This isn't what I wanted…"
Shin looked hurt. "Then what do you want?"
Genji turned, his coat whipping behind him.
"I don't know."
And he vanished—through a side corridor, into the night. No guards could stop him. No tech could track him.
Just like Naomi once did, Genji disappeared into the storm.
---
In the aftermath, Blaze paced the skybridge connecting the arena to the living quarters. His hair was still damp, and bandages wrapped his side.
"He's gone?" he asked aloud. "Seriously? After all that?"
Xao Min Feng leaned on the railing, arms crossed.
"He's not the type to stay where people expect him to," she murmured. "But still…"
Her voice faltered.
"I saw his eyes during the fight. That wasn't just about power. That was pain. Fire that doesn't know where to go burns everything."
"You think he'll come back?"
Xao Min shook her head.
"I think he'll do what Naomi did. Disappear until the world forgets him again."
Blaze slammed a fist into the wall.
"Dammit, Genji… You were supposed to be our symbol."
Xao Min looked to the clouds.
"No."
Her voice was steady.
"He's not a symbol. He's a spark. The kind that lights a revolution."
---
Far away—beyond the cameras, the corporations, the ruins of the arena—Genji walked.
His pendant was gone.
But something remained within him.
The voice of Vilerasa. Quiet. Watchful.
He stared at his reflection in a rain-streaked window.
Who am I?
He didn't know yet.
But he would.
Eventually.
He would return.
When the fire needed him again.
TO BE CONTINUED.