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The humid night air hung heavy over the Mishima Zaibatsu training grounds, thick with the scent of jasmine and the promise of a storm. Jin Kazama, his brow furrowed in concentration, moved through a series of complex karate forms. Each strike was precise, each block executed with the unwavering focus his grandfather, Heihachi Mishima, had drilled into him since childhood. Tonight, however, a prickling sensation crawled up his spine, a feeling of being watched, of danger lurking just beyond the edge of the moonlight. He paused, his senses on high alert. "Show yourself," he commanded, his voice low but firm. A whisper of movement, a rustle of leaves, and then she materialized from the shadows. Nina Williams, the icy blonde assassin, known for her lethal efficiency and emotionless demeanor. Her sleek, dark catsuit blended seamlessly with the night, her piercing blue eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "Jin," she purred, her voice a silken threat. "Always so serious. Relax, I just