Sachi Gosetsuke: I never learn, do I? Once again, I am changing the plot. Well, semi-same plot as before. Just...different. But anyway, my frustration level on a scale of one to ten is eleven. My computer has a virus in it, so I have no access to the Internet or any of my stories whatsoever. And right now I'm using a laptop - a 1993 laptop. Makes me miss my old, crappy 2002 computer...virus free of course.

So...throughout this story for any of you who have read the original version, you will see the same contents as before, just edited. And for those of you newcomers: just read and review please. Because I am writing a flat-out Asuka Kazama story for one reason: there are just not enough Asuka stories. All I see is JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN KAZUYA JIN JIN JIN JIN JIN KAZUYA and JIN JIN JIN XIAOYIN. C'mon people: quit "recycling" Kazama-Mishima and Xiaoyin stories! It's Asuka's time to shine!

Disclaimer: Asuka, Jin, Jun, and any other Tekken characters here are all property of Namco. Kenichi is the OC of my friend Psychoblue. The rest is mine.

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Bring Me To Life

By Sachi Gosetsuke

o-o-o

Prologue

They say that when you die, your whole life flashes right before your eyes. I wouldn't know for sure. No one does. However, I'll be the first to tell you if it's true or not - because I'm about to die...

Please do not worry for me. I have no regrets of my upcoming death. I had no other choice, and this is my destiny...

I am grateful, however, that I am about to die, knowing that everyone will be safe. And also, I am thankful enough that I will die knowing the truth. I wonder now, though, what would happen if I did not know the truth? Would I have lived normally, and died differently, unknown to my true lineage? I will never know, and I don't want to know. I am glad to know my true lineage and I am happy to have met my brother, Jin Kazama...

I also wonder...what would have happened if I never met Kenichi? Yes; my life would have been very different. For better or for worse, I don't know. Maybe it would have been better for Kenichi. But I now know, that fate is a funny thing...

It is safe to say, I guess, that it was a bittersweet and fortunate day for the Mishimas and Kazamas when Feng Wei came to my Uncle's dojo. Despite what he has done, if it weren't for him, I would have never entered the tournament for payback and discovered the truth...

So please don't worry for me. I have no regrets about dieing like this. Though I would have chosen dieing peacefully at an old age in my sleep, I know that this is the only way. I have no time (literally) for self-pity. This is my destiny. I chose to die for the ones I love. I have made my decision...

The irony to all this is that when you die, supposedly your entire life seems to flash before your eyes. So here goes...

My name is Asuka Kazama. And this is my life...

When I was little, I never did read fairytales. I mean, I did read some, though, I didn't read any princess ones. My father did however buy me some of the originals, like Cinderella, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and Sleeping Beauty. They were nice and all; but I quickly resented those kinds of stories.

It wasn't that I didn't like reading. It was because of the fact that the princesses were all frail and dainty, waiting for their prince charming to rescue them, when they could easily just do it themselves. Even at the age of 5, I saw those princesses giving a bad name to girls.

If there's one thing I hate, besides the preps, the jocks, the racists and sexiest, it's stereotypes. Fairytales like Cinderella give off the impression that all girls were and had to be beautiful, rich, and lady-like, waiting for the men to do all the work for them.

And even as a girl of 5 years old, I hated that idea. Well, it probably does make sense; I mean, I hated boys back then, and I also hated being all girly-girl and obeying the rules. I was outspoken, a thrill seeker, and I didn't care what anyone thought. And I still do.

I remember, as I grew older, and matured over the years, how I felt trapped in my own home. It was as if I had no freedom – even though I did. I mean my father is pretty over-protected when it came to certain things, but he still allowed me enough freedom. But…it was the fact that my life was so typical, and normal. I wanted adventure. I wanted to break free of the ties that hold me in place, and just…fly.

I love heights. The idea of the tiptops of skyscrapers and soaring through clouds just absolutely thrills me to pieces. I recall the countless days after school, how I would sneak through the fire escapes and onto the rooftops of buildings and just sat with my legs dangling over the walls and just staring out at the world around me. Once or twice, I brought a bike, and at full-speed, I would just shoot out, landing on all the other buildings around me. It was the rush that I loved. The feeling of flight. I crave for that feeling.

And I found that feeling through martial arts. Kazama-Style Martial arts; my family name, my very own style of fighting. My father began to teach me when I was 5 years old. I took pride in what I did, and fighting was definitely one of them. It was the adrenaline rush I loved. The focus, the intensity, everything about fighting. People fight for revenge, for fame; I fight for thrill.

Fighting and heights were what gave me my freedom and thrill. I practiced everyday, hardening my resolve, perfecting my skills. Everyday, my father grew proud of my fast learning. Once or twice, I caught him secretly watching me practice in our dojo, and I could see tears forming in his eyes as he watched me with pride. Maybe it was because I resembled so much of my mother.

I never knew my mother. She died when I was just a baby. I asked my father about her a few times, however, I never did get a proper answer. I could tell my father really did love my mother. I don't even know what she looks like, let alone what she was like. My father never talks about her; he says that the memories hurt. I respected him for that, and I always felt guilty afterwards when I had tried to get answers form him. Yet other times, I felt that he was being selfish, that I shouldn't be deprived of those things. But I love my father deeply, and I really look up to him, so I never ask about my mother anymore.

And yet, I catch myself watching young mothers, pushing toddlers in their strollers, or pushing children on swing sets. I hate to admit this, but I envied those children, and I wished to tell them never to take their mothers for granted. The same went to my friends, who would complain how much they think their mothers are unfair and evil. Well they should probably take a day in my life and see how it feels to not have a mother to complain about.

I never told my father about these things. I'm pretty sure he knew I did feel these things, even if he couldn't understand well, but he knew, since he knows everything about me. But there are just some things about my life that I'm just not ready to tell him, or I can't tell him. Every young girl needs a mother, no matter how old-fashioned the saying is, it's true. How do you go to your father to ask about personal things? Perhaps that was what the biggest problem I had with puberty.

But I learned to accept these things in my life, no matter how much I disagreed with it. Thanks to my father and experience, I learned that there are a lot of things in life that aren't bad, and you only get to live once, so you might as well live life to the fullest.

Again, there are lots of things I most detest: stereotypes, sexists, racists, preps, etc., are one of these things. But I also hate troublemakers. I live in a very peaceful neighborhood filled with young kids and lots of good things. And people who try to destroy that in my neighborhood like bullies, thieves, and gangs must be punished.

I have a strong sense of what's right and what's wrong. I guess I take that from my father. But I guess that it's also a bad thing. A lot of people who either don't like me, or know me, say that I'm nosy, and I try to solve other people's problem's it's not a bad thing; it's just that my way of solving problems usually means knocking out someone.

If I catch someone bullying someone, or pick pocketing someone, I let him or her know that I know. Well c'mon people; you see someone doing something wrong, you correct them. Another downer to me learning how to fight.

I think my father knows about me doing these things. He told me so when I came home, after pummeling two bullies to the ground. He warned me not to let him catch me beating people up like that (hey, it's not like they don't deserve it). And I don't let him catch me doing it – I just don't do it when I'm aware he's there.

I bet you anything he knows that I've continued doing this. He never says anything; but I'm sure he's displeased about it.

I love adventure. I have a very romantic side to adventures. The thrill of it all, the never so typical side to life; despite reality and how dangerous adventures really are. But I can't help it. I felt trapped in my own home.

Maybe it was because there were some things my father doesn't tell me. Like my mother for instance. Or maybe it was because of how normal my life was. Or even the fact that I am a thrill seeker. Either way, I felt like a prisoner in my own home. Which is why I escape to the tops of skyscrapers, and fight. To escape the real world. To feel the rush. I sit on skyscrapers and look out around me, just to know, what is out there? I wanted to know. I wanted to see those things, experience the adventure for the first time.

Or maybe it was because I wanted to escape my own world. Yes, I did want to; but not because of how typical it was. I wanted to escape…the memories. I didn't want to envy daughters who had mothers anymore. I didn't want to remember the heartbreaks I felt. Yes, it's true; no matter how much I want to deny it, I had loved. Not the love I feel for my father, or for my friends; but real love. I did love at a time…and another feeling that comes to love, is loss; I did feel loss. But that part comes later…much later.

Loss...if I were to tell someone who knew me only as Asuka Kazama, "justice fighter," that I was sad, and grieving inside, and I needed a friend...they would laugh. That's what everyone thought about me: that I was perfect, completely happy and normal, and Iwas tough and knew only joy and rage.Well reality check: not everyone's perfect. I'm still human, no matter how many bones I can break in someone's arm. Punch me I bleed. Deceive me, and it hurts just as much as it does to accidentally kick yourself really hard while trying to do a series of complicated kicks. I can still feel...and I can still cry. Not a lot of people know that; they don't know the real me.

But I also wanted to discover something new. What I wanted to discover…was me. The real me. A lot of people don't know the real me. They either know me as the tough girl who goes to our school; Asuka the "justice fighter." And even the dojo's master's daughter. ButI don't know the real me myself...both mentally and emotionally. It could be because of how little I knew about my mother then and now...or something else...

That was why I wanted the adventure: the thrill, the rush, and the flight. I wanted to fly and break free of the ties that bound me to my place. I was young; I was naive. I didn't know that there would be something out there that I couldn't see, couldn't feel, that I was not ready for.

But if I never did experience it…if I never did see it…I would have never known. I wouldn't have discovered a lot of things for that matter.

Yet,as my father had thought so, it would have been for the better. I would have been safe from the truth. He tried to protect me form the truth. But I had to know; I had the right to know the truth. Because I am not Cinderella, waiting for my prince in shining armor to rescue me. I wasn't the usual obedient Japanese girl, who did what others told her to do, and drank green tea. I wasn't those things, not before I learned the truth, and certainly not now.

I was the bird, trapped in her cage, waiting to fly. I was the fighter, waiting to feel the rush, the sense of thrill again. I was the spirited girl, dreaming to live, waiting, wanting to be brought to life. I was Asuka Kazama, 17 years old, serving justice to others, and searching for the truth.

Sachi Gosetsuke: yes, for those of you who have read the original version of the story, you will recognize some of the things here, only I promise you, they will be a tad bit different. So TO REVIEW: if you already reviewed the first chapter, you know you can't review more than once. So just log-out and review! Simple as that! But if you don't want to, fine, fine (not), just message me and tell me what you think :)