Ryuunosuke Hojo, A Small Excerpt. -Japanese Booklet-

I was born many, many years ago. World War 2 had come to a close, when I was just a little babe. And for us, that was a time of great, great woe. Two nuclear bombs had been dropped on our homeland, causing much devastation to civilian and military buildings alike. I grew up, without a biological father.

When I was a boy, I had a lot of built up anger, my mother could hardly manage my brothers and I. We would always fight, and always be angry at each other. At school, I bullied children up to a year older than me. I wasn't the largest child, but I certainly had technique. My mother had received a message. I was going to be expelled if I did not shape up my behavior.

My mother had broken down, she needed help because she could not raise us. From there on out, the school had taken up parenting me, they would whip me often if I did not behave, they would begin to instill a discipline in me that would serve me well to this day. I never got the chance to truly thank them for it.

Mr. Ohasi, my primary teacher, would take me home every day. When I turned twelve, he told me that he had a secret to being so calm, so one with the world and the flow of the waves, the direction of the breeze. I curiously inquired as to what it could have been.

Ninjutsu Ryu, an old art that wasn't practiced too much any more. He told me I could take out my anger, but at the same time, learn how to temper it, learn how to become a presentable, respectable young man. Learn how to make life a lot easier. I took him up on the offer, and in a matter of weeks, I was truly beginning.

Although the same couldn't be said for the rest of my family. My brothers were all older than me, and they had gotten in to a gang, who looted warehouses for World War 2 weapon stockpiles, in no time they all wore nice suits, and shot up marketplaces, even the citizens within. They became rich, and my mother couldn't take the stress.

While I was working with Mr. Ohasi one fateful day, I felt sick, uneasy. I didn't know why, but I quickly explained that I needed to go home.

I'd never forget the sight of my mother's dead hands trembling on to that German-Built pistol, her beautiful eyes rolled back in to her head, and her silky, delicate black hair, which was the envy of all of the women in town, running crimson with her blood.

I moved in with Mr. Ohasi, and for many years, until I was 30, I had trained. When he passed, I took over. I was a black belt in both Katana fighting, and Ninjutsu Ryu. I had a calmness that saw me to the Combine Invasion. But that is ahead of the fact. I ran his dojo. I taught troubled young men and women how to center themselves, how to remain calm.

One of my brothers climbed to the top of his street gang, the Yakuza. They were incredibly feared, disciplined, and well-connected. I was considered a loose-end at one point, and he sent some of his dogs after me. As they kicked open the door, one opened fire on me with his Sten. I managed to hide behind cover quick enough. He sprayed all of his bullets, and, aggravated, came after me with his pistol.

By then he had closed the distance. The first time I took a life was at this very moment, I coolly ran my blade across his neck, horizontal, lopping his head off entirely. His other two comrades fired a hail of unsteady bullets. They met the same eventual fate, not showing a lot of tactical acumen.

The police officers who helped me to investigate the three corpses wound up missing two weeks later. For a long time, there was no justice...

The rest of history would just have to tell itself.