Fighting Game Therapy

Jago's New Path?

Dr. Rainey arrived at her office in the early morning hours, the quiet building starkly contrasting to the bustling day ahead. She wore a professional navy blue suit that fit her like a second skin. Her chestnut brown hair cascaded down to her shoulders, framing hazel eyes that sparkled with wit and intelligence.

In no rush, she took a moment to prepare a cup of coffee before settling into her comfortable leather chair. She savored the quiet solitude of the early morning, allowing her thoughts to gather and organize. Her gaze drifted around the room, settling on the worn journal pages on her desk-a silent testament to the stories she had helped shape.

Soft, muted colors flowed across the walls as gentle lighting created a warm, inviting ambiance. The room was furnished with plush armchairs and a cozy sofa, beckoning patients to relax and feel at ease. A large, leafy monstera plant stood in the corner, its vibrant green leaves a peaceful contrast to the subtle art pieces that dotted the walls.

It was a space where healing and self-reflection could thrive. A feeling underscored by the framed psychology and counseling certificates that hung above Dr. Rainey's desk, a quiet promise of comprehensive care.

Hours passed until the intercom's buzz broke the silence.

"Dr. Rainey, your first patient is here," her assistant said.

Setting her half-empty mug aside, Dr. Rainey pressed the button on her desk.

"Thank you, Janet. Send him in." She quickly straightened a pillow on the sofa and adjusted a small picture frame on the table, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. Once ready, she settled into her chair, her back straight and her mind focused. A knock at the door signaled the beginning of her day. "Come in."

The doorknob turned, and the door opened, revealing her first patient.

A man who looked like a Buddhist monk yet moved with the lethal stillness of a shadow stood in the doorway.

A metal mask hid his face, leaving only a sliver of brown eyes that held a piercing intensity. His brownish-black hair, swept to the side with a shaved bald patch, gave him a striking, almost animated appearance.

Ropes were wrapped tightly around his lean, muscular torso, and a curved sword hung from a sheath on his back.

The intricate striped tattoo on his left arm, with its snarling tiger faces, seemed to writhe with a life of its own. On his wrists were bracers of what looked like coiled stone, while two carved tiger heads jutted out from his knees like pieces of a protective statue.

"Jago, it's good to see you," Dr. Rainey said.

The warrior-monk bowed. "Likewise. I'm here to discuss my recurring issues."

Dr. Rainey motioned to the couch. As Jago sat, he drew his sword and placed it against the armrest before lying down. "So, how have things been going?"

Jago scoffed. "I'd be lying if I said I'm having an enjoyable day."

"Sounds like it," she said. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I was already having a rough year. Then someone made this thing on the forums called 'If KI had Facebook.' The concept looked promising until they got to the part about a body pillow with Shin Hisako's image, like a piece of merchandise. My sister worries that they might make body pillows with my image for the fans. I don't need that kind of attention, and frankly, I doubt these people have even played the game."

"But there's nothing with merchandise, right, even if it's body pillows?"

"It's not about the merchandise itself. It's more about how it objectifies the characters and reduces them to mere sexual objects. My sister was one such victim, though she never admitted it. It was only in 2013 that the developers gave her a makeover. She went from a hypersexualized character to a more dignified and powerful warrior."