Author's Notes: This is a fic I was challenged to do. I’m beginning to write it right after I recovered from a psycho Yaoi rush, so beware. It helps that I’ve been listening to songs from the Nightmare before Christmas, and just saved our Christmas tree from our new kitten, and I just watched Elf… And the last chapter of a yaoi manga I just read happened to take place at Christmas… Naturally, I have a strange desire to place our beloved characters in a holiday setting.
**Disclaimer**: I do not own Tekken, nor do I own the song featured. Tekken and all things related, are owned by Namco.
To Feel Again
Snowflakes drifted down from the never-ending darkness above. Typically snow clouds would be visible, the street lamps below adding an orange glow and the clouds would look more radioactive than natural, but this night was different in many ways. This night the clouds were invisible, and the snow drifting down and melting once touching the ground, appeared to be stained red. It looked as though the sky was bleeding.
Since there was nobody else in the entire building, on account of the servants being granted the evening off, Kazuya did not bother to hide the tears. He looked up to the sky, gently touching the window, as if afraid that the littlest pressure could break it. The sky wasn’t bleeding… It was crying. ‘Is this an omen you have sent to me, my Jun?’ Kazuya thought, certain that this was her doing, ‘Why must you torture me with these cursed hallucinations? I know I must be upsetting you with my unjust ambitions, but I just… Can’t stop myself… Please… End this cruel vision. I have had enough…’
Kazuya collapsed onto the window seat, hugging his head and hiding his tears from himself. It had been years since he had been reminded of that woman. But after finally seeing his son, he couldn’t keep her image out of his head. She was the only one who believed that he was more then what everybody else thought of him. She was the first and the last person to ever love him. The only one who believed that he was once human.
But as the sky shed its tears of blood, he knew that she had seen what he had become. As if not a day had passed, he could hear her musical voice ringing in his ears, flawlessly calling his name, demanding him to face that frighteningly beautiful smile. All those years ago, he had been certain that smile would be the death of him, but he had always wondered if such a death would be so bad?
Before he had the chance to contemplate his previous thought, somebody ran down the street below. Normally he wouldn’t pay such a scene any mind, but the person was very familiar. He was sure that person had wanted to kill him once upon a time, but from so high up, it was hard to tell for sure. As the glimmer of a gun caught his eye, followed by the sight of long silky hair trailing behind the man, he knew suddenly, exactly who it was. It was that bastard cop chasing someone, but he hadn’t seen anyone go by previously. Perhaps Wulong had finally gone out of his mind.
Kazuya watched the Chinese man press his back against a wall as he peaked around a corner into a backstreet. A garbage can was hurled out of the shadows, nearly getting Wulong right in the face. A figure covered entirely in black lunged out of the shadows, tumbling with the International cop into a puddle on the curb. If it wasn’t such an amusing sight, and if he were a normal man, the dark Japanese may have considered helping. Then again, there wasn’t much he could do from so far up besides watching, not that he was complaining.
There was quite a struggle before the cop finally gained the upper hand, and succeeded in twisting the person’s arm behind his back, and cuffing him. It seemed unlikely that such a man would just happen to be running down that street just as Kazuya had been thinking about Kazama Jun. Was it yet another sign sent by the beloved? Slowly, the red stains in the falling snow began to appear less frequently until they were utterly non-existent. It no longer looked like the sky was crying… it merely looked like snow.
More men leaped out of the shadows, some brandishing wooden baseball bats, others only using their fists. Bringing weapons into it was unfair considering they already had him outnumbered, but Wulong did have a gun and cuffs against an unarmed man. Kazuya sighed, wiping his eyes with the corner of the curtains, casually. Cops always irritated him with their unfair tactics. He was aware that such things were necessary for the good of the citizens, but it was still annoying when he knew that such unfair things had been used against him when all he was guilty of was being born into the Mishima family. Although street punks like the ones currently attacking the cop, irritated him even more. The brats were everywhere it seemed. He had no patience for today’s youth. In fact, it seemed, he had no patience for any of today’s civilians.
There wasn’t much choice. He couldn’t allow a fellow Iron fist competitor to be taken down by a bunch of brats. Kazuya leisurely turned and walked out of the suite, grabbing his black leather trench coat on his way out the door, and heading down the hall and into the elevator. He wasn’t at all worried about making it down there in time. Rushing would only waste energy and if he arrived too late, oh well. It was the thought that counts, right? But as the elevator descended down towards the main floor, he found himself watching the blinking yellow lights, and urging it to move faster.
Once the elevator doors finally opened, he still took his time making it out the door as if to make a point to no one in particular. The least he expected to find was a beaten cop in a pile of blood in the middle of the street. Unfortunately, he wasn’t granted even that much. As he stepped out of the building into the dark street, all he was met with was a small splatter of blood every here and there. Not a single person could be seen anywhere, unconscious or otherwise.
Of course it didn’t take a genius to figure out what to do next. Obviously, who ever took the Chinese man, wouldn’t care enough to bind the wounds and stop the bleeding before dragging him away. So naturally Kazuya looked for the scene of the struggle to narrow out into a path, leading to their current location. Soon enough he found the way, following it with his head held high, and face stern and authoritative. The only thing casual about him was the way his hands were tucked into the pockets of his coat. Even the way he walked was quick, steady, and businesslike.
“Fucking fag!” An American voice said from the depths of the shadows between two buildings. “I bet you’ll only enjoy this, fucking pervert.”
Kazuya stepped around the corner, into the shadows. It only took a second for his eyes to fully adjust to the darkness. Judging by the way the attackers blindly held the injured cop down, and removed his clothes, they had done this many times before. It was apparent that they couldn’t see anything because they had yet to notice the extra presence. It didn’t matter. In broad daylight, they wouldn’t stand a chance if there were an entire army of them. Normally they wouldn’t stand a chance against Wulong either, but it was obvious by the way he had ran earlier, that he was intoxicated.
He waited a moment, giving the attackers a chance to notice him, but when they failed, he casually snapped one of their necks, as if it were the most boring thing in the world. The sound of bones snapping attracted one of the other ones attention. A short stubby American looked around frantically, seeming to forget the fact that he couldn’t see a damn thing. He heard footsteps move towards him, and backed into a wall beside a friend of his who was currently leaning over a baseball bat, smoking.
“Hey, Brent, is that you?” the short one asked in the guest’s direction.
“No.” Kazuya smiled before suddenly lashing out, kicking the short man in the head.
As the man sunk to the ground, bits of flesh and crumbling brick from the wall trailed down after him. His face was strangely distorted, as if he had merely a natural disfiguration, when in truth his skull was shattered, Bone poking at the skin, and pinching his features so that they were no longer symmetrical. He was dead immediately upon impact. It almost looked peaceful.
The noise had roused the other men’s senses as they knew something wasn’t right. One of them took out a lighter, only to be jabbed in the neck, sending the person to the ground, in choking spasms and violent convulsions. This succeeded in alerting the others that they were definitely being attacked, the one beside Kazuya dropped the cigarette and gripped the bat tightly, bringing it up to ready it for a swing. All t took was a simple head-but and they were unconscious. There was really no need to kill everyone.
“Mike? … Mike!” Another of the guys started screaming frantically, having stumbled across the short man’s corpse, “Holy shit! Who the fuck did this? Who are you?! Stay the fuck away from me!” And proceeded to turning around and running away.
The rest of the men followed suit, and took off. All except one that Kazuya stopped. It was the one that he had first heard speaking, and the one that seemed to be taking care of Lei Wulong personally. It was only fair that he be taken care of personally himself. After all, it was the golden rule, was it not? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
“Just to be fair, would you like me to make you enjoy this?” Kazuya asked, sweetly.
“What do you want from me?” The guy started crying.
It was a pathetic sight, and Kazuya sneered at the boy, thoroughly disgusted. “I had originally thought I wanted your life, but one so weak as you is hardly worth it. You sicken me. As I watched you foolishly torment this drunken idiot, I had thought you were slightly more of a man than this. What do you plan to do next to dirty your name? Wet your pants?”
“Please, sir, Let me go,” He sobbed in response.
One of Kazuya’s eyes began to glow as he slowly became more angered by the pitiful excuse for a man before him. “As you can probably see, I am not human. I have every intention of making sure you never do anything like this again, and believe me, it is within my power. I want you to go home, go to school, and honour your name. Every single time you stray into this life of unjustly harming others, I assure you, I will be there to correct it. Now go make something of yourself. Do you understand?”
“Good.” Kazuya shoved the boy away, and watched him scramble around the corner, down the street and out of sight.
Lei stirred, shifting slightly and groaning. It wasn’t much of a surprise that he was in pain. He pushed himself up and glared in his rescuers direction. It was surprising at first, until Kazuya remembered that his eye was probably still aglow. “You’re really one to talk about unjustly harming others. I mean, you did just kill two people when you could have easily just spooked them and sent them off.”
“Well this is nice. I just prevented Lei-san from being raped and I’m thanked with a lecture. I should do this good deed thing more often. They were right. Helping people does instil a warm fuzzy feeling. I’m feeling so good about this, I think I’ll go off and skip pointlessly around a colourful meadow, humming some moronic happy tune. Now please excuse me as I do just that,” Kazuya said, nodding goodbye at the cop as he turned and walked briskly away.
“Wait!” Wulong tried to move, only to be hit by a wave of nauseating pain. He frowned when his request was ignored. It wasn’t much of a surprise that someone in the Mishima family would be so cold, in fact, the only strange thing that happened was a Mishima helping him in the first place. “Wait! I’m sorry about what I said. Thank you for… stopping them. Now please, Mishima-san! I need your help. I can’t stand.”
Kazuya stopped, now in the light of a street lamp. Without looking back, he suggested, “Then crawl.” Although, the words were not entirely final, for he did not make a move to leave. He stood silently as if considering whether he should help or not, and awaiting a better reason. It was almost as if he wanted to help, but had to refrain from it in order to be true to his reputation.
“Mishima-san… If you leave me here, I’ll bleed to death, and all your efforts to save me will have been in vain,” He reasoned.
“You’re not bleeding bad enough to die from it,” Kazuya glanced back at the cop, “You’re just too drunk to realise that.”
Wulong pouted, trying once more to get up, and falling pitifully back down. Though, in his current state, he wasn’t aware how obvious it was that he was only inflicting more pain upon himself so that the other man would take pity and help him. Of course, that other man was never very good at pity, and therefore only laughed at the display.
With a forced cough, Wulong pleaded, “Please, Mishima-san. It’s cold…”
“That could easily be resolved by putting your clothes back on.” Kazuya sighed upon seeing Lei fumble with his torn pants. In his state of pain and intoxication, there was very little doubt that he’d be able to clothe himself. “Alright, Lei Wulong,” He walked back over to the other man, and gently lifted him into his arms. “If you were sober in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue right now. Perhaps you should think about that, and drink a little less next time you intend to go out and chase a bunch of horny street punks.”
Kazuya looked up from his newspaper to find Lei Wulong coming in the door of the coffee shop, waving at him. He groaned in annoyance, wondering why this scene reminded him so much of his adolescent days. The last time someone had been so friendly towards him was when Jun was involved. He didn’t need any more friends, and the more he saw that Wulong smiling at him, the more he regretted helping him out. He was not being rational that evening. Every so often, he allowed himself to feel, just to make sure that he was still somewhat human. Unfortunately, Lei’s predicament had to arise during one of those times.
In an attempt to make it apparent that he wasn’t in the mood to chat, Kazuya turned in his chair, facing away from his new follower, and went back to reading the business section. The attempt, however, was lost. Lei Wulong sat down in the empty seat across, and bravely took the paper away. Maybe the cop was aware of the Japanese’s irritation.
Wulong smiled at the glare he received, and started, “I’ve never seen you in a sweater before, let alone a turtleneck. It really looks good on you.”
“Don’t you have someone to arrest? Please do not tell me that world peace has suddenly come into effect because this would be the worse possible moment for such a thing.”
“Actually I’m not on duty right now. Now that I know that you aren’t a complete monster, I thought you could use a friend. Maybe if you actually got along with someone, you wouldn’t look so grumpy all the time. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before. I’ve seen you smirk and laugh when people are getting hurt, but I’ve never seen a real smile from you. You know, a happy smile.”
With a roll of his eyes, Kazuya got to his feet and tossed a couple bills onto the table. “What ever happened to blaming me for your partner’s death? Not that I enjoyed being the target of multiple persons quests for vengeance, but now that I’ve seen the alternative, it suddenly doesn’t seem like a bad thing. How about, instead of being thankful for my helping you, let us focus on the lives I ended while doing so?”
“Why are you afraid of being liked?”
“Because you’re annoying,” Kazuya stated simply, and walked away.
Lei Wulong yawned, not at all insulted. It was as if cruel words from that man were so natural that they were just white noise. He watched that scarred face toss him one more warning look before the Japanese man disappeared out the door. He sat there for awhile, contemplating what it would take to get that man to smile. Even if it were just for a second, only once, it would all be worth it… But why was a simple smile so important to Wulong? It was confusing, especially since it was a Mishima. He satisfied himself with the reasoning that Kazuya had helped him out, and for that, the least he could do was make the man smile.
Giving up was not the way to make a man smile! Drawing that conclusion, Wulong slammed his palms on the table, glaring at the door with determination. No matter what it took, he would make Kazuya Mishima smile. It was owed to the man. The world owed Kazuya, and the only one willing to pay him for it was Wulong, and he knew he just had to do it! It was final.
With all the decisions made, The Chinese cop headed out the door, feeling slightly guilty about not buying anything, but dropping a bit of change into the tip jar anyway. A rush of cold air flooded inside as Wulong made his way out.
A/N: This was originally intended to be a one shot but I got writers block, and I’m quite happy with it so far, and I figured that maybe a little feedback would inspire me. So R&R if you want more!
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