**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
That guy had to be around there somewhere. It was the 16th floor of a cold, dark office building. The other floors were bright and bustling with activity. Staff were chipper and excited as they decorated for Christmas, and spoke about their plans for their long weekend. It was unusual that an employer as cold and obdurate as Mishima Kazuya would allow them a break at Christmas when most of the more friendly employers would make them work.
The closer Lei Wulong had came to the top floor, the more the atmosphere changed. The actual office of Kazuya was on the Eighth floor, but he hadn't been there. Following his own methods of hunting the mysterious man down, Wulong easily narrowed it down to the top two floors. They were the darkest, and it seemed the higher up he went, the more gothic and surreal the building became.
It was lonely up there. There hadn't been a staff member sighted since the 14th floor, and the only light was that of dim lamps hung every so often along the hallway. They were turned down to be just barely bright enough to see where you were walking. There were no decorations. There wasn't even anything to reduce the echo that Wulong's soft steps made. It was hard to believe this place was even occupied.
A lonely candle lit up a small library. Lei Wulong peered through the foggy glass of the large French doors, but couldn't see any occupants. He found himself wondering why someone would leave a lit candle alone in a room full of old dusty, extremely flammable books. Perhaps it was only the man of the law in him that was worried about that, but...
"Do you have an appointment?"
Lei spun around to find the very man he sought standing right behind him. He hadn't heard anyone approach which was strange since the tiniest sound echoed throughout the empty hallway. "Where... Where did you come from?" Wulong stammered, looking around for an open door, because surely if Kazuya had closed the door he came out of, at least the click would have made a noise.
Kazuya smirked and gently pushed open the door across from the library. It was a swinging door that did not actually even close. He was a little amused by the fact that he had startled his guest without even trying, but not quite amused enough to rub it in.
Through the swinging door was a hidden flight of stairs. Kazuya turned and went back into the room from which he supposedly came without another word. From Wulong's perspective, Kazuya hadn't instructed him to follow or to leave, so he was left standing in the middle of the corridor. Reaching the second stair up, Kazuya realized that the officer was hesitant to follow him, and decided to speak, "Lei-san. You have the nerve to intrude upon my workplace and bravely make your way up to an 'employees only' area just to, as I assume, annoy me further. So why is it that you are too afraid to take the next logical step and come with me when I clearly haven't given you any reason not to?"
"It's just," Wulong started, frowning, "Aren't you angry?"
"Is that what you were going for?"
"No, I... " Wulong paused, silently trying to think of a better response, having expected to be questioned about his reasoning for showing up instead of being welcomed right in. Even when Kazuya wasn't doing anything cruel or sadistic, he was extremely intimidating. That man may have saved his life, but he still was part demon, and couldn't be trusted. So why did Wulong want so badly to go against his common sense? Why did he want to be able to trust him?
Kazuya, once again, started up the stairs. Without looking back, he said, "I don't suppose you've come this far to assault me with incomplete sentences, so you might as well come farther, and follow."
Taking that as the closest thing to an invitation he was likely to receive, Wulong followed, hesitantly. From what he knew, there was nothing Kazuya could gain from trapping or hurting him, so he was relatively safe for the time being. Maybe he was even lucky enough to catch the demonic Mishima in an actual good mood.
At the top of the stairs, a heavy door opened out onto the roof. It was windy and very chilly. Wulong pulled his jacket closed, and hugged himself for warmth, but refused to complain. He quietly watched Kazuya walk over to the edge, leisurely leaning on the rail, completely unbothered by the weather as if he were in his element. The wind gushed upward, pushing Wulong forward, and whipping his hair around. He pulled another elastic out of his pocket and tied the bottom of the pony tail to try to avoid a hellish night with a comb.
Once at the edge, Wulong gripped the rail tightly, feeling as though the wind could pick him up and throw him off any second. He noticed in a moment, that Kazuya's hair was also being tossed about, random ebony locks falling into the Japanese face, and to the side. Kazuya actually looked like an ordinary man. For once he didn't look invincible and utterly untouchable.
Aware of the scrutinizing gaze he was receiving, Kazuya gave Wulong a quizzical glance. "I have reason to doubt that someone of your stature would be in love with me; now why must you examine me so closely, Lei-san? Is it because you suspect I'm up to something, or do I look different now than I do from afar?"
"Why didn't you kick me out?"
"If I did that, would you have given up?" Kazuya inquired, staring down at the bustling world below. "You strike me as someone who doesn't take no for an answer, and I've learned the hard way that it's pointless to fight your type. Actually, now that I think about it, you remind me of Jun, only minus a few active brain cells and seemingly less attractive."
Wulong frowned down at the dizzying heights, knowing he shouldn't allow the other man's words to get to him, but not able to stop from feeling insulted and bitter toward that comment. "I just thought you could use a friend... "
Kazuya laughed cruelly, and turned his back to the view in order to look at Wulong without having hair in his face, obscuring his vision. "What on earth makes you think that even if I was willing to socialize, I'd ever even consider being 'friends' with you?"
Normally those words would also be insulting, but Wulong smiled in response. It had suddenly become obvious that Kazuya was trying to insult him, and the hint of defensiveness in that last line was proof. Wulong narrowed his eyes, questionably as he asked, "When was the last time you ever actually had someone you could talk to?"
"Oh so you pity me, Lei-san?" Kazuya responded. His brow rose in amusement. "Now that is something I would never have suspected from an Interpol officer. You do not have to worry yourself with my social life. I have no desire to lower myself to such a degree in order to make friends with naïve, dimwitted professionals like the man I see here before me. Now is that all you've come here for? Let us not forget that I do have a life beyond beating off sympathetic do-gooders with a stick."
"Do you have to be like this? All I wanted was to see you again!" Wulong frowned, studying the other man even harder as if trying to solve an impossible puzzle, "How did Jun ever get through to you? How did she figure you out?"
With a sudden burst of rage, Kazuya shot forward, mercilessly wrapping his hands around Wulong's throat. "I don't know who you think you are, mentioning her name so casually," He whispered venomously, "but if you wish to hold onto your meaningless life, do not do it again. Now, I hope for your sake that this is perfectly understood."
Desperately trying to breathe, the helpless Chinese cop released his grip on the rail to attempt at prying the strong vice-like fingers off his neck. Once absolutely sure that the message had been sent, the irritant Mishima released Wulong, and turned, ready to walk away. The only think stopping him was the unfamiliar urge to look back and make sure that he hadn't injured the other man.
Unfortunately, Upon being freed, Lei Wulong lost his balance. His arms flailed about, trying to latch onto something – anything – only to get him fistfuls of nothing. He fell backward, over the edge, grabbing a hold of the rail at the last moment. As a result of the endless sleet, the rail was wet, only causing him to painfully flip around, twisting and dislocating his arm, before making him lose hold altogether. Surely it was over.
As he began his descent into oblivion, headfirst, all that occurred to him, was that he had failed to get that one all important smile. There was no life flashing before his eyes, no thoughts of people he would miss, or deeper instantaneous soul-searching. Perhaps that would all happen when he was further into the fall. When he was closer to the end.
Eyes closed, he came to realize that he was no longer falling. Was that it? He didn't even get to experience the full effect? So why was he still able to contemplate these things? After a moment, he drew in a deep gasp of air, and his eyes shot open. Kazuya was nearly over the rail, himself, clinging to the dangling Chinese by the leg, with such fierce determination. His eyes were set, and didn't seem so cold as usual, but he was scowling, as if putting the blame of this incident on the victim.
"Must you put me in this position? It seems awfully convenient, as if calling my bluff after that little outburst I just had."
Wulong took a few more deep breaths, allowing his mind to calm. He had no desire to humiliate himself with panicked words. Since he had no doubt that Kazuya would help him, it was not difficult to regain confidence. "Then why don't you just let me fall? Nobody knows I'm here, so you could easily cover it up as a suicide... "
Kazuya sneered, pulling Wulong up, almost violently. "I'm not a murderer," he hissed, viciously.
A moment of silence passed, neither parties able to come up with words that wouldn't jeopardize the Japanese pride. Tension thickened rapidly as the awkwardness of the situation angered Kazuya to an almost lethal extent. But staying cool enough to control this anger, he swiftly spun around, his semi-short hair blowing off to the other and becoming more chaotic. Any person unfamiliar with the man would be trembling in fear, wishing the threat would disappear, but Wulong knew Kazuya wasn't the man society thought he was. This guy was much more.
Having already been saved twice by the stubbornly contemptible man, Wulong couldn't help but feel a strange fondness. He badly wanted Kazuya to know exactly how he felt. Maybe if the forbidding man was aware of it, he wouldn't be so resistant. With those hopes in mind, Wulong stood carefully, staying low to the ground for balance, and quickly rushed to prevent the man from getting too far away.
"Where are you going?" Wulong asked, voice filled to the brim with admiration.
Kazuya glowered at the cop. Quietly, he answered, "I don't know if you've noticed, Lei-san, but I just happen to have a job. Plotting random scandals among complete strangers, and brooding alone in the shadows, does not occupy all my time, believe it or not. Now you should be having that arm looked after. There's an infirmary on the fifth floor. By all means, give the nurses something to do."
Absently, Wulong reached out with his good arm, gingerly touching the scar on Kazuya's cheek. "Everyone has been so cruel to you. My arm hurts, but it doesn't even compare in the slightest to what you've been through... "
"Pain is not important to me," Kazuya stated, grabbing Wulong's wrist and holding it firmly away from his face. "In case you missed it, I am not human."
"Yes you are," The officer replied, lost in thought.
"Lei-san... What is it that you want from me, because this little exchange is wearing on my nerves?"
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