A/N: Now I know this is short,
but blame a writers block. Sorry it took so long for such a crappy update… Well
as I usually point out… I try not to make a habit of responding to reviews, but
this time I just couldn’t help it.
Sapphire17: I hope you enjoy
this, my dear, because it’s all for you! MWAHAHAHA!!!!! ;) ;)
Kazuya-sama: LOL… I’m almost
afraid to continue this ficcie… I don’t wanna disappoint you. I feel like after
that review, I should just stop writing because I can’t possibly get a better
review than that! I think I’m in love with you! LOL!
MooNTeARZ: “He's like a...like a...well some kind
of warm fuzzy/ dangerous animal...like a puppy with a shot gun or something”
LMAO. That was absolutely HILARIOUS!
Especially with the mental picture I got from it. Maybe I’ll use that… No I’m
just kidding! I’d like to though…
Disclaimer: Tekken does not
really belong to me, despite my random claims. It belongs to Namco. I want to
say more here but I can’t think of anything else… I want to make this
disclaimer long because I dunno how to start this chappie lol. I’m a cheater!
MWEHEHEHEHEEEEE!
To Feel Again
Chapter 02
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 naďve, 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?”
TBC…..