Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ Jakunen Mirai ❯ Curiosity Doesn't Kill, Just Causes Seizures ( Chapter 6 )

A/N: Aight, with this one, I know I babbled. Word count is something like 3 700 or something ridiculous. But I promise it shall prove interesting. And you might find it to be a bit of a thriller if you're more used to the calm of the rest of the story. Nothing jumping out of corners, but similar thrills and spills to that. Aaaaand…two new characters. Have fun with it! Next chapter soon!

***

Jakunen Mirai, Chapter 6

With a wide yawn, Kazuya retreated to his room again, closing the door behind him. Since his living quarters were interconnected with the business area, he had no need for a lot of travel between work and home. One thing he had to admit Heihachi did well was make things convenient for the Mishima family. The mansion, located on the highest hill inside the estate, was large enough to house the entire group of IronFist fighters during each tournament - on one floor. The first floor of the massive home was very hotel-like. The front would remind one of the entryway of a five star hotel lobby, minus the reception and other kiosks. There was a kitchen which remained almost unused, at least to its full potential. When he was hungry, Kazuya would rummage about in the fridge down there, but otherwise there was no real need for it. Connected to it, was a very stately dining hall which doubled as a conference room. The second floor was more like the halls of an expensive hotel, with large wooden varnished doors lining the corridors from end to end. Kazuya's living quarters were at the very end of the hall, opposite a door which opened out onto the balcony, and were no different from the others; the typical dark heavy curtains, high ceilings, ornate decorations on the roof and walls, plush carpeting. The two walls cornering the large double bed had tack-marks here and there; a good guess that this room might have been the same room he had as a child.

As Kazuya pulled off his suit jacket and shirt, he made his way over to a chair beside the wardrobe and dumped the clothes lazily over it. There was a pair of simple satin boxers sitting on the seat of the chair, which immediately got covered when the tie and shirt got dumped over them. But Kazuya wasn't completely lazy, since he could never be bothered hiring someone to clean his room regularly, he did that himself - his mother had made sure of it from an early age - he untied his shoes and placed them together under the chair, rather than just pulling them off and throwing them in random directions. He glanced down at his watch. Two in the afternoon. Looking out of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, he sighed disdainfully; hot summer's afternoon outside, with not a cloud in the sky. No wonder he was so sleepy. Heat and lack of sleep do that to anyone, and he's only human.

A moment later, he looked about, wondering where on Earth he put his boxer shorts. They weren't on the end of the bed…weren't sitting over the side of the chest of drawers (a common place for him to throw things when he's in a hurry) and they weren't in the washing basket in his bathroom from what he could see. Then he remembered; the chair. Rolling his eyes and growling at his own lack of concentration, he lifted the clothes he'd just finished dumping on the chair, found the shorts, and pulled them on before he forgot he was holding onto them. As he did, he found himself staring at that awful scar on his chest, and the few much smaller ones across his arms, legs and abdomen. He frowned. Why did G-Corporation have to make him so ugly? As he headed toward the curtains, he caught his reflection in the glossy glass covering of a painting sitting peacefully on the wall. That image was one he'd go to great lengths every day to avoid; he'd never look in the mirror if he didn't have to, he avoided looking into glass up close…because in his eyes, in light of what he looked like in the past, his face was terribly ugly. The slightly receded hairline, eyebrows which, no matter how hard he tried, never seemed to leave their partial scowl, those disfiguring scars, and his left eye…red never was his favourite colour. He outwardly winced as the image passed him by, putting him in an even worse mood than before.

Daydreaming about how nice it would be to have a holiday, or to sleep on the beach at a nice resort…aw heck, about a new life, being another person entirely…he drew the curtains shut, and lay down on the bed with a soft sigh.

He lay on his back for a few minutes, thinking sleep would come easily with his level of tiredness.

Ten minutes later, he growled and rolled over onto his side, glaring at the clock.

After watching the LED display on the clock for a further five minutes, he sighed again and rolled over onto his back again, spreadeagled. The heat. It was the heat. Sitting up, he reached for the air conditioner control on the bedside table, and flicked it on. Smirking softly, he flopped back down onto his back, and let his eyelids droop.

As soon as he did, Jin's face appeared above him, shouting something almost incomprehensible about Mishimas.

He shook his head and rolled over onto his other side, curling his arms beneath the pillow. It suddenly seemed awfully hot, even though the air conditioner was running. He ignored it. Instead, he busied himself staring sleepily at the scars on the upper arm in front of his face. There were only two or three on that arm, and they'd faded over the last ten years. But still, who really wanted to look like a grumpy old scar-covered nobody? He sighed yet again, and shut his eyes, willing himself to sleep before he depressed himself even more.

***

Sheree glanced over the coffee cup at Yuki again, and giggled. The slender Japanese girl opposite raised her dark brown eyes to meet her English friend's, and perked a finely manicured eyebrow. The blonde smirked.

"Yuki, you're dreaming again, aren't you?" The English accent in her Japanese was obvious, but likewise, her Japanese was fluent enough to be perfectly understood by the rest of the Japanese-speaking employees in the Mishima Zaibatsu.

Yuki placed her tea down and blushed. "Yes, you caught me."

Sheree nodded her head in the direction of a thin-looking Asian man sitting at the bar, eating a California Roll. "Thinking hentai thoughts about him again, huh?"

If that was said a second sooner, Yuki would have had that last mouthful of tea coming out her nose. "Say what? No! No I…well…" Sheree grinned again.

"You know, in the UK, there's something we call infatuation…" She said that last word in English.

Yuki blinked, trying to make her blush leave her cheeks. "I know I know, okay, I admit it…" She smiled shyly, looking down at the table almost shamefully. "I think he's nice."

"Nice? Just…nice?" Sheree looked almost disappointed.

"No! I meant…well…" Yuki seemed extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

The blonde woman patted her hand. "Don't worry, I know what it feels like to fall head over heels for a guy. And that guy over there…he's quite attractive." Yuki blushed even more and smiled in relief.

"You know, I'd better get back to work, my lunch break ends in another five minutes."

"Good point Yuki…well, I'll see you after your shift ends."

The Japanese nodded stood, picking up her handbag. "Alright. Have fun…printing legal documents."

Sheree rolled her eyes and stood. Once she did, she felt it again; that whole uneasiness about being half a head taller than most of the men in the room. She was only just above average in the UK. "Ah yes, delightful legal documents! I'm so excited! I doubt I can wait another hour…" She loved long lunch breaks. Pity not everyone else was so lucky.

The two parted company, and Yuki headed back up to the twelfth floor, while Sheree went to explore the executive offices. Since she'd only been here a few months - just before the company had that uproar and change of management - she hadn't explored the whole facility. She took the lift down to the ground floor, and walked beneath the short pavilion to the next building. She'd seen it from the 20th floor where her office was; it was a four-storey mansion with aspects about it from both the western and Japanese culture. She'd always wanted to go inside. But she never quite understood why no one else dared to. It was almost as if it were haunted or something.

She opened the glass doors and wandered inside. And what a stunning sight she encountered; it would seem the main doors from the northern side opened right up into a grandiose conference room. Her blue eyes quickly scanned the area, drinking it in like a sweet and exotic treat. Her curious nature drew her on, however. She walked around the table, and opened the wooden doors that led away from the table. A short way away, she saw an expensive hotel set-up; the whole gold and marble look, with every detail made to look a million dollars. No wonder they call them the executive offices, she thought to herself. The only way to explore the offices would seem to be to go upstairs, and that's exactly what she did.

After she made her way up the carpeted stairs she got the distinct feeling she wasn't really meant to be in here. It seemed even more like a hotel than ever, with wooden doors from end to end of several corridors. But she wanted to explore further; it was in her blood. Taking a breath and steeling her nerves - which shouldn't have been goofing about in the first place, it's just a mansion - she walked to the first door, and turned the handle. Locked.

Rolling her eyes, Sheree walked to the one opposite, and turned the handle. Nope, that was locked too.

Time to play the Scooby-Doo Door Game, Sheree, she told herself, and repeated the process with all the doors down that corridor.

Finally, one of them opened. The one right at the end of the hall, facing a glass door which led on to what looked like a balcony.

Silently, she pushed the heavy wooden door open, and looked inside the dark room. Seemed very much like a hotel inside. She looked up at the door again, and noticed a few symbols in Katakana cut into the wood. Squinting at them, she read them aloud in her head. Kazuya…Mi…Mishima. Mishima? Sounded familiar. No, not because it was the company's name. Wasn't the CEO's name Heihachi Mishima? Maybe they were related. But then again, Mishima wasn't an uncommon name, and this may just be a higher-ranking employee's office.

After her eyes adjusted to the dark, Sheree stepped silently inside the cool room, not opening the door any wider than she needed to. Seeing nothing of interest at first, she turned, disappointed, to leave and explore another floor. But then something caught her eye. Someone lying asleep on a bed. And it only took her a few seconds to realise that the man lying on the bed, face-up, had to own the most gorgeous body she'd ever seen that was actually real.

He took a deeper breath, and her heart skipped a beat. He probably had one of those deep sexy voices, she assumed, from the sound of that sigh. For a moment she was scared to move, and merely watched the rise and fall of the powerful chest from where she stood in front of the door. There was a darker area of flesh down the centre of the man's chest which intrigued her. After standing there a while, making sure he was deep in his sleep, she walked slowly toward the bed, making certain she didn't make a sound. Her eyes adjusted more to the dark, and she realised it was a long scar that had that darker shade. It was wider than any scar she'd seen on anyone before, and definitely longer. Whatever caused it would clearly have caused a hell of a lot of pain and trauma. But something about him just seemed to scream that this man was a warrior. The numerous scars over the rest of his body perhaps. Or perhaps it was his sheer size; he was very well muscled for a Japanese, but not to the point he seemed like a western bodybuilder, and he was much taller than most. Almost six foot was her guess.

Up till now, she hadn't paid any attention to his face. Realising this, she looked down at it, and almost felt sorry for him for some unknown reason. There was another scar on each of his cheeks, and from what she could see from beneath streaks of raven hair hanging over his face, he was an oddly handsome man. Those brows, she could tell, would be pretty fearsome to have scowling at you, but for now, there was something satanically angelic about them. The pronounced cheekbones gave him a look she interpreted as distinguished, and to her delight, he didn't have the typical face of most of the men she'd seen around here; he actually had a jawbone, and his chin was slightly squared off. That exact combination of features was deadly attractive, and it was easy to see that in his waking hours, he'd be just plain deadly. But for now, he looked almost innocent, and so peaceful. Her hand grew a mind of its own and reached down to touch his lips, which were slightly parted. To her surprise, they weren't hardened or chapped as she would have assumed. He looked to her to be perhaps in his late thirties, early forties, and she'd expected harsher skin. Realising what she was doing, she froze. He merely raised his eyebrows slightly in his sleep, and closed his mouth, taking a slightly deeper breath through his nose. With her heart rate going up at a vast rate, she moved her hand and clasped it in the other. She was frightened, but she didn't know why.

Sheree's logic finally kicked in, and she turned and headed for the door, the brief feel of his skin still lingering on her fingertips. Stealthily, she closed the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down at her watch; 3pm. almost time for work again. She was about to head back downstairs, when, to her horror, she heard an alarm clock ringing. From inside the room she just left! Panic rose inside her chest, and she dashed around the nearest corner, afraid of being caught. It finally came to her that this entire floor was bedrooms, apartments, and living quarters. And the full meaning of the name on the door came to her now; what with the 'change of management' and all, it would seem that old Heihachi had died…and his son had inherited the Zaibatsu. That man in there was a Mishima. He was also young enough, so it would seem, to be the son of someone of Heihachi's generation. That man, Kazuya Mishima, was the CEO of the most powerful company in the world! Suddenly the fingers she'd touched him with felt electrified, as if she'd touched raw power. She never thought men of power were even allowed to be so attractive!

Fear gripped her heart again when the alarm was stopped, and she heard movement from behind the door. Her best bet was to get out of there…she couldn't risk getting caught and losing her job. Living in Japan was expensive, and she didn't want to have to go back to England. Very slowly, she headed towards the door, taking steps so slow and light no one would have heard them if their ears were attached to her shoes. She didn't even realise that she'd taken two minutes to get down the hall and to the top of the stairs. Just as she reached the bottom step, she heard a heavy wooden door creak open, and footsteps fro upstairs. She panicked again, seeing nothing but marble floors ahead of her. Then she noticed the area between the wall and the base of the stairs was carpeted and secluded. She quickly skipped around and crouched as silently and as far from view as she could, as the footsteps got closer and closer. A few seconds later, the steps quickened, and resounded against the wall she was leaning against. He was coming downstairs! She held her breath, and watched, her eyes filling with tears against her will. She'd never been so frightened in her life.

The noise of the footsteps quietened as the man walked the flat area between levels. As he headed down the second section of the flight of stairs, she watched him, petrified. The side view she caught of his face was a lot more passive than she'd expected; though she noticed his hair was pulled back in a single spike behind his head, and the eye she saw was a crimson red. Crimson red on a Japanese?! She couldn't hold back a slight gasp, but quickly pressed her hand to her lips, her heart almost stopping in her chest.

Hearing the noise, Kazuya stopped as he reached the last step, and rested a hand on the banister as he looked about for a cause of the sound. Seeing nothing, he shrugged it off and continued towards the conference room door.

Sheree breathed a sigh of relief when he gripped the door handle. Hearing that too, he paused again, and turned half way towards her. All the colour drained from her face as he seemed to look directly at her. While she felt a shock of absolute fear, she also felt a strange tingle of desire; the slight confusion on his features just seemed so much more animated than the passive innocence she saw while he was asleep. He didn't seem to see her after a few seconds; he looked the other way, then out a window, and back to the door. He shook his head and sighed, and headed out the door, throwing the heavy wooden object aside effortlessly, as if it were made of nothing. And to think she'd strained with it!

She waited at least a minute from the time he was gone before she stood up. That was the most terrifying thing she'd ever gotten herself into in her entire life! She dragged herself to her feet, then walked out toward the office building looming over the mansion. So far unseen, she passed through the lobby and pressed the button for the elevator. No doubt that terrifyingly handsome man was far from here by now, she'd given him enough time. And now the elevator was taking forever. Just brilliant. From the corner of her eye, she saw a man walk past. Heh, he was a few inches shorter than her, poor chap. A little further behind was another man. She could tell without looking at him that he was wearing a dark blue suit. Heh nice, someone finally has a bit of flair around this place. After another few seconds, the elevator still hadn't arrived, and she began to tap her foot, after folding her arms over her chest.

"Likes to take its time, doesn't it?" She almost literally jumped out of her skin. She hadn't realised whoever it was had stopped to wait for the elevator too. She felt a buzz ride through her body. The male voice was rather deep, and smooth. Confident, but oddly enough, sounded just a little dark, and even empty, void of any real passion. He obviously spoke perfect English, and had learned from someone with an American accent, but there was still an exotic hint of Japanese in it. She smiled and glanced up at the figure, but as soon as she did, her eyes widened, and her heart seized up on her once again. He was a little taller than her, almost six foot. Hair smoothed back into a single peak. It was…him! But this time he was on her left; his right eye seemed to be a perfectly normal dark brown. And thank God for her own ego, he was looking at the elevator doors rather than at her, or he'd probably split his sides laughing by now at the shock-horror expression on her face. Blushing heavily, she regained her composure, and nodded nervously, averting her eyes from his.

"I've never known it to take so long before…" Her voice was shakier than she'd have liked it to be, a little high pitched - but that's what nervousness always did to her. It was hard to speak Japanese when you were so jittery your jaw was shaking, but she pulled it off. When he looked at her out of surprise, she smiled, keeping her eyes on the lift, just as the elevator light finally came on, arrow pointing up.

He stepped forward, politely motioning for her to enter the lift first. Of course she didn't hesitate, because that would be rude, and being rude to the CEO of the company you work for is never a good idea. He entered after her, pressing the button for the sixth floor. She pressed the button for the twelfth.

After a short silence, Kazuya broke the ice. Out of nothing better to do, Sheree assumed. "You're the first Westerner I've encountered that doesn't torture the language." This time, he spoke in Japanese.

Inwardly, she shuddered at the delightful deepness of his voice. "I would rather not humiliate myself by speaking a language I didn't really understand sir; I've been studying it for the past ten years."

He smiled fractionally, and nodded, just as the elevator doors opened to the sixth floor. "Very good."

After the doors closed again, she sighed and slumped against the back wall. She doubted she'd be the same ever again, after today. Good thing the day was more than half over. Just how to cope with tomorrow, however, was the next question.