Disclaimer: Tekken and Tekken characters are the property of Namco Limited. This is nonprofit fan fiction.
Warnings: Slash, Mokujin/Tetsujin.
This features a romantic relationship between two inanimate objects considered male for the purposes of this fic.
Hard Wood
by Salysha
Mokujin detected no inherent wickedness from the entity in front of him, only youthful belligerence...
"I see a puppet too big for his roots."
...and unpleasantness.
Mokujin observed the cast iron training dummy in front of him: the arrogant tilt of his head, the glowing yellow beads for eyes, the scornful pipe of a nose.
"Your disposition is most unnecessary, stove," he stated. Despite what he perceived as lower level of intelligence from an artificial machination created by man, the cast iron dummy seemed to have no trouble understanding his communication. Intriguing.
"Tetsujin," the iron man hissed. Irritant metallic clanks accompanied the message.
"You have a name?" Mokujin said.
"Yes, I have a name." The iron man was definitely annoyed now. "Do you?"
"I am called Mokujin," he answered solemnly.
Clearly, the introduction hadn't been anticipated. Tetsujin brought a fist to his hip with an annoyed jangle. "You are in my way."
"Explain."
"This is my tournament."
"Incorrect. I was here first." In an afterthought, Mokujin added, "I serve a higher purpose."
Tetsujin gave an angry clank. "Who says only you do?"
"You were made; I was born." Mokujin added neutrally. "Animated beings created by man are unnatural."
"Says a wooden puppet."
"Your lacking civility strengthens my resolve. You are most unprincipled." For spite, Mokujin added, "Fledgling."
"Pompous piece of wood!"
The grinding friction could no longer be settled with words alone. Blazing self-righteousness, the two assumed fighting positions and prepared to fight the matter to a resolve.
Neither got too far. Horrible, creaking cacophony broke off their fight before it had a chance to begin. The noise was painful, like an engine starved of oil or a cam being bent out of shape. Twisting cogwheels of rusted metal grinding against each other ineffectively. Mokujin and Tetsujin turned in time to see shining structure that resembled a wooden sketch doll fall to the ground and hopelessly dismantle itself.
Combot.
The Silver-Haired Devil in a tuxedo came running after Combot, but the damage was already done. Unstable, mechanical steps had ended in a terminal state. It was no great loss to humanity, but the man seemed affected by it. He dropped on one knee on the ground.
"I have spent so much time on you. Why won't you work?" he said softly. His question went unanswered. The man shook himself and got up. "Take him off," he said to the two humanoids who had accompanied him. He left and let the advanced models carry away their fallen brethren.
Finally left alone, they could have continued from where they had left off, but the yen was gone. Mokujin dropped his hands to hang loosely along his sides, pondering his next course of action. It turned out the action wasn't his to take. New sounds broke off the silence.
Short, jingly bursts.
Tetsujin was laughing.
"They are so mechanical," he said between guffaws.
Mokujin stared at him hard, but he detected no ill will. "Unadaptable," he agreed.
"Robots..."
Mokujin made an approving sound.
"Not like us," Tetsujin said, and suddenly, his mien changed. He lowered his fists and stared at Mokujin.
"No."
"We look alike," Tetsujin said hesitantly, as though only becoming aware of the fact. His fighting stance had dropped. He drew closer, obliquely, hedging. His iron mask shone in the sun. "You are not so different from me."
"Your design is... aesthetic," Mokujin said. He felt daring for stating it openly, as though touching something he didn't quite understand.
Tetsujin admired his texture, the shining red eyes. Similar to the flames that had forged him. They were a limen, but they pushed him over the limit.
"May... I touch?" Tetsujin offered hesitantly.
"I am lonely." A single, sorrowed wooden click.
Tetsujin came closer. He felt a light hand along Mokujin's arm. He looked up and found himself buried in the fiery red eyes, but they were not wielding the flames of fire, not the detrimental kind.
"You are warm."
Mokujin was encouraged. He ran his fist over the smooth, shining armor. It was an alien sensation, tingly and sleek. "You do not feel unpleasant."
Even though Mokujin settled for little exploration, Tetsujin touched his arm again, and Mokujin didn't withdraw. Tetsujin ran a hand over his arm.
"Puppet," he mumbled. Softer, musing metal dings. Delighted.
He rubbed a hand along Mokujin's arm. His eyes searched for Mokujin's and found his own reflected back from them, in yellow rings that dilated and drowned out the fiery red as he kept touching. Mokujin's sharp knocks had softened to pleased wooden chimes, until a terrified clink stopped them.
Mokujin had caught on fire.
THE END
Fiery thanks to Gypsie (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!
Published September 9, 2013.