Theme 16: Invincible, Unrivaled

The Air of the High Places

"I need to help you," she told him, "like I need to breathe."

It was such a strange thing for someone to say to him that Kazuya didn't know what to make of it. He had been sorely tempted to strike her, but she didn't appear the least bit afraid of him. Violence toward her didn't stand to gain him anything, which meant he didn't know what to do. Kazuya was someone who had spent his whole life plotting out his possible courses of action and following through on what gave him the most satisfaction with the least sacrificed on his own part. He wanted strength without working for it, power without responsibility. Devil gave him those things. Her assistance was unneeded. Kazuya told her so, mocking her words.

"So suffocate." His tone said quite plainly that the conversation was over and she stared after him as he walked away, the tails of his trench coat billowing out behind him as usual.

This was the black-haired Japanese woman who entered his tournament because he had invited her. Kazuya knew the 3WC wanted proof that the Mishima Zaibatsu was involving in the smuggling of endangered animals. He watched this woman struggle for what he purposely kept just out of her reach for entertainment. She had been frustrated and he wanted to see how angry he could make her. How much can he taunt her without making it look like he was admitting everything she would accuse him of? How much could he turn her stomach? What would it take to make that desperate, crazed look in the Indian's eyes appear in hers? If he stood before her, when would she abandon everything else just to attack him?

Kazuya wanted her to hate him, attack him and lose. From so many people, it was all he wanted. The finality of knowing that he is as invincible as he thinks he should be, as unparalleled as is his right. Kazuya has never questioned why he has this right but accepts it as truth regardless. His world is not one that requires questions, just like it is not one that requires the help of anyone but Devil. The black-haired woman could not give him anything he wanted, just like the winged woman could not. He had had no use for women since he cried at his mother's funeral, waiting for her to kiss his tears away and finding himself beaten for the weakness instead. They had their own goals they wanted to force upon him uselessly. Take away his meaning, that knowledge that nothing can stand against him, for what?

"What is your oxygen," he almost considered asking her, once when she was far away from him, so he did not ask and was later glad for that, "my pain or my deeds?"

This woman is below him, he knew, because he has watched her fight. He found her style interesting—she kicks her left leg back when throwing a punch with her right fist and she back handsprings away from her opponent when she wants distance—but ultimately, it was lacking in power. She herself has the strength to throw and juggle, to snap bones or rip them out of their sockets. Kazuya suspected she might have lasted longer in the tournament itself had she focused her training more on using strength than gaining speed. Being fast is a fine foil to a point, but it only takes one good hit to slow her down and someone strong can get through her defenses quickly. She was stubborn though, and didn't know when to quit. Kazuya would have respected her for that, but she was beaten into unconsciousness in her Quarter-Finals match.

The tournament would be over soon. He would probably never have any reason to see her again. She might even leave once the staff medics gave her the go-ahead. But then again, she might be too stubborn to go crawling back to her bosses at the 3WC and tell them she failed. How could he be expected to predict the actions of someone he didn't even know? Certainly, Kazuya had never expected her to come to him, telling him that she needed to help him. Help him with what, anyway? He had assumed she was after some sort of moral change given her line of work and organization. For all he knew, she could have been requesting a job. He didn't know how a woman's mind worked and didn't care to ask either of the women he actually knew. He doubted Anna Williams could legally be considered a woman (though she recently had celebrated her twentieth birthday, Kazuya still thought of her as the teenager he met two years ago when he came home from the streets) and he didn't particularly think Kunimitsu was worth talking to concerning any subject. The kunoichi was willing to part with any information, no matter how mundane, only on a strictly need-to-know basis. In general, he thought it was a good quality for an underling to have, but she set her ninja mind-games on him as well, so he rarely had the patience to talk to her, outside of giving orders.

Kazuya approached Jun Kazama when she was lying unconscious where her opponent had left her. He crouched beside her for a moment, wanting to ask what her business was with him, but when she showed no signs of waking up soon, he supposed it was best that he drop the whole thing.

When her eyes fluttered open, Jun realized she wasn't where she had fallen in battle, but someplace unfamiliar. The view was spectacular from the roof of the high rise, though, and had she known it was one of Kazuya's favorite places, she wouldn't have seen any reason to question why.

"What do you want with me?" Somewhere between his mouth and his brain, Kazuya's question had reworded itself and left out 'business' entirely.

Jun sat up fully, noticing she had been in a half way reclining position supported by his arm. His frown looked unnatural, as though the human face had not been constructed to frown quite that deeply and his eyebrows were drawn in such a way that looked like he'd never been relaxed a moment in his life. His suit showed no indication of the violent transformation from man to demon and back again that took place while she was sleeping. If she asked how they came to be on the roof of his building—just one of many that belonged to him, actually—and he answered truthfully that they had flown, she probably wouldn't believe that he had sprouted wings from his back. Of course, that didn't matter.

"I told you," Jun smiled at him, glad that he was finally talking to her, when any other woman would have been thinking he could rape her and kill her and no one would ever know, "I want to help you."

Kazuya could have asked, 'With what?' and gotten an answer that could potentially be anything from income taxes to exorcism. He could have asked 'Why?' and been simply told 'You're you.' Instead he said, "Oh," and she held his hand.