Mistake

A/N: Kaz/Jun, delivered as promised. Oh, and Namco executives will be summarily hanged, if at some point in future games/movies, it is revealed that dear Kazuya raped equally beloved Jun, so help me God. That's right; the ownership of Tekken should be the least of Namco's concerns now!

Yakushima

He noticed her on his first day, standing shyly to one side of the porch that overlooked the garden, watching him with ill-disguised interest as he went about that morning's business: A round-faced child, with large, laughing eyes and a porcelein-like complexion that failed to mask the rosy hue of her cheeks. Her raven hair was drawn up into a shiny bun, with two loose strands framing her face, in a style prevailent among young girls about to attend traditional ceremonies. Her peacock-blue kimono,an equisite thing of rich, flowing silk that depicted white cranes and gentle cascades of water, was girdled at the waist by an elaborate pink obi, and its sleeves were so wide, they practically smothered her small, doll-like hands, which were clasped together demurely.

He took all those details in with one cool, appraising look, and when she finally caught his eye, her face flooded with colour and she beat a hasty exit towards the safety of the house, her insufferably pinchy shoes clattering against the smoothly polished wood. His heavy brows knitted into a deep frown directed at her retreating figure.

Mistake, he decided. Mine.

And why was that?

Simply because he had somehow managed to scare off the only living person in this world who seemed to view him as an object of curiosity, rather than one of fear or contempt.

And that knowledge left him feeling strangely wistful, a feeling he promptly banished before it had even begun to register.

XXXXXXX

After that little incident, he paid her no heed. How could he, after all? He was the fifteen-year-old squire of one of the most prestigious families of Japan, with a single obsession dominating his mind and consuming his soul: Proving to his tyrannical father that he was worthy of the name "Mishima". Pausing to wonder about some fancily dressed girl was certainly not part of his agenda. But ironically, it was his feud with his father that had led to this encounter.

Heihachi had presented him with an ultimatum: He could improve his performance, or he could allow himself to be permanently disinherited, in favour of Lee Chaolan. This attempt at blackmail had been lost to Kazuya's seemingly endless reserves of apathy, but Heihachi seemed loath to give up on him. By God, he would make him shape up, the old man promised him over and over again. Even if he had to wash his hands off him and place him under a different mentor's tutelage.

And so, Kazuya had been sent off West, to the Kansai Province of Japan, which was rife with the influence of the Kazamas. He was to become a ward of that family, for an indefinite stretch of time, and to train under their squire and heir. Kazuya had accepted this sentence with the same level of indifference he treated to just about everything else. And now there he was, tuning out the loud and incessant chatter of that little girl as she prattled on and on about wild bunnies and butterflies and oddly shaped clouds and who knew what other petty little things, to her petty little friends. And all because he had underestimated his father's determination.

Mistake, he thought fiercely. His. And he'll pay...

XXXXXXX

Jinichiro Kazama was not a man to be trifled with. At twenty years of age, he was already the quartermaster and manager of the Kazama Estate in Yakushima. He was also a formidable fighter who employed gruelling training techniques. But he was not Heihachi; he did not push and pester and punish. Kazuya was comfortable enough in his company, or as comfortable as he could get, knowing that a certain ten-year-old girl was spying on his training.

XXXXXXX

It was already drizzling lightly when Kazuya mounted one of the balancing beams scattered in the yard, just outside of the Kazamas' dojo. The balancing beams were a series of evenly-spaced, heavy wooden planks, mounted on delicate little pivots. Kazuya had come to understand that particular game: A fighter was given a long, wooden pole with which he had to knock his opponent off balance. Now he carefully weilded his own, and watched as Junichiro Kazama took his place on the beam directly across from his, fully aware that the rain would make it all more challenging.They exchanged stiff bows and then they were off.

Jinichiro might not have been as exacting as Heihachi, but he was demanding all the same. He went all out on his fifteen-year-old charge, showering him with a heavy barrage of blows, leaving him no opening, and yet all the time shouting words of encouragement and advice. Kazuya dodged, weaved, constantly shifting his weight, the rain making it harder to maintain his footing. Jinichiro conducted the fight, forcing Kazuya to leap like a shadow from one platform to the next, to give more ground. The wooden poles became rapid blurs, and the drizzle turned into a downpour. Visibility was suddenly very poor, Kazuya's balancing skills even poorer, and he parried one blow, took a painful whack to the shoulder, and was promptly opened up for a fresh onslaught of attacks that he could not escape, and that Jinichiro delivered with deadly efficiency.

Through the searing pain of the blows, Kazuya suddunly heard that unmistakable voice.

"Oni-chan, stop, you're hurting him!" Jun Kazama cried, running out of the house, barefoot and still in her pajamas. That high-pitched voice, laced with repproach for her older brother, and concern for Kazuya-concern!- prompted the latter to twist around in his awkward position, just so he could make sure that her presence was real, and not some figment of his imagination.

Mistake. BIG mistake. Mine.

It was all Jinichiro Kazama needed. One flick of his pole, and Kazuya was dealt a glancing blow to the jaw, which toppled him off the beam and landed him face-down in the muddy, sodden earth. Jinichiro could only shake his head and mutter, "Focus," to the fallen boy, as Kazuya gingerly picked himself off the ground, spitting vile words at the stupid little girl who'd ruined his fight.

XXXXXXX

Kazuya developed a great enthusiasm for Jinichiro Kazama's brand of training. So great in fact, that he became the one who did all the pushing and pestering, and it soon took began to take its toll on him. After staying out in the rain once too often, he came down with severe pneumonia and was bedridden for days on end.

XXXXXXX

Kazuya tossed and turned in agony. In his feverish, delirious state, he was allowing his father to invade his mind, to taunt him and call him a weakling. Finally, he'd had enough. His eyes flew open and, with a roar, his fist went flying, cleaving the first thing in its way. Something solid. A high-pitched shriek sounded, and something fell to the floor with a loud thud. Kazuya then became aware of the damp cloth that had toppled into his lap at his sudden movement, of the vase of neatly arranged flowers by his bedside, at the whimpering Jun Kazama on the floor, her cheek swollen and her lip bleeding.

Mistake. The word was a red haze in his pain-filled mind. Mine.

And why was that?

Simply because he had just hurt the only living person in this world who cared whether he succumbed or pulled out. The person who, judging by her dishevelled appearance and heavy eyes, had spent only God knew how many nights by his side. And when he ended up all alone in his room that night, the knowledge of what he had done left him feeling utterly forlorn. And this time he did not fight it. He let it settle and fester like an infected wound, until the delirium returned to claim him.

XXXXXXX

Kazuya's appetite for Jinichiro Kazama's training was insatiable, but the Kazama heir was a busy man, with an estate and a dojo to run, so Kazuya took to grudgingly wandering around the estate, in search of something to occupy his interest.

It was on such tours he took that he passed by the Kazamas' summerhouse, situated by the Yakushima River. And it was there that his next significant encounter with Jun Kazama would take place. The girl was sitting dutifully on the floor, back in her traditional clothes, as she received instruction in Japanese art and poetry from a tutor. He watched, well-hidden, as she reached for her poetry book. Now was the moment of truth, he thought. Would she know?

He waited, as the seconds dragged by, then-

"ARIGATOU ,KAZUYA-KUN!!"

The high-pitched cry of joyful excitement startled him, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a very fleeting smile. She had found the freshly picked mountain flowers he'd hidden in her book, and knew they were from him, to make amends. There was nothing left for him to do. He began the walk back.

Mistake. Kazuya paused mid-step. Mine.

And what was it this time?

Outward displays of affection-cardinal sin number one. Because he knew very well what would happen if he ever allowed himself to become fond of the girl. He'd known it since he was five, when his mother had died, and then again when he was ten, and his grandfather had passed. He knew perfectly well that whoever he attached himself to would eventually betray him, by succumbing to the shameful human weakness of death. So why bother to create those bonds in the first place?

XXXXXXX

After that revelation, Kazuya made sure to steer clear from the Kazama girl. He even began to take part in the competitive games played by the other teenage boys in the village, anything to distract him. Until it proved too much to handle.

A boy of his age tried sneaking up on him once, to give him a playful punch in greeting, but Kazuya, mistaking the motive, quickly countered the attack, grabbing the boy's arm and twisting sharply.

Mistake, he instantly realised. Mine.

There was a loud snap, and an agonised scream. The boy collapsed, his arm broken in two places.

Jinichiro Kazama treated Kazuya to his words of wisdom.

"You may walk among them, those boys," he began sternly, with a strange knowing look on his face. "But I think we both know that you will never be one of them. " He then mournfully surveyed Kazuya over the top of his glasses and intoned sadly, "Yours is a high and lonely destiny, Kazuya-Kun."And, to Kazuya's bewilderment, the sinister presence residing within him stirred and applauded those words.

XXXXXXX

Kazuya brooded on those words, sitting alone in the depths of Yakushima Forest, by the lake, until Jun Kazama found him.

"What?" He growled savagely.

She cringed, but held her ground. He noticed she was wearing a pink blouse, a denim overall and sneakers. "You missed lunch, so I brought you something." She held out a number of rice cakes, carefully wrapped in foil. He didn't move, caught off guard by yet another gesture of good will from her, so she sat down beside him.

"You know," she began tentatively. "What Oni-chan said... it doesn't have to stop you."

He glared at her, but could not summon up the anger needed to strike her down for eavesdropping, not after all she had done for him.

"Stop me from what?" He finally muttered.

"from being happy," she replied.

He snorted. What did a ten-year-old girl know?

"You think?" he countered.

"U-ha," she said simply, and he was awed by her certainty." And the first step towards happiness is always-" she reached one hand into the crystal water, stirring ripples."- a spot of fun!" And she unexpectedly splashed his face, then sat back on her heels and giggled at his shocked expression.

"You brat!"He hissed. She stuck her tongue out and continued to laugh, then her giggles became shrieks as he returned the favour, splashing her with copious amounts of water. "It'd be a cold day in hell when a little girl-hey!" She had returned the fire, quickly backing away from him in the process.

The sun slowly dipped over the horizon, bathing the world with its carmine glow, as the warm afternoon air rippled with birdsong, splashes, and a much more uncommon noise: The laughter of one fifteen-year-old boy was picked up by the breeze and echoed by the sheer cliffsides of mountainous Yakushima.

Mistake? Kazuya wondered, as he kicked off his sneakers and socks. He couldn't care any less, even with Jinichiro Kazama's words ringing in his ears. Maybe he should give fun a shot, should give happiness a shot, should give Jun a shot, should give the world a shot, maybe if he tried forging a bond with Jun, the outcome would be different this time, and maybe the only reason his mother and grandfather had abandoned him was because he hadn't clung hard enough in the first place.

Lots of maybe's, but one thing is for sure.

Destiny rejected...

XXXXXXX

A/N: Arigatou: Thank you.