Disclaimer-I don't own Tekken.

To be frank, I have no idea why I wrote this. It was to try out a new style-"indirect freestyle." This is basically my first go at it, so the tense and narrative switches are purely intentional. It was the first time I was given such inspiration as well. XD Please read and review. 

Warnings-Strong and disturbing themes.

Summary-Every night, Jun Kazama is plagued by a haunting, lucid dream. Kazuya X Jun Disturbing themes.

Night Terror

Every night I am attacked by a strange, lucid dream which seems to take many shapes.

Overwork, I tell myself; pushing too hard in the training gym, thinking too much, not getting enough sleep…..though, it is hard to sleep now, for this dream lurks behind my eyelids as an constant threat, a unholy promise of what I shall be forced to witness when night falls, as exhaustion turns my limbs to lead.


Oh God, I need to sleep.

I'm lying on a bed in large chambers, colossal, bleak, and black….I cannot see the ceiling. It's like a vast universe above my head, a spinning continuous hurricane of the unknown. The bed's sheets are dusty, crumpled; the pillows yellowing with age. Beside me stands a large window, reflecting back to my person a night's sky embedded with diamonds, as a red moon winks behind the transparent drabs which cover the frosted glass.

I am alone.

I'm always wearing the same dress. It is white, as befitting of my personal tastes, yet it is so long and heavy it binds my form to the bed, falling over the edge like a sparkling waterfall. I am covered, suffocated by its pulling power on my lithe form; prisons of untarnished purity, like the unmarked material of the silk garment I must wear, weighing me down like a ball and chain. The darkness surrounding me seems to close in like a claustrophobic cloud, stifling my breathing, before seeming to metamorphosis into a familiar form-a tall, imposing figure, dressed entirely in black, with eyes that gleam like the red moons which taunts me from my window.

As he approaches in his dilatory manner, hands clasped behind his back in a state of terrible formalness, his features become clearer to me, like an artist sketching out a vague portrait. His skin is smooth and clear, heralding to a pampered man, his strong mouth and fine featured nose fixing themselves on his face just so. His eyebrows are large, striking, animalistic, framing eyes which betray his calm composure. They burn with passion, anger, want; driven by the most basic of primeval desire.

He stops by my bed, eyes staring down at me, as if attempting to bore into my very core. I feel my skin prickle due to the chill of his stare; it is accusing me of some awful crime beyond my control, yet the wedge of fear which grows in my belly tells me outright what I stand on trial for;

The unforgivable aspect of being without original sin.

I have been tried, and found guilty.

It is time for my punishment.

Slowly, agonizingly, I watch Kazuya seat himself beside me, touching my hand in an act of feigned affection, his face still without expression yet his eyes full of greed at discovering a rare treasure in me. An unbroken egg, a white flower untouched by the messy hands of a child; a butterfly still with its wings, which flutter without fear of the intentions of the malicious bystander, who waits to rip the delicate sweetness of that ineffectual creature.

I am paralyzed. Unable to move, to speak, shout, scream, or cry out. To even weep. I am cursed only with sight; forced to watch the spectacle as his hands roam to the untouched skin of my thighs.

With inhuman ease, he lifts the dress up, rolling the fabric back past my knees. I am exposed, vulnerable, showing my entire world to this devil, as a white lily blooms between my legs-so beautiful, fragile and pure, not having tasted the cold bite of winter. I whimper gently, yet I am unable to close my eyes, to block out what I know is inevitable.

He shushes me, placing a callused finger to my quivering lips, and I see with a bolt of anger, that he is smiling. His eyes are now alive with hellfire-demonic and unrelenting. I wonder if this creature can feel any compassion. Softly, he runs his hand across the supple skin of my thighs, ignoring my revulsion at the feel of his alien paws on the intimacy of my upper legs.

He leans forward, and I feel my body brace itself.

I feel my heart clatter against my ribcage as all I can see is the top of his head, the curved black hair forcing itself up like a demon's horn. With glinting teeth, he bites one of the petals of my untouched lily, and pulls. Pain grows between my legs, snaking up my body causing myself to gasp. I feel the hot streak of tears on my face. He continues this motion, with tenderness so false it fouls my insides. The room spins as I feel the petals float down to the floor, skimming my legs as they do so. He straightens up, a flawless petal clasped daintily between his two fingers, and smirking cruelly, brushes it against my flushed cheek, catching a tear as it does so.

He places himself on top of me again; I am trapped.

He holds the petal in front of my eyes, and with a searing pain in my lower body, I watch it slowly turn red.

Jun Kazama awoke, frightened and aroused.

She was alone, in her small bedroom at the Tournament, and the slow, steady breathing of Lei Wulong in the bed next to her promised her safety.

No large, cankerous room. No moon as red as blood; no glinting diamonds in the sky. The sun was peaking up behind the folds of what had been a gloomy evening. The edge of hysteria which had gripped her by the end of her dream was slowly disappearing with the night; and a cup of tea was in order. As she rose, she walked over to the small window on the side of the room, her glittering black eyes observing the landscape.

It was a dream. A hopeless, unimaginative dream, which failed to be any use to her at all. With a small, shaking hand, Jun touched the glass, leaning her head against its icy comfort, a deep sigh vibrating from her lips. Lei Wulong stirred, turning his head to gaze at his friend with warm concern.

His comforting, dark rumble of voice brought Jun out of the dreamlike state the nightmare had entrapped her in, and back into the stark, bright reality where she lingered.

"Everything all right, Jun?"

Jun leant once more against the glass, watching the sun peer over the horizon, casting lukewarm light on her face. As she turned to glance at Lei, she smiled weakly in assurance that yes, she was fine. The sunlight beamed though her hair, making her radiant, causing her pale skin to glow with life and virtue.

The dark remains of the nightmare ebbed inside her head, before they began to slowly erode into nothingness, leaving only one ringing anxiety. Jun after all, possessed strong prophetic powers. She prayed silently to herself that what she experienced was a mere, tormenting dream; hardly a warning she was expected to remember.

Yes. That's all it was. A nasty nightmare meant to warp her mind. She left it alone, and it bothered her no longer.

Unbeknownst to ether Jun or Lei, a young man had ventured out for a morning stroll. He was tall, imposing and dark; with eyes that shone like dulled gemstones. Dressed in a purple suit, he stood stock still, eyes fixed on the young virgin in the window. The demon inside him stirred, and a calculating, callous smile twitched at the side of his mouth.

He rewards my tears, my ruined petals, my distress with his soft lips pressed to mine in a teasing kiss, one hand stroking my belly in a loving manner. Mine, he whispers, so quiet I strain to hear it.


I choke back the pain as a voluptuous, glowing, monstrous flower blooms between my legs in the place of my poor, ruined lily; its petals showcasing their elasticity-corrupt, brilliant, baleful blood red splendour of a grotesque rose. The thorns scratch the inside of my thighs as I find my throat numb.

He kisses me again, all tongue and teeth, losing himself completely, and I finally find it within myself to scream.