Fiend Classes (Jin Kazama x Reader)

Groundwork

Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you.

Sunday, 8A.M, Rochester, New York

    A true Sunday morning. Birds chirped in grace, greeting the sun a happy day. Likewise, the clouds stayed away; an azure-painted sky was a sight. Even the traffic outside was keeping from bleating horns. Cold morning wind rushed through the windows. To your right, a large window displayed a fine view of the widened and fancy-looking streets, as well as an additional and easy look at the tall building. It came off in a cheesy way, but on a day like this, how were you supposed to not admire the current beauties of the world?

    "No, no. I'm – I truly apologise, sir, but if the patient does not wake up in five, then you must leave. We are to perform —"

    "I know she will wake up soon."

    "Is that so? You might want to leave it to more certified persons young man."

    "Just leave it to me."

    The blur of your vision showed distantly two males of different heights, the shorter one most likely the nurse, and the taller one wearing all black. They stood near the doorway of the room, which again was difficult to see; you were in a blinding spot. Through the curtains, a shining light of the morning and the white intensity of the room forced a squint from your eyes. Immediately grasping where you were, you bolted upright, at once regaining the sense of soreness from your body – you collapsed on to your back again. Staring down at the old, baby blue gown you wore. It was a mess, as well as the tubes which connected your body to a blood meter to your left. There was a rather large number of bandages wrapped around your legs.

    "Oh – the patient's finally awake!" cried the nurse shockingly. Now that you were better aware of your surroundings, your ears picked up the note of the nurse's age – seemingly elderly – whilst the man dressed in black appeared around your age: near the edge of adolescence.

    As though in a hurry, the younger male rushed alarmingly towards you with a protesting hand from the nurse behind him. Damn. Your weary outsides may not have shown it, but your mind was driven crazy by how well-structured and tasteful his face looked – his chiseled jaw, pretty eyes and dark bangs; how nicely shaped his masculine body was. It was almost impossible to think that this perfect-looking man may have been nearing you only to take you into custody after your memory had come to a halt. No, no, it was impossible; after all, did you even know the name of this man? Why would he take the time to worry about you? Was he a relative? A former friend?

    "Um, where are we?" you asked almost soundlessly. Your confidence ended the moment the attractive man faced you in an indecipherable manner of expression.

    "Rochester. We're in New York, if you know where that is."

   In response to this, you pouted as though to say, Of course, I do! Strangely enough, the fair man wore a face of slight guilt.

    If your mind wasn't a clouded with narssicism, the room seemed to have been specially booked in order for you to be there; it was quite large, pristine, and no other beds were to be seen. He pulled a seat from nearby and propped himself onto it, an ankle resting on the other leg's knee. Before speaking, he scanned the room perhaps for intending listeners, only to find the nurse leaning casually against the doorway. The man your age called firmly, "Nurse!" and jerked his head towards the outside of the room.

    "Oh – my apologies, sir." He turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him. Was this man a leader so well-known he was respected this way? And what was with the sir?

    The room was left empty. The beeping of monitors were the only sounds heard. And it was very awkward; for about a minute, the tall man threw you a glare that you would never be capable of reading – nor reciprocating; his slanted eyes showed no emotion. You lay there, looking at your own bare feet. Clueless.

    Finally, he spoke in his deep, calming voice: "I am here to help you during your recovery."

    You wanted to yell out, "What?" in disbelief, but it appeared as if you'd even forgotten how to use your voice. Your mouth was left ajar, soundless; Grateful you were the moment you registered the obnoxious step you were about to make.

    "Relax. Relax your voice. I will do the talking. I'll try and make it quick." Your mind snorted.

    The best you could do was a nod in agreement whilst the two of you locked gaze for an elongated second. Within the silent moment that passed by, your palms began to grow sweaty. Like the dryness in your mouth. And honestly, there was no reason behind it... and neither was there to the fact that this handsome man was looking after you.

    "Can I at least know your name?" you asked out of sudden curiosity.

    "I'll cut to the chase," he said hotly. His eyes seemed to appear golden whilst they pierced your gaze.

    Right. Because when someone is about to rescue you, you shan't know their name –

    "Starting from tomorrow you will be taken in by my maids to my mansion next to my work, the Mishima Zaibatsu."  Mansion? Mishima Zaibatsu?

    The pretty man appeared to read your bewildered appearance, and in irritation, he bit his lip. "Honestly, do you live under a rock? Do you even know who I am?"

    Humiliation. Silence. Dryness of his attitude tugged your insides. Not only was he attractive, but it turned out he was also very full of supposition. The truth was, you had seen the man somewhere on television, but his name never seemed to cross your mind. Like those suited politians. God save yourself for meeting a celebrity you had no idea was this petty. You didn't remember anything. Had you not experienced the unfortunate events of amnesia, you wouldn't have needed to feel this way. Was it your fault your memory was some place else?

    Louring, you made no comment to his questioning. Just a stare at him.

    As if able to read your thoughts, the man's thick eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, revealing his remorse. "Forgive me. I am wasting our time playing with your amnesia. It's –"

    Boom.

    Your eyes widened in horror as you bolted upright from your bed, ignoring the striking pain. An unconstrained thump in your throat grew louder by the second as you watched from the tall window, behind the man A blinding cloud of scarlet. Shattering windows. Forced screams and yelling ... Debris shot up like fireworks, landing again. More ruined lives. The eye-stinging smoke rushed up both the noses of yours and the man. You both coughed rapidly.

    From the incident, you were paralysed. You began to hear the sound of helicopters, sirens, cars bleating, all in havoc. Thank the window that made it easier to witness the horror citizens running for their lives, screaming. Your stomach churned. Once a tranquil morning, the next second: an uproar.

    "For heaven's – Y/N!" The man hurried to you, haphazardly releasing you from every tube that linked to you with frustration. Even if it meant even more danger. He tossed your blanket out of his way and lifted you in bridal position without trouble. You tried your best not to wince in pain.

    Making his way opposite the direction of the explosion, you savior rushed to search for any stairway, or a fire exit. But it seemed difficult for him; the place was so big and confusing. Your head lolled and your hair whipped as he shifted from place to place. After a long thirty seconds, he finally found a room that sprouted very many flights of staircases.

    You whipped your head behind. The shining blaze was crawling its way towards the both of you.

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A/N: really hope you enjoyed it so far, thank you for taking the time to read. vote and comment for more! or your man's getting burnt, jks;)