The Bottom Of The Mountain

(Welcome everyone to my newest story. I've been very keen to write a story around Kenny Omega and the Elite, the Bullet Club and the Golden Lovers for a while. This story begins just after the match between the Golden Lovers and the Young Bucks at NJPW Strong Style. I'd love to know your thoughts so please comment and let me know what you think! I'll be looking to update this regularly (at least once a week) so keep an eye out for new chapters! Thank you to everyone who has read this first chapter - I appreciate the support!)

There was something glorious and yet messy about watching a sunset. Perhaps it was because it was an orchestra for the senses; his eyes could witness as the skies were set ablaze, his nose could smell the sweat on his own skin and the dew that gathered on the grass below, his skin prickled with the chill of the early morning air, his ears took in a thousand and one whispers between dawn commuters and the city birds that sang and squawked. It had been so long since he'd been able to just stop that he'd nearly forgotten that something like this could be seen, could be felt. He couldn't describe even to himself what this burden was inside him, the stone in the pit of his stomach that weighed him down, secured him to that rooftop.

It cut at a slant, but his bare feet found themselves snug among the grooves of the tiles, his arms wrapped around his calves, his chin balanced between his knees. He'd been up there now for hours. Bare chested and shivering. The summer night had been warm but there was a cold wind crawling in from the ocean nearby. He couldn't see it, was facing the wrong way for that. But he'd never held much fondness for the waters. They were too expansive, too deep; there was a cold majesty in it he feared and revered and couldn't quite bring himself to touch.

When he'd arrived the evening before, thick cloud had concealed the sky and rain had threatened at every turn. But still, he'd walked down to the shoreline, the heat of the oncoming storm too much to bare and he'd stared out over the horizon, empty.

He'd come here to escape.

Nothing had changed over the course of the night. He'd left everything behind, left everyone. The people that he'd held so close, had thought of as family were gone now; pushed to the other side of the world. They could have called him all night – he was sure they probably had. Maybe they'd sent him a thousand messages and he didn't receive a single one. That walk to the sea's edge had seen the phone he'd been tied to for so long thrown to the tide and hopefully had been dragged to the depths with the shingle. He didn't want to hear from them. He didn't want to talk.

He just wanted to be left alone.

Things had gotten out of hand. Words said, punches thrown. The careful, uneasy peace that had managed to stand for the past few weeks had fractured. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe his suspicions had made him lash out. But he hadn't known who to look at as an ally anymore. The word 'friend' had become nothing more than letters, syllables that didn't mean a single thing.

The sunrise blushed against the skin on his face and his curly hair moved a little in the breeze that rolled off that ocean and drifted through the city. He'd not been to California in years, had lingered for so long in Japan that occasionally it was easy to forget that there were other places in the world. On the few occasional he crossed the oceans to come to America, he'd had his friends by his side. Friends...

No.

He wouldn't think about. He'd come here to forget. Eventually he'd have to confront the truth, eventually he'd have to return to the chaos and the unease, but for now, for two short weeks, he'd stay away from it all. Off the map. Kenny took in a deep breath. No one in the world, save for himself, knew where Kenny Omega was. He'd left without warning, got on the first flight that he could find and from there, hitchhiked until he made it to Venice Beach. Some had looked at him a little strangely, as if almost recognising him, but no one had said a word. They'd kept themselves to themselves and he was grateful. If he could spend this entire time as another face, an anonymous stranger who people would leave alone, wouldn't bother then it would make everything so much easier. It would make healing quicker, physically and mentally.

There had been a temptation to return to Canada. To go and stay with his family and to just forget everything, but he didn't want to even be around them. There would be the inevitable questions, the conspiracy theories, the people who demanded he never return to the world he'd called his own, others who would send him back across the seas to kiss and make up.

He leaned back, hands against the tiles, hooking him in place. The thin vest he wore didn't give him a whole lot of protection against the breeze but he relished its cold fingers against his skin and running through his hair. Matt and Nick needed time to themselves too. They didn't want to be around him right now. The only one he'd said goodbye to was Kota. He'd owed his old friend that much and had recommended his old partner have some time to reflect as well. So much had changed – they were both very different men to who they'd been when the Golden Lovers had first formed. But all of this, all of it, was because of Cody.

The bleach blond haired American Nightmare had become the poisoned thorn in Kenny's side, seeping toxicity into the Bullet Club, into the relationships which had once been so strong and without doubt. He'd get what he had coming to him. But before he could lay a hand on Cody, he knew that he would have to fix the relationships that had fractured.

First though, he had to work on fixing Kenny Omega.

Maybe it was time to come down from the roof. The sunrise was cleansing perhaps, but he couldn't eradicate the worst of his feelings in that sky full to the brim with colour. Being alone with his thoughts was a dangerous move. He could over think; he could let his emotions get the better of him. God only knew they had far too often recently. Down in the apartment he'd rented for the two weeks he intended to stay hidden away were the handful of possessions he'd brought with him.

The Being the Elite backpack held his most prized possessions, his small travel case held the few clothes he owned and the PS4 that followed him around wherever he went. Maybe he could spend this precious time working on forever improving his expert skills on Street Fighter, prepare himself for the next inevitable encounter with Xavier Woods. Maybe he could finally finish watching those animes he'd been trying to get through for years, he could read those books he'd been recommended. He could sleep for a full night, a whole damn night. He could relax.

Impossible.

There was too much on his mind. But for now he could hope. Kota's concussion, the fight against the Young Bucks had drained him too much. His constant worry and the terrible loneliness that had come over him, despite finding his way back into the life of one of his oldest friends and rivals was intoxicating and nauseating. All around him, people were moving. Some were heading toward the beach for the early morning surf, others were out with friends and partners for breakfast. Some rode bikes, others ran. Some were heading toward Santa Monica, others hopping the bus to Hollywood. These people had ordinary lives.

He kind of missed ordinary.

Kenny Omega could do with being ordinary for a while.

Finally deciding that it was time to remove himself from the roof, Kenny edged his way back toward the open skylight window he'd clambered up and through. His tanned feet slid back through, his head and arm the last things to remain in the cleansing air, he sent one last gaze toward that rising sun, before he allowed himself back into that apartment, to look around it for the first time since arriving.

It was large, open, but plain with minimal decoration and furniture. Nothing showy. Perfect. He was so used to hotel rooms that anything that would have looked too homely would have made him almost uncomfortable. He'd never had the time to lay down any roots – too used to moving about. Even the home he did own back in Japan spent more time empty than it did with him within its walls. Maybe he could work on that, work on...feeling at home again. The last time he'd felt anything vaguely familiar to such a feeling was when he'd found himself in Kota's arms. That was home. Having fun with Matt and Nick was home.

No.

'C'mon Omega, get your shit straight. You're here to fucking relax, to just...just have some time to yourself. You're going to be fine. You're going to get on with shit because you're Kenny fucking Omega. The Cleaner! You're the best wrestler in the world. You can deal with all of this. You can deal.'

Twenty minutes later he was sat in the middle of the floor, on a woven rug, hands clasped around his legs and peering around himself as if expecting something to come out of the walls and throttle him. He rocked a little, biting his bottom lip. He just...didn't know what to do with himself.

He'd explored every inch of the room, of the entire apartment. He'd looked out of every window. He'd unpacked his things. They'd barely made a difference. The closet looked sadder than it had empty with his few tees, vests, one pair of shorts, one pair of jeans, one jacket and his work out gear. His backpack hung from the peg on the back of the door like a kid would do with his school bag. His cap sat on his head at a skewed angle and he contemplated packing everything up just to take it all out again. For something to do – he could have breakfast. He'd not eaten a thing since stepping foot on the flight to America. Hadn't quite had the stomach for it.

But now it growled loudly.

'Alright, alright,' he muttered to himself. There was no food in the apartment, he knew, because he'd gone round and opened every single one of the cupboards. He'd peered in the refrigerator. He'd even checked in the drawers in the bedroom. All of this, twice, just in case something had escaped him – you never knew. It was going to be a hot one out. He was already dressed so all he needed was to grab his wallet. He felt shy of the world that waited beyond that door. He adjusted the Elite cap as best he could on top of his bundle of dirty blond curls. Kenny stuffed his wallet into the pocket of his board shorts. His muscles felt tight. Everything felt tight. The last match had taken everything out of all of them.

His face was still sore, still tender. Slowly, he pushed a pair of sunglasses up his nose and gripping the apartment key tightly in hand, he moved toward the door.

This was it, this was the beginning of two whole weeks of nothing more and nothing less than the fixing of Kenny Omega. By the time all of this was said and done, he would have rebuilt and come back stronger, ready to put the Bullet Club back together, brick by brick before he reached the top of the pyramid and could throw Cody face first from its peak.

But first, he needed to find breakfast.

Maybe he'd have pancakes.

Yum, pancakes.

He opened the door and walked out into the dawn, ready for this new adventure.

Or, so he thought.