While the World Moved On
Note: Since this is a direct follow-up/companion piece to "An End to It All" (my first KoF fic in 2011), I recommend checking that one out first. There are quite a few callbacks to things in that story in this piece.
Written by: RinoaDestiny
King of Fighters, Iori Yagami, and Kyo Kusanagi all belong to SNK
It all began one full year ago: the day Kyo Kusanagi discovered that Iori Yagami packed up and left, taking all his belongings with him; the apartment paid for but vacant and the quiet tenant did not bother with a forwarding address.
Kyo had asked, bothered the landlord.
The answer was plain in his face: Iori Yagami had left him to fend for himself.
He didn't like that. He didn't like being made a fool of.
Of course, he'd looked. This time, he was the one hunting down Yagami; the other had gone into hiding, didn't want to be found. He traveled on foot, on his bike, down the roads and the dirt paths, from ward to ward, district to district, looking. But his rival had gone to ground and disappeared. He had no idea where the other man could've moved on such short notice.
Apparently, Yagami had other talents besides fighting.
So he waited for the tournament the following year, since they all got invites. He ignored the media, the festivities, the incessant chatter of Benimaru and the solid presence of Goro and anticipated the arena. He'd never known a year since 1995 when the man did not show his face.
He wasn't disappointed.
In came Iori Yagami with his sultry female companions, looking no different from the previous years. That was, until they met each other in the ring. They trash-talked – Yagami's bluffing a complete farce – and Kyo threatened to eliminate him in the round. It wasn't until they were exchanging blows that Kyo noticed Yagami was wary of him, offense shifting into defense. It was unlike him, and Kyo knew only he and his rival were aware of why.
Contrary to his assumptions, Iori Yagami didn't like certain things rough.
He'd never expected the other man to be so cautious, though.
His team won and the tournament moved on with its predictable madmen, standard explosions, and everyone scrambling for cover. Usually, the other man would approach him for a fight – another to determine who "died" or won. This time, he went prowling, seeking for the telltale flash of red hair, the punk getup, the lanky figure that all but screamed Yagami.
He found him on the outskirts, staring up at the sky.
He never even got close, or got a word in. Iori Yagami saw him, made a quick gesture of "No" and left before he even got in range. Kyo wasn't sure what he would've done had he closed the distance: ask Yagami where the fucking hell he'd gone off to, punched him, or pushed him against the lone streetlight until his back ground against metal.
He still remembered fire burning orange against brick.
Yagami's bewildered face as he demanded he kill him that night.
Kyo remembered a lot of things, and they all made him angry. One of them was NESTS – always NESTS – and the other was Iori Yagami leaving him in the lurch to fight off his demons. Didn't his rival understand – didn't he fucking know – that he needed him to be there for him? That Kyo couldn't just take this to his family, to his friends, to Yuki? That no one else could take his venting, his anger, his rage and turmoil, and how much he hated his life at times?
That was what Iori Yagami was for. Or so he thought, until the guy cut and ran like a coward.
Kyo could not easily forgive that. He refused to.
Each year dragged on. One, two, three – same old, same old – until Kyo felt his world turn smaller and his rage increasing. Iori Yagami dared to show his face at each tournament but never stuck around long enough for a "final" matchup. There was always an expression on his face, though, if Kyo found him alone, that troubled him if Yagami turned it on him. He didn't know what it was and the other man was quick to veil it if he caught him looking. There was a different air to him behind all the casual indifference.
Year four. Yet another tournament. Yagami fought fiercer that year, aggressive and back to form. Kyo welcomed it, returning vicious blow with vicious blow. Here, in the arena, he was allowed to hit hard and hit fast and Yagami had to take it or lose. Yagami did take it and rose to the occasion, striking hard and quick and lethal. If this had happened years before when he'd asked, he wouldn't be here now, setting the other man's coat on fire.
But again, after the tournament, his rival pulled his disappearing act and vanished.
Kyo was angry about this – no, enraged.
Iori Yagami couldn't just up and leave when he liked. Not when Kyo wanted – no, demanded – that he stick around and commit to the one thing Kyo wanted from him. He had wanted to die years ago and only Iori Yagami could grant it to him. But Yagami had decided it wasn't worth his time – had even told him he wouldn't do it – and Kyo knew that for a lie. Yagami did want him dead; why the hesitation?
Kyo intended to force his hand. To make that happen.
Year five. Yagami was a no-show and that got Kyo concerned. It wasn't like his rival to not show up – he always did – but the Yagami team never made registration. Afterwards, he went looking and came back unfulfilled. The bastard wasn't even hiding; he'd never made it. Unheard of. His anxiety at an all-time high, he'd made Goro and Benimaru worry and forced himself to calm down. If only he knew where Yagami lived…
Of course.
Why didn't he think of this sooner? Using his boyish charms – hiding his fury – he approached Chizuru Kagura and asked her to deliver a message to Iori Yagami. The keeper of the mirror and priestess of the Yata clan, she'd know where to look. Had the resources. The ability. The message was plain, nothing much: Meet me outside the city at noon two days from now. You know where. He left no signature – didn't need to. Kagura-san had been worried looking at him but he told her it was nothing. He and Yagami simply had some business to take care of.
Kyo never forgave him for leaving.
Iori Yagami was about to find out how much a mistake he made when he did.
The day opened brisk and chill, skirling winds and an open blue sky. There was already a bite of winter in the air; Kyo flexed his hand, the fingerless gloves keeping back the worst of it. Out here on the outskirts of Osaka, no one would think to look for them. Grass rippled in waves, stirring against the few stone Jizo shrines on the empty dirt paths and bare tree branches rattled. He'd gotten here a few minutes early, eager to be done with today.
Five goddamn years. Six, if he counted the year after Yagami left.
Six years too many. Six years living in agony, in quiet suffering while the world moved on around him. He wanted it to be done. Finished. Final.
He should not be breathing after today. That would be wrong, a travesty.
So where the hell was Yagami?
He looked to his right, then to his left and turned to look behind him. Nothing. He'd been looking to his front before but no one was there. Did the message even get sent? Did Yagami even get it? What the hell?
He was ready to stomp through the grass, in all directions if need be, to find the accursed bastard when he saw a flash of rust in the distance. It crested the slight rise of the hilly ground, obscured by tough wiry undergrowth and bushes and then it was joined by a pale flash of white. The telltale hair, the shirt, and even the pants. The only thing missing was the shortened uniform with the crescent moon but Yagami had stopped wearing that a while back. As he approached, closing the distance, Kyo saw that the belt in between the pants legs was missing. Also, the other man's gait was off, stumbling.
That was unexpected. It made Kyo worry.
Was the other man well? Were his plans about to be disrupted?
After an agonizing wait, Iori Yagami finally surmounted the incline and stood some distance from him, swaying. Haggard didn't describe how terrible he looked. Pale, eyes glazed and wandering – occasionally focusing – and gaunt, the redhead looked a few feet in the grave. A cold wind cut through, howling, and Yagami shivered across from him; the thin white shirt offering no protection. As if in pain, the other hunched over, arms crossed before him.
Kyo blinked. He thought he saw blood.
A spasm passed through his rival, ripping a thin moan from him that set Kyo's teeth on edge. He didn't like the sound – hated it, in fact – but if it meant a Riot of Blood, that meant a faster death for him. Whatever was killing Yagami might be helpful, if it pushed the other man to desperate means to survive.
Which meant Kyo wasn't going to wait long. At all.
"Yagami!" he snapped, the wind carrying his voice. He started moving downhill, watching as the other jerked to attention, as if instinctual. Blood stained the lower curve of his chin. He saw his eyes focus, expression changing and once again, Kyo was unable to figure out why it bothered him.
"Kyo," Yagami said, voice low as the gap closed between them. The sleeve of his shirt was stained red from where he'd wiped his mouth. "Got your message."
The words were colorless, flat.
Standing before him, seeing his pallor, it was easy to remember why he'd pitied him before. Iori Yagami made it easy and at one time, Kyo did pity him. But he remembered why he was here, and suddenly, it was easy to regain his anger.
Seizing him with both fists doubled in his shirt, Kyo snarled, yanking him closer. "Where the fuck were you?"
Fear and alarm flashed across the other's face. "Kyo –"
"Shut it! Where were you, Yagami?"
"Let go of me, Kyo!" Unsurprisingly, his rival fought back, twisting to get away. "Get the fuck off me!"
That was more like the Iori Yagami he knew. Remembered. "Where'd you go to get away from me? Was I too much for you, huh?"
"Stop it, Kyo!"
He wanted it that way. Fine. He wasn't one for easy landings. Throwing his weight behind the shove, he sent the redhead sprawling. Grass flattened as the other fell awkwardly, arms flailing out for purchase. It was graceless, really – seeing how the other man landed on his side; limbs outstretched and then curling inward as if to ward him from further blows. Knowing the little that he did about Yagami's background, Kyo surmised this wasn't new.
"Get up!"
Through the stained fabric of Yagami's shirt, the shoulders jutted out stark and sharp.
"So you got my message," Kyo continued, cold and remorseless. "You know why you're here?"
The other man remained silent, already staggering to his feet.
He wanted to push him, to watch him tumble and fall. Something twisted in him; pressure building behind his eyes and blood pounding at his temple. Kyo wanted to fight, to push Iori Yagami to his limits, because fuck – why should he play nice? Why should he care that Yagami looked half-dead when he'd been dying inside all along?
Yagami gave him a look – a brief spark of awareness – and backed away.
No. He wasn't going to make it that easy for him.
In the arena, Kyo was known for snapping into action fast. Some fighters were quicker than others, able to close the distance to draw first blood. Not even waiting for the other man to recover, he lunged at him, kick snapping out towards his face. One white sleeve and a bloodstained sleeve flashed forward, rising up to block. Kyo felt his foot impact the other's arm, smacking against flesh and bone. Yagami grunted, feet shifting back a few inches.
He noted that. Interesting.
A derisive bark of scorn emitted from the redhead's lips. Disgust twisted the corners of his mouth. Kyo didn't spare that minute, launching himself directly at his rival, fists swinging. The other's eye widened as the attack landed; his fist coming in low to plant right into the other's belly. He didn't have time to register Yagami's cry of pain as he followed through, slamming his other fist into the side of his head. Flames erupted from his hand, turning the harsh planes of the other's face orange for a split second.
His elbow smashed down only a breath later between protruding shoulders.
Yagami ate the dirt right in front of him, hair spilling forward.
Kyo glanced at him, noticing the silver ring on his hand. He'd seen it before; never bothered to ask its significance. It didn't matter now, anyway. "That's all, Yagami?" he said, sneering. This was pathetic – he'd expected a much better fight from his long-time rival. "This is what you've been threatening me with all this time?"
Muffled words.
Crouching down, he seized a handful of the long red hair, yanking it so he got a glimpse of bruised cheekbones and a split lip. A minor burn marked the pale side of the other's forehead where he'd grazed him. Yagami's eyes glazed over, out of focus. Shit. He didn't want to give him a concussion – he wanted him to fight, dammit!
"What was that?"
Silence.
Disgusted, Kyo released him, letting his head fall back onto the scored earth and torn grass. Crows began to caw from nearby trees, scattered darkness against the sky. The Jizo shrines, red and white scarves spots of color in the mundane around them bore witness. Wind blew past, cutting and Kyo adjusted his jacket and fiddled with his gloves. Iori Yagami twitched at his feet, long fingers clenching. He sat on his heels and observed.
So the bastard did have some fight left.
"Hey," he said, his tone sharp.
The other man mumbled.
"What?"
"Not necessary. All this."
What the hell was Yagami going on about? He was about to grab him again, give him a sound shaking, when the other propped himself up on one unsteady arm and fixed him with an unwavering gaze. It unnerved Kyo. Now he wanted some distance but to do that would relinquish his position. It wasn't as if Yagami was going to attack him. He'd been on the defensive since the fight started.
"Kyo –"
"Cut the bullshit, Yagami. Fight me."
"You don't…"
"I don't what?" Of all people, Iori Yagami knew him the best and pissed him off most. "I don't what, Yagami?"
"All this."
How vague. Kyo breathed slowly through his nose, temper rising. He wanted to put his hands around the other man's throat, to crush his windpipe, to watch him die in agony. But that would botch his plan, wouldn't it? Killing the other man would leave him without a weapon to take himself out.
Because that was what Iori Yagami was. That was all he ever was.
"I don't think you understand," Kyo said, each word barbed and poisonous. "I didn't ask you here just to fight me. I want you to kill me. Get it?"
"No, I –"
Enough. His fingers dug into Yagami's pale throat, nails scoring half-moons into thin flesh. If he held him long enough, there'd be bruises. Yagami choked, hands rising on their own volition to grip his wrists, trying to break his hold. "You won't or you can't?"
"Urghh…"
"I'm sick and tired of your bullshit, Yagami. You just decided to leave one day, huh? Just like that? Without letting me know? You thought I'd be okay with it, finding you gone? Seeing you at the tournaments with those bitches of yours. You thought it'd be okay?"
He applied more pressure until Yagami thrashed, color changing.
"I don't like being ignored. But look, Iori Yagami never got that." He laughed, pressing his thumbs in harder against the fragile bruised skin. "You kept ignoring me. Again and again and somehow, you thought it was fine. You thought I'd be stronger. Keep my shit together. That sort of bullshit."
Without warning, without any forethought, he let him go. Sat back and watched as the redhead shuddered, each breath full of pain. Already, the skin around his throat turned several shades of blue and purple, stark against his pallor. Sweat beaded on the other's skin, which flushed unnaturally. It was obvious Yagami was ill – badly so – but Kyo didn't care. The muscles in his hands twitched, as if remembering their last action.
"You never killed me. You never even tried. Why?"
Tears had welled in the other's eyes, and Iori Yagami didn't look at him. It was apparent he was still trying to breathe normally. There was a raspy edge to his breathing. Kyo supposed he could wait, but not for long.
It was absurd. For years, Iori Yagami had gone on and on about killing him, screaming it to everyone within earshot and Kyo had dealt with it. He'd been fine with it, since he always won. Then NESTS happened in nineteen fucking ninety-eight and his world went to hell. Because he didn't win that time. They'd taken him, experimented with him – would've killed him if needed – and there was no release, no escape. He'd been conscious for much of it, aware of what they were doing to him, with him, and that there were people – clones – wearing his face. Wielding his flames.
It all left a scar on him. Even after, even after his escape, the entire situation in 1999 and returning back home, the nightmares haunted him. He had family, friends, Yuki but there was no one to turn to, to tell his fears. To shout, to scream, to cry, and to vent his rage. Or so he thought, until Iori Yagami stepped in.
Then suddenly, the man wasn't always in his face, threatening him with death. Time passed and things seemed okay. Better, even.
But Kyo knew he'd been too innocent. Shit happened and things got worse and Yagami got even more withdrawn, if that was possible. Kyo remembered screaming at him to kill him, goddammit and the look on Yagami's face both bewildered and angered him. The hesitation, the goddamn expression on his face! What right did Yagami have to deny him that, when he'd been howling for his blood since 1995?
And then, the disappearing act of the year.
Just thinking about it made Kyo's fist clench.
He wanted to strike something. Was Yagami done getting his breath back yet?
"Hey!"
The other man stiffened, back rigid. Seemed like he was fine now. Good. Kyo was tired – tired – of waiting. "Why didn't you kill me, huh? You had so many chances. Why didn't you take them?"
He couldn't see Yagami's face from here. Every muscle was tense, visible through the thinness of the shirt. Was Yagami scared of him? Really? Just the thought made Kyo laugh in derision. It was hard to miss how the other flinched at that. He briefly saw the silver ring flash as his rival jerked at the sound, long limbs instinctively pulling inward.
Yeah, he knew where that came from.
"Asked you a question, Yagami. You better answer."
Silence.
"One more time. Why didn't you –"
"Couldn't."
The answer had been softly spoken. Quiet. Something about it bothered Kyo.
"You couldn't? What kind of bullshit is that?"
The other man remained silent.
Kyo didn't like this. Was Yagami making a fool out of him again? Why, in all the hells was Yagami saying that he couldn't kill him? Of course he could! The man was trained for the very thing! Yagami knew it; Kyo knew it; goddamn Yata clan knew it!
Unless Yagami was pulling his leg…
Wait.
Looking back, Kyo put together all the instances where Yagami backed out. The night he fought him in the back alley, daring him to do his worst. The times at the tournaments where his taunts before battle meant more than just trash talk. The looks Yagami sometimes had when he found him afterwards before the other man up and left. The way how Yagami spoke, had treated him in the weeks before that terrible day when he found himself abandoned.
Something clicked then and Kyo disbelieved it.
The fuck?
His voice found words – words meant to hurt, to eviscerate. "You…you thought…" He laughed then, brutally. "You thought…because I came to you…because we…. You're a goddamn fool, Yagami."
He saw the other man move, struggling to lift himself. Was he even listening?
"Your father would be so disappointed in you. What made you think –"
"Kyo…"
"What made you think anything would happen?" He stood then, towering over the other, keeping him grounded in his shadow. Ignoring the chill slashing through, he kept his eyes fixed on the weak form of his rival. Yagami was trying so hard and it wouldn't matter. "That was careless, Yagami."
The other breathed in hard, as if fighting for control.
"Let's end this. Now."
"Kyo," Iori Yagami said, staggering back as he gained his feet; voice ragged. "Does anyone else know?"
"Kagura-san. She delivered my message."
"She might stop you."
"She might, but she won't. This is between you and me, Yagami."
"Doesn't have to be."
"Yes, it does."
Resignation slid onto the other man's face, now ashen. Only his eyes were still sad. Kyo didn't want to look at them; they made him uncomfortable. "You knew it'll come to this one day. Were you hoping to change things?"
"You never believed in that."
"I didn't believe in a lot of things. But that was long ago. The Kyo you knew is no longer here."
"I know." And yet, somehow, Yagami still… Kyo didn't get it. He never understood Iori Yagami.
"Enough." In the open, in the field, in this place where only the two of them existed, that signaled an end. "Fight me, Yagami. Make it count. Kill me."
He fell into his stance.
Waited a split second – barely a breath – and then attacked.
True to form, Yagami shifted into his own, long legs sliding back to gain balance. There was something deadly still about that posture, about those outstretched hands. Kyo cut in close, within the other's range but his rival dodged, stepping sideways. He was still slow – Kyo remembered when he was fast – but it explained the beltless legs. Yagami didn't want to risk tripping over himself in his condition. His opponent may have been sick but he wasn't stupid.
Kyo followed through with a grab, reaching for the man's billowing shirt.
It tore in his grasp as Yagami pulled away. Buttons popped, scattering onto grass and ground. He heard the other man grunt, legs backpedaling as he gained distance. Dirt tracked, scuffed the other's shoes.
They hadn't even started and Iori Yagami already looked worse for wear.
The chain of bruises deepened and darkened around his throat, heightened against his pallor. A sickly sheen covered his face in sweat. Kyo saw the muck around his cheekbone when he dropped him back into the dust and grime. Fluid oozed from the inflamed burn near his forehead, which was also discolored. Red hair lay matted and dirty against his face, partially obscuring one eye. Yagami shifted his footing, off balance again and his torn shirt flapped open, revealing ribs in a torso lacking too much muscle.
If it wasn't apparent to Kyo before, it was now.
He had to finish this before Yagami died on him. Before the blood curse took him away.
And because he was Kyo Kusanagi – the goddamn heir of his clan – there was only one way to force Yagami to fight harder. To fight to the death. He had to go all in, make Yagami fear for his life – whatever was left of it – and bend him to that choice he didn't want to make.
Kyo rushed him, springing off the ground, leg axing down for a hard downward hit.
Yagami threw his arm up to block.
Kyo felt his foot strike, impact and snap Yagami's wrist; the sickening crack too clear in the space between them. A howl of agony ripped from the other man but Kyo wasn't done yet. Still driven by his momentum, the rest of him smashed through. Yagami's wrist, already broken, bent backward into his shoulder by the ensuing crush. The other man's scream pitched higher as something popped. Kyo landed in time to see Iori Yagami take a tumble in the dust, caught between alternating shrieks and sobs.
Yagami's right side was useless. He could see that from here.
From now on, he had to be careful. He didn't want to completely cripple the man.
Between the other's cries of pain, he was impressed to see his rival roll over, finding purchase with his knees. Yagami was actually trying to stand after that. He'd heard about the pain tolerance of the Yagami clan but this…this was better than even in the tournaments. He never had to push Yagami to his limits there. Didn't need to.
A glassy stare looked at him or past him. Yagami was bent over, hunched forward. His right arm hung limp. An angry red line formed around the broken wrist, above an open palm and dangling fingers.
He thought the man was trying to say something but maybe he was seeing things.
There was something missing to this still.
"Yagami," he said, raising his voice, "where are your flames?"
It wasn't like Iori Yagami to fight without the cursed flames of his clan. Of course, the bastard was dying from the blood curse. Self-preservation would keep him from using it, to prolong his life without additional pain.
That was a choice his ancestors made.
There was nothing a Kusanagi could do to change that.
"Yagami!"
The redhead's focus suddenly sharpened, eyes widening so that Kyo would see the whites. It was like watching an animal react to an immediate threat. Kyo walked towards him, keeping his pace and tread steady.
Yagami was saying something under his breath.
Kyo knew the shape of the words. Knew them all his life.
His name. His goddamn name.
Still…even now? That wasn't possible. He'd beaten the shit out of Yagami, broken his wrist, dislocated his shoulder, almost choked him to death and still, his name was being spoken. He couldn't hear it but he knew.
So what was this about?
It was only when he got close that he saw. Death in the other's gaze – knowledge of his own – and something else. Yagami spoke but his voice was too low, too faint and weak to be heard now. Kyo felt cheated, angry again. Did nothing work out in his life? Was Yagami going to die – leave him again – to fight against a world that didn't want him? That didn't understand him?
It wasn't fair. At all.
He reached out again, to seize Yagami, to choke him, to shake him, to break him.
And then he felt it, far too fast for him to comprehend.
Pain. Sharp. Heat. Ice.
His world turned red, flashed black, and in the midst of the cold anguish ripping his throat, he heard Yagami howl as if his soul was destroyed. He tilted – falling – and before open blue sky was all he saw, white and red crumpled before him. There was a cawing of birds, a distant flap of wings, the wind cold upon him, and then nothing.