Drive
The buildings were severely damaged, some had collapsed, rubble and burned cars littered the streets. Miraculously, there didn't seem to be dead bodies anywhere. The horrific fire had been so sudden, it had been impossible to prevent it from spreading and engulfing everything, but the inhabitants had been evacuated promptly thanks to the efforts and bravery of a resident gang. Then, as quickly as they had come, the flames disappeared, leaving behind a wrecked and silent city.
The silence was broken by the sound of a man's steps. His pace was smooth and steady, his posture slightly stooped, red bangs fell over his eyes. If the place had not been deserted, an unobservant onlooker may have thought that the man was in sorrow for the sad state of his surroundings; but a closer inspection would have made the onlooker immediately change their mind and cower in terror, for the man's eyes were filled with mad homicidal rage.
Normally, Iori Yagami would have been indifferent to the destruction around him. But this time, it was personal. After stealing his flames, Ash had gone and set a city on fire! He was mocking him!
Iori could still smell the smoke, and it enraged him even more, if such a thing were possible, reminding him of the very power that had been his to control. It was his birthright, his life, his destiny. The robbing bastard had to pay.
That night, the wronged fighter had come so close to deliver the rightful punishment! So close! After searching all over for months, he had finally found Ash in that city. But the coward had blinded him and fled leaving no trace, and Iori was back to square one.
The mockery hadn't ended there. The one time in ten years the heir of Yagami hadn't been looking for his archenemy, naturally Kyo had to be right there of all places. And it's not like the so-called 'Champion of The King of Fighters Tournament' was doing something useful either, like tracking down Ash. No, he was wasting time fighting with some random punk.
For some reason Kyo was holding back, but the punk was going for the kill. Iori was sick of people trying to take away what was his. He put an end to the farce and, before leaving, reminded Kyo once again that their strife could only end with Kyo's death by Iori's hands (or the other way around, but Iori wasn't going to lose), so Kyo had no right to get himself killed by anybody else.
Unfortunately, their last duel would have to wait, there was something else the red-haired fighter had to do first. Ash had to be hiding somewhere, and Iori was going to find him and kill him. Not only did that louse deserve to die painfully, but his death may have restored Iori's power too.
Are you sure you want to find him?
Iori's eyes narrowed.
Perhaps it is for the best that you lost your flames.
Kagura's words sounded as clear in his mind as when she had spoken them to him, shortly after the Tournament.
For the sake of humanity, we Three Sacred Warriors must defeat Yamata no Orochi and all those who seek to break its seal, and in order to do that we need our power. But for your own sake, Iori, perhaps it is for the best that you lost your flames.
Foolishness. His flames were his doom, so what? They made him stronger. Who cared if they had been cursed by Orochi, humanity's nemesis? Who cared if they would have caused him to die young, like all the Yagami heirs before him? He would have lived long enough to kill Kyo, and that was enough. With Kyo gone, Iori's life would have lost its meaning anyway, he might as well have found peace in death.
They made him stronger. Without his power, finding Ash had been pointless, the maggot had escaped with ease and Iori had been unable to stop him. The long months of tireless search, wasted.
The extremely proud and stubborn warrior would rather have bitten his tongue off than admit it, even to himself, but deep down he knew he was having serious difficulties. Ever since he was toddler, he had been trained to fight with pyrokinesis. Now that he couldn't control fire anymore, his fighting skill had considerably worsened, and not just because he had lost the ability to execute his most devastating attacks… While fighting he instinctively tried to summon flames, wasting precious seconds and making a lot of useless movements, with the result that his moves were slower and awkward.
Iori was used to pain, pain was something he had lived with all his life since the very beginning, when the Curse of Orochi had caused his mother to die of childbirth. But it still hurt him to realize that, the way he fought now, he couldn't possibly defeat Ash, let alone Kyo, or even the annoying clown who had gotten between him and Ash shortly after the burst of fire. To stand a chance, he had to stop relying subconsciously on a power he didn't possess anymore, he had to completely rid his fighting style of even the smallest spark.
But the ancient Yagami martial arts was intrinsically tied with pyrokinesis. Furthermore, no matter how many times in the last months Iori had tried to summon flames and failed, his subconscious and reflexes refused to let that fact sink in and kept on making him try whenever he fought. Drastic measures were needed.
There was but one way for him to alter his knee-jerk responses: he had to rebuild them from scratch. And as his special moves required ignition, then he had to either modify them or come up with brand-new ones. It would take many months and enormous efforts, but it was necessary: only after a most rigorous training would he be ready to kill Ash, and hopefully take his power back.
He had to abandon fire in order to regain it. The irony was too much. Despite his anger, Iori couldn't help but chuckle till he cracked and a burst of maniacal laughter filled the desolate streets.
