For These Scars
~Chapter 29~
Written by: RinoaDestiny
King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK
"Yagami, what is it about jazz? I don't get it."
"There's nothing to get, Kyo. Just listen."
Coughs tore through him – his abdomen ached and he strained to breathe. Blood spattered on the pillow, on the sheets. The nurses had replaced his bedclothes and given him medication a few hours before but this fresh bout of agony undid it all. It wasn't the blood curse – couldn't be – yet, the pain was excruciating.
Kyo holding one of his CDs. Flipping the case over to read the tracks.
Kyo running his fingers through his hair by way of greeting as he awoke from a late nap.
His fist closed tight around the blanket, bunching it in between his fingers. Heat and pain and ice locked in his bones. His hair spread over the edge of the pillow, a dark mass lit by the heart monitor's faint light. The beeping sound continued – rising and falling, rising and falling.
He looked at the machine, forcing himself to keep his eyes open.
"Huh." Kyo thumbing through one of the novels he'd taken off the shelf. "Didn't know you liked to read."
"Just because you didn't graduate –"
Kyo shot him a look – one Iori knew and had seen before. "Come on, Yagami. I hear that from everyone. Can you not –"
"You make it too easy, Kyo."
The book went back on the shelf. "Really?"
"Yes."
The rings were sprawled upon the bed, gleaming in the dim light. He'd put them around his neck again earlier. Was afraid to lose them. He didn't have much left.
"That's the ugliest shirt I've seen."
He glanced over the couch at Kyo, whose face was twisted with obvious dislike. "You're not wearing it."
"Why always purple?"
"Why not?"
"Pinstripes?"
He shrugged. "I like them."
"Of course you do, Yagami. Still ugly, though."
He snorted. Watched as Kyo strode over and sat down beside him. "So, you have a concert tonight?"
The lines on the heart monitor peaked and declined, over and over again. The sound was rhythmic, soothing in its own way and Iori kept his gaze on the screen, seeing his life broken down into numbers and graphs. It was logical and concrete – nothing vague, complex, or uncertain like how his life was and continued to be. So long as the lines remained moving, he was alive and able to function, however limited he was now.
He wanted to leave tomorrow in the afternoon. After some sleep. After regaining strength.
There was an IV drip taped to his hand, fluids sustaining him.
Blood in between his teeth, on his tongue, in his throat.
Iori coughed, covering his mouth with his hand.
Ramen bowls on the table. Chicken with grilled onions on skewers. A pack of beer.
"Got us lunch," Kyo said, placing both hands on top of his chair and leaning forward. With his casual style and nonchalance, Iori found him attractive. There was always something about Kyo's eyes and body language that got his attention.
"Where's your fish?"
The other man leaned back and pulled his chair out. "Don't need it."
"Your favorite, though."
"Let's eat before the ramen gets cold." A smile on the other's face – his eyes warm. "Let's talk later."
Hunger was suddenly the last thing on Iori's mind.
Shivers wracked his body, driving him deeper under the blanket. The material wasn't doing much against the chills and worked against him by keeping in the heat. He moaned, pulling the edge of thick fabric away from his face. His pillow was damp and his breaths were shallow. Should he ring the nurse for medication? Or could he endure? Hold on for a bit longer?
In the corner, his phone went off, throwing light against the wall.
It vibrated once, twice, and then went silent.
Kyo threw a punch, which he easily caught. The other man grinned.
He released his fist, stepped back and fell into stance. Across from him, Kyo resumed his.
"Don't go easy on me, Yagami."
"Same to you, Kyo." Nothing lethal, but none of them wanted to hold back too much. "Still want a good fight."
The other's expression turned cocky. "Give me everything you've got."
Who was calling him or trying to reach out to him? The only contacts he currently had were Kyo and Nikaido, which meant…
His phone was on the stand in the corner. He could try to get up and walk over there, but being weak and ill made the prospect daunting and if he hurt himself, then Saturday wasn't happening. That was unthinkable.
If it was Kyo or Nikaido calling, then what about? Did something happen? Were they unable to…
He had to find out. He needed his phone. He also needed medication to help him breathe easier.
Iori buzzed for the nurse.
When they trained together now, Kyo and he tended to fight to a draw. On the rare occasions when either one of them won, they attributed it to their natural ability and also their constant sparring. Kyo, though, Iori noticed, improved quickly and was getting stronger each time. He wasn't sure how that was happening and worked to gain ground on that front.
The next time he won, Kyo was amused but unsurprised.
"You don't need to catch up with me, Yagami. You already have."
While the minutes passed, the steady beep of his heart the sole sound in the room, Iori cast his mind back earlier to when this all began. How his life changed during that one confrontation and its follow-up. How he hadn't snarled, huffed, and stalked off like he usually did. Bafflement kept him in place and Kyo had sighed, remarking how dense he was. Emotions unassociated with rage, scorn, and contempt were alien to him – how was he to know what'd occurred?
Kyo usually put no effort into anything past fighting. However, Kyo did maintain a steady relationship with Yuki, the high school girlfriend now woman in the workforce. So Kyo did put effort into something other than his physical prowess in the arena and outside of it.
It explained why Kyo stuck around. Helped him navigate through the currents of this unknown emotion.
Iori wasn't sure if in the process, Kyo's sense of pity changed into something else. If Kyo lost his heart by doing so.
Kyo Kusanagi was readable but still a mystery in his own way.
Muscles hard from years of fighting and training beneath his hands. Kyo smiled lazily at him. "Don't over-exert yourself. You still have a concert later this afternoon, right?"
He bent his head down to kiss the side of Kyo's neck. "How can I forget with you here?"
The other man laughed, breath against his cheek.
Iori smiled.
The nurse – her name was Kaori – flicked on the light and came into the room. She checked his vitals, noticing his breathing as she did, and called for assistance. Soon, help arrived and before Iori knew it, the oxygen machine was beside him and the mask over his face. Kaori made some adjustments to the machine, checked his pulse, and made to leave.
He gestured, quickly and abruptly.
Kaori's eyes glanced in the direction of the stand. He gestured again, mimicking the motions of using a phone. The nurse nodded, retrieved his phone, and placed it into his waiting hand.
"Do you need anything else, Yagami-san?"
He shook his head.
The nurse took another look at his heart monitor, as though reassuring herself that he was fine, and approached the door. Her hand hovered by the light switch.
He nodded.
The light went off, plunging the space into faintly illuminated darkness.
Kyo laid his head against his chest. He was content, getting sleepy, and wound his arms around his lover's strong back. The other man's hair was soft against his skin and Iori felt the scratchiness of a growing five o'clock shadow.
"Good night, Yagami."
"Good night, Kyo."
It was a text message from Kyo. The timestamp was twelve-fifty and there were attachments. Curious and also concerned, Iori opened his phone directly into the text application and read the brief message. His heart, already taxed and under strain, picked up a frantic rhythm.
Found this finally. Maybe you can read the kanji, whatever help it gives you.
There were five attachments. Picture files. They all looked similar, but…
He tapped on the first one and enlarged it. Squinted and then alarm shot through him.
This was…this was a diagram of…was it one of the Kusanagi clan's techniques?
Had Kyo found the book? Did that mean he'd gone back to his father's study and…
Twelve-fifty. It was now past one. The diagram was brightly lit, but darkness hovered on the edges and tatami matting was visible in the background. That meant Kyo took the pictures in secret in the dark and used a light source to…
He flipped his phone over. Looked at the flashlight at the top.
Was Kyo safe? Why had he sneaked into his father's study? Why risk himself to…
Iori flipped his phone around and studied the image again. Some of the characters were blurry, but there were others he could read. There was a list of effects, a brief explanation of what the technique did to the human body, and the symbols couldn't be clearer.
These techniques were killing arts.
Anyone struck by these were meant to die.
Kyo watching him as he played his guitar. The other man tapped his foot, beat accurate.
Kyo approaching him as he washed the dishes after lunch. Kyo's hand reaching out to hold his, their soapy fingers entwined around a pair of chopsticks.
The first image wasn't the technique Saisyu used on him. Iori moved onto the next one, trying to calm himself down. He didn't need his heart monitor going into overdrive, alerting the nurse on floor duty, and bringing further unwanted complications. Yet, he couldn't deny that seeing the Kusanagi clan's ultimate killing techniques shook him.
One of the five was the reason he was like this.
He didn't want to know, but then again, he did.
He needed to know which one was killing him – which one Saisyu deployed.
At least he'd have closure, two months after that day.
It wasn't the second one, either. Iori moved to the third.
"Did you ever think this would happen?"
He glanced at Kyo, reading the question in his eyes. "I don't think any of us anticipated this."
"Our ancestors?"
"Confused as hell. Mine, particularly."
"Mine, too, probably. A Kusanagi and a Yagami. Centuries later."
"The fact that we're together goes against everything we've been taught."
"Well, we learned to move on." Kyo shifted his leg position. "I'd say that's a good thing, right?"
It wasn't the third or fourth, either. One detail Iori gleaned from reading the characters he could on each diagram was that the Kusanagi clan relied on changing ki. Some stopped the flow, thereby creating an instantaneous fatal outcome. Some sent it to the organs, rupturing them. Some burned it out entirely, also resulting in death. But so far, none of them described symptoms like his. A delayed effect and a constant circulation of heat.
He tapped on the fifth image, gripped by a sudden fear.
He always found Kyo handsome even before he understood his own feelings. The other man was arrogant – not that he wasn't – but it lent him a luster instead. A fascination, which fed his obsession. It all made sense later – three months later – after Kyo explained it to him. After their relationship was underway.
Kyo commented on his appearance as well. Aside from his choice of shirts, Kyo seemed to like his hands. Strong hands, Kyo said. Strong but gentle, even though these were the hands that wreaked so much damage in the arena. Hands that killed.
Not against Kyo now. Never against Kyo now.
It didn't mean they couldn't fight. That he couldn't land blows.
But leaving deep wounds or lasting scars was something he tried to prevent. Kyo was precious to him now and he didn't want to mar him.
Iori read the kanji on the final image and fought to keep his breathing under control. The oxygen continued circulating through the mask – he was fine. No need to panic, to remember what'd happened two months ago in his apartment. The characters on the image wouldn't harm him – had no power to do so.
But the effects matched and now he understood exactly what Saisyu did.
His entire body's ki had been rerouted and with the heat, permanently altered and "burned" into place. There was no reversal – it was a killing technique – and Saisyu had sealed off his ki channels in a certain way so that his neck, face, hands, and feet weren't affected. The burns came from excessive heat boiling outward – damage to skin only, but no damage otherwise to other major organs or his blood vessels.
Death was imminent. If it didn't kill immediately, then it was a delayed result.
Iori lowered his phone. Turned it off.
His eyes hurt. They burned. The view from his window was unclear, as though behind mist.
Kyo observed him, smiled, and ran his fingers through his hair. "You should look more like that, Yagami."
"More like what?" he'd asked, uncertain.
"Happy. You look happy."
Happy? Maybe he did feel this way. Whenever Kyo was around, he felt different. In a good way. In a way he hadn't felt in a long time since he was an innocent child.
"That's what it is?"
"Yes."
He was happy, then. Was it like when he was playing his music or feeding the cats? No…this went beyond all that. This was…he couldn't find the words for it.
"Happy, huh?"
"You're not scowling anymore. Not when I'm here."
Maybe he wasn't. That wasn't a bad thing, either.
"I like it when you're like this," Kyo said, closing the short distance between them.
For once, Iori agreed. For a change, he liked it, too.