To the Darkest of Nights We Go
~Dystopian AU ~
Chapter 81
Written By: RinoaDestiny
King of Fighters, Chizuru Kagura, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Terry Bogard, Andy Bogard, Mai Shiranui, Blue Mary, Rock Howard, and Joe Higashi all belong to SNK
There must be a reason you're here.
Towards what Kyo assumed was midnight, give or take a few minutes short or after, he awoke. There was a sensation in his chest deep within akin to the treasures' joint resonance, which he couldn't ignore. After its absence for several days, its sudden reappearance attuned him to something occurring beyond his ken. Disturbed, he sat up, looked around with eyes readjusting to darkness, and decided to leave. Head back up to the rooftop.
He didn't need a flashlight. His own flame would do.
Rock Howard slept off to the side. The others were scattered around the classroom, with Terry and Mary pairing off. Joe Higashi occupied the space by the wall, while Mai slept close to her desk. Kyo had seen the sealed container beneath the desk earlier, remembered what she'd mentioned about Andy, and said nothing. It made sense that she'd guard it, like a sentinel by a castle gate.
Ashes could be transported. Buried elsewhere.
The only death among the South Towners and yet, he felt their loss.
Picking his way carefully through the classroom, Kyo quietly slid the door open and exited. Made his way upstairs, flame in hand, approaching the top of the school. Night sky and natural quietness, given the destruction of the garrison's center, with space and time to think. To ponder, for the sensation had deepened since his awakening.
All three treasures were resonating – if objects could hum, these would. He felt them deep within him like vibrating strings on an instrument, all playing towards the same melody. Harmonious towards the same theme.
Sacred treasures. Once belonging to the divine.
He opened the door to the rooftop, felt and tasted the night breeze, and found himself on top of his known world. Here, he saw stars – small, yet bright against ink-black – and amazingly, insects sang their nocturnal songs. The world alive, despite all the bloodshed, chaos, and deaths. All the loss, the grief, the lives cut short before their time. The world moved on past them, their conflicts miniscule against its immensity.
The world waiting, stillness while its remaining inhabitants slept.
Kyo limped over to the ledge and eased himself down beside it. His feet were raw, flesh torn, and they stank; he'd checked them for infection, rinsed the soles, and re-wrapped them. The sneakers Saya and Yoshiro had gifted him remained on, or else he couldn't walk. He needed to get around, to move. It kept him sane, now that the others were gone. Casualties of war – small numbers against the millions lost.
He wondered about his parents. About Shingo.
He was so far away from them now, if they were still alive.
The magatama in his hand, impressed against his palm. The jewel didn't glow, yet he sensed the resonance reacting with his own. Sword, mirror, and jewel. Valor, wisdom, and benevolence. Strength, reflection, and pacification. The mirror, too, tugged in tandem with the sword and jewel, losing its dominance to become one with the others.
One with the others.
Kyo reached behind his neck and undid the leather thong. It slipped free, soft metallic sounds coming from the collision of locket and mirror. He looked at the magatama for a while – at Iori's treasure, now his – and released a heavy sigh. Acceptance of it was another death, more permanent than Iori's cremation. And yet, it was his now, wasn't it? Just like with the Yata mirror.
He gazed at the jewel, its resonance strong within him.
Slid it onto the leather thong, where it joined the others. Re-tied the thong around his neck, feeling the locket, mirror, and magatama settle near his collarbone. Mementos of his dead, including the recently deceased.
Yagami.
The treasures were once the possessions of the gods.
One with the others.
Kyo glanced upward at the star-speckled sky, unsure how to reconcile the strong spiritual vibrations the treasures gave off with the sense he was missing something. Something critical – something immense he needed to know. Why had he woken up and why were the treasures doing this now? When they'd been dormant before?
Gathering up power. He'd been drained after the battle.
And yet…it didn't seem like the answer.
The night was silent – nature's melody a quiet thread of music – with his thoughts noisy in his head. Orochi couldn't come back. He had to decide something. Dream phrases. Iori's dying words. Three treasures – divine, powerful on their own, but combined…
Wait.
Kyo leaned forward, movement sharp and abrupt.
Two treasures in combination boasted an incredible amount of power. He'd seen it – felt that power course through him and watched it manifest in destructive ways. Yet, he'd never considered – why hadn't he? – the possibility of three treasures used simultaneously. It'd happened once and only once. The Abeno-Ikuno border, where Goenitz and Chris awaited them. He'd used all three then and the world exploded into light, searing and bright and then…nothing.
He'd been knocked out; his memory trickling back later, fragmented.
It was frightening, actually, to wield that much power.
But…three in conjunction and those soldiers had disappeared. He'd been prompted – the magatama last, pressure mounting like his accelerating heartbeat – and he'd used it after the other two were aligned. Linked. He hadn't used all three together voluntarily. At the same time with one single purpose.
Kyo shivered, a sudden premonition striking him.
What if he used all three at once, commanding them instead?
What was it that Kagura-san said? About mortal vessels and…
A vague memory arose, the flickering light of a campfire and Chizuru patiently explaining about the treasures. Words returning like small stones tumbling in a stream, carried to an unknown destination. But the treasures were for the gods once…the treasures were given to us, one each…We can only carry so much of the divine…
And then, without warning, with the resonating treasures as his mental backdrop, Kyo remembered. The words came back sharp, like a sword blade through silk.
A mortal vessel was never meant to contain so much divinity.
He staggered under the weight of the revelation, body rocking back. If he used all three at once, then…it would…he'd achieve…. But the gods wouldn't allow it, or give him the mantle of godhood without a cost. Humanity should never seek to elevate themselves to the level of the gods – that was pride and pure self-destructive folly. The cost would be death.
But if he didn't…
Iori's dying words, spoken on a breath growing faint. He can't…come back…Kyo.
The Sacred Treasures were no longer whole. If he didn't and failed, realizing this – holding the sheer power of these physical talismans – then all the sacrifices would be wasted. Chizuru's death at Shinsaibashi, allowing him and Iori to continue. To press on with their sole mission. Iori's death at the western Ikuno border garrison, allowing him to cross. To leave him alive to try to achieve their end goal.
Take down Orochi. Remove the head of the serpent, killing the body.
But since they were severely weakened, leaving just him…
Sealing Orochi wouldn't be enough. A seal could be broken. His followers would return. Would achieve their goal eventually once he was no longer around. Which left him with only one possibility.
Banishment.
Was it even possible?
The Yata mirror. The Yasakani magatama. The Kusanagi sword.
Godhood and what that entailed. What he could do with it, wielding it like a blade against Orochi. A possibility the god wouldn't even expect.
It's all within you. You decide, Kusanagi-san.
You have to decide, Kyo.
He missed his parents. His friends, if they were still alive. Shingo, who was a good kid at heart, brave and young. Daimon, his teammate of old and also a loving husband and father to his family. His cousins, if Souji and Aoi got along despite their occasional bickering. The friends he got to know during the tournaments from around the world, differences notwithstanding.
Saisyu Kusanagi. Dad. His mentor and pillar of support in the clan.
Shizuka Kusanagi. Mom. His quiet bulwark, stronger than she looked.
In the end, it all went back to his parents. To his clan. To his family.
Kyo balled his fists and pressed them against his face. Shutting his eyes, he rocked back and forth, despair gripping him. If he…he wouldn't see them again. His parents, cousins, friends – they wouldn't know what'd happened to him. He'd disappear and…would there even be a body? Or did the gods decide otherwise for a frail human borrowing divinity?
He didn't know. It was scary, not knowing.
Here was his choice. For it was a choice.
If he decided not to, then maybe – a slim chance – he would see his family again. A stroke of luck, a moment's encounter snatched amidst misery. Happiness, brief and spontaneous. If they were to die, at least they'd die together. Family. Together.
But if he didn't, then humanity would die and Orochi would win.
If he decided not to, then he'd be spitting on Chizuru and Iori's sacrifices and their deaths would be meaningless. He'd be discarding their experiences together – discussions around campfires and brotherhood shared – simply because he was afraid of dying. Because he wanted to grab at something the others didn't even have.
What would that make him?
Kyo removed his hands from his face, the breeze cool against his exposed cheek and stared again at the sky. Three treasures – the key here to victory – and it was his decision to make.
But where was Orochi? Where was he in this –
A sudden roar of human voices behind him – triumphant – shattering the midnight silence. Kyo leapt to his feet, ignoring pain, and moved towards the other side as quickly as possible. The impossible volume – the loudness – came from the border garrison. The garrison that had been quiet for days, ruined as it was by flames. Its soldiers depleted, killed by fire and fists, with blood and matter strewn far and wide.
Those soldiers – the survivors – were now cheering.
Kyo wanted to know why. Needed to know why.
The rooftop door banged open behind him, redirecting his attention. "Are you up here, Kyo?" It was Terry Bogard, voice frantic and concerned.
"Yes!" he called, aware he mightn't be heard.
"What's…" Terry joining him by the ledge, facing the direction of those voices. "What's going on?"
"Don't know!"
The voices continued, raised high, cheers turning to battle roars and then stopped. It was like a stone thrown into a dry well, hitting bottom in dead silence. Silence and Kyo startled, turning around and then back, alarm prickling gooseflesh on his arms. He couldn't hear the insects anymore. There was…nothing.
It was…
"Oh shit!" he said, aware of how loud he was.
"What? What is it?"
"Get everyone outside! We can't be here."
"Why?"
"Because…" He started for the door, Terry following right behind him. If he was wrong, then at least they took a necessary precaution and changed locations. But if he was right – he believed he was, for the treasures' resonance was overwhelming – then they needed to get outside to fight.
Because if Goenitz was back, then Chris would be, too.
It was upon them, finally.
