Anchor

Written by: RinoaDestiny

#23 – Uncertainties

"This is pretty good." The glass of whisky in Kyo's hand was a soft gold in the bar's ambient nighttime lighting. "You tried this last week?"

The Hakushu 12 Year Old in Iori's own glass was down to a third, since he started on his earlier. "Yeah." He reached out and took one of the small bites off the plate. "You got me thinking, so I decided to experiment. Satoshi has a recommended list, if you want others."

"I'll finish this first."

Iori nodded. Went for another piece of food – toasted bread garnished with cheese and shredded dried seaweed – and finished it, then reached for his glass. This was his second and he contemplated a third (something different) to close. He took a sip and returned his gaze back to Kyo. Unlike last time, Kyo's choice of colors ran bold – a bright orange shirt offsetting dark pants – while he remained subdued, reversing his colors. Set against the bar counter, Kyo stood out.

Mine, he thought, relishing the thrill in his gut.

Kyo cleared the plate, noticed his expression, and smirked. "Like what you see, Yagami?"

He kept his voice to a low growl. "You need to ask?"

Kyo chuckled, the sound warming like the liquor within him.

"Have you received the invite yet?" Iori hadn't noticed any changes in his mail or any mysterious sealed envelope in his apartment, but maybe it was different for Kyo. Unlike the western Santa Claus, he doubted Antonov or whoever backed the tournament this year had an automatic same-day delivery system. The King of Fighters tournaments weren't favorites of his; yet, it continued to draw him for some reason.

"Nothing. 'Sides, you know if we did, Kagura-san would call."

That was true. "Maybe it's delayed."

"Hey, I'll take that." Kyo took a larger sip of the whisky and held onto the glass. "It's crazy every year. Wonder who the next big threat is this time."

"Kagura mentioned Orochi-related disturbances, so…"

"And that could be anyone. Those from the Past. Some new cult that wants to use Orochi as their game-changer. Or Orochi himself."

"Fuck. Hope not." Last time Orochi became a legitimate threat, he'd gone through severe strain and still managed to fulfill his role in sealing the bastard away. Those from the Past had, through their devious machinations, brought enough of the god's presence into the arena that Iori lost control. It wasn't one of his better memories, almost killing Kyo and Shingo. He never wanted a repeat of that, or of the time he slaughtered Mature and Vice after Goenitz's defeat. He didn't like being manipulated – a puppet on invisible strings without any volition.

"Guess we'll find out."

Iori made a face and gave himself some liquid comfort.

Kyo's expression softened. "Hey. You okay, Yagami?"

"Just don't like thinking about it."

Kyo didn't respond but his eyes altered and the man nodded. Redirected his gaze towards Satoshi, who came over and took the third order of another plate of food. The bartender, who Iori assumed inferred their relationship by observation, smiled and left. Most of Osaka probably knew by now. The revelation at the tournament would be…

"Kyo…are we rooming together this time?"

That option, unless necessary, had been a no-go in the past. They would sooner fight and try to kill each other before than share a hotel room, even with two beds. Just close proximity alone was dangerous. But now…

"We can. You want to?"

"You don't mind?" Kyo had already taken a hit with the loss of his previous sponsor. Would something like this damage his standing or reputation among the other fighters? "Do your friends know?"

"Not to this extent, but…" Light played off Kyo's hair, highlighting stray strands brown. "Why? You concerned?"

"About you." Iori didn't care what anyone thought about him – when had he ever cared? – but Kyo was different. Came from a different background, had plenty of friends, and there were certain expectations imposed upon him. "Will it…hurt you?"

A silent clink of a plate beside them and the enticing smell of grilled chicken. Although he'd eaten well before, Iori glanced at the plateful of skewered meat, placed his glass down beside it, and picked up a skewer. Took the first chunk right off and chewed while waiting for Kyo's response.

This time, Kyo drained his glass and slid it along the counter. Shifted his weight on the bar stool and positioned his arm alongside the full plate. Fixed him with a steady and assured gaze. "If I worried about that, I wouldn't be here right now, would I?"

He had a point. Kyo's self-assurance was so…inspiring. No wonder Kyo remained Japan Team's captain for so long.

"So we…"

"I don't mind. Let them talk. None of their business, anyway."

"You're starting to sound like me," Iori said, tone wry.

"Well, we are together most of the time now."

Except for the days when they were not, which made moments like this more special. "How did the contract signing go?"

"Done in less time than expected. Verified all my information and they signed. Three of them."

"They wanted to be sure." Three signatures was a lot, whereas one could've sufficed. "How are the terms?"

"Good. They can't offer me as much starting out compared to my other one, but…" Kyo shrugged, reaching for a skewer. "It'll increase over time."

"Your old man happy?"

"Very." A sudden shadow over Kyo's expression – subtle, as though something troubled him – and it disappeared just as quickly. "Your estate? How's that going?"

Iori bit two chunks of juicy chicken off the skewer, puzzled over Kyo's former turn of expression. Why did the mention of his father make Kyo…disturbed? Upset? Should he ask? Or was it a family matter and none of his concern? If Kyo had wanted to divulge it, he would've. Iori swallowed, the savory taste of grilled meat lingering in his mouth.

"I might be able to save it."

"They need more evidence?"

"Might have to live there a few days per week. I'll see."

Silence and Iori used the pause to finish his whisky. While the logistics of travel weren't bad, neither of them had set foot on each other's estates yet and for good reason. Iori wasn't certain as to his reception in the Kusanagi household – once the Kusanagi stronghold during ancient days – and he wasn't ready to bring Kyo over to the Yagami estate. His history there as a child was…the corridors and rooms bore witness to his suffering there.

Suffering to make him what he was against the Kusanagi clan.

Even if all that was past, it still lingered within those walls and…

He wasn't ready to reveal that part of himself, yet. Bringing Kyo there and avoiding certain rooms would lead to questions. The answers would dig up childhood pain and he…

No. It was better not to.

"Would I be able to visit you there, if…?"

Iori shook his head, his hair partially obscuring Kyo's disappointment. A stab of pain there, denying Kyo that. But it was too early to…give away so much, and he…there were limits to his vulnerability. This part was still walled off – returning to it would expose him and torn barriers proved difficult to restore. He wasn't ready to face it yet, so how would Kyo…

"You can still call me. Or text. Meet up downtown."

Disappointment passed like the darkness that had been in Kyo's face before. "Guess so."

The whisky burned in his throat, the pleasant aftertaste unable to mask his anxiety over possibly ruining their night together. Iori opened his mouth, stopping short of an apology, because he could never bring himself to say those words. "I'm not…it's not that…"

"It's okay." Said gently. Quietly amidst the bar's soft jazz and the hum of conversation around them. Kyo reached out with the hand not holding the skewer and laid it atop his, obscured by the counter's overhanging shadow. "I understand. You haven't visited my home, either."

Not quite the truth of why Iori didn't want him to drop by, but it was better than explaining the whole of it. Finding an apt response left him, so he turned to the plate and picked up another skewer. The meat no longer sizzled and was going cold. A waste if uneaten.

"You want more after this? Or should we leave?"

Iori swallowed the piece in his mouth – against the subsiding lump in his throat – and looked at Kyo. Concern creasing the space between his eyes and…something else. Being drawn to it was akin to putting his hand into scorching flame; he glanced away before it overwhelmed him.

"Yagami?"

"We should have…" He took a piece of chicken off the skewer with his fingers, the meat greasy and cold. "Another whisky and then…"

"Okay. Your place after?"

Iori nodded.

When they returned to his apartment via train, Iori found himself exhausted, anxiety fraying his nerves. He tried to hide it, but Kyo – Kyo, who had seen through him from the beginning of all this – stuck close to him, as if sensing something was wrong. So when he stumbled leaving the entranceway, Kyo grabbed his arm, preventing a bad fall. To Iori's shame, his hands were shaking.

Cigarettes in his shirt pocket and he didn't have the energy to retrieve them.

"Yagami, what's wrong?"

Three glasses of hard liquor and beneath it all, he still…that feeling he did something stupid earlier. He should've been careful. Phrased his response better, so he wouldn't hurt Kyo. But he hadn't done so and…

"Maybe we need some sleep. Might help."

We. Not "you". We.

Kyo knew his place by now, and so Iori let him guide their steps towards the bedroom. Whatever he had planned for tonight would have to wait. When he was undressed – Kyo's touch like sparks against his skin – and Kyo had done the same, the room went dark. Roughened fingertips against his bare shoulders and then the softness of his bed. A blanket's heaviness and Kyo's presence beside him – solid, warm, comforting.

A breath against his forehead.

Iori surrendered to fatigue and slept.