For These Scars

~Chapter 11~

Written by: RinoaDestiny

King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK

"Thank you very much!"

Iori heard the convenience store clerk but deigned to respond. He usually didn't, so he wasn't about to break routine. The way his life was headed, he now relied on routine just to keep himself going. Some days were worse than others, like the day before. After he lost his job, he'd kept himself cooped up inside his apartment, unsure how to proceed. Yesterday had hit him like a truck health-wise and after staring at himself in the mirror – his cheekbones almost razor-sharp against his skin – he knew measures needed to be taken.

He continued losing weight, which alarmed him. Something had to be done.

So he left the apartment to buy food. Did so in the morning and came back. Ate and slept. Played his guitar. Slept some more. Forced himself to eat even though he didn't feel hungry. He was going to do the same today and over time make it part of his daily life. Along with this was his constant reliance on the prescribed painkillers and other medication. Breathing was still a chore and pain had become his worst enemy even at night while he was asleep. He'd woken up before, hunched over in agony.

It wasn't the way he ever saw himself living, yet what could he do but survive?

Even now, he had his breathing medication in his pocket.

He still felt pathetic and he was weak. He couldn't deny either of those, as much as he wanted to. But complaining would get him nowhere and Iori knew he was alone. That no one else would hold him up, would carry him down this lonely road. That if he didn't haul himself up and move, he'd just stagnate and die.

Saisyu Kusanagi might've crippled him, rendered him into a shadow of his former self but Iori refused to give him the satisfaction of withering away because he gave up. Despite everything he'd been through to this point, he still belonged to the Yagami clan and they never just quit. Also, Kyo was someone he respected and loved and Kyo would never expect him to just lie down and die. Doing so would be shameful and he didn't want to disappoint Kyo. Ever.

But life had turned from living into survival now and Iori couldn't say that it wasn't difficult. He'd thought his life hard before – he'd no idea, did he?

Walking back from the convenience store, being fully aware of his condition, he was determined to get home before the first heat spike of the day. When that hit, he was worthless for the next few hours. He'd never forgotten that embarrassing day in the subway station and he'd do anything to avoid a repeat of it. If he passed out at home, no one saw it. No one pitied him. He still had a pile of mail to sort and take care of – bills to pay and junk to toss – but that required energy, which was in short supply these days.

Iori breathed; his lungs burned.

Some things once damaged could never be mended.

Aside from the physical aftermath of his traumatic ordeal, Iori found it almost impossible to return to those texts and videos Kyo sent him. They reminded him of his loss – of what had been – and even certain areas in his apartment carried memories too strong and painful now to reminisce. There were even pieces of music he could no longer listen to, because Kyo had been there to experience it with him. Kyo's presence from those months before continued to linger and haunt those spaces; perhaps, he should consider moving out.

So much to think about. Kyo was no longer here – would not be coming back. Saisyu had guaranteed that and it was the second month now. Whatever Kyo's old man was doing, it was apparently working. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but move on.

Move on without Kyo. Unthinkable. It staggered him to even give it serious consideration. His whole life revolved around the other man. He'd never lived a day without him either in his thoughts or him seeking the other out. They had been rivals – had known each other for years and being lovers just made them closer. For him to even think about cutting that bond…

Well, it'd been cut for him, hadn't it?

The only thing left was for him to step away.

Step away and what?

Iori shivered, glancing at the sun wheeling overhead. The day was mild, the sky was high and blue wisped with clouds, and aside from his own body temperature, it was probably comfortable. There was even a light breeze cooling the sweat on his face. He stopped walking and found shelter under a store awning, staying in the shade.

A life without Kyo? Death would be better.

Had Saisyu known that by keeping him alive? By not killing him that afternoon?

Iori trembled and tilted his head back, pressing it against the cool concrete wall. It was torture, living and knowing and realizing that all he had to do was reach out. Reach out and take that chance, hoping that Saisyu wouldn't discover it. But it was a slender chance and if the Kusanagi head patriarch found out…

Better to die that afternoon than face the inferno promised if he transgressed.

He'd survived his injuries. Lived in pain, yes, but survived. He wasn't about to throw it away because of one phone call or text. He didn't know how Saisyu Kusanagi found out and he couldn't afford to take chances.

Kyo sent the occasional message. Iori didn't answer any of them.

He hoped the other man understood through his silence. It wasn't that he didn't care. He just…couldn't. Not if he wanted to continue staying here, being here, being alive. If he could even catch glimpses of him in the city, that would be fine.

But that meant following the law imposed by Saisyu and…

He let out a dry hoarse laugh. Here he was, the last heir of the Yagami clan and he was following to the letter the strictures given to him by the Kusanagi clan's head patriarch. It was a dark sad irony and his father would've killed him for even kowtowing to the other. Would've killed him, blood wet and red on his fingers and considered it a deed well done.

Iori closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Usually, he needed a smoke right about now but by the time his hospital stay was complete, he'd undergone a thorough nicotine withdrawal. Smoking in his current condition would kill him – would damage his already scarred lungs – and he'd enough problems without incurring further risks.

Opening his eyes, he glanced down the street. It was time he headed home.

Already, he felt his temperature rising, which was a precursor to the heat spike.

Pushing himself off the wall, he dragged his feet along. It already felt like a long day and it'd barely started. To make things worse, he wasn't hungry. Just feverish and going through the motions to keep himself anchored to today.

This was what passed for normalcy, for routine.

Would death have been better?

He decided not to answer that. Better not to have thought of it at all.

"Hey, Yagami…if you're home, it's Nikaido."

Iori turned over on the couch, exhausted. There was a voice coming through his intercom – familiar and somewhat irritating – and he just wanted whoever it was to go away. He'd barely made it back before the heat shot through his system. He hadn't even eaten yet – just dropped right here and slept for several hours. If the son-of-a-bitch outside would leave, he might be able to grab a quick bite before dozing off again.

"Yagami…look, I know we're not on the best of terms. I'm here because of Kyo. If you're in there, let me in. I need to talk to you."

Did he just hear…Kyo's name? Who was that again outside his door?

"I'll leave my card in your box. You can give me a call."

He was sluggish. Moving slow – too slow, too awkward on his feet – towards the door. Sidestepping the place where Saisyu dropped him, Iori lurched past the entranceway and fumbled for the chain and lock. Unlocked the door and threw it open, just in time to catch sight of blond hair and the telltale midriff-baring shirt. He made a sound, which should've been Nikaido's surname but his voice rasped without coherency.

It was enough, though. The other man stopped and turned to look at him.

Looked at him hard – astonishment clear on his face – as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Iori knew he looked different but Nikaido's expression was a gut-punch. Was he unrecognizable now?

"Yagami?"

"You want to talk. I'm tired. Get inside."

Astonishment changed to annoyance on the blond man's face; Iori couldn't care less. He'd hear him out and then ask him to leave. He needed food – had to gain some weight back – and then crash on his bed, which was actually comfortable. Benimaru Nikaido being here ruined his routine and…wait…

"How the hell do you know where I live?"

"My family has connections, Yagami. I was asked to find your whereabouts."

Iori narrowed his eyes. "By whom?"

"By Kyo. Don't know what he sees in you, but I'm doing a favor for him."

"He…he asked you?"

"He's been trying to reach you, Yagami. Going crazy not hearing from you. Wants to know if you're even here, alive or dead. Guess I can tell him you're still breathing."

Iori didn't respond. Silence fell.

"He's been contacting you, hasn't he?"

"He has." Iori looked past the other man, fixing his gaze on the sunlit expanse outside. "Get in."

Once Nikaido crossed the threshold and removed his shoes, Iori closed the door, locked it and stumbled his way back to the couch. It was slick with sweat; he sat, dipping his head down briefly to catch his breath. Nikaido continued standing, having not been offered a seat but that was fine. Iori felt his chest ache along with the rest of his joints and hoped he could last until after this discussion. He needed his painkillers soon. Inflammation was a major issue for him now and with his burns still healing – skin grafts required for the worst – pain was always around the corner.

He wiped the side of his face. His palm and fingers were slick and wet.

"You look like shit, Yagami."

"That's very insightful, Nikaido. What exactly are you here for?"

The blond man huffed, crossed his arms, and shifted his footing. "Why haven't you gotten back to Kyo? He's been –"

"Is he okay?"

"His dad found out. About you two, I mean."

"Is he okay, Nikaido?" His voice had lowered, tone soft. "He's all right, isn't he?"

"He's fine. Just worried. Wanted to tell you a few things."

"Such as?"

"That he'll come and find you. To wait for him. He wants to talk to you, Yagami."

Iori took a shallow breath and felt his chest constrict. "I…I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I…" He closed his hands into fists, sharp nails biting deep into his palms. Tiny pinpricks of pain and a different sort of wetness staining them from within. "I can't."

Across from him, Benimaru sighed. "You care for him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you –"

"You don't understand, Nikaido. He doesn't need to know. It's best if he…" He wanted to cry. Talking about Kyo, knowing that Kyo was still trying to get to him was… "He's better off forgetting about me. His father…he's risking himself..."

"He's aware of that. That's why he sent me. You want me to tell him you said that?"

Iori startled, eyes widening. "No! Don't! That'll…" If he even contacted Kyo – Saisyu never specified how or by what method – and he was found out, then he'd die. Cease to exist and Kyo wouldn't even know. "I didn't say anything."

Nikaido studied him, his scrutiny making him uncomfortable. "Did someone threaten you?"

"No."

"Then why are you –"

"It's nothing." He wanted the other man to stop asking questions. The less he knew, the better. "It's...it doesn't concern you, Nikaido."

"Anything to say to Kyo?"

He shook his head. Of course he did, but Kyo's old man would kill him.

"Can I at least tell Kyo what I saw? About you, I mean?"

Iori opened his mouth and then closed it. Nodded.

Again, Benimaru sighed. "You seem different."

"No shit. What made that obvious?"

"Guess I'll see myself out. I'll let Kyo know." Benimaru Nikaido stepped towards the entranceway and put his shoes back on. Before he opened the door, he hesitated – Iori saw him pause in mid-action – and turning, looked at him. "Yagami, if he calls, just let him know –"

"I can't."

The blond man turned back. "I see. I'll let him know I spoke to you."

The door opening and closing. Silence returning and with it, the weight of everything he tried to forget. Kyo sent Nikaido to find him, to see how he was doing. To talk to him, to… Kyo wanted to find him, asked him to wait for him, that… Iori opened his hands, staring down at his blood-smeared palms. Four deep crescent moons in each, blood still flowing. His chest hurt. His eyes burned. Everything was suddenly too hot and he was tired.

He lay back down on the couch. Closed his eyes.

Kyo was looking for him. Knew something was wrong. Would come to find him.

Should he dare to hope or should he convince himself it'll all be for nothing?

Iori turned onto his side, hair spilling over onto the cushion he used as a pillow. His hands stung but that was a minor inconvenience, easily dealt with. Kyo…The other's name bright in a world gone dark. He clung to it and hoped.

Within minutes, he was asleep.