For These Scars

~Chapter 13~

Written by: RinoaDestiny

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

Iori kept Benimaru Nikaido's business card in his back pocket, unwilling to throw it out along with his junk mail. Using the time in between his heat-stricken moments, he decided to clean out his apartment. Not only did it give him something else to do besides eat and sleep, which comprised most of his day, but the activity was a mental inventory of sorts. He went through his few belongings methodically, deciding which still held sentimental value and which ones did not. What he discovered, to his chagrin and pain, was that some stirred memories he didn't want to remember.

Not now. Not with all the recent happenings.

Nikaido at his doorstep. Kyo searching for him. Kyo wanting to talk to him.

He hadn't thrown Nikaido's card out. Did he expect it to do something for him? Was he holding onto false hope? Why did he still have it?

He put aside the small stack of music CDs he was working on and brushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling its dampness as he did. Even now, he was sweating – his heat spike had been a few hours ago – and with his intake of painkillers and his dose of breathing medication, he felt somewhat normal. Enough to be sitting on the floor, his music collection bringing back memories of tenderness, laughter, and the way how things used to be.

Miles Davis.

John Coltrane.

Masato Honda.

Musicians he'd introduced to Kyo, who only liked rock music and didn't quite understand jazz. It took a while but eventually, the other man admitted it wasn't bad and curled up alongside him listening to it. Sometimes, they did just that when they weren't in the mood for anything else. Those evenings or mornings were quiet and they'd both been content just being together. Smoky saxophone and deep bass notes in his apartment and Kyo's mild voice sometimes in his ear, a lighter contrast to his baritone. He'd fallen asleep with Kyo murmuring nonsense before, especially if he was tired from a long work day in the studio or venue.

Had woken up during those times to find Kyo still there, a warm presence beside him.

That felt like so long ago.

Blinking, Iori placed another CD case on the pile, relegating it to the 'box it and forget it' category he designated these items to. His guitar was staying, of course. It'd been the first big purchase in his life when music became serious for him and a good Rickenbacker was hard to find. One like his was rare, since it was a classic and Iori treasured it like he did his ring, his watch, and everything else that mattered to him.

The few girlfriends he had years ago, before circumstances divided them.

Kyo – once again, division occurring outside of their control.

Nikaido's card in his back pocket.

Iori paused for a brief moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. He scrambled off the floor, reaching for the medication on his bed-stand. Took a dose and waited for it to take effect. Coughed and sat down on the bed, on the rumpled and sweat-stained sheets. His sight fell on the bed-stand's single drawer and a memory arose. Putting his breathing medication aside with a clatter, he reached for the drawer, opening it.

Inside were his watch, the box for the ring he was currently wearing, some loose change, and a smaller black leather box tucked in the back. It was this that he retrieved, keeping the drawer open as he settled back onto the bed. Kyo had given this to him on his birthday and he'd kept it stashed away, unworn. That had disappointed the other man but Iori had his reasons. For one, he wasn't quite sure how to approach a gift like this. Second, wouldn't wearing it declare something?

Kyo thought he'd made a fuss over nothing.

Iori thought he was being reasonable. Besides, he didn't fuss.

The memory returning, Iori opened the box. Inside gleamed a ring the color of gunmetal, sleek and cool and dark. Kyo had gotten his ring measurements somehow – wasn't sure when – and commissioned it. It was the inner part of the ring that mattered, though. The part that made Iori unsure about wearing it. He could still recall some of their discussion that day a few months ago after Kyo handed it to him without his usual flourish in the living room.

"Really, Kyo? Isn't that fucking blatant?"

The other man shrugged. "Took it to some guy in Kyoto. He just thought it was a cool design." Kyo fixed him with a cool stare. "I'm careful, Yagami. No one's gonna track us down through this."

He held the ring to the light, letting it fall upon the singular design etched in its inner surface. Expensive work – one part of it was polished to a mirror sheen; the other almost frosted insofar as could be done with steel. Must've taken a good chunk out of whatever allowance Kyo had, or a small part of his earnings from the tournaments. "You didn't need to do this. I don't celebrate –"

"Stop being a killjoy and just take it, Yagami."

"I already have a ring."

"I know. You wear it every day. You can switch up, you know?"

Now he looked at the brunet across from him, eyebrow raised. "It's not like being in bed, Kyo. This is…" Kyo colored slightly but didn't say anything otherwise. Iori looked at the ring again, at its beautiful finish and hefty weight. Expensive and meaningful. "I'll keep it."

"Will you wear it?"

"With that design?" He looked again at the other man. "Your jeweler in Kyoto mightn't know but it's different here. If someone were to see it…"

"They won't."

"And you can be sure how?"

"Because you won't let anyone else see it."

"Rings get misplaced. Lost. Stolen." Iori closed his fist around the ring, feeling its luxuriant smoothness against his skin. "I can't guarantee anything, Kyo. If someone saw that…"

"They won't."

"Hard enough to keep this under wraps, you understand? This just…" Well, it complicated things. To Iori, this was an outright declaration of their relationship. One they had to keep secret for so many reasons. "I'll keep it. It...it means a lot." That was as far as he'd go without outright saying thanks. He never did. By now, Kyo knew how to read his unspoken thoughts.

The expression on the other's face was still somewhat unhappy. "Wear it, Yagami. It's not meant to be kept in a box."

He hadn't worn it. The possibility of discovery should the design become known was too great a risk and Iori considered all the outcomes – none of them pleasant for either him or Kyo. In the end, he put it away and despite Kyo's disappointment the last time they met, Iori thought he made the right decision. How was he to know that barely three weeks later all his caution would be for naught and that his life would turn out like this?

He turned the ring to the light, to illuminate the inner curve.

There, against the dark gunmetal sheen, shone the unified circle made by crescent moon and the corona of the sun. Burnished and bright, the corona stood in sharp contrast to the moon's subtly frosted arc. Instead of being diametrically opposed, the crests of their clans were as one. To Iori, this symbolism was direct and telling. It was a good thing Kyo hadn't considered their names on the ring – for one, that would've been suicidally stupid and two, Iori would've smacked him upside the head if he'd done that. It reeked of melodrama and stupid romance stories and at least Kyo had common sense not to go there.

It was a nice ring, though, and even now, the weight was comfortable.

Back in March – was it really only that long ago? – Kyo wanted him to wear this. He didn't even try it on during his birthday and the other man's disappointment was palpable. He didn't like making Kyo feel that way – tried not to do it often – and now that he had the ring to hand, Kyo wasn't here. Instead, Benimaru Nikaido was Kyo's messenger and go-between and Kyo…Kyo was trying to reach him, trying to cross that divide that Saisyu made and…

And what was he doing?

Nikaido's business card in his back pocket. Iori reached for it with his other hand, removed it, placed it on the bed and looked hard at it. At the number above Nikaido's e-mail and below his tagline of 'Professional Model (United States & Japan)'. He refrained from snorting at that, for despite his usual derision aimed at the blond man, Nikaido was anything but an airhead while here. He'd shown some keen insight – how had he guessed at his predicament? – and seemed to take his responsibility as messenger seriously. If anything, Iori owed him some respect for that. Some, not all.

Nikaido was still an unknown in this situation between him, Kyo, and Saisyu. How far his role played, Iori had yet to discover. Wiping his face again, sweat spattering on the floor, Iori looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

He was at a crossroads now and he had to decide.

Nikaido's card with its contact information offered him the slimmest of possibilities. If he were to call, he could ask if arrangements could be made. He wanted to see Kyo, if only a glimpse. As long as he didn't approach him, he wouldn't be running afoul of Saisyu's warning. Surely, they could share the same spaces without him offending the Kusanagi clan as a whole?

Kyo was scrambling to find him. To reunite.

What was he doing? Cowering? Waiting to be rescued?

Iori made an indecipherable sound and looked back down, opening his eyes. He wasn't a coward – didn't consider himself one – and in any other circumstance, he'd tell Saisyu Kusanagi to fuck off. But in his current condition, that'd be a deadly mistake and it wasn't as though he could fight any of them now…

He took a shaky breath. Nikaido's card. His life in the balance.

He was still losing weight. Each day, he grew gaunter. Soon, he wouldn't be able to recognize himself in the mirror. Soon, life just might stop without him realizing it. It'd be an end but it'd come silent and sudden and without pain.

Before that though, he wanted to see Kyo.

To make sure he was all right. That he could carry on, after.

Nikaido could relay his message. If it came to that.

Sliding his usual ring off his finger, Iori slid the gunmetal one in its place. Felt the design against his skin, as if reaffirming his bond with Kyo. His fingers were thinner these days as well, so he jammed the chrome steel one on top, keeping the new ring in place.

He felt better doing so, as though arming himself for what was ahead.

He picked up his phone. Dialed Nikaido's number. Waited.

"Benimaru Nikaido speaking."

"Nikaido," he said, keeping his standard terseness. "This is Yagami."

A pause. "Oh shit, you did call. Great."

That confused him. "What –"

"Kyo was hoping you'd call. It'd been a few days, so he was getting worried."

"I don't have time to chat."

"Friendly as usual." He couldn't miss the sarcasm oozing over the other end. "Yagami, we do need to talk, so if you can cut out the asshole act for once, I'd appreciate it."

That got him to snort.

"Glad you find that funny. Look…Kyo wants to talk to you."

"You know I can't."

"We get that. We kinda figured something was up, so…Kyo asked if I could arrange something else. Something safer."

"What do you mean?" Did they both realize his situation? Just from that one meeting? From that single exchange of words? Were both of them that savvy?

"Since we understand you don't want to get caught, Kyo asked if I could set up a conference call. Your number won't show on his record. You'd be anonymous, except to those of us on the call. That'd be me and Kyo."

Tempting but… "You're sure it's safe, Nikaido?"

"No one's watching me, so yes. The number will be my usual conference call one."

"Your business line."

"Exactly. So nothing to fear. What do you say, Yagami? You in?"

"Kyo will be on?"

"Of course he'll be on. He's only been trying to reach you for the last month or so."

Iori winced. All the messages and videos on his phone. He still had them – couldn't bring himself to delete them. "What day? What time?" He was in now. There was no going back from this step taken. A roundabout to Saisyu's warning, engineered by Kyo and surprisingly enough, Benimaru Nikaido. He'd never expected the other member of Japan Team to help him but Nikaido's friendship with Kyo went back and he was grateful for that now.

Fear still curled cold and deep in his gut. He hoped he made the right decision.

That he wasn't about to face a blistering white-hot end afterwards.

"It's safer if we talk late at night. How does two days from now at three A.M. sound?"

Three in the morning? He was usually out by then, between the fatigue, the pain, the heat spikes, and his lack of energy. Three in the morning… Iori gritted his teeth. "I'll be there."

"Great. Here's the conference call details…you got a pen?"

That required a trip to the kitchen where he scrawled the details down on some random piece of junk mail with a leaking ballpoint pen. Folding the piece of cardstock, he slid it into his pocket. Just the short walk exhausted him and Iori felt the telltale signs of yet another heat wave coming through. His breath was short, his lungs burned, and his knees were going weak. "Fuck."

"You okay, Yagami?"

"I…" He needed to get back to his bedroom. He couldn't collapse here. "Nikaido…we have to…" He needed his medication before… "Talk later."

"Shit. If you need help –"

"Done enough." He gripped the phone in fingers that threatened to give on him. "I'll…" Goddammit. "I'll be there."

He exited the call, stumbled into his room and almost knocked the medication off the bed-stand as he lunged for it. He'd barely taken it before the heat wave ripped through him, tearing consciousness apart in a swelter that forced his graceless fall onto the bed. He heard something hit the floor – two, perhaps? – before darkness closed in on him.

I need to see Kyo. I have to, before…

Then all was silence.