For These Scars
~Chapter 19~
Written by: RinoaDestiny
King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, Saisyu Kusanagi, and Benimaru Nikaido belong to SNK
He couldn't breathe. Fingers tight around his throat, pressing hard and deep. He couldn't see the hand but it was choking him and his strength failed him yet again. He sank into darkness and heat and then it was agony.
Fire within; burning without. There was pain; yet, he couldn't scream.
He couldn't breathe…couldn't…
Flickers of orange and crimson flames – ember-bright in the darkness – and they encircled him. Were sentient – knew who he was and what their purpose was. Flaring high into columns, white-hot and blinding, they converged on him and began scorching, blackening flesh, destroying.
He couldn't scream. Couldn't…
Fingers around his throat, cutting his air off. The swirling of an ink-black sleeve.
The fading shine of a sun, stitched in gold.
A final burst of heat. Pain. Emptiness. Silence.
Nothing. He was nothing.
There weren't even ashes…
Sheets were flung aside as he wrenched himself out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom, sweaty and panicked. His heart beat against his chest, as if seeking a violent exit and he could barely see past the horrific dream-haze still superimposed over his vision. His throat itched, his body ached – waves of heat surfacing and receding and growing hotter each time – and his stomach flipped. Sliding back the bathroom door with enough violence to rattle the tempered glass in its frame, he made it to the toilet just in time to lose whatever he ate hours before.
Cold tiles hard beneath his knees; tears hot in his eyes and ceramic cool against his overheated cheek. His hands trembled as he gripped the toilet bowl and nausea hit him again. There was nothing left to vomit but bile and as he retched, misery drove into him like a blade, twisting cruel and cold. He was falling apart, wretched piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Except for going to the hospital. Having himself stuck with needles. Undergoing a battery of tests. Hearing the nurses on the floor. Listening to the beds being transported, possibly even his. The stench of death and blood. The way how light from outside would fall on his bed, if he received a room like that. The doctor's entrances and exits and instructions given to the staff. Sedated sleep, if necessary. Fluids from the IV bag into his arm. A quiet existence. A prolonged lingering.
If he went, he could still die in there. There was only so much medicine and care could do. It wasn't as if he could live there. The moment he left, it would begin all over again. Sooner or later, death would come for him and he'd be powerless to prevent it.
Would he even want to stop it by then?
Exhausted – the nightmare vestiges wearing off – Iori flushed the toilet and staggered to his feet. Heading for the sink, he turned the tap on and rinsed his mouth, spitting out the foul taste of bile. He tried to avoid looking at his reflection in the mirror – he didn't like what it showed – but still caught glimpses of dark purple shadows under sunken eyes, bones sharp under skin, and dull red hair. Everything about him seemed colorless. Lacking. It wasn't a pleasant sight.
Splashing cold water on his face, letting it trickle down, he allowed himself a small careful breath. Vomiting had strained his chest and the area around his sternum hurt, as if he'd pulled something. He needed a painkiller and water. He was already dehydrated and it'd cripple him if he didn't remedy it. Sleep was out of the question. He didn't want to close his eyes for some time.
Taking one of the pills with him, Iori left the bathroom. The automatic sensor would shut off the light behind him. One less thing to worry about.
His jaw ached. He'd been clenching his teeth and hadn't realized it.
The nightmare continued to hound him, images sinister in his mind. Darkness and fire, burning and death. Reduced to nothing. Just like Saisyu Kusanagi swore he'd do if he…
Why was he dreaming this? Why were his nightmares worsening?
What had he done to deserve all this? All this hell?
It was no use complaining but he felt a sudden urge to just scream. Because nothing made sense anymore. Kyo was trying to reach him but he couldn't do the same – not like that. Not without jeopardizing his life – a life he'd been fighting to hold onto since the afternoon it essentially ended.
Because that was what happened. The life he used to have died that day.
Iori Yagami – the way he was – died the second Saisyu laid hands on him.
He'd never been free of him since. Those words – that threat – steered his actions, checked his impulses, and threw him into moments of overwhelming gloom. The other man's presence still seemed to linger in his apartment and Iori stopped asking himself what else he could've done. Like he told Kyo, Saisyu knew. Perhaps it was all meant to happen. Perhaps this was punishment for him desiring someone he couldn't have.
Perhaps…Kyo was never meant for him.
Iori shuddered; the mere thought painful. He put the painkiller in his mouth and bit down, grinding the pill between his teeth. Bitterness soon followed. He swallowed, the taste going down his throat and souring his stomach.
He needed a reprieve from this. From the nightmares. From the helplessness.
He needed to do something besides watch from the sidelines as events unfolded around him. As Kyo defied his clan, risking his own rank and life to understand and save his. As Nikaido took on his role as go-between, relaying messages between him and Kyo. The only notable action he'd taken was to call Nikaido, which wasn't much. It left him feeling useless – he wanted to do more. Something bolder. Something more in line with how he used to do things.
But that was before Saisyu Kusanagi truncated his life.
Before darkness and flames scared him from going back to sleep.
Before…before he was frightened of anything, really.
A single sun, stitched in gold thread, bright against a black silk sleeve.
Iori shivered. Forced himself into the kitchen, where he grabbed two bottles of water from the small refrigerator. He took a quick drink there, already fatigued from the abrupt awakening and the uncomfortable experience after. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face. His body heat surged and he almost dropped the bottle even as he leaned against the wall to break his fall. The backs of his knees protested as he slid down to the floor, scarred flesh resistant and tough.
He wanted to weep but his eyes were dry.
He was too hot – internally scalded – and crying wouldn't do him any good.
It hadn't brought Kyo back before. It wouldn't do anything now. Nothing but show how pathetic, weak, and wounded he was. He hated feeling this way – always had – yet, what could he do about it? That was the problem, wasn't it?
Was there anything he could do besides keep trying?
He tried – continued doing so – but it felt futile with his declining health. Nikaido had reached out to him to coordinate a public "meeting" which he wanted; however, he'd held off, mindful of the time he passed out in the subway station. Shame from that incident still remained. He didn't want Kyo to see that. To feel pity for him. To wonder what happened to reduce him to…
Because Kyo would realize and have that look and…
He didn't know if he'd be able to handle that.
Another reason why he didn't want Kyo to know he was there if…
Iori sighed. Rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. Allowed his body to go slack.
Darkness and fire. Saisyu Kusanagi had worn a black haori with sun crests that day. The day his life became an unending struggle to be something more than just survival. The day the countdown on his mortality shortened, leaving him with much less time than he hoped.
If the nightmare was a portent, then his time was even less.
What would give it away?
He still felt that dream-phantom hand at his throat. It felt real even now.
Death by strangulation? It couldn't be worse than being burnt to nothing. At least he'd have a body left for cremation. He was allowed that much dignity, right?
He wanted to see Kyo.
Phantom fingers indenting into flesh, producing phantom bruises.
He wanted to see Kyo, yet…
Iori was afraid.