Anchor

Written by: RinoaDestiny

#4 – Sparring

"We'll never stop fighting, will we?" This, Kyo said, grinning. He'd thrown his jacket aside onto the grassy knoll by the river flowing behind them. Cocked his head sideways and maintained the grin that once spurred Iori on to either rage or sheer determination to see him beaten. Already, he was in stance, bouncing on his heels in a steady rhythm.

Iori didn't say anything, but responded by shifting into stance as well. There was a wiry and feral grace to his movements and fighting posture, which hadn't changed since the time Kyo first knew him as a rival. Back then, those movements were something to look out for – to anticipate incoming strikes or feints. While that hadn't changed, Kyo was now able to take pleasure in observing certain aspects of Iori's stance. His outstretched arms, sleeve slightly turned to reveal a sliver of pale wrist. Long legs, lean and strong like the rest of him. The focused and serious expression on his face, chin jutting forward.

"You done looking?"

"Let me enjoy the moment, Yagami," he said, carefree while keeping the grin on his face. "Ain't often I get to look."

His lover snorted. "You'll get plenty of time for that. We gonna spar or you gonna keep staring?"

"Spoilsport. Fine. Let's go."

"Don't you dare hold back."

"Yeah. Yeah." He widened his legs a bit farther apart, readjusting his center of gravity. "Same for you."

Iori's visible eye narrowed. Within the second, the man was within striking range. Kyo shifted backwards, feet finding solid purchase on the grass. He kept one arm ready to block high, while his other arm hovered around his middle. Iori tended to strike high – a personal preference he'd noticed – but sometimes it changed. The arm slashing out arced towards his center; his arm swung upward to block. A shiver in the air and Iori's nails sliced through his skin.

Delayed pain – cold stings – and then blood.

Not bad, Yagami. But then, you were always fast.

The wounds were shallow, skin-deep and afterwards, he'd just douse it with disinfectant and wrap it up. Iori, during their sparring, was allowed to inflict damage. However, they both knew their limits. It was no longer a brutal fight to the death, but neither was going gentle part of it.

They were fighters. Being lovers didn't remove any of the competitiveness. Their pride wouldn't stand for it, either.

He shook the blood off, droplets flying in the air.

Counterattacked, reversing his defensive position into offensive. Came in with a low quick kick that forced Iori backward. Kyo pressed his advantage, fist swinging in high. Iori blocked and then tried grabbing him. An old trick.

Not this time, Yagami.

He dodged, moving sideways. Iori whiffed the grab, hand extending into empty space. Kyo jumped, launching his leg straight for Iori's side, avoiding his ribs. The blow landed, but the other man didn't even flinch. Instead, turned, one hand already enveloped with twisting violet flame. Now that fire entered the fight, Kyo brought forth his, orange burning.

His flames went straight for Iori's face, the tail end throwing sparks.

Iori's raked straight down, parting his flames and catching his shirt on fire.

Kyo batted at the licking tongues of violet flame with one hand while pressing into Iori's range. The other's arms were up in his usual stance, gaze trying to read his next move. Kyo disregarded his singed shirt and minor burns, following up with his other fist. The blow swung high; Iori blocked. Kyo followed with another punch, straight for the midsection.

The other man saw it incoming a second too late. Iori's parry glanced off his fist, which Kyo sank into his abdomen. The redhead hunched over, staggering back. Kyo gave him the distance to recover. They were sparring – this wasn't a desperate death match. He used the few seconds to assess his own injuries, which weren't that bad compared to what he'd gotten before.

A few burns on his chest, easily dealt with using cooling lotion.

As for the cuts on his arm, hydrogen peroxide and disinfectant gel.

His shirt, if unsalvageable – seemed okay – he'd use as cleaning rags.

Iori straightened across from him, arm over his abdomen. It seemed to take a while for him to recover his breath. "Won't fall for that again."

"You tend to overlook your middle when I aim high. You okay?"

"Hit my fucking diaphragm."

"Oh."

Kyo looked out at their surroundings and spotted the crowd watching from the hill. They always drew one – it was inevitable. The Kusanagi versus the Yagami, particularly the young heirs, had been newsworthy material since the beginning. He and Iori benefited from their rivalry financially. Their live fights always sold out audience seats. To be able to catch them sparring – not that their current viewers knew that – was a treat, since there was no fee.

"Hey, you wanna continue?"

"Maybe later. What time is it?"

Kyo retrieved his phone from his jeans pocket. "Three fifteen."

"Enough time for a small snack."

"Hungry already?"

"Missed breakfast this morning."

"Well, we won't need dinner, then. We'll eat and then practice our katas."

Iori tipped his head at the bystanders. "They don't see that every day." His arm had dropped to his side. "Maybe I can learn a few things, too."

"For the next session?" Kyo grinned. "Looking forward to it."

Iori huffed, but Kyo could tell it wasn't from displeasure. "Food, Kyo. We can talk later."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Fool Kusanagi."

"Love ya too, Yagami."