Anchor

Written by: RinoaDestiny

Comments:Been reading Lord of the Rings fanfic (another favorite fandom of mine) involving Legolas and Gimli and the constant referencing of the difference in mortality/life span between the two friends reminded me of a similarity with Kyo and Iori. It doesn't matter so much if they are diehard rivals/frenemies, but it would be the constant elephant in the room if Kyo and Iori moved past that and became extremely close and intimate with each other. I've addressed this before in some other fics, but it never hurts to examine how Iori's short life span would affect them both.

Some hurt/comfort here.

#13 – Mortality

The blood kept coming, dripping red onto the floor and it hurt. He should be used to this by now – it came intermittently since the day Goenitz awakened the Riot of Blood – but each time, it felt like his insides were being scraped raw. His fingers dug into the floor, drawing crimson streaks into wood turned to sawdust and he couldn't breathe around the burning stream issuing from his throat.

He made a desperate sound – a shameful whimper of pain – and it was as though his limbs melted. He felt his body giving way, his vision tunneling narrow and dark, and hoped Kyo was still asleep. Wouldn't see him like this.

Iori always knew – had been made painfully aware – of his mortal limitations. Unlike everyone else, he had a designated time limit and each birthday that passed meant another year closer to death. He knew, but…

It would happen. It came with his bloodline.

Orochi said something in his head and for once, the agony overwhelmed the god's caustic mockery. Taste of metal in his mouth, cloying and sickening in the back of his throat and he was too weak to lift his head and spit out excess blood.

He hadn't physically aged since Orochi once again entered the world stage and…. If time reverted – if the years caught up, like a rubber band released to snap back into its original shape – would he just immediately drop dead?

At least he wouldn't suffer, doing so.

Liquid red puddling around his flattened cheek, spreading and he drew a shaky breath that didn't fill his lungs. Panic flared for the briefest span of seconds and Iori heard himself make another sound. It was…it sounded like…

Then urgent footsteps by him. "Yagami!"

Alarm in Kyo's voice, for it was Kyo. He'd awakened him and a part of Iori hated it. Kyo should've continued to sleep, blissfully unaware that he suffered so but because he couldn't keep himself silent…

"Yagami? Are you…" Callused fingers against his bare shoulder. "Does it hurt?"

His hair covered his eyes, hiding the telltale tears that always came unbidden because of the pain. He managed a small nod, chin angling down and noticed once again how much brighter the blood was compared to his hair.

Kyo's hands against his shoulders, gently removing him from the mess on the floor. He felt lightweight – always did, afterwards – and the other settled him against his lap, holding him tight.

"Does this…" An awkward silence as Iori sensed Kyo fumbling for the right words. "Does it happen often?"

It occurred more and more as the years went by – the countless years that could always snap back and kill him – but Kyo didn't need to know that.

He breathed instead, trying to regain the air in his lungs.

Kyo held him in the stillness of the main room, a solid foundation. The physical pain was still there – subsiding, but like knives buried in his abused guts – and yet…yet, this was the first time he wasn't alone, dealing with unspoken terror and the inevitability of a much shorter life.

"If this…" A measured pause. "If it happens again and I'm here…let me know."

He had less than thirty full years and he was twenty now.

Kyo knew – used to deride him about his lifespan in the past during those early years of their rivalry. Had wished for him to drop dead at one point.

A pain from before – a memory not worth clinging to.

He nodded, but couldn't vocalize a promise.

"Does this happen to…everyone? Or just the men?"

He could breathe now. Could speak but his voice was thin and exhausted. "Just…the men."

"Then…"

Iori nodded again, confirming the truth.

Kyo's arms tightened around him, a stalwart shield against that future. It would happen, but their relationship was young and Iori didn't wish to pull pain into it. Not his pain – it was too soon for that. Kyo didn't need to know details, some of which Iori wasn't even sure about. The only thing he could think of – the only positivity he could muster – was that at best, he had nine more years.

Years snapping back, collapsing time onto itself.

He hoped it didn't happen.

"Do you feel better now?"

He was tired, but at least it wasn't a full-out Riot. Just the thought tightened his gut, spiking a new fear into his weary and battered mind. He nodded for the third time, unable to respond in his usual way. Above him, Kyo's expression changed.

"I won't leave."

He was anchored here, Kyo's presence driving away Orochi and his influence. The pain ebbed but he remained where he was, unwilling to move. Time froze, as maudlin as it sounded, granting him this moment – this night – as another memory to hold dear.

Nine years. If he was fortunate.

"You don't…" He stopped.

"I want to." A knowing look entered Kyo's gaze. "You're welcome."

Iori didn't say anything. Simply rested, content where he lay.