Yagami's Little Girl – The Voice Inside My Head
Written By: RinoaDestiny
King of Fighters and Iori Yagami belong to SNK
Been busy lately, haven't you, Iori Yagami?
He almost dropped his cigarette right there and then onto the pavement. While Orochi was a lingering malicious presence for most of his life, Iori usually didn't have much to lose. He had nothing at stake before: no friends, no family, and no real attachments to anything that mattered – Kyo was entirely different. So while Orochi taunted him and made him fully aware that he was there, Iori dealt with it and occasionally went haywire when pushed too far.
Now, though…
I've been watching. I know you very well, son of the fallen Yasakani clan. Do you really think you can hide anything from me?
It wasn't like Iori could do much when Orochi got started and he couldn't even retort. It was a one-way conversation and he had to listen to it all. Only an act of violence tended to make Orochi laugh and back off, whether that was him throwing a fit or actually damaging something or someone. Iori wasn't in the mood for that now. He had been considering tracking Kyo down again for a fight but he was on his smoke break and that bastard of a serpent just had to interrupt it.
Not like you didn't try to block me from your mind, though. You have great will, Iori Yagami. Don't forget, though – your clan gave themselves to me. You are mine. Therefore, your will and your life are mine.
He might not be able to say anything back but he shaped his thought with the full knowledge that Orochi would instantly pick up on it.
Fuck you. Fuck off. You. Do. Not. Own. Me.
You bear my power in your flames. The flames you could have willingly given up. You took them back, so you renewed the covenant when you did so. You are mine, insomuch as those two women are mine. There's no escaping your fate, Iori Yagami. One day, I will get you to obey.
Iori dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with a savage turn of his foot. Mature. Vice. The two women – followers of Rugal Bernstein and Leopold Goenitz – yet, ultimately the servants of Orochi. They belonged to him in a way he did not and he always resented being told he was no different than all the rest. Like everyone else in the clan who died before him. He had called bullshit on all that destiny talk earlier on – similar to Kyo Kusanagi, who also didn't give a shit about it – so Orochi's flat-out threat irked him.
So you have decided on the tidy domestic life, huh, Yasakani spawn? How long did you think you could keep it a secret from me, a god?
You fucking do anything to my family and I'll kill you myself, you son-of-a-bitch.
The god laughed in his head; Iori gritted his teeth, turning further down the alleyway that ran alongside the building where he lived. The sound grated like shards of glass in his mind, starting to erode at the peace he had earlier. If he turned violent and ended up harming someone, he didn't want to hurt a kid or some elderly gramps or a lone cat wandering towards his direction. If he got lucky, either he would be alone or some juvenile delinquents or Yakuza punks would get a one-way trip to the hospital or morgue.
Kill me? The most you and that Kusanagi brat and that Yata bitch can do is seal me. I always come back. I have loyal followers. There's nothing you can do to permanently banish me, although it amuses me to see you threaten me so. You are nothing compared to me, Iori Yagami. But your daughter might be important. I'll keep her in mind.
That pissed him off. It also frightened him on a deeper level than he'd like to admit. Iori growled in the back of his throat even as he felt his nails gouge bloody marks in his palms.
You deal with me. The blood curse has nothing to do with her. My clan's legacy dies with me.
How utterly simple-minded you are. It will not die with you. Not with her. When she reaches the right age, she will bear her part in keeping the Yagami clan alive. You will not be around to prevent it, of course. What a shame.
Chips of concrete flew in splintered shards as he clawed the side of the building, leaving several visible marks on the aged exterior wall. Blood pounded behind his eyes; he swore he saw red. That was exactly what he didn't want to happen. Why he didn't want the clan guardians to know. Male heirs died young but they carried the brunt of the fighting, of the petty assassinations from time immemorial and if they weren't murdered first, the blood curse took its dues. For female heirs, though…that was a different story.
Some participated in the fighting – all his ancestors, whether male or female, could fight – but the women were expected to carry and bear the next generation of the clan's descendants. They were protected, secluded, cosseted until that fatal day. So it had been for his mother.
So, too, for Aoi unless he found a way to stop the never-ending cycle.
He wasn't sure how. He'd never considered it for himself.
Don't worry. You can keep your precious little family for now, Iori Yagami. I will always be there, however, watching. You will never know when I decide to call on her blood and exact my promise. You will never know when I decide to move, unless you are watching. But, my little Yasakani pet, you will never know when I decide to make you bow before me. Keep watching; keep wary, but you will never best me.
How the fuck do you know, you shitstain? Last time, I fucking held you in Riot and Kusanagi and Kagura did the job. We bested you, then. You mess with my daughter and I'll send you to hell myself even if I have to follow you there!
Such idle threats. Is that all mortals can do against a god? It took three of you to seal me. You yourself are nothing, Iori Yagami. You would go to hell while I destroy all of humanity. Imagine – one of the Sacred Treasures gone. Forever. What will the sword of Kusanagi and the mirror of Yata do without the magatama of Yagami? I would crush them, too. Dead. Gone. My followers would do my bidding while you all lie as ashes.
That struck too close to what he'd recently experienced. He heard himself snarl, enraged – the grief nested deep within the comfort of what was familiar – and lashed out again, defacing even more of the wall. By now, he was in the very back and it was quiet and he was alone. Orochi was firmly in his mind – a menace – and there was no counter to anything he said. Iori was angry, violently so, and while he wasn't too concerned about the other Sacred Treasures, a premature death too early would be catastrophic.
It would leave his daughter alone. A usable pawn and guarantee her early death.
Hells fucking no.
You watch your back, you fucking snake. I'm not so easily used. But you already know that.
It was one of the only times when he was able to straight up deliver all his resentment and rage towards the cause of his misery. It had felt good back then and if he ever had to do it again, he would. Orochi granted him the violet-tinged flames he wielded, yes but he never asked him for the mental harassment or the Riot of Blood incidents or all the times his heavyweights gave him literal headaches and were the biggest pain in the asses he ever met.
Bits of the demolished back wall crunched beneath his shoes. There was a crimson haze before him; that needed to subside before he returned or else he posed a threat to all around him. He dared not return to Aoi like this.
A fool's luck that time, Iori Yagami. You will not have that next time, I guarantee it.
Next time. Whenever that was. Probably during one of those stupid-ass tournaments that was always hijacked or sponsored by the next year's standard of crazy. What the hell was Orochi planning even sealed away? How was he even able to do that?
I'll be around, Yasakani whelp. You may go.
Like that, he was dismissed. As if in the actual presence of a god. The red tinge blurred, tilted and Iori found his knees cut out from under him. Darkness blanketed him, smothered him and then his world went silent.
He had no idea how long he'd been out cold. When he awoke – disoriented and very much disturbed – he tasted blood in his mouth. A quick glance at his hands showed them as clean, which relieved him a bit but there were other concerns. He didn't go into Riot of Blood but Orochi's mental presence this time around was enough to cause bleeding.
He hoped it wasn't a precursor for something worse.
It definitely was a tangible threat, however. The god held his life in his hands and made him bleed just a little to let him know. Orochi was always watching, always aware. For him to mentally snap back at him, to give off the vibe that he wasn't playing along with his games was enough to warrant punishment of a minor sort.
It was enough to give Iori the shivers.
He looked up at the sky, saw the change in colors and light and immediately made for the front of the building. It was getting towards evening – the shadows were long but soon to be swallowed by night – and it meant Orochi put him out for at least three hours, if not longer. When he left for his smoke break, Aoi was taking a nap.
He was greeted by her hungry wails when he opened his apartment door. Noise disturbance aside, he ran into her room, picked her up, and patted her back. "Shhh…it's okay. I'm back. I'm back." The familiar motions, the daily parental rituals, and the fatherly instinct he somehow had soothed him as much as it did her. Aoi still fussed but her cries grew less in volume. Iori grabbed an already prepared bottle and fed her right there in the small kitchen, watching as his daughter became content.
How was he to break the chain that bound her? It was too late for him. He already knew that.
There was no way for a Yagami to return to being a Yasakani in name and power, was there? None of his ancestral records ever showed that happening. Then again, none of them ever wanted to return to that, in the name of vengeance and bloodlust and overarching power. Since the Kusanagi clan never had that problem in the first place, he doubted their records would hold any viable answers. The Yata clan primarily handled sealing Orochi – none of them worried about anything more than that.
He was left on his own without answers or much to go by.
But he'd be damned if he let Orochi get to his daughter without him putting up a spirited and aggressive fight. If the fight went physical, so be it. If the fight had to be fought on a different plane – mental, spiritual, whatever the hell it turned into – he'd be prepared for it. Because Orochi did not own him and he definitely did not own his daughter.
Iori Yagami was a fighter. There were more ways to fight than just with fists or flame.
I'll be watching you, too, you bastard. I'll be ready.