Preemptive Strike (Or Why Y'All Gonna Regret Coming Back)
Chapter 3
Written By: RinoaDestiny
King of Fighters, Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, and Chizuru Kagura belong to SNK
Kansai International Airport, Osaka
Terminal 1 – 7:00 AM
Second Floor - Sukiya
He had arrived at Kansai International around 6:45 (had asked Benimaru the night before for a drop-off at the airport, since he wasn't leaving his bike there for who knows how long) and he was hungry, tired, and not looking forward to being strapped in and airborne next to his rival for the next thirteen hours. Since security tended to go swiftly for him – most everyone knew his face by now – Kyo decided to go grab a bite to eat, as unorthodox a breakfast it was.
Sukiya was one of those spots he liked to frequent. Constantly open and with some decent food, he made himself a known customer every time he had to fly out for yet another tournament. Ordering a plate of curry and some green tea – who knew how long it'd be before he had Japanese comfort food again – he decided to sit down, enjoy his food, and take his time. At most, he needed to be at the gate by 8:30.
He was not eager to see his rival. If Yagami was already here, he was steering clear of him until he was fed, awake, and in a considerably better mood. Seeing him now was a recipe for disaster.
Kyo took a gulp of tea and ate another bite of curry with his rice. Felt himself become more alert. Awake.
Yeah, he was gonna make the other man wait. Asshat.
Terminal 1 – 7:30 AM
Security
Kyo yawned. Checked the time on his phone. Still early and the line for the security screening was somewhat long. Usually, he flew out during the busy season – funny how that worked during all the King of Fighters tournaments – so he hadn't seen Kansai International during its off-season. There was still a decent-sized crowd bustling about. The family of four ahead of him all had oversized luggage to check in and several carry-ons. They had to get scanned, checked, the whole nine yards. It was going to take a while.
Having done this several times before, Kyo packed light. One carry-on only and his passport, money, and boarding pass in the traveler's pouch slung diagonally across his chest. Due to Yagami's short as fuck notice, he'd spent the late hours last night rummaging through his room, slinging all manner of junk around until he found his passport, some cash (had to drop by the ATM this morning to get some more), and his headphones.
He intended to listen to his rock music and tune out the other man if he complained. Whatever Yagami did was his own business.
The family before him stepped up to the counter, exchanging pleasantries with the airport staff. He was up next. Just a little bit longer.
Thinking back to his boarding pass (his ticket), it was a good thing he'd entrusted Yuki with it. His dad was not only ready to burn it to ashes, but also wanted to go straight to Yagami and give him a proper dressing down. Somehow, Kyo couldn't see Iori Yagami being intimidated by an old man past his prime chewing him out. Knowing his rival, the redhead would scoff, ignore Saisyu, and go about his own business without giving a damn.
Because that was Yagami. That was how he worked.
That didn't mean his father relented on him, though. Kyo had his ears verbally singed off as his dad gave him a piece of his own mind. While Saisyu was relatively mild-mannered and extraordinarily laidback, he was right that his dad would vehemently oppose what he called the "nonsensical plan" and let him know in precise, unmistakable terms what he thought of it.
Part of him still cringed, recalling it.
"So he suggested it and you just decided 'Why not?' without questioning why? Have you been paying attention, son? The man wants you dead."
"He'd have done it by now if that was true. Besides –"
"Besides nothing, Kyo. You need to call this off. Tell him you changed your mind."
"Ha!" He'd listened with half an ear, realizing his dad had no idea why he'd agreed to go along with Yagami's plan. "Right. Tell Yagami I'm backing out. He'll take nicely to that. Will probably come tearing after me demanding the price of my airfare."
"Where's your ticket?"
"Not telling you that, Dad."
"Kyo, son…I'm not playing around here. This is serious."
"I'm not joking, either, Dad. Yagami has a point. We can take them out now. Together."
"Why with him? He's not reliable, son. You know that."
"Yes, but I know him, Dad. I know how he fights. He does, too, in reverse. We have worked together before. I don't want to wait for them to initiate battle. Better we put them down now."
"And if he kills you? What then?"
He had scoffed. Wondered if some of his rival's mannerisms were rubbing off onto him. "Yeah right. He can't kill me, Dad. Not in a straight fight. Only time he nearly did was during that one tournament and he wasn't even himself, then."
"So why? Tell me, Kyo."
"I'm sick and tired of always fighting them. Fulfilling the call. All of that destiny spiel everyone keeps going on about. I'm done with it."
"It is your destiny, son. Part of your responsibility as heir of this family."
"Destiny can go shove itself, then."
That got his dad fired up. "So you, son, want to entrust your very life in this nonsensical plan, place it in the hands of your enemy and look the other way because it's too much for you? I didn't raise you like that, Kyo. Neither did your mother."
"But –"
"And another thing. You don't know what this idea of his entails. No details besides fighting the seven –"
"Four, Dad. Two of them are Yagami's teammates and he swears –"
"Since when do his promises count?"
He ignored his father's curt interruption. "The other is Orochi now, so he can't come back. I'm telling you, Dad. We've got this –"
"You've got nothing, Kyo. You're still wet behind the ears, thinking you can deal with everything by fighting it. That's not how it works, son. You're going to hit that wall eventually and I can't help you when you do. That heir of that traitor clan won't do anything for you. He's out for himself – you're just a tool for him. If you think he's being altruistic –"
"He's being realistic."
"And you're being a fool. Stop this now, Kyo."
Yeah, that went really well for him last night. Only his mother's timely intervention prevented him from devolving the discussion into an outright quarrel with his dad and it left his ears ringing. His dad had never called him a fool before – obviously, he now thought he was.
Thanks, Dad.
The line moved forward. It was his turn now. About time.
"One carry-on." He knew the drill, the procedures. Security was nothing – a breeze to him.
"Any oversized luggage?"
"No."
"Your boarding pass, please."
He handed it over. Next up after all this was waiting at the gate. He hoped Yagami was late. Had overslept. Thinking about his rival making a mad dash out onto the runway amused him. Yeah, he could see that. It made him want to laugh visualizing it in his head.
He needed to humor himself. Thirteen hours. The hell, man.
Terminal 1 – 8:25 AM
Gate: South/38
He saw his rival at a distance the very moment he approached the gate for Air France international departure on route to Paris. It was hard to mistake the red hair, the lanky and tall frame, and the nonchalance the other man carried himself with for anyone else. Iori reminded Kyo of a leopard or panther at rest, claws stilled but very much aware of its surroundings and any encroaching threats. Even now, leaning against a standing column next to his only carry-on (a hard red case), Yagami gave standoffish vibes and an attitude of indifference.
Kyo studied his rival, unable not to. For once, the other man was dressed reasonably. Surprisingly, the colors were subdued – not the screaming loud colors of his band getup or those godawful purple shirts. Iori wore a dark gray overcoat, a black scarf, a dark blue sweater, black jeans, and a pair of well broken in black boots. Was France going through a cold clime or something? Osaka wasn't anywhere near cold temperatures yet.
Just as he thought this, still sizing up the other man, Iori glanced up and saw him. Headphones dangled from his ears. Was he listening to music? His rival made an impatient gesture. Well, hell. So it began.
Kyo responded by flipping him off. He was staying right where he was, goddammit. He wasn't going to willingly put himself near his rival, not if he could help it. Soon, they'd be sitting right next to each other and if the plane didn't go down or implode, it'll be a goddamn fucking miracle.
Yagami had yanked the headphones out of his ears and was making a straight beeline in his direction. Well, shit. Someone was off to an early start of making his life hell.
"You made it after all, Kyo."
"Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole. Mind telling me why you want me anywhere near close to you?"
"Things happen, Kusanagi." The redhead sneered. "If the flight gets delayed, I'm not dragging your ass out of some store just because you think we have plenty of time. I paid for your ticket. You are not missing the flight."
"So you're babysitting me now, Yagami?"
"You consider yourself one, Kyo?" His rival smiled. It made Kyo want to knock out some teeth. "I didn't say anything about babysitting."
Dammit! Only Yagami did this to him – made him say things that in hindsight insulted himself. Seemed to be the other's calling card and one that was well practiced. He was so going to enjoy the next several hours sitting elbow to elbow with this asshole.
"Before I go park my ass away from you, what were you doing?"
"What do you think, Kusanagi?"
Yeah. Great start. "Don't tell me."
"Music. You should know what genre."
"Jazz?"
"Oh, good. Kusanagi's a genius after all."
"Shut up." Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Kyo made for a vacant seat further away, presenting his back to Iori. When he finally plopped himself down and got comfortable, the other man had returned to his original spot, had his headphones back in, and was tapping beats out on his arm with his fingers.
So Yagami listened to music while on flight? That was welcome news for Kyo, who intended to do the same. Maybe they wouldn't kill each other this way, unless he insulted the other man's musical tastes. It wasn't that jazz was bad – it was simply Kyo didn't get it. There was no fire to it, no passion, no power behind it. Jazz was elevator music, easy listening for old fogies, and lounge music for anyone who wanted to chill and fall asleep.
Say that to Yagami, though, and flames were going to come out.
For his own safety – for the safety of the other passengers – he was going to keep his mouth shut.
Kyo pulled out his own phone and cycled through several playlists he'd put together. Rock was his go-to music. Give him the wailing guitars, the heavy percussion, the hot-blooded singers that made him feel alive and young and strong. Yagami could keep his drowsy music with the saxophones.
He put his headphones in and waited.
Terminal 1 – 9:30 AM
Gate: South/38
Boarding
He'd listened to two playlists for about an hour – dug out his charger and plugged that in to keep the juice flowing to his phone – while keeping his eyes on his rival. Iori remained disinterested in all else save his own music. There was also a charger plugged into the power socket in the column. The wire dangled from Iori's phone, a sleek white cord. The other man's eyes were closed and he was still tapping out beats.
Kyo guessed that Yagami took his profession as a musician seriously. He'd never thought that was so, until he saw this. It was a side to his rival that he'd never seen before. It was strange, seeing him like this.
Then, the boarding announcement came over the airport's intercom. Kyo grabbed his bag and saw Iori's eyes snap open even as the man began moving towards the quickly gathering line of passengers. Damn. He wanted to get the jump on him, get ahead, grab his window seat, and rub it into his face. What was Yagami going to do? Shove him face-first out the window? Throw him unceremoniously into the cargo hold? Set him on fire?
Then again, it was possible. His rival never had a full deck of cards and something was always missing upstairs.
A gesture and another impatient look from the other man. Yeah, yeah. He got it. Time to board. He wasn't stupid, even if Yagami thought he was. He just needed to maintain some distance, board when he liked, dammit! Just because Yagami bought his ticket didn't mean he called all the shots.
Kyo deliberately held back and placed at least ten people between him and his rival. Not that it helped much. With his height and Yagami's towering over the other shorter passengers, Yagami's red hair stood out like a goddamn beacon. It was like seeing a flamboyant bird among down-to-earth idiot pigeons.
He didn't reflect on himself, how he looked to others.
At least he was normal.
The line moved, he moved, and they split their own way into the different classes after crossing the long corridor: economy, business, first class, and some others Kyo hadn't seen before. He still cursed Yagami for not purchasing business or first class. At least he'd have room to stretch in those. Plenty of space for his legs. Here? In shitty economy? If he didn't fall over dead from a blood clot, it'll be another fucking miracle.
Boarding should've been easy. How hard was it to find the seat, shove the baggage into the overhead compartment and sit down?
Obviously a bit much for his seatmate. Fucking great.
Yagami was stalling the line – pulling something out of his case – and it took all of Kyo's patience not to yell at him down the length of the aisle. Other passengers grumbled, too polite to say anything, and Kyo counted all of two minutes before the line began moving again. About time. When he reached his seat, he made an emphasized point to shove his carry-on into the compartment, sit down, buckle up, and glare at Iori Yagami.
Then, he saw what the redhead had taken his time removing from his case.
It was the biggest goddamn book Kyo had ever seen outside of a classroom. Yagami liked to read? For leisure? For fun? What the hell?
"You held us up for a book?"
"Huh?" The other said, not paying him any attention. He was already looking out the window, focused elsewhere.
"You made us wait for a book. A book, Yagami. The hell you reading anyway?"
"What'd you care? Listen to your music, Kyo. Leave me alone."
Right. He had said that yesterday after crashing his date with Yuki. Fucker. Kyo took a look at the title, which was written in some complex kanji. Was Yagami a rocket scientist or something? That looked too high-level even for him.
"Few things, Kyo. It's early. I'm tired. Going to sleep once the plane takes off. Don't wake me. Play some games. Make it quiet."
"Since when did you go dictating the terms?"
"I'll fry your screen if you wake me up."
"Threats, Yagami. You won't do it."
"Try me."
Well, this was just great. He had to endure thirteen hours of this.
"Asshole."
"Dipshit. Night, Kyo. Don't make eyes at the girl sitting across from you."
"Fuck you."
"Ha."
Departure from Kansai International Airport, Osaka
Air France
10:15 AM – 12:00 PM
Kyo found himself adopting a particularly bad habit this time around. His phone was out – charged, of course – which made checking the time periodically a reflex, almost. Not only did Yagami really go lights out once the plane took off (face pressed against the window) but his fiendishly long legs stretched into Kyo's territory. With as little leg room he had, this was unwelcome. Only the threat of Yagami scorching him kept him from shaking the man awake.
He wanted to survive the flight. Anything that kept Iori Yagami tame helped.
So he listened to his music. Found some additional saved playlists and went through those. Once the novelty of that ran dry, he found himself bored.
He went poking through the touchscreen in the seat facing him. Found a few movies that looked interesting but were in languages he didn't know. Were there any Japanese flicks he could watch? He went through those. Found a few rom-coms that Yuki would probably like but he wouldn't be caught dead watching. There was one samurai flick that was new, so he decided to check that one out.
The acting was hammy, the action overdone, and the music so melodramatic that he wanted to kill himself less than fifteen minutes into it. Japan did produce good films – hell, he'd seen a few – but why were so many of them terrible?
He didn't realize he was swearing under his breath until an annoyed deep voice broke into his thoughts. "Kyo, shut the hell up."
Well, well, well. Yagami was listening, after all.
"Put on your headphones."
"Turn the volume down or shut up." His rival rolled over against his side even more – how was that possible with his build? – pulling his legs in as he readjusted his sleeping position. That looked uncomfortable. Kyo felt cramped just looking at Iori scrunched up like that. "The movie sucks. Thought you'd like to know."
Geez. Thanks.
He was about to retort but the other fighter was already asleep again. He was left with a shitty movie and was bored out of his goddamn mind. Kyo took out his phone again and looked at the time. Argh. They were only two hours into the flight?
Maybe things would improve after lunch. It was a thirteen hour flight – he could hope for some nourishment, right? Perhaps soon?
He settled back into his seat. Looked at Yagami sleeping peacefully. Cursed him in his mind, and then cursed himself.
This was gonna suck.
Air France
12:00 PM – 1:00 PM
Air France served lunch within the hour. Great. He could do with some food. Take his mind off that stupid-ass movie, off his rival sleeping like a big baby next to him, and fill his stomach. Maybe it'll knock him out afterwards.
The flight stewardesses came by, rolling their food cart down the aisle and Kyo hoped the selections would be edible. He found most airline food to be ass; unless he was flying some Asian or Middle Eastern flight – those cuisines were promising – and he wanted some protein now. They tended not to serve fish during flights (microwaved fish smelled like shit) but he hoped for beef, pork, or chicken. No salads, please.
The two women serving smiled at him and one of them spoke decently fluent Japanese. Well, hello. That removed a language barrier and made it that much easier for him to decide.
They had a lunch offering of grilled chicken with fruit on the side, a croissant, and orange or cranberry juice. He could also go with sparkling Perrier water if he so chose. The second offering leaned more towards vegetarian. Immediate pass.
He selected the first, went with the sparkling water, and then the stewardess (pretty with green eyes and dark brown hair) asked him if his seatmate would like lunch. Kyo looked at Iori – still asleep, limbs bunched up tight – and shook his head.
If Yagami wanted to eat, that was his call.
Maybe he'd save his crackers or mixed nuts or whatever the hell was in the seat pouch in front of him. Have him nibble on those. See how he liked that.
Kyo dug into his meal. Put his rival out of mind for now.
Air France
2:00 PM – 2:15 PM
Iori glared at him. "You should've woken me up, you fuck."
Kyo smiled. "Oh? Didn't you say not to? Your fault, Yagami. Here – have some nuts."
If looks could kill, Yagami was on the verge of doing it. It was amusing, even if deadly. "Kusanagi, you brat."
"Just wait for dinner. I'm sure they offer that. Why don't you flag down a stewardess? Maybe she can help you."
The other man scowled. "You fucking…"
"Nuts or nothing, Yagami."
His rival seized the tiny bag, ripped it open, and ate the contents in one handful. Continued glowering at him. Kyo grinned. This was way too easy.
Air France
2:30 PM – 4:00 PM
He had cause to regret making Iori miss his lunch, because the other man doled out equal payback. While Yagami could've caused a scene by yelling or throwing stuff at him, Kyo found that his rival could be subtle in other ways. It got under his skin faster and it was hard to counter. Iori did it all with that irritating smirk of his or let his tone of voice deliver the barbs; Kyo bristled but stuck here with his archenemy left him with very few options.
For one thing, Iori had the window seat. That meant the first time the other man left to hit the lavatory, Kyo nearly got Yagami's boot in the face.
"Hey! Asswipe!"
"Move your face, Kyo. Or get out of your goddamn seat. Stop whining."
"You almost got your boot print in my face!"
"So?" That smug smile. "Deal with it, Kusanagi. Outta my way!"
That was the first. The second…well, that came later.
They both had time to burn, figuratively. If he and Yagami were smart and didn't want to accidentally kill themselves, liberally using flames in the enclosed space was a no-go. Kyo was bored again – most of the movies sucked ass – and the games were mind-numbingly repetitive. He could've surfed the web or listened to music on his phone but he'd gone through all his playlists and there was nothing left.
Meanwhile, Iori Yagami sat to his left, poring over that huge-ass book of his; pencil in hand, jotting notes in the page margins. Kyo, never seeing this side of his rival before, couldn't help but pester him. That unleashed subtly pissed off Yagami 2.0. It was a great experience to be had.
"The hell you reading?"
"Music theory. Leave me alone, Kyo."
"Fuck you need music theory for? Don't you just play bass?"
"I forgot. You don't study. Shut up, Kyo. Go listen to your music."
"Went through all my playlists."
His rival snorted and made another note on the page. "Not my fault you're ill-prepared."
"If you weren't here, I'll be sleeping already. In peace."
"Do that, then. Leave me alone."
"Didn't realize you could write." What he meant was that Yagami's handwriting, while tight and small, was fairly legible and the characters precise and sharp. Kinda like his Yasakani-style martial arts, now that he thought about it. He'd assumed the other wrote in chicken-scratch but the way how the characters filled the side of the page reminded him of his teachers' notes on his homework back when he was in school. "What's that mean?"
The other man's brow creased in annoyance. "Kusanagi, get your finger away from the page."
"Just curious."
"I'll fucking stab you through the hand if you don't take your finger away now."
"Temper, Yagami."
"You want graphite through your palm? I'll do it, Kyo."
"You won't."
There was an unpleasant gleam to the redhead's eyes. "Don't push your luck. Finger away now or you'll lose it."
Kyo was tempted to push further but the vibe Yagami exuded warned him not to be stupid. Reluctantly, he removed the offending digit and slumped back into his seat, pouting. What was there to do?
"That girl's looking at you again. Make friends with her, Kyo."
"Fuck you."
"Do that to yourself. You're a pain in the ass, anyway."
"Says the biggest asshole here."
There was a sound, which got Kyo to turn in time to see his rival popping in his earbuds, tapping something on his phone, and returning to his book. He glanced at the playlist. Jazz – music for old people and odd-ass people like Yagami. Fine. He wanted to do it that way. Kyo could entertain himself. Maybe he'll play one of the games really loud.
That led to incident number three.
Iori hadn't been kidding when he said he'd fry his screen. After playing one of those ball launching and brick bashing games with the volume turned up high enough to override Yagami's music – Kyo ignored the glares from the passengers around him – his rival had enough. One hand flicked out, there was a slight tongue of purple flame that licked under the glass, and suddenly, his display shorted out and went black.
Just like that. Nothing.
Kyo stared at his rival, bewildered. Yagami wasn't even looking at him. Was looking at the goddamn book.
He sat back into his seat, burying himself deep and hauled his phone out of his pocket.
Looked at it.
Pulled his headphones out, put them back into his ears, and went through the playlists again.
Air France
5:00 PM – 6:00 PM
Kyo passed out. He was tired, grumpy, and hated being next to his life-long rival. Found himself falling asleep, headphones still wedged firmly in his ears. Rock music blared.
Thought he heard "About goddamn time" from his left.
Then he stopped hearing music.
Air France
6:00 PM – 7:00 PM
"Hey, dipshit. You want dinner or not?"
Kyo stirred, feeling the hard edge of Iori's elbow in his side. Motherfuck. What did he…did he say dinner? Opening his eyes greeted him with the welcome sight of a friendly stewardess, who then asked if he wanted anything to eat.
Sure he did. Still bleary-eyed from sleep, he made a selection, shuffled in his seat – goddamn the space – and pulled out his tray, which only cramped his legs more.
Next to him, Yagami watched a foreign film with Japanese subtitles. The airline's provided headphones cupped his head like an alien lifeform. He could only see one eye; the other being obscured by his rival's fringe of hair. That lone eye reflected the events on the screen. Was that a French film?
"You trying to learn the language or something?"
Yagami didn't even blink. "Back at it, Kyo? Shut up and eat."
He wanted to say something but he was hungry.
"Could've done the same. Let you miss dinner. But you're a brat, Kusanagi and you whine. If we're gonna make it to Charles de Gaulle Airport, I'd rather not have you whining the whole way."
"I. Don't. Whine."
"Annoying, then. Whatever. Eat, Kyo. Let me watch my movie."
He's trying to learn French? Mangled that pronunciation but…
"You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"Kusanagi…shut up."
Iori's hands were clenched around the ends of his armrests. Kyo observed this and decided the best course of action was to eat his dinner and be quiet. He had no screen left to look at. His phone needed charging. The food was lukewarm. People around him were asleep. If he started something, he was probably going to get them kicked off the plane and then Yagami was probably going to follow through on his life-long goal and kill him for real.
He still didn't like reading his movies, though. Better not tell Yagami that.
Air France
8:00 PM – 9:00 PM
His rival was buried in that stupid book again, the sidelight casting illumination onto the marked pages. He had no idea why Yagami dedicated himself to music theory. Yeah, he was a bassist – touring musician – but Kyo just thought that meant playing. A lot. He didn't realize there were things to study. It looked like a textbook. If Yagami threw it at him, he'd get a concussion.
He pulled out his phone. Texted Yuki. Mentioned he was okay. Just tired.
Texted Kagura-san. Told her they were aboard Air France and that Yagami sucked as a seatmate. And yes, he was still alive and they hadn't killed each other, yet. Somehow.
Texted his mom, because there was no way in hell he was complaining to his dad. Gave her a brief rundown, told her he was fine, and asked her to look after his father.
Glanced quickly at Yagami's neat notes clustered on the margins, at the drawn notations and crosschecked answers and wondered yet again what the hell that crazy brain was hiding. Iori Yagami – musician, stalker, planner, a fucking scholar?
Why was he sitting next to this guy again?
Because they were gonna save the world. They were gonna wipe the map clean of Orochi's guys and one Ash Crimson, too, because Yagami held a grudge.
It'd better be worth this agonizing long flight. Once they landed, he was off this plane, in the airport, done with security, and Yagami could take his sweet ass time mowing down people to find him.
He didn't doubt the other man would, roaring all the way.
Kyo pulled the earbuds out of his ears. He was getting tired of rock music.
Air France
10:00 PM – 11:20 PM (Parisian Time – 3:20 PM)
Destination of Arrival: Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris
Yagami had closed his book, pocketed his much worn pencil, and was staring at the scenery outside the window. Not that Kyo could see much of it, what with his rival's head getting in the way. He noticed it was significantly colder now than it was when they left Osaka. Fortunately, he'd packed a jacket in his carry-on. It was coming out the moment he got clear of Yagami.
The flight path was on the other man's functional screen – Kyo wanted to black it out too, but his fingers were necessary – and they were over Parisian airspace. Great. He needed to deal with jet lag within the next few hours but at least he'd be off this goddamn plane.
He hoped Yagami's jet lag would knock him off his feet for a few hours.
The guy was the worst when anchored to him like this.
Customs forms were passed out. He got his done quickly. Next to him, the redhead marked his form, handed it to the stewardess, and lapsed back into observing the landscape outside his window. Boooriiing.
Kyo crossed his arms, stretched his legs out as far as possible, and yawned.
His phone vibrated.
It was Yuki. The only good thing about this flight so far. He texted her back, reassuring her of his safety and then put the phone away. Waited for the plane to quit circling and goddamn fucking land.
Arrival at Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris
Air France
Parisian Time – 3:30 PM
The pilot knew what he was doing. The landing was smooth; Kyo's ears still popped during descent. Next to him, Iori muttered under his breath. Now that the other man no longer blocked his view, he got a good look at gray skies, a slick runway, and several Parisian airport personnel bundled in heavy jackets beneath their official vests. Some of them were moving away after taxiing the plane into docking at the gate.
Fuck. It was cold.
Over the official intercom, Air France welcomed them to Paris and hoped that they enjoyed their experience of flying with them. Yeah, it would've been great by himself. With Yagami destroying his screen, nearly indenting his face with his boot, studying fucking music theory while he was bored out of his mind, and telling him to shut up at every opportunity, Kyo counted it as one of the most arduous travel experiences he'd ever had.
When they were done, he was getting a one-way ticket home by himself.
Yagami could get his own trip back.
People milled around, getting up and retrieving carry-ons from their overhead compartments. Kyo didn't wait. Springing from his seat, he popped their compartment open, lugged his bag out, and booked it for the exit as quickly as he could without trampling people. Behind him, he heard Iori Yagami curse, voice rising above the crowd.
"Kusanagi! Get back here, you fuckhead!"
Kyo grinned.
Comments: So on Saturday, December 8, 2018, when I started writing this chapter, I did some research on international departures from Kansai International Airport to Paris via Air France. So, in the previous chapter, Iori mentioned the flight was at 10:00 AM. At that time, I didn't have anything to go off by – it was just a random time picked for the fic. Well, on December 8, I discovered that there was an Air France flight heading out for Paris that day for a 10:15 AM schedule. Color me surprised, haha. It even gave the gate number, so I ran with that and used it for this fic.
Had to keep checking time differences and estimate the thirteen hours going off Japanese time, which explained the shift to Parisian time once they hit France. Going to Taiwan from the U.S. is about an eighteen hour flight, so thirteen hours parked next to your rival is likely to be unbearable. Plus, economy sucks even if you aren't as tall as these guys. I used some of my own flight experiences for this (i.e. I did oversleep on my lunch and that was terrible). Hope you like – my Kyo and Iori don't necessarily cause stuff to blow up but they always push each other's buttons. XD