The other side

by i_mperfect

Chapter 1: Stolen

Of course, it would be now. Before he could say the words. How fitting that Go would be here to take his words from him again. He should find it funny. But no laughter comes, no smile pulls at his lips. There is no space for that, still overwhelmed with the intensity of the past hour, still reaching for what Kenoh could give him, what he saw he could give himself. The joy in picking at old scars had been shorn from him with his hair. 

Go still looked beautiful. Everything else had changed but this, the glow of a man who has his place. Katsu wondered briefly how Go saw him now, whether he saw a man in his element, or simply a usurper, a pretender to his throne. Nakajima looked down, his eyes settling on the red trim of his shorts, on skin reddened under Kenoh’s touch, marked deeper and more permanently than could be seen, except perhaps by one man. He looked up, watching as that man walked away in shadow, finally staring up at a light that hurt his eyes. 

As he stared at Go’s back, Katsu searched his chest for the familiar ache that had haunted him with every image of Go’s face, every whisper of his name. A pain he had nurtured, had fed him, sustained him. But there was nothing. And that was worse. Pain could be nostalgia, hope, meaning, even anger, regret, bitterness. What did nothing mean? Could he fight against nothing?

Go’s words landed like sparks coming off a fire. The slightest sting and then gone without the fuel to sustain them. But then Katsu saw the slightest softness in Go’s stare, the look that might just be pity. So certain that he could take back his kingdom that he pitied the man he would take it from. That spark found kindling. 

He rose slowly, feeling the burning in his thighs, a lingering reminder of Kenoh’s touch. A reminder that he was Kongo’s Nakajima. “Don’t let the bastards see a weakness” . He faced Shiozaki. 

As he searched Go’s eyes for a reaction to his words, Katsu wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. When Go’s eyes searched his face as an opponent he was searching for a weakness. Some way to burrow into him and live there. Kenoh searched for his strength. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter since both left bruises. But even when they licked their wounds together, Go had always sought to put back what he took. Kenoh didn’t need to. He could tear into Nakajima a hundred times and there was always more where Go had left him hollow, needing more, needing him. 

“You’ve changed” A quiet murmur on Go’s lips. 

“You haven’t”

“We’ll see”

Chapter 2: Just one yesterday

It was louder than he remembered, colder than he remembered. A lifetime of this and yet still new. The cold metal of the ring steps pressed into his hands, a familiar ritual. Would what was to come feel new or familiar? An old wound or a new one? 

Experience told him that time away from this ring could never be replaced. That, no matter what journey he had gone on, within these ropes he was an absence. That others had filled in that space whilst he had been forced into stillness, waiting. The thought clutches at his chest, as it had for many months. But there is only one path in Go’s mind, and it leads up these steps. 

Kaito, at least, is the same. The darkness in him has been brought to the surface by a practiced hand but the light is still there. Perhaps even brighter for all his shadows. That eagerness is still impossible to quell. And a touch of wildness might serve him yet. Standing next to Kaito feels more than an echo. It feels solid. Something to build from. 

Go paces the ring, feet testing the boards beneath for memory and purpose. Subconsciously marking his territory with each step. 

And then there is Kenoh. Shining, lips tightly pressed, a persistent force. In a way, it helps. Kenoh is a test of his own conviction. To meet Kenoh with anything less than certainty would end his claim right here. It is possible to meet his eyes, his words, and still stand. The force of the moment prickles over his skin. Familiar. 

Then Nakajima. He is Nakajima now. Kongoh’s Nakajima. Not Kacchan, not Katsu, not yours. New. Yet as Shiozaki’s eyes wander over the leather and shiny plating of his prize, over the hand of the man who holds it, he can hear the whisper in the back of his mind, “mine”. 

At first, there is no denying that Nakajima is different. In contact it is obvious. He moves differently, he feels different, he smells different. Why do I still remember how he smells? Smelled. The thought shakes Go less than the realisation that his body is still not fully in sync with his mind, his responses a heartbeat behind where he wants them. Instead of chasing Nakajima he is chasing himself. But then the pain of a well placed forearm lines up then and now and the heat of the man in front of him who, despite everything, still wants to hurt him. Just a little. He sees the anger rising in Nakajima now. Go stumbles backwards, waiting for it to follow him. But instead Nakajima tosses him to the floor, drags him to Kenoh instead, and is gone. 

Kenoh’s kicks sting. But it’s not the right sort of pain. 

When Go’s hand closes around Nakajima’s wrist again it is with a purpose. To close the distance between then and now. Nakajima resists him. But in the sting of the fingers pulling at his hair Go feels what he has been missing. A route back. A connection to that lost thread that he is sure still binds them both. The feeling is snatched away almost immediately, Nakajima returning to the ring, to Kenoh, to now. But enough lingers. The ache of an old wound on a cold day. A reminder. 

The rest of the match is a blur as he drags himself through the present, reaching for the past. The heat of Nakajima’s screams in his face. Then the cold grip in his chest as he sees the understanding that passes between Nakajima and Kenoh as they cast him across the ring. Not yours. Nakajima comes to him, again and again, and leaves him, again and again, always returning to where Kenoh needs him to be. Despite Kaito's achievement, the only sense of victory Go feels is that, at the moment Kenoh lost, Nakajima could not escape him. But it is not enough. Not nearly enough. 

Chapter 3: Opportunity

A year has dulled many things. Hearing Go’s laughter outside the door is just a noise, not a memory. The bitterness of last year hasn’t lingered as Katsu once thought it might. At times it takes effort to remind himself of the anger he once felt. The loss. 

But nostalgia is a powerful thing. Even for a pain that felt like home. 

Nakajima runs his fingers over the red marks on his chest, raised further by the heat of the shower. Looking up at his reflection, half obscured by the steam collected on the mirror, he gives himself a wry smile. Some things don’t change. Go’s chops always sting. And he could always bear it. 

Katsu remembers this as the place where he had truly started to believe that the best they could give each other was pain. Back when he still measured his true feelings by whether Go could match them, reflect them, honor them. Back then he had rushed towards that pain like an embrace. And it was. It wrapped around him, protected him from the greater pain of letting go. Really letting go.  

He rests his hands on the sink basin, breathing in the warm air, listening to Tadasuke’s chatter next door. Fussing over Kenoh perhaps. He breathes out, slowly, fully. 

He should go out there. 

Last year when they were here he had pushed past Kenoh to get his hands on Go. This year he had hung back, waiting for Kenoh and Kaito to begin. But then Go had pointed at him, stepped forward, pulled Kaito back. And something broke through Katsu’s indifference to this attempt to engage him. A brief wave of sentimentality as he recalled that, no matter what they were to each other, Go would always step forward for him. Their ties are permanent. 

But it wasn’t that alone that made him place his hand on Kenoh’s shoulder, steer him back. It was the realisation that Go felt those ties most keenly because there was no one else. There had been no one else. Go had wrapped himself in his certainty in an empty castle, had nurtured his dreams in a cold bed, had seen his desires echoed only in his own reflection. A weakness. An empty space Katsu could remind him of. An opportunity. Enough to make Katsu step forward. Certainly it had been that and not pity, not nostalgia, no other desires. 

Katsu looks up, catching the flicker of uncertainty in his own eyes. He grabs a towel, rubbing it roughly over his close cropped hair, catching the droplets on his neck. He touches gingerly at a particularly red patch on his neck, probing its edges with his fingers. 

The voices outside get a little louder, Kenoh clearly done with being fussed over. Katsu grins, reaching for another towel, wrapping it hurriedly around his waist. His hand reaches the door just as Kenoh pulls it open. He waits, letting Kenoh’s eyes take him in, the slightest smirk dancing on his lips. At the slightest of nods from Kenoh, lips pressed tightly together, Katsu steps back to allow him entry, Kenoh closing the door behind them.

Chapter 4: A conversation that should have happened but probably didn't

Summary:

Prelude to Axiz 2?

“Did you think about me?” Go asks as he works his fingers deeper into Katsu’s curls, finding a better place to grip. Concentrating on the perfect tension and not the fact that he can only ask this now he can’t see Katsu’s face.

Katsu’s laugh is breathy, exhales punctuated by the collision of their bodies and the rumbling in his throat that almost sounds like purring.

“You want to know if when I was choking down Kenoh’s cock the thought occurred to me that yours would taste sweeter? Ahhh!”

A hiss emerges from Katsu’s lips as Go’s hips slam harder, fingers digging into hot flesh.

“Yes, I thought about you”

Go releases his grip on Katsu’s hair, sitting back slightly to catch his breath. Pacing his breathing, he watches a bead of sweat trail idly down the crevice of Katsu’s spine. He thinks about licking it off with his tongue.

Katsu moves beneath him, jolting him back into focus.

“Done already?”

He ignores the provocation, pulling at Katsu’s body instead. They are an awkward tangle of limbs until Katsu is on his back, a slight redness on his cheek apparent from where it was pressed into the bed. Go grabs at one of the pillows that found its way to the floor, Katsu submitting easily to his hips being manoeuvred upwards. They used to do this, didn’t they? The heat in Katsu’s eyes is a low simmer as he spreads his legs. More inviting than dangerous. Did he look at me like that before? Go’s eyes flicker closed, teeth biting his lower lip as he accepts the invitation.

Katsu’s fingers stroking at his arm feel alternately tender, then violent, but his groans are a steadily rising hum. Go doubts he could answer any more questions now.

Katsu keeps his eyes open, focused on Go, even as his head arches back against the bed. His thighs grip Go tightly, even afterwards. He turns his face away as he finally lets go, a small smile tight on his lips. Go tries to kiss away the tension, finds himself trapped by the warmth of Katsu’s tongue against his.