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He barely hears the referee call for the bell. All he sees are colors, all he hears are muffled screams, and all he feels is pain, adrenaline, and Omega’s hand on his leg, tapping wildly, desperate to get out.
It’s only when the referee pulls him off that he realizes. His name is yelled out by the ring announcer, ‘your winner, and the new IWGP Junior Heavyweight Champion, Kushida!’ and the next thing he knows, the belt is in his hands, shiny and cold, a prize many fought for but so few won.
He did it. He beat Kenny Omega. The cleaner, the dominant force of the junior division. He made him tap out, even, made him submit, and looking up the ramp he can faintly see Omega, seething, flanked by a shocked Matt Jackson and an angry Nick Jackson. Kushida knows he should probably wave at them, taunt them, get a reaction out of them after finally achieving what so many of his friends failed to do, but he’s so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t even give them a second thought. He’s champion. For a moment, it’s all that matters. The roar of the crowd is buzzing in his ears, and as he poses for them, with the belt in one hand and his trophy in another, Kushida is riding high.
The walk up the ramp feels like it takes years, the searing pain in his knee making it hard to walk, and he clutches his belt and trophy so tightly they almost hurt, their edges pressing into his chest. He salutes the crowd one more time, taking in this moment he might never have again.
The second he slips through the curtain, there’s a pair of arms around him, and someone is kissing his forehead and the side of his head over and over and when he inhales after the initial surprise, he recognizes Alex and relaxes into the touch, slipping an arm around him as well. Kushida is still holding his belt and trophy to his chest and they still hurt a little, pressed between them like that, but the instant is so picture-perfect that he doesn’t care. He’s got his trophy, he’s got his title, and he’s got his boy in his arms, so close, just the way it should be.
Just the way it should have been out there, really. The doctors had warned Alex not to go at ringside, that his foot wasn’t even close to being healed enough for that kind of thing. Kushida himself had told him to stay away, that the Bucks would probably target him to create a distraction, and the last thing Kushida wanted was for Alex’s injury to get worse. So he went out there alone, knowing that they should have been united. And he powered through Omega’s relentless attacks on his knee, because he knew Alex had done the same when he injured his foot a few weeks back during a match. That’s how things work between them. They inspire each other. And right now, Kushida thinks, more than ever.
He can feel Alex shift his weight slightly, probably relieving his injured foot of the pressure, and pulls away to take a good look at him. His face is shiny with tears, eyes red and swollen, and Kushida wipes the corners with his thumb, smiling a smile that only Alex knows.
“They’re tears of joy, don’t worry”, Alex says through a laugh. “God. You… you did it. You really did it. You showed him how it’s done.”
His voice is shaky and raw, and Kushida guesses there must have been a lot of noise back here when the bell rang.
“Made him tap out, uh. That’ll teach him. Time for him to learn a little humility.”
Kushida wants to smile at that, but he knows Alex still hasn’t gotten over his loss to Omega back in May, and he knows how much Alex wanted to be at ringside tonight. So he just leans over and bumps his forehead with Alex’s, reassuring him that this victory is theirs, staying there for a moment that feels like forever.
It’s cut short by Taguchi, who jumps on his back and starts yelling about how happy he is, how Omega finally got his comeuppance, and from there it’s just a storm of people and congratulations, and crew ushering them to the side so the other guys can come through for their matches. During the commotion, Kushida feels a hand slip around his, and he’s pulled away from the noise and the crowd into a nearby corridor, where he falls to the floor, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.
He’s riding the last waves of adrenaline when Alex drops down next to him, rubbing his injured foot. They stay there in silence for a moment, enjoying the calm and listening to the muffled sounds from the arena. It feels so quiet from the previous situation that Kushida almost feels like he could fall asleep. It’s Alex’s voice that keeps him in the moment.
“You did so well out there.”
Alex’s head drops on his shoulder, and a hand curls around his arm, thumb gently tracing infinity patterns on his skin. Their symbol.
“I always knew… I always knew if anyone of us could dethrone him, it would be you. We all gave it our best, but you… You went the distance.”
“I could not have done it without you.” Kushida says, surprised at how broken his own voice sounds.
“Yeah… yeah, you could have. You’re self-made, Kushi. Everything you’ve got, you won with your bare hands. Nine years in the making, all because of your own power of will.”
Kushida wants to smack him over the head, gently, but that would mean changing their current position, and there’s no way in hell he’s doing that. So he just turns slightly to kiss the top of Alex’s head, and stays there for a bit, reflecting.
He did do a lot on his own. Mexico, Canada, and now in his home, in Japan, he pursued his dream relentlessly, and against all odds. He had his trainers to thank, sure, and a lot of great opponents that helped him grow, but he put himself through the ruthless training, and the constant moving, and the homesickness and the heartache, and he was the one who decided not to give up.
But this? He didn’t do it on his own. Alex had been there every step of the way, ever since they became the Time Splitters. They’d shared experiences, tips, gyms, wins and losses, hotel rooms and sleepless nights, shared their lives for the past three years, and there had not been one moment, even through injury after injury, when Alex had left him standing on his own. And if Kushida was being really honest with himself, after six years of looking for himself, it had felt really good to find Alex.
Three years later, he still feels the same.
“You were there every step of the way”, is what he says. He feels like it sums it up. Alex knows it does. “That means more to me than any trophy or belt.”
Alex chuckles and straightens up against the wall, looking up at the ceiling for a second, then turning his head to face Kushida, who is still expecting a response. He knows Alex can get wordy on Twitter, but in person, it’s different. It’s like he struggles to find the right words, like language isn’t enough. They stare at each other for a moment before Alex closes the gap, kissing Kushida slowly and steadily, like he’s trying to find balance. Kushida replies in kind, finally dropping his possessions to the ground and settling his now free hand on Alex’s knee, the other on the floor, supporting him. Alex’s hand comes to rest on the side of his face, fingertips ghosting over his skin and sending shockwaves down his spine. When they break the kiss to gasp for air, they just stay like that, foreheads touching and hands holding on to each other.
“I realized I didn’t properly congratulate you”, Alex breathes out, and Kushida can hear the smile in his voice. “So, there.”
There’s a moment when neither of them know what to say. It would be so good to stay like this, to enjoy this little bubble as long as they can, not worrying about what happens out there, or anywhere else for that matter.
“I’m so proud of you.” Alex murmurs, breaking the silence. It’s barely audible, but it resonates so loudly to Kushida that he has to steady himself before replying.
“Thank you. For putting your faith in me.”
Thank you for being there for me when I was at my lowest, and for pushing me to go through to the end when I was on a roll. Thank you for never treating me like a rookie when we first met and I had way less experience than you. Thank you for teaching me what I didn’t know, and for listening to all I had to say. Thank you for all those moments that we shared on top of the world. Thank you for looking at me like I put the stars in the sky, when I’m pretty sure that you do.
Is what he wants to say.
Instead, he just kisses Alex again, revels in it, gets a hand in his hair and tries to convey all his feelings like this. The world can wait.
But there’s still something on his mind.
“What about the after? What about the Time Splitters?” Oh. He'd hoped his voice wouldn't come out as shaky as it just did.
“We’re still it, baby.” Alex replies with confidence. “When my foot’s all healed up, I’ll be back at ringside with you. And we can take American promotions by storm, too.”
“So… this isn’t the end of the road?”
The moment the words leave his mouth, Kushida knows the look that’s forming on Alex’s face. It’s one he has been on the receiving end of numerous times, when talking about ridiculous movie theories or recalling strange childhood memories. It’s a look that says, “are you kidding me right now?” and “how dare you” at the same time.
“The end of the road? Never heard of it.” he says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Besides…” and then he kisses Kushida, hard, and Kushida’s pretty sure his head is going to start spinning.
“Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”