this isn't about dogs

“Have we fought before?” Gedo asks, though it’s unclear whether condescendingly or in earnest.

“Yeah,” Kenny says, closing his DS with a sigh and reluctantly turning his attention to Gedo. “With Ibushi. A couple years ago. The Golden Lovers?”

“I remember Ibushi, but not you,” he says.

“We held New Japan’s Junior Tag belts...”

Gedo laughs. “Ha! I guess I remember some ugly gaijin with him.”

It’s going to take more than that to get Kenny to react, especially after tonight. “What do you want, Gedo-san?”

“I seriously want to know who the fuck you are,” Gedo laughs, peering villainously from under his Rainmaker bandana. “So I can tell Takagi who DDT’s most embarrassing wrestler is.”

Has he ever actually watched DDT? “Me? I wasn’t even on the card!” Kota still isn’t coming out of the locker room; Kenny has nowhere else to go.

“Then it’s strange that you think you could take on Okada Kazuchika,” Gedo sneers.

“I don’t?” Kota had been even more stunning than usual—even Okada seemed a little dazzled—but even so, Kenny’s never seen someone best Kota like that. “I just didn’t like that he was—“

“He backed away from you because he was tired. You got it? You are nothing to him.” Gedo glares at Kenny menacingly. “Got it?”

“O… kay?” As Kota had laid on the mat, Okada stood with one foot on Kota’s chest to do his dumb Rainmaker pose. Kenny had gritted his teeth, and Ihashi and Nakazawa had glared at him like don’t do anything stupid. But then he noticed Kota was crying, the way he always did when he’d lost a match he’d given everything to, and before Kenny had fully realized what he was doing, he’d been on his feet, staring down the fucking best wrestler in the world Jesus Christ, Kenny. And for some reason, Okada had backed away from him.

“Thanks,” Kenny says flatly, and opens his DS again. Okada’s just taken the keys to the NJPW kingdom from Tanahashi, declaring himself definitively to be the new ace of Japan’s top wrestling company. Kenny doesn’t need to be told that a DDT tag team midcarder doesn’t rate to the IWGP Heavyweight Champion.

Okada walks up then; imposing in fancy tailored clothes, with his huge belt slung over his shoulder. He looks impossibly kingly and untouchable, just like he did when Kenny had stood to face him in the ring.

“Oh, it’s the hero of the match,” Okada says derisively, and Gedo cackles.

“Whatever,” Kenny says, not looking up from his game.

“No, no, what were you going to say?” Okada laughs. “Were you going to hit me for disrespecting your partner?” He smirks.

Kota obviously doesn’t need protection, it’s just that after an insult like that, Okada most certainly did not also deserve the satisfaction of seeing Kota’s tears. Kenny had been quick enough and mad enough to make sure he didn’t see them. Kenny closes his DS, and looks Okada in the eyes.

“Do you really want to fight me?” It seems like a genuine question, somehow; Okada doesn’t seem to be mocking him.

Kenny knows there’s a hierarchy here, and that he is very low on it—and that no one could be above Okada. But Kenny didn’t uproot his life to stay in the midcard. He’d come here to be with Kota, and to become the best.

“I want to beat you,” Kenny says honestly. “I’m not afraid of you.” He probably shouldn’t have said it out loud, but it’s not a lie.

Okada seems unsure what to make of a geeky foreigner nobody willing to lock eyes with the Rainmaker. He sizes Kenny up for a second, then nods, his expression… Kenny’s not sure what it is, but it doesn’t look mocking.

Gedo laughs nervously and smacks Okada on the back of the arm. “Ibushi…” he sneers at Kenny, “he’s better than you’ll ever be, and just like everyone else who’s tried Okada Kazuchika, he ended this match on. his. back.” He slaps the back of his hand to punctuate the words, mimicking a three-count. “Speaking of, are you going to take him home and make him some tea after that loss, or do you have more exciting ways to comfort him?” He laughs and smacks Okada again for emphasis.

Probably both, Kenny thinks, but there are some things he actually is smart enough not to say out loud. Instead, he just sighs disinterestedly.

Okada snaps out of whatever momentary earnestness had come over him. “Get the car, Gedo-san,” he says, pulling keys from his pocket and tossing them to Gedo. He bends down to look Kenny in the face. “Tell Ibushi I’ll beat him again anytime,” he says.

He’ll beat you next time, is what Kenny just avoids saying.

“Wait,” Gedo says, looking at Kenny, “I still have to tell Takagi what a loser you are—what the fuck is your name?”

“Who cares, Gedo-san,” Okada says, still looking Kenny in the eye, “he’s going to challenge me at Wrestle Kingdom“—he smacks his enormous obnoxious belt—“maybe I’ll bother to learn it then.” He winks, slapping Kenny on the shoulder ultra-patronizingly as he rises to his feet. He and Gedo walk away, laughing.

Kenny shrugs to no one. “I’ll see you there, I guess.” He sighs, and opens his DS again. “What a dick.”

Kenny’s been back in Castlevania long enough to take the edge off his irritation by the time Kota emerges from the locker room. Kota collapses onto the bench next to Kenny, flopping his head onto Kenny’s shoulder dramatically. He’s quiet for a long moment, and Kenny feels himself slowly unclenching his shoulders. This, after all, is why he’d been sitting here; why he’d come to Japan in the first place.

“Thanks for being in my corner,” Kota finally sighs. He pulls his legs up onto the bench and holds onto Kenny’s upper arm, nestling into Kenny’s shoulder.

By the way Kota’s clinging to him, Kenny can tell that Kota’s taking this loss unusually hard. It had meant so much to him; he said it was a chance to show that he was worthy of two full time contracts. Kenny thinks the two contracts are already pretty good proof of that.

Kenny rests his head on Kota’s. “You were amazing, Ibutan.”

“Thanks,” Kota says, disgusted with himself, but too tired to deflect the compliment. “I heard Okada and Gedo laughing,” he says quietly. “Were you out here making jokes?”

Kenny laughs, and Kota tips his head up quizzically.

“Oh, you’re serious.” To date, Kota has been the only person who’s ever thought Kenny was that funny. Kenny kisses the top of his head for it. “Not exactly, no,” Kenny says, hesitating. “They were talking shit for some reason,” he hedges, a little embarrassed.

“Oh,” says Kota, miserably. “I guess I deserve it, huh?”

“Oh no,” Kenny says quickly, any shame he’d had melting away. “Not about you, about me.”

“Oh. Let’s kill them,” Kota says, not moving. “Tomorrow.” He slides his arms around Kenny’s waist, laying his head on his chest, forcing Kenny to put an arm around his shoulders. Awkward position for a bench, but Kota’s kind of like a cat, when he needs reassurance: it feels morally wrong to move him, even if it’s not particularly comfortable for Kenny. “Wait.” Kota lifts his head abruptly. “About you? You weren’t even on the card!”

He must not have seen Kenny’s little run-in with Okada in the ring. Good. “They’re just bullies. Had that freaking giant belt on his shoulder even in his street clothes.”

“Ooh, I thought I couldn’t hate that stupid handsome cocky dickhead any more than I already did!”

“You’ll beat him next time,” Kenny says. You’re going to be huge. You’re going to change the world. Sometimes, Kenny bats away jealousy at thoughts like that, and hates himself for it.

Kota reluctantly sits up, steeling himself to eventually get to his feet. “He acted like he didn’t even know who I was,” he says, tying his shoes. This hadn’t been his first match with Okada—not even their first singles match. “At least he knows who you are, now.”

“Heh,” Kenny had pledged not to tell Kota this, but he can never really keep things from Kota, especially when they’re funny. “He said maybe he’d learn my name when I main event Wrestle Kingdom with him.” Kenny laughs and stands up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“He’ll know it long before then,” Kota says, standing up gingerly.

Kenny laughs again, and elbows Kota playfully.

“What?” Kota sounds sincerely confused.

Kenny’s trapped—Kota isn’t kidding. Kenny settles on just staring, and hoping Kota drops it.

“What?” Kota says again, not dropping it. He stares back, by now suspicious that Kenny was being self-deprecating. He makes an exasperated noise. At least it’s adorable. “You could have beaten Okada.”

“Okay, Mr. Unprecedented Two Home Promotions,” Kenny says, mostly without irritation.

Kota raises an eyebrow and hardens his expression. Kenny was only pointing out the obvious, but Kota gets weirdly upset about Kenny’s pangs of inadequacy.

“You’re going to be huge, Kenny. You’re going to change the world. He’d better learn your name, before you take his place.” Kota stares expectantly.

It never seems real to Kenny, that Kota believes in him that much. Somehow Kenny managed to find the one human being on Earth who not only thinks he’s supremely hilarious, but also thinks he’s the best wrestler? And managed to get that human being to fall in love with him? AND that human being is Kota Ibushi? It can’t be right.

Kenny’s not going to complain, not now at least. After a hard match, when emotions and exhaustion are high, is not a great time to talk about the whole trying not to be jealous of you Thing. So instead of that, Kenny just smiles bashfully, which he knows will charm Kota enough to get him to drop this line of conversation. It works; Kota’s serious face breaks into a ridiculous helplessly-smitten grin.

Kenny nudges him toward the door. “Come on, I’ll make you some tea.”

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