Chapter Text
The diner was rather small for his usual tastes.
Every once in a while, he liked to indulge in less extravagant locations. Places that were quieter, less populated, where he got no stares nor people talking to him. He saw them as a little break; a treat for him for getting through meetings and recitals and boring conversations. A moment of peace that he well deserved.
Hanging out with a friend felt like the perfect activity for one of these places, although he'd have to admit it had been a long time since he had gotten to do that. He had gone out to dinner with endless co-workers, producers, fellow actors, but it had never been anything more than a professional obligation, in lavish bars and clubs that blasted music loud enough to destroy his ears. This felt different, more personal.
He wasn't sure if he was allowed to call his relationship with Kenshi a friendship, exactly. The two of them knew eachother through combat and had gotten close through exclusively that. But the other man had gone to the trouble to ask him to hang out first, so that must've counted for something.
He took a deep breath, savouring the smells of the diner. Whatever cleaning product they had used for the freshly mopped floor. Brunch being made in the kitchen. And the unmistakable, overpowering scent of coffee.
He was thankful that nothing had changed.
There weren't many people present, just enough to keep busy, all either consumed by their conversations or the dishes in front of them. He went practically unnoticed as he walked past them, slipping his sunglasses off and to the top of his head, unnecessary now in an interior space.
It wasn't difficult to find what he was looking for. Kenshi had chosen a booth already, sat on one of the couches at the further end of the building, a white cane neatly folded up and sitting on the side of the table. He found himself agreeing; it was unarguably the best place to be.
Although it was odd to see Kenshi without his blindfold, the man's eyes were still kept hidden behind a pair of dark coloured glasses. He didn't blame him; being a walking nightlight would definitely attract attention.
He decided to see if he could sneak up on the other. He kept his steps short, yet deliberate, headed straight for his acquaintance.
"I'm glad you weren't late."
He stopped for a second, then let out a small laugh, seeing the other man grin as well.
"Damn. You clocked me so easily."
"I recognised your footsteps, Johnny." Kenshi hummed in satisfaction.
He slipped into the seat opposite him with relative ease, the couch cushy enough to let him get comfortable. Kenshi's eyes were set somewhere far away, at a point above his shoulder.
"No Sento today?" He tilted his head.
"Left them at the hotel room. They are not exactly easy to carry around without people staring." Kenshi shook his head. "Besides, they track souls only. They would not have been any more useful in a building full of furniture than this is." He tapped his cane.
"Seeing you without them is so weird. I think my brain sort of didn't even realise they could detach from you. Gotta say, I love the glasses look though."
The swordsman tipped his glasses slightly.
"Someone told me I look like a lawyer. No idea what that meant."
"No clue." Cage leaned back on his seat, letting himself stretch out. "So what's brought you over here? Vacation?"
"You could say that." His shoulders fell slightly, a clear sign that something more was going on.
He took a moment to think before hesitantly asking.
"Want to talk about it?"
"It's just..." Kenshi leaned his head on his hand, his mouth half buried in his palm. As if he didn't want to let himself say more than he wanted. "Home is a mess right now."
Ah. He sat properly, aiming to actually be attentive. Even if the other couldn't notice.
"There's a lot of bad things going on." He half-heartedly mumbled. "I suppose I am trying to escape them."
"As a fall-out of the tournament?"
"Not particularly." He shook his head. "More like issues that were already there."
"Right. That makes sense."
It seemed he wasn't going to get anything else from the other man, and he wasn't eager to push further. They each had their own issues, that he knew.
"If you-" Cage started, pausing for a moment to motion at a passing waiter for menus, "-if you need somewhere to stay for a bit, you can come over to my place. Won't charge you rent. Pinky promise."
"Generous of you." He hummed. "But I think I'll be alright for now."
"Offer will stand."
Kenshi smiled slightly.
"If I ever get bored, I will come to your mansion and seek your entertainment."
"Oh, so you only want me for my fantastic acting." He tried for a joke. "I see how it is."
"I don't."
A second of silence, then the two dissolved into chuckles.
The waiter returned, two menus in hand, although they hesitated once they saw the seeing eye cane. They left them on the table anyways, mumbling something about returning soon.
"Anything you might fancy?" He flipped the menu open. "I can tell you the categories."
"You promised me good pancakes." Kenshi pointed out. "I want to see if they live up to that claim."
"Got it." He went directly to that section. "We have chocolate chip, those blueberry ones, multi fruit- why do they call them that?"
The two discussed their orders for a bit, the waiter arriving right after. Kenshi settled on chocolate chip. He took maple syrup. Coffee for both. As the waiter walked off with their menus in hand, he turned his attention back to Kenshi, who had located a napkin and was folding and unfolding it in a desire to have something to do with his hands.
"I'm working on a new project, by the way." He mentioned more to break the silence than anything. "New movie."
"Oh?" The swordsman raised an eyebrow. "Another Ninja Mime?"
"I wish." He snorted. "No, it's uh- a superhero flick."
"Close enough."
"Yeah, to be honest." He tapped the pocket of his coat where he knew the script draft rested. "Working with new people too. I guess it's my attempt at a vacation. Doing some fighting that doesn't determine the fate of the world for once, you know?"
"I do know." His tone was bitter.
"Fictional stakes." He motioned uncertainly with his hands more out of habit than intent. "Where people only die in a story and not actually."
Another moment of silence shared between them, the fan overhead being the only buzz to break it. The napkin was crumbled under Kenshi's fingers.
"Do you ever think we were lucky?" The swordsman spoke up. "That we survived, that is. While so many others didn't?"
He lingered on the words that immediately sat on the edge of his tongue. The instant reaction was to claim they were simply better, more skilled, there was never a chance they would've died. Something he might've spat out without thinking before the tournament, keeping up the image of this unbeatable, egotistic star.
But he wasn't that person anymore. And this wasn't a performance. This was him talking to a friend.
"Often." He admitted. "I think about those people often. It wasn't that long, sure- but fuck, we all fought together, didn't we? That makes you get close whether you like it or not."
"People do weird things in life or death situations." Kenshi nodded. "Sometimes that means making bonds you would never make otherwise."
"If it's worth anything- this all might've sucked, but I don't regret meeting any of you."
He looked away, pretending to be seeking out the waiter to hide his expression, as if someone would see him and judge him for it.
"It was the one positive, I'd argue." The other agreed in a low tone.
For both their sakes, he pretended to be convinced that Kenshi merely adjusted his glasses when he brought his hand to his eyes.
He took a deep breath, sitting up better in his seat, determined to set the mood straight once more.
"Well, when things suck ass, you find the positives." Cage declared in an attempt to convince them both. "And we're gonna do that now too. We'll keep the part of making friends and getting to hang out together."
Kenshi hesitated, then offered a weak smile.
"And going together to get pancakes."
"And going together to get pancakes." He repeated with a grin.
Speak of the devil. Their order arrived a mere few moments later, as if the staff had been waiting for them to finish. He thanked the waitress leaving their plates down, asking for a few more napkins after taking notice of the barrage the other man had inflicted upon the one in his hands.
"Coffee on your twelve o'clock." Cage pointed out once they were by themselves again. "Your pancakes have whipped cream, but there's extra on your three."
"Convenient." Kenshi hummed, taking a moment to locate his utensils. "Don't tell me you still take your coffee with ninety percent sugar."
The sentence came out just as his hand had touched one of the sugar packets sitting between them.
"You did that on purpose."
A grin.
"Maybe a little bit."
"You just don't get my exquisite tastes." The actor dumped the contents onto his mug despite the comment, ready to reach for another. "When you reach my level of greatness, you'll understand."
"By the gods, your pancakes are already suffocatingly sweet. Do you not wish for your drink to be a palette cleanser?"
"Fancy term." He pointed out, impressed. "But no. I want sweet things and more sweet things. That simple."
"Why not get yourself a sweet drink, then?"
"Because I like the taste of coffee."
"You are a man one cannot debate with."
"Nope." He chuckled. "It's because I always win."
"Moron." Kenshi let out, but there was no ill intent behind it, his expression clearly fighting back a smile.
He took the blow with no retaliation, because at the end of the day, he had managed to lift the other's spirits. And that was all that mattered.
He served himself another sugar packet.