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The dungeon they sat in was cold, damp and smelled strongly of mildew. The only source of light they had was a small barred window up high where sunbeams seeped through, glinting against stone darkened with age with a soft golden light.
Kenshi leaned his back against one wall, the stone digging uncomfortably into his spine, his head tilted up towards the ceiling which was nothing but an empty void to him whilst Johnny was at the wall across from him, unusually quiet other than the occasional sound of clothes rustling or his breathing. Sometimes Kenshi could hear a breeze pass through the bars of the window, bringing with it the scent of flora and salt. So chances are, they were near by the seaside.
Without Sento, the swordsman was left in the darkness behind his eyelids in a tense silence, tendrils of anxiety curling around him like an old friend.
A sharp coppery tang was heavy in the air, sickeningly familiar as it attacked the back of his throat as his quiet worry only grew stronger. Johnny still hadn’t said a word and Kenshi suddenly had a horrible idea as to why.
As the swordsman was silently panicking on one side of their stoney enclosure, the actor was on the other and stealthily as he could, attempting to stem the bleeding from the wound he’d received during their most recent scuffle that led to their capture.
See, Liu Kang had asked for their assistance with some Lin Kuai business and who was Johnny to deny the fire god when he asked so nicely?
The fight had been going well enough though there had been times that Johnny felt a little overwhelmed as there were far more enemies than allies, though he and Kenshi made a rather ruthless team.
It had been a split second mistake and a lucky shot on the assassins part. Johnny had dodged a throwing knife that flew his way and lunge punched the guy, followed by a thrust kick. He was fast and light on his feet, feeling a grin tear through his face when he heard a pained sound behind him.
It wasn’t that he thought Kenshi as incapable on his own, on the contrary the swordsman was one of, if not the most capable people that Johnny knew, but it was instinct that made him turn to check if the other was alright when he heard a wet slicing sound, followed by a cold, heavy feeling in his gut.
He had been left breathless when the blade, a rather sharp and stylish curved dagger, not unlike the one he’d seen Smoke use, was removed from where it had pierced him through the left side of his body, through the weak part of his armour. He made a startled sound when the weapon was torn from his body, the warmth of his blood spilling out and ruining his armour.
Through a sudden haze, he threw a punch and managed to make contact but it wasn’t long until he was restrained along with Kenshi, who thankfully seemed uninjured except for a few cuts and bruises. On the downside, they had also confiscated Sento, taking Kenshi’s sight from him again.
Bags had been thrown over their heads (though he wasn’t sure why they put one over Kenshi, they must be pretty paranoid) and they were knocked unconscious and eventually that led to where he was now, slowly bleeding out in a cold cell in some unknown location, trying not to let his friend find out.
Judging by the sharp turn of the swordsman’s head in his direction, he ran out of time. “Johnny” he asked, his voice carefully controlled but the actor could hear the sharpness of his words. “Are you injured?”.
“Pssshh, it’s just a paper cut” he dismissed, biting his tongue to try and stop from hissing in pain when the action jostled his wound. It was a distinct sort of pain, being stabbed. He felt cold and warm at the same time, sweat beginning to roll down his brow as he shivered. “No need to worry ‘bout me, Kendoll”. The pet name would normally earn him a sigh or an eye roll of sorts that the swordsman still managed to do even without eyes, but this time there was none of that annoyance, only the thinning of Kenshi’s lips and his gloved hands tightening in his lap.
The ground beneath Johnny was quickly becoming slick with blood and the meagre use of his hands didn’t help much, fingers thoroughly soaked and blood tacky to his fingers. It felt disgusting, the blood growing gelatinous beneath his fingernails and he knew that if he lived he would be finding rust coloured dirt in his nail beds for a while but he didn’t have the energy to get green around the gills now.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the sun was beginning to lower in the sky, dyeing the clouds in beautiful golden hues so pretty that Johnny couldn’t help but feel a little breathless, blood loss aside.
“It looks so beautiful” he murmured wistfully as he got lost in the sunset for a moment, particles of dust suspended in the air, almost casting their dungeon in a more soft, dream-like light. “What?” Kenshi frowned across from him. The cell wasn’t all that big, the two of them taking its width just by sitting down and
Johnny noted with amusement that with how they were both sitting, if Johnny stretched just a little, their feet would be touching. And so he playfully nudged the other’s shoe with a sigh.
“The sky…it’s really pretty right now. All warm and soft…”. It truly did look peaceful behind the barred window and Johnny wished he could step closer to get a view of where they were, but doing so would probably cause more damage his body did not need right now. He briefly wondered how much blood was left in his body.
His speech had also seemed to take a hit from the blood loss, his words beginning to slur into one another, his thoughts hard to keep track of through the muddled fog in his brain and eventually Kenshi lost his patience and ambled his way across the short distance between them, inhaling sharply when his fingers meet the pool of blood, uncomfortably warm to the touch in contrast to the rapidly cooling body it originated from.
“How bad is it?” He asks, though it sounds more like a demand, his voice tight with what Johnny thinks may be a mix of anger and fear. He feels guilt swirl in his stomach, leaving him nauseous. Or maybe that was the blood loss?
“It’s not…great?” he replies with a forced lightness that does nothing to cheer his friend up. If anything it makes things worse as Kenshi feels out and finds Johnny’s hands, tacky and wet with blood where they settled over the sluggishly bleeding wound. Johnny hadn’t noticed just how cold he was until he felt the heat spread through Kenshi’s fingers and he revelled in the warmth for a moment.
The moment of peace however was quickly ended when a sharp pain rushed through him that left him gasping and his vision blacking out for a moment when the swordsman shoved his hands and Johnny’s over the wound, staunching it more tightly.
“Jesus-warn a guy next time!” He snaps breathlessly, leaning his forehead against the other’s shoulder, unable to fully hold up his own weight. Kenshi doesn’t shove him off but does reprimand him with an unhappy tone.
“You should’ve told me” he said and the undercurrent of disappointment in his voice leaves Johnny feeling even worse. “There was no point in worrying you” he mumbled into his friend's shoulder, the smell of leather and clove oil temporarily chasing away the scent of his own blood. It was a disgusting scent, overwhelming and bitter. For all his love of fighting, the scent of blood was one of his least favourite parts. It seemed to cling to everything. “We can’t exactly do anything now anyway…”.
Johnny wasn’t going to say that he was giving up, but he’d seen this movie before, he knows how it ends and yeah it would definitely suck to die in some random dungeon in the middle of nowhere, but at least he knew that Kenshi was alright, and that the others would probably find him before he also died in this sad little stone box along with Johnny.
And he wasn’t exactly happy at the prospect of dying here either, but a little internal reflection and a look around their cell let Johnny know that this was most likely going to be his tomb, and he was surprised to find that he’d made his peace with that. It was the sorta mysterious demise that would leave people wondering for years, and wasn’t that a different sort of fame? People still talk about Amelia Earhart after all, so why not Johnny Cage too? Why not let him become a mystery in history?
As if he could read Johnny’s thoughts, Kenshi pressed down harder on the wound as if to punish him, a strangled sound leaving the actor's throat. “You’re not dying here, Johnny” he said firmly but Johnny could hear the waver in his words and feel the shakiness of his hands. They’d become good friends after saving the universe together and all, so Johnny thinks he knew the swordsman pretty well.
He knows Kenshi likes his coffee ridiculously sweet despite everyone assuming he’s a dark espresso sorta guy. He knows that Kenshi secretly hums songs under his breath from the likes of the spice girls to more obscure metal bands when he’s sharpening Sento, and sounds pretty darn good when doing so.
He knows that Kenshi loves the smell of chocolate and the sound of rain. He knows that Kenshi enjoys the various pet names Johnny calls him even if he feigns annoyance. He also knows that Kenshi is inexplicably drawn towards chickens and talks about them as one does with their pet dog or cat.
He knows a thousand different things, big and small about Kenshi Takahashi and in that moment, as he’s bleeding out in that cold cell, feeling tired and leaning against him he realises that this is his best friend.
His only bestfriend.
Like ever.
The realisation startled a soft laugh from him as he pulled away, slumping back against the wall behind him and watching Kenshi’s lips get bitten through in his worry. It was a nervous tell Johnny didn't see often, Kenshi usually being more in control of how he presents himself. “What? Why are you laughing?” He asked like a disappointed parent which only makes Johnny laugh harder despite how it sends shockwaves of pain rattling through him, leaving behind a constant ache.
“I think-I think I just realised that you’re my best friend, dude”.
His words leave Kenshi frozen, the pressure on his side alleviating for a moment until it comes back, more firmly this time. Johnny's sharp inhale is ignored. After a quiet moment, Kenshi speaks again, his voice having a sort of strangled quality to it.
“Bit of a strange moment to announce that, no?”. Johnny nods to himself, and can feel his eyelids grow heavier though his smile doesn’t dampen. Breathing is getting a little more difficult but he replies anyway. “Yeah I guess so”.
“I suppose that would make you my best friend too, then” Kenshi adds and the sentence makes Johnny's heart grow so warm he knows any other time he’d be embarrassed by it. But he was currently dying so he didn’t care as much. He couldn’t really, thinking was becoming a difficulty and with the cold seeping into his body, not even the warmth of Kenshi beside him able to chase it away.
“Glad to hear that Kenny”.
“Kenny?” Kenshi wrinkles his nose with an eyebrow raised. Johnny can’t help but grin. “What, you don’t like it?”.
“I think I actually prefer Kendoll over Kenny”.
“What about Ken?”
“Hm-“
“Doll?”
“Johnny-“
“Bestie? Tattoos? Kenshi?”
“That’s just my name” the swordsman sighed though his lips had lifted slightly for a moment until he seemed to become aware of the situation they were in again, his happy expression falling away as Johnny saw the dip of his eyebrows, the nervous swallowing and the firm pressure hands momentarily becoming harsh.
“You’re not dying here” he reaffirmed quietly. Johnny wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. Both their hands were drenched in his blood and Johnny was really starting to feel lightheaded, as if his mind was disconnected from his body. The only thing he could focus on were the golds and pinks drifting past the barred window.
“Kenshi…if I’m being honest with you, I think I’m going to pass out” he admitted with a tight laugh, his body growing more heavy as dark spots began to make their appearance. He didn’t really feel that sharp, constant pain anymore. He just felt cold creeping through him and a sort of peace washing over him.
Kenshi shook his head adamantly and set his jaw. “No, stay awake, you hear me?”. He was beginning to lose his cool. “Kenshi-“.
“Liu Kang will have noticed that something is wrong by now so until he arrives you’re going to stay awake, there’s no other option”. The words had a desperate sound to them which made Johnny's heart ache.
Johnny bit his tongue for a moment and through his unfocused vision considered his friend who was now more vertical than before. Or perhaps Johnny had slumped down more. He wasn’t entirely sure of anything right now.
Kenshi despite being a quiet man was a natural born leader, a lighthouse in the middle of the storm. He was good at keeping up a calm facade, he would have to of course to be part of the Yakuza but Johnny had seen him slip up before. He’d seen how quickly Kenshi could lose his temper and how often he meditated and trained to try avoid doing so.
He tried constantly to keep himself in check, never showing too much on the surface. Johnny had only seen him like this expressive twice. The first was back in Shang Tsung’s laboratory. The second time was here, with his sharp words and tightened jaw and heavy hands pressing down over his trying to stop the flow of blood seeping through their fingers sluggishly. It was no use though, like trying to cup water from a waterfall.
It was selfish to think it, but Johnny was sorta glad to see that Kenshi cared about him, even if he had to learn it like this. “Kenshi?” Johnny asked, his voice sounding like it was underwater to his own ears.
“Yeah?” Kenshi replied, the previous sharp tone now dulled with exhaustion. Perhaps he knew this was a lost cause too. “I’m glad you’re here with me”.
Kenshi swallowed and gave a quick nod of his head. “I’m glad I’m here with you too but stop talking like you’re going to die”.
“I know you can’t see but I bet you can both feel and smell my blood everywhere around us…man you’re senses must hate that” Johnny sighed, finally giving up on trying to sit up correctly and allowing himself to fully collapse down onto the ground.
He was only mildly surprised when Kenshi pulled off his own coat and folded it beneath Johnny’s head. What a considerate guy.
Then he pressed down on his wound and Johnny wanted to take that last thought back.
“True, which is why you’re going to stay awake, so that my efforts will not be wasted” Kenshi told him, his voice steady now and matter-of-fact, held together with careful control. He wasn’t giving Johnny an option, he was telling him. And the actor was trying desperately to cooperate, but dark spots were beginning to permeate his vision and god, how cold he felt…
“Johnny, talk to me”.
“Vision…getting darker” Johnny rasped, only managing a weak groan as Kenshi pressed down harder. He then catches sight of one of Kenshi’s hands outstretched in the air, the other still pressing soaked fabric against the laceration. “What’re you doin’…?”.
“Calling Sento” the swordsman replied, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. “Kenshi, if they knew anything about you, they’d have locked Sento up like a prisoner in Alcatraz…” Johnny breathed, letting his head lightly fall back into Kenshi’s coat. It did little to pillow his skull against the concrete beneath but he appreciated it nonetheless, turning to press his face into the material to escape the overpowering scent of metal.
Kensh seemed to ignore him, continuing hos futeless attempt to call his family sword. With a sigh, Johnny reached out and pulled the swordsman hand down to his chest “Kenshi, stop…” he rasped.
Kenshi shook his head and cursed beneath his breath, pulling his hand away to try again when Johnny spoke. “Kenshi, stop man, just stop…” he murmured, his eyelids heavy and annoyingly difficult to open. God, he just wanted to sleep. His eyes feeling like lead slid shut and the numbing cold made sleep oh so preferable to this dungeon.
Kenshi finally let his arm drop and turned his attention back to Johnny, his bloodstained hands reaching out and fumbling until they reached his face, tapping his cheeks, leaving smears of crimson behind, his voice suddenly more desperate.
“No, Johnny! Stay awake, stay with me-“
“Sorry Kenshi…” Johnny croaked, his voice dimming down to a whisper now as he let himself drift into sleep's embrace.
-
Johnny was surprised when he woke up at the Academy more or less fine with Liu Kang kneeling at his side, his face serene as it usually was but Johnny didn’t miss the flash of relief that crossed the gods expression.
“Johnny, I see you’re awake” he said warmly as the actor squinted up at him, attempting to blink the sleep from his eyes. “Hey Liu Kang, man am I glad to see you…” Johnny rasped, coughing in his last words from the dryness of his throat. His tongue felt like sandpaper and he winced at the uncomfortableness of it all.
As Liu Kang carefully passed him a cup of water, which he graciously downed, Johnny took note of his body. He could feel the wrapping of bandages and gauze around his waist beneath his robes and lightly pressed his hands against his side. He let out a low whistle and laid back down on his mat. He’d cut it close this time, and judging by the fire gods frown, he knew it too.
“How long have I been out?” The actor asked, fingers tracing the rim of his cup, feeling the small abrasions and chips in the ceramic beneath his fingertips .
“Three days” Liu Kang replied, his voice seldom. “When we arrived, you were passed out. For a moment, we were worried you had left us permanently”.
Johnny chuckled, his voice still an ugly sound despite the soothing water. “I wouldn’t dream of it, for a good while anyway.” He began to sit up but was firmly pressed back down onto his bedding. “Please remain down Johnny, it would be best not to pull your stitches”.
Johnny sighed but reluctantly remained still for a moment, drumming his fingers against his stomach. “Is Kenshi okay?” He asked, staring down at his hands. Sure enough, he could spot red staining on his nails and in his nail beds.
“Yes, he only had a few cuts and bruises thankfully,” Liu Kang replied, glancing over his shoulder at the door. “ He's been quite worried for you. It took some time to convince him to get some sleep”. The gods tone reminded Johnny of an exhausted parent but the small smile on Liu Kang’s face told him that it wasn’t a complaint.
“If you’re not too tired, I could let him know you’re awake”.
The actor didn’t hesitate to nod and Liu Kang left the room with that sense of grace that seemed unnatural. It most likely was, Johnny supposed. Liu Kang was good at feigning being human, he looked human, sounded and acted like one, but carrying all that power within a human body would be impossible. Liu Kang didn’t move as a normal human would. He had a sort of untouchable nature to him, like the laws of the world held no reign over him. Johnny supposed they wouldn’t, Liu Kang was their creator after all.
And, he duly noted his thoughts were getting carried away.
Johnny was then pulled out of said thoughts as the door slid open and in stepped a familiar figure, though he looked more dishevelled than Johnny was used to seeing.
Kenshi’s clothes were rumpled, his jacket had more crease lines, his shirt wrinkled, sento seemingly crooked across his back, his hair falling over his blindfold more than usual, not to mention how tightly the swordsman’s hands were clenched by his sides.
Neither said anything for a moment, the silence that lingered almost awkward which made Johnny frown. He cleared his throat and hoped he came across as easy going when he spoke.
“Hey Kenshi, long time no see”.
“Well considering I no longer can see, I’d have to agree, Johnny” Kenshi replied with a wry smile, though he still seemed a little tense, not moving from his spot in the doorway.
“Youuuu gonna stand there all day, kendoll?” Johnny asked, sitting up from his bedding despite Liu Kang’s warning. His side aches of course, but he powered through it without a flinch. He wasn’t an actor for nothing.
His friend was silent for a moment before he sighed and took long strides until he reached the edge of Johnny's bedding. He then kneeled and rested his still clenched hands in his lap. Johnny bets that there’s bags beneath that blindfold as dark as the sky. Kenshi never was a great sleeper, even on a good day, always tossing and turning, strangled words slipping between gritted teeth.
Kenshi remained there, knelt at his side as stiff as a board, spine rigid and body ready to spur into action, like he expected a fight to happen.
Johnny sighed and without warning, grabbed Kenshi by the shoulder and dragged him down to lay on the bedding beside him, ignoring the warning pain in his side.
“W-Wait, Johnny!” Kenshi exclaimed, but was ignored as the actor laid his head down against the swordsman’s shoulder, pinning him in place, though not with any real force. If Kenshi wanted, he could’ve wrenched away but he remained still and eventually relaxed, removing sento from his back to place it on the floor beside him with a breath.
“You gotta relax sometimes, Kenshi” Johnny mumbled, nuzzling his head further into the man’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch when calloused hands carefully threaded themselves through his greasy hair. “I thought you were dead…” a quiet voice replied.
Johnny couldn't help but laugh. “As if I’d ever leave you behind Kendoll. Nah, you’ve got another while stuck with me, man”.
“That’s not as much of a burden as I thought it’d be…” Kenshi replied, his voice subdued but full of warmth that left Johnny grinning like a fool. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too”.