Kengan Ashura Imagines

The Great War

Naoya Okubo x Reader

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Okubo never liked to argue, but you did.

He was lighthearted and never took anything seriously- which made everyone around you two wonder how he had attracted someone so opposite to him. You were all deep stares and sharp edges in life, contrasting him entirely. You kept to yourself and if it wasn't for Okubo's love for public affection, nobody would have even known you were dating.

You liked it that way. He didn't.

That was the first of your lifetime of arguments. It laid the ground for what would be almost two decades of snapping and sewing yourselves back together as if no severe losses occurred. Each major fight you would tell each other would be your last, only to be blown out of the water by the next that came.

Your second chapter of lifetime arguments was about his lack of commitment.

You knew Okubo inside and out. You knew that he loved wrestling and fighting more than anything, but he hopped around to each style of martial arts without thinking. Sure, you could trust him to always have an end goal in mind for doing it, but it scared you.

People started to whisper. And not just about him, but about you.

They speculated over Okubo's lack of commitment and asked you what it was like to share a bed with a man who could have anyone he laid eyes upon. They poked and prodded until you burst at the seems you had sewn back together yourself. They told you they saw him with his beautiful sparring partner and talking to other people around his dojo. You knew it shouldn't surprise you, it was just him after all.

But god, how you blamed him for every ounce of it.

"I don't know what more you want from me!" Okubo said as he ran his hands over his head for the umpteenth time that night. You were screaming, yelling, doing everything you could to make him confess to the rumors you both knew had been revealed to you. "I just told you! If you would listen to me for fucking once you would know!"

"I did. I always do. You scream I scream, then we work it out. But this time I did nothing! You're blaming me for nothing!" He paced around the kitchen and banged his fist off the granite countertop, the only item in his vicinity that wouldn't break from one of his hits.

"If you would just listen-"

"I am! I've never fucking listened more in my life to your yelling, woman!"

You had your ups and downs. It was a given. Two personalities so different, there was bound to be conflict even if you both knew how to approach it correctly.

You would bottle everything up until your breaking point then point your fingers in any direction so they didn't come back to you. He would listen, but Okubo was not a calm man. His temper matched yours, one of the only things you two seemed to have in common. He would get flustered, you would yell more, and he would yell. You both tried to give branches for the other to take, but neither of you ever did.

Things had settled down. You fell back into your routines with new scars and losses, counting your wounds and your deaths along the way. You promised each other that you would tell each other when something was wrong from the start, but that was another thing you two differed on.

Naoya Okubo was not a liar. And you weren't either, but you honored the truth less than he.

The gold bands glinted at you from the cracked granite counter.

His dwarfed yours in size, but the stone in the center of yours blew his simple band away any day. The two rings formed a pair of eyes on the dark counter, mocking and taunting you until someone had enough and spoke up.

"Please. I'm sorry." Okubo stretched his bruised hand across the countertop, clearing half of it easily with his outstretched arm. You didn't respond to him.

That was the third, and final, great fight of your lifetime.

Your banners were down and you drug him down with you. He couldn't quell your fears about the ten years you had worn the rings on your hands and you couldn't quell his fears of you leaving him. You were so special, three times the man that he would ever be yet you still chose him. 

And as he looked between his empty hand and the rings, he knew that your time was up.

And as you took his hand, you knew it was goodbye.

Well, it was goodbye until you chased after him across an ocean and half of a city.

Your rings hadn't left the tight grip of your palm until you reached the dojo that hadn't changed in the month you'd been gone. It was midnight in Tokyo but the nightlife still roared. The dojo should've shut down hours ago, but a familiar bobbing head in one of the windows proved your hunch that he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

You didn't bother knocking on the red door, knowing that Okubo didn't bother locking it since he could fight off any intruder. Air conditioning welcomed you and you kicked your shoes off in a hurry, not caring where they flew as your feet padded through the lobby and into his favorite sparring room.

You stopped.

He was beating a punching bag to death, knuckles even more bruised than the last time you saw them. His hair looked as if it hadn't been shaven back since you left.

"Hi."

He stopped.

He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow and steadied the swinging bag, walking around it to see if you were actually there. You looked eerily similar. Your posture was still stiff, your brow still furrowed, and your stance too uptight. He didn't answer.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Okubo had you in his arms not even a second later. One of your arms came to wrap around his large bicep while the other shakily opened and revealed your wedding bands. "I'll always love you. I promise to never fight anymore."

"I love you." You took his bruised hand and slipped the golden band back on, him copying your actions and placing a kiss on each knuckle after the stone was back where it belonged.

'cause we survived the great war, i vowed I would always be yours