Chapter Text
Toshinori had lucked out!
Well, in another way besides actually being alive—Tsukauchi’s police station was indeed the same in this reality, and his old friend wasn’t kidding when he said the pub was close to their work; it was hard to miss the animated neon sign.
The place must have just opened since it was dead save for the few typical barflies, already drinking their lives away. And there, seated on the last barstool closest to the back of the establishment, was Tsukauchi. Toshinori raised his hand to greet him, but quickly caught the look in his friend’s eyes when he flicked his gaze towards him—secretive, paranoid, low-key.
It had all been code, but for what?
He smartly kept his hands in his pockets and meandered over to Tsukauchi, taking the stool next to him, and gave him a nod.
“Good to see you,” he said (and he really meant it).
Tsukauchi took a sip from his whiskey glass and smiled at him. “You too, old friend.”
Toshinori returned the smile but felt an uncharacteristic amount of dread. His eyes found the wall-mounted television, drowned out by the music from the speakers overhead. He was 99% certain it was on purpose.
“Watched the broadcast earlier?”
Toshinori’s eyes darted to Tsukauchi. “Uh, no. Missed it.”
“For real? Well, I guess we all know who is involved already.” Tsukauchi leaned in closer, lowered his voice, and stared at the TV. “It’s taken years, but we finally got one of ours in. Studying how to make that spoiled brat happy has been a headache, but it’s finally paying off!”
Toshinori nodded as he tried to process that information. It sounds like, although he doesn’t have a Quirk in this reality, he is working to stop villainy in some capacity. That realization made him happy, but who is this spoiled brat? Definitely not a title he would expect anyone to apply to All for One despite the man’s greed. So, who—
“Aye, my guy, turn it up! I missed it this mornin’!” A drunkard demanded. The bartender glowered at him and then turned down the music before increasing the volume on the TV. Toshinori sat through a few minutes of the most terrifying thing he’s witnessed in a good long while. Worse than a battle—it was the simmering terror hidden behind smiling faces. But the Prince…
“First?” he muttered, earning him a strange glance from his old friend.
“First? Uh, no, he’ll be one of the last ones to see the Prince.”
The broadcast continued, the strange babble between the American and Japanese news anchors shifting focus to…Quirkless teenagers. Toshinori’s eyes widened in unbridled fear as his dutiful student’s face came on screen.
“Young Midoriya!” His barstool made a loud screech as he stood, slapping his hands onto the counter. Tsukauchi grabbed him by the shoulder—hard—and gave him a serious look. Toshinori gulped and quickly grabbed his stool to reseat himself and waved off the curious glances. “Ha! Sorry everyone! Just so super excited for the little guy!” The few patrons went back to burying themselves in their drinks.
“The hell is wrong with you?” His friend demanded once he had settled himself down.
“Sorry. Guess I got a little excited?”
“You know what?” Tsukauchi motioned for the bartender to turn the other way as she made her way towards them. “You don’t need to drink anymore. What? Did you pull an all-nighter again? Your liver hates you, Yagi.”
Toshinori grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I can feel it.”
This was becoming quite overwhelming. His student would meet that smug bastard in a few hours! Wait. If he ended up in the body of this timeline’s version of himself, then certainly the same must have happened for Izuku! He wasn’t sure why the boy was still alive, but he guessed that his old nemesis must have…forgotten? Was that even plausible?
This couldn’t get any worse—
“Ha, there he is!” Tsukauchi took a quick swig of his whiskey in an almost celebratory manner, but Toshinori was feeling the exact opposite. That ‘one of ours’ was none other than Aoyama, one of his students, or at least, was one of his students. What on earth was Tsukauchi talking about? All for One was more dangerous than ever! The man was the Emperor of the whole damn world and somehow, someway, had thoroughly twisted his little brother (who Toshinori knew as ‘First’, but apparently his name is Yoichi) into going along with it? This was madness. How was Aoyama supposed to…
“The girl should put the rule on him here soon. Thank God his family has been with us for so long and had a Quirkless tike. Else this could have taken even longer.” Tsukauchi mused as he lifted his glass and pointed at it. The bartender rolled her eyes, but soon waltzed over with a bottle, pouring Tsukauchi another. The man winked at her, earning him a hard scowl and a huff.
Rule? Hold on. There’s only one person he could think of, and that’s Cathleen—Star and Stripe. What for, though?
Tsukauchi leaned in once more, his breath heavy with the scent of cheap bourbon and his words slurring. “The kid is a real trooper! It’s hard to find people that loyal to the cause, but I guess when you grow up around it, well, it makes it easier, right?”
Toshinori could feel his stomach take a few steps closer to a drop that he knew would make him sick. He nodded to his old friend to continue.
“All he has to say is the magic word when he’s close enough to the Prince, and then we’ll have something to work with. Sure, there may be some casualties. I mean, I do feel bad for the other kid, but it’s like you said—the cause is what matters.”
What he said?! No, this couldn’t be happening. Casualties? Toshinori absently grabbed at his chest, and luckily Tsukauchi was too busy taking another sip to see it.
“Magic word?” He asked barely above a whisper, sounding more like a statement than a question.
Tsukauchi chuckled and turned towards him, his fist raised. “I thought I told you? All he has to say is ‘Sparkle’ and—” He quickly opened his hand. “Boom!”
Toshinori busied himself by looking towards the entrance, Tsukauchi assuming he was making sure no one was listening, but in actuality, he was trying desperately not to have a panic attack.
“Either we roll the dice just right and we take out his head or we do enough damage that the Emperor will be too overwhelmed to pay enough attention to things. Man, Toshinori, you are a genius! I just wish you’d finally shake off your hangover.”
The puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place, and now Toshinori understood exactly where this version of himself fit into things. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he really is in this reality—not a resistance fighter nor a hero.
A terrorist.
—
Yoichi yawned and stretched his arms as he woke up from his impromptu nap. He was lying in their bed still dressed in his vest and black slacks, only his shoes missing, and it soon dawned on him that Muffin was asleep on his chest.
In one motion, he sprang to his feet and set his cat on the bed, standing next to her.
“Oh, no! Muffin, big brother doesn’t like when your hair is on my vest!”
Actually, where was his brother?
He looked over to where his twin always slept.
“He must be getting some work done.” Yoichi looked back at Muffin. “I’m sorry, Muffin. It isn’t your fault! You’re such a good kitty, always making sure I feel better!”
Yoichi plopped back down on the bed next to his cat and removed a hair from his vest. He scrutinized it, rolling it between his fingers, then sighed.
“I don’t know why I’m so tired today. My coughs and stuff have been pretty mild for a good long while, but then I had a fit earlier. It’s…” He let go of the hair and watched it slowly fall to the plush carpet. “Strange. And when brother said how he liked my weakness…” Yoichi looked down at Muffin, and she meowed in return. “I felt a jolt of fuzziness in, like, my brain! It was so weird. Do you…do you think it’s nerves for today? I mean, I am always kinda nervous during the prize ceremony.”
Yoichi fell back onto the comforter and stretched out his arms, his eyes taken by the expensive drapes of their enormous canopy bed. They were dark red, matching the rest of the theme of black pillows, red sheets, and a mix for their comforter—an aesthetic his brother became enamored with when they were still teens. He would never outright tell Yoichi where he got it from, just make offhand comments about having seen it before and liking it. Yoichi always found solace in sleeping in a bed that had heavy drapes to block out the cold and light. It reminded him of their early years finding shelter in dumpsters and other tight, warm places. But staring up at the blood-red fabric, he couldn’t help but feel déjà vu.
Then there was the nightmare.
He could hardly remember it now—as most nightmares seemed to go—but he could still recall the feelings: a strange desire to flee and an undercurrent of fear; distrust and injustice. What upset him the most, though, was the image of his twin holding him off the ground by his face and the satisfied look in his eyes as the unmistakable glow of his power waltzed around him.
Yoichi brought one hand to his heart.
No, that wasn’t his brother. Just some nightmare induced by a growing anxiety at having to…meet new people. It had always been him and his brother. Zen always preferred Yoichi to stand just to his side, and he either included Yoichi on sudden trips or heavily guarded him at home. It’s like brother always said: the safest place for Yoichi was within his arms. And that’s how he’s always seen it—felt it. A powerful protection that could defeat any enemy looking to hurt Yoichi, something that had happened far more than a few times over the century they’ve been alive.
Was it because brother wasn’t holding him as he slept? Not even here to drive off the insidious dreams?
Yoichi jumped back up onto his feet and patted Muffin on the head.
“I’m going to use the lint roller to get the rest of your fur off and then, um, maybe brush my hair with that lovely spray brother got for me! The lavender always helps!” He clapped his hands and irrationally looked around for Zen. His twin found Yoichi’s little claps cute, so he always did it around him. It felt odd not to have his brother as his audience.
After centering himself with a deep breath, Yoichi turned on his heel and entered the enormous bathroom to stand in front of the long mirror above the sinks. He hurriedly sprayed an expensive product into his hair and brushed through the locks, a closed smile forming as he felt the pins caress his scalp. The lavender scent quickly calmed him.
“Okay, Yoichi, you've got this!” he said to his reflection. Straightening up, he cleared his throat. “Welcome everyone! I’m so happy you won this yearly event!” No, no. That sounds dumb. “Um, welcome! How wonderful to meet you all! I’m so excited for all of you to receive your much-deserved gifts!” Okay, that was a little better. “First, since I know you two are probably just bursting with excitement, I’d like to see the lucky children!” Wait. Children. No, that may upset them. “I mean, I’d like to see the lucky teens! Young Midoriya, you’re up first—” Yoichi paused. Clenched a fist.
Midoriya…
Before he could contemplate the strange ache pulsating in his chest, he heard the bedroom door open and the unmistakable heavy tread of his large twin.
“Yoichi?” Zen’s deep voice echoed into the bathroom.
“In here, brother! I’m coming!”
He pranced out and turned in a tight circle, arms outstretched. Zen smiled.
“Do I look presentable? Oh, and!” Yoichi stepped close enough so his twin could reach his head. “I used that lavender leave-in conditioner you got me!”
His brother leaned down and took a satisfied inhale.
“Yes, I like that.”
Yoichi laughed. “I know! That’s why I used it!”
Zen patted his head, satisfaction swirling around him. “That’s my good Yoichi. Now, it’s about time, dear brother. Your little winners should arrive shortly.”
He gulped. Zen tilted his head and carefully raised his twin’s chin with a few fingers, forcing Yoichi to look deep into his brother’s matte white eyes.
“Is my dear little brother nervous?”
“I, um, can’t help it. I’m not…” Yoichi’s eyes looked down at the ground despite feeling his brother’s irritation through his cupped chin. “Used to other people, you know? So, I gotta, well, pump myself up!”
Zen chuckled as he twirled some of Yoichi’s hair with his other hand.
“I’ll be right behind you, precious. No reason to fret! Nothing bad will happen to you.”
Yoichi looked back up into his brother’s eyes and smiled. “I know, big brother. You’ll always protect me.” He moved in to give Zen a hug even if his arms couldn’t actually wrap around his girth. “I’m safe, just like you always say.”
“That’s right. You’re mine. And if anyone ever tries to change that, well, it won’t be pretty.”
Unseen by his twin, Yoichi’s smile faltered briefly as his brother’s voice, fleeting and ghost-like, said deep within his mind—
“If you won’t be mine…”
—
“Huh.”
Bakugo and Izuku stood just outside the archway to UA, surprised that it was closed.
“It must be the ceremony. I guess the school closes for it?” Izuku asked out loud. Bakugo nodded.
“That’s fucked up, but this entire society is…weird.”
“Yeah, no kidding. There’s like…some sort of undercurrent to it all, ya know?” Izuku turned to Bakugo. “It’s both the same, but so different. All for One…I’m surprised UA is even here.” He continued muttering under his breath until Bakugo slapped the back of his head.
“Stop that! We don’t have time for it! Guess we’ll need to find everyone else—”
“Midoriya! Bakugo!”
The pair whirled around to find Fumikage and Ochaco running towards them.
“You found us!” Izuku and Bakugo ran to meet them. The two newcomers keeled over to catch their collective breath. “Thought we’d have to go looking for you two!”
Bakugo looked around them. “Guess you couldn’t find Ida and Shoto?”
“No, we…” Fumikage finally released his knees as he found his composure. “Decided this was the most likely place we’d find everyone else. Ochaco and I met up on our way.”
Ochaco clasped her hands together, her eyes wide in fear as she took a few steps towards Izuku. “Deku…we both saw the broadcast. Are you…really going?”
“Yes, Midoriya, are you? All for One…he—”
“Controls everything? Yeah, bird brains, we’re aware,” Bakugo clasped his mouth shut at the vitriol that had marked his words.
Fumikage squinted his eyes. “Bakugo…you haven’t called me that since we started school.”
Izuku’s eyes narrowed, but he shook himself out of the dangerous theory he was forming. No, that couldn’t be.
“We need to find Shoto and Ida!” Izuku interrupted. He knew there wasn’t a lot of time. He’d have to go—
Everyone jumped as Izuku’s cellphone went off, a surprising ringtone of what sounded like a theme for…Endeavor. Izuku’s face turned red as he almost dropped the phone rushing to answer.
The others cringed.
“I, uh, hello!”
“Izuku! Where on earth are you?! We don’t have enough time! Get back here, or you’re going to miss it! You’ve been looking forward to this for so long, I don’t understand—“
“Mom! I’ll be right there! I was just…talking to my friends about how excited I am for the event!”
Bakugo growled while the other two gave each other worried glances.
Izuku hung up after a quick ‘I love you’ then sighed.
“I…have to go do this, I guess. I just don’t know…”
“If scrotum-head will remember you? Hopefully not. Maybe you’ll hardly have contact with him besides the Quirk transfer?” It was surprising to hear the undercurrent of unease in Bakugo’s voice. “Don’t think you can get out of it at this point.”
Ochaco shook. “Izuku! Please…be careful!”
Fumikage nodded in agreement.
“I will, guys. At least…it sounds like I’ll be able to meet the originator of One for All. Maybe there’s a way I can get close enough to him to figure more of this out. There has to be a way to fix this.”
“The first user? Do you mean?” Fumikage tilted his head.
“Yeah, the Prince. All for One’s little brother, or rather, twin brother, started all of this. His sense of justice passed from person to person. There’s no way he’s going along with this willingly!”
Fumikage nodded, but asked, “Are you sure? All for One could take over the world, and the broadcast made it sound like it had been…for quite a while. It’s possible that…”
“Yeah…” Izuku lifted his once beat-up hand and studied it. “There is that possibility, but there’s just no way. I’m sure once I meet him…”
They went silent.
“Oh!” Ochaco pulled out her phone trying to interrupt the tension, her cheeks red. “I totally forgot I have Ida’s number! I guess we’re all still in 1-A, just not with…” Ochaco smiled sadly towards Izuku. “You, Deku, but at least I can hopefully get ahold of him and have us meet at—”
“Shoto’s! It won’t take long for Ida to meet us there, and with that practical compound of his, it may work as a staging ground for us to plan our next move!” Fumikage said. The others nodded.
“Hopefully, he’s there! I’ll meet you guys after this thing if—” Izuku cut himself off, but one look from Bakugo eased his nerves. “It’ll be okay! We’ll meet back up at Shoto’s after. If anything changes, then text me!”
He realized that he probably didn’t have his friends’ numbers in this timeline. It was disappointing to know this version of himself had no friends, just like before UA. Ochaco took her phone and lightly tapped Izuku’s. The airdrop pinged, and Izuku gave her a grateful grin.
“We’ll be waiting for you, Deku!”
—
Tomura followed the excited chatter to the family room but stopped short of fully emerging from the hall. He peaked around the corner and released a hitched breath.
There, clothed in the same costume as in the photo and her vestige, was Nana Shimura. Though…she was older, her black hair having gone grey and wrinkles on her face; her body mass had shrunk, but there was still a tenacity burning in her brown eyes and a strength hidden under her now loose suit.
Hana was bouncing around her, sharing stories of the last week, while Nana smiled. Beamed. Genuine.
Seeing his grandmother again—outside the broken realm between One for All and All for One—caused a strange amalgamation of feelings to well up within Tomura. Some old; others new: anger and hate stoked by his master’s machinations, but also…desire. He wasn’t sure whether that was new or old. Leftovers of a bygone past, secretly viewing an old photo or a blossoming yearning (he separately despised) to actually know her.
Fuck whatever was going on here!
Master never pressed him to control his emotions, the opposite actually, and annoyance grew behind his eyes over the fact the corner of the wall wasn’t decaying under his white-knuckled grasp.
“Tenkoooooo!”
Damn. Spotted.
Nana used her Float to bound across the room and pulled Tomura into a tight embrace as soon as she reached him. He flinched.
“Um…hi?” he ground out. Nana grasped him by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length, scrutinizing his dower demeanor.
“Huh. Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” She tilted her head.
“He’s been weird ALL morning, Grandma!” Hana yelled from her position on the couch watching some sort of news program, a wry grin on her face. “I thought maybe he fell and hit his head on the floor like he used to as a kid!” They both laughed. Tomura glowered, especially as a few painful memories from his past as Tenko Shimura swam to the surface.
“Well, Mr. Moody, turn that frown upside down because today is a big day for you! Actually, both of us! This is an amazing honor, Tenko! I’m…surprised you aren’t begging me to leave early!” Nana looked him over. “And…you haven’t put on your costume yet?”
Tomura was prepared to spite the old woman, but stopped once he heard ‘Shigaraki’ from the TV. He pushed past his grandmother and stood behind the couch, mouth dropped open as the discussion between the two news anchors gave him whiplash.
Master…ruled Japan? No! The world?! And twin? What…Master had talked about a little brother before, and it wasn’t too long ago that Tomura both finally saw the person Master was obsessed with to the point of insanity, and realized his true purpose in his twisted game—a vessel. A new body for his Master to inhabit. One that would also house the very Prince these NPCs hurriedly praised.
Tomura glared daggers and gritted his teeth hard enough that he thought they’d crack. Master got what he wanted wherever the hell he was now, but didn’t even deign it important to include Tomura himself?!
Fucking bastard!
A soft hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it and, despite his desire to smack it away, something held him back. (He didn’t like that, whatever it was.)
“Tenko…you okay, hun? Are you nervous?” Nana turned him back towards her, and she gingerly swept his bangs from his eyes. (Why did he want to fall into that gloved hand?) “Don’t fret! How about some practice in the yard? Then we’ll grab a quick breakfast because I know once you fully wake up, you’ll be begging me to get you to the event as soon as possible!”
“E-event?” Tomura’s eyes widened. His brain was tying the strings, and it was dawning on him just what event she meant. The news broadcast made it pretty clear…
“Damn, Hana, you may be right! He had to have fallen off his bed!” They both snickered. Tomura growled. “Oh! Sorry, sweet grandson! It isn’t nice of us to keep poking you!” She finally released him and clapped her hands together. “Come on! Let’s loosen up a bit! Wait! Go change first! Meet me outside!” Nana waved him off back towards the hall. Tomura readily stomped away, bared teeth unseen by the giggling women behind him.
His seething wasn’t just for them, though. Master ruled everything, just like he always wanted, and seemed to have a similar age-based Quirk in whatever strange reality Tomura now found himself in. Did he die and get Isekai’ed here? Or…was this some alternate reality like a multiverse in comic books or movies? He remembered the strange tear in space he jumped through, where the bodies of his master and those annoying flies called heroes lay in front of him. His Master must have figured out a way to change reality, but why does he have his memories? No matter. He wasn’t able to exact revenge against his Master for desiring to use his body as his own in the prior reality, but he’ll be damned if he can’t do it in this one! Quirk lottery? Pfft.
He’ll make it a bloodbath.
—
After taking enough time to earn him teasing yells from Hana, Tomura finally found the damn hero costume (gross) and now stood out in a shared courtyard of the apartment complex he apparently lives at with his older sister. God, he must be a laughingstock!
He pulled at the tight synthetic fabric of his costume. It resembled his grandmother’s in some regard, and he even had the same stupid cape, but he had to admit it worked well, especially with his new-to-him hair. Black, red, with some yellow accents. He wanted to hate the suit so much, but that same tickling feeling in the back of his mind had him…ecstatic.
“Okay, Tenko! It’s going to be important for us to maintain proper vigilance over the rooftops and skies of the lottery! I’m not as agile as I once was, so I’m counting on you!” Nana jumped and floated in the air then motioned for Tomura to follow.
Whatever look he must have given her was enough for her to come back down.
“Come on, grandson! I know you’re nervous, but you've got this!” Nana gave him a huge smile and a thumbs up. “Just prepare to jump, think about wanting to jump higher, and you've got this!”
Tomura blinked. He had absolutely no idea what the hell she was talking about. Jump? Wait. Monitor the rooftops and sky? Can…can he fly?! He looked down at the ground and realized he had already gotten into position, as if he was preparing to leap as high as he could. The hell was up with this stupid body?
She repeated, “You got this!” and Tomura felt a strumming in his chest, as if a melodic chord struck.
“Yes, Grandma!” he blurted out, but before he could ruminate over it, his body jumped and he was in the air. For a moment, he thought he’d fall right back down, but some innate knowledge had him actually…flying!
It was like the twitch factor for gaming, or muscle memory, or whatever—he was flying! Tomura dashed around his grandmother, and once he looked behind him, he saw multiple golden circles appear at his feet before he jettisoned forward once more.
“Good job, Tenko! Looks like you just needed to stretch a bit to get into the swing of things!” Nana’s encouragement, her smile, the love in her voice that weaseled its way into his brain…it was intoxicating! This wasn’t like Master. It wasn’t like father. It was real.
“And now…the landing!”
Tomura stared down at the ground, and nervousness overtook him. It wasn’t just his own fear; no; it was someone else’s. This body…
“Remember! Aim for the ground, but give yourself enough leeway to turn your feet back towards it, then concentrate on using just enough of your Quirk to give you a soft landing!” Nana explained.
Tomura did as she said, but still tripped over himself once he reached the ground. He was just barely able to keep from face-planting.
“Good!”
“Good?! That was crap!” Tomura moaned. He meant to say even more, but the disappointment on his grandmother’s face stopped him.
“Tenko!” Nana landed near him and marched over, pointing a finger in his face. “What have I told you? One: don’t use crass language, especially as a hero! And two: never disparage yourself! You got accepted into the agency! So what if there are a few stumbles? Even the best of us trip from time to time, in more ways than one!”
Despite his desire to say something rather catty back to her, he only blurted out, “Yeah, right! Like All Might ever tripped!” But his grandmother didn’t answer. He looked up at her.
“Who, honey?”
Wait.
There’s no All Might?
There’s no All Might!
Master, you clever bastard.
—
Zen prowled in a circle around the stage, hands crossed at his lower back, critical eyes sweeping over the various screens and decorations. Following at his heels, hunched and sweating, was his loyal aide. Her heels clicked against the polished platform as she hurriedly scribbled notes onto her tablet, trying desperately to match Zen’s criticisms.
“The imperial banner is a centimeter too far to the left; there’s a scuff on stage-right; no overhead lights illuminating my throne. I’m the one that will decide if they see me; why isn’t my brother’s throne polished here and here?”
“Yes, your majesty! Of course! We will fix it immediately!” She stumbled over her words but was saved by—
“Brother! You’re going to give Mrs. Takashi an aneurysm!” Yoichi said as he walked across the stage.
Zen smiled and outstretched his arms only for his twin to walk past him and put a comforting hand on the frazzled woman’s shoulder. “No worries, ma’am! Besides…” Yoichi turned on his heel and walked around his brother, scrutinizing him with a hand to his chin in mock thought. “You need to mark down that my brother’s shoes aren’t shiny enough, oh, and his cuffs aren’t the appropriate length, and, well, my, my, looks like my brother’s suit is a bit tight right here—”
“Okay, okay! You’re dismissed!”
The woman bowed repeatedly with a curt ‘thank you’ then rushed off the stage, leaving the twins alone. Zen huffed and crossed his arms, trying to pretend he wasn’t looking at Yoichi’s observations.
“Brother, I’m only teasing! You need to lighten up a little!” Yoichi chuckled and patted Zen’s crossed arm. “You look fine! I look fine! The presentation of all of this is fine!”
“If fine was all it took, then we wouldn’t be where we are now, little brother,” Zen growled as he peered down at his cheery twin. Yoichi rolled his eyes, but a devious smile grew.
“How much longer is your little mold Quirk going to last?” Yoichi said as he poked his brother’s stomach. Zen swatted his hand away.
“Long enough! I’ll be sitting for most of it, and no one will see me entirely even when giving out the Quirks, so it hardly matters.” Zen walked over to his throne and threw himself down; the expensive furniture groaning, having briefly forgotten that the mold Quirk didn’t change his actual mass. “It’s your show, little brother!”
“Aww,” Yoichi crooned as he made his way over to his twin’s throne, jumping up to sit on one of the large armrests. He lovingly pet through Zen’s short hair, smiling at the low purr-like sound it elicited. “Is someone upset they aren’t the center of attention?”
“Oh, stop.”
Yoichi withdrew his hand, but Zen gripped his wrist and pulled it back. “Not that. That…you can keep doing.”
His brother giggled. “I know! Just being silly!”
“You’re always silly.”
“Oh, you don’t like it?”
Zen glared up at him. “You really are playful today, aren’t you?”
“Would you have me any other way?”
He laughed and pulled Yoichi to him just as the molding Quirk’s time ran out, so his brother landed on a much softer chest.
“Well, would you have me any other way?” Zen asked his slightly frazzled brother. He smiled down at him and played with his hair. But…there was a strange look in Yoichi’s eyes. It was only for a second, maybe even shorter, but it was there…as if he wanted to say something…
“Ha! Of course not!” Yoichi reverted to his sweet self and snuggled his head against Zen. “Plus, you're way more comfortable this way!”
“I wasn’t talking about my size, Yoichi!”
“Really? Then what?” His brother feigned ignorance as he grasped Zen’s shoulders, pulling himself up enough to nuzzle his nose into the crook of his neck. Yoichi released a happy sigh.
Zen rubbed his twin’s back as he continued to pet through his hair with his other hand. “I love you, Yoichi.” He felt his brother tighten his grip and waited for the reciprocal ‘I love you’ in return. It took too long. “Brother?”
“Hm?”
“I said, ‘I love you’. Did you not hear me?” Zen’s voice dropped, and Yoichi pushed himself up to meet his eyes.
“No, I—God, I’m sorry, big brother! I just…” Yoichi sat all the way up and grabbed at his head. “I’ve been feeling weird. Like…like my brain has static in it sometimes! Do you think I’m getting sick?” His eyes were huge with worry and…yes, there it was! Innocence! Poor, frail Yoichi.
Zen knocked his twin’s hands aside to take their place on his head. “No, I don’t think so, but we can have the doctor take a look after? Unless you want to cancel your—”
“No, no, no!”
“Ah, brother! I’m kidding! I wouldn’t dream of stopping your big day!” Zen brushed Yoichi’s bangs from in front of his eyes, almost getting lost in their vibrancy; his reflection perfect within his twin’s moss colored pupils. “How about after this whole pageantry is concluded, we have a nice early dinner and watch your favorite movies in bed, hmm? I’ll even let your…pet lay with us this time. Won’t that be nice?”
Yoichi continued to stare at him in silence, then tilted his head as if trying to figure something out, but ultimately shook it off and gave Zen a massive smile.
“That sounds lovely! I’d like that!”
Zen drew him into a suffocating embrace, then easily picked him up and placed him to the side of his throne. He snapped his fingers, and the lighting changed to cast him in heavy shadows, Yoichi illuminated by one singular spotlight.
“You look beautiful, dear brother. As always.”
Yoichi laughed, twirled, then bowed before bounding off to finish last-minute details with a wave. Zen watched him disappear behind the curtain, heard him excitedly asking some poor sap questions before his head popped back out and gave him a thumbs up.
“All set, big brother!”
“Well, then,” Zen smirked, “let’s begin.”