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He has scars all over his body and he knows the one on his face and missing eye doesn’t gain him much admirers. People find his appearance and reputation terrifying and generally avoid him as much as possible. That’s fine, though; Chobe doesn’t care what others think of him anyways, as long as they fear him. He is the Bandit King, after all. He’s meant to be feared and despised, not liked. He only needs one person to admire him anyways.
Toma is different than him. He’s pretty; his skin is soft and smooth, not calloused like Chobe’s and his face is free of ugly scars. Chobe makes sure of that. Toma speaks softly and deceptively sweet. His true intentions are masked by honeyed words. Chobe doesn’t bother with such duplicitous ways. He’s upfront about everything: if he likes/hates something, if he wants to kill someone, what he plans to steal next… he’s an open book of violence and malice. Toma is graceful and subtle, whereas Chobe is rough and brash, forging ahead without a second thought. Toma’s hands are delicate and nimble, as adept at handling a sword as they are with fixing the braid in Chobe’s hair. Chobe’s hands are skilled at taking lives.
When Toma walks beside him, eyes turn to stare. They make an odd pair: Chobe all cut up with jagged hair and boisterous personality while Toma glides alongside him, skin as perfect as porcelain and silky hair that flows like water. The elder often wears a devilish grin, bearing his teeth and the younger dons a painted on false smile. Chobe struts through towns with his brother by his side and leers at the gawkers with his one eye.
See, even someone like me can have something this pretty.
Toma doesn’t think he’s pretty, nor does he particularly care about that. He takes care of his overall appearance, though, because he knows it matters to his niisan. And what is important to Chobe is important to him. If his pristine image makes his niisan happy then Toma will happily oblige him. Whatever Chobe wants, Toma will blithely do. He is happy to fight alongside Chobe and happy to back him up in battle. He will gladly be Chobe’s right arm, left arm, right eye, leg...anything as long as he is useful. If Chobe asked, he would willingly give his life as well. And Chobe knows that. It’s an intoxicating feeling, knowing that he holds so much power over his otouto. But it is because of this that he charges into battle first, pushing Toma towards the back to deal with the lesser threats. He will not allow Toma to give his life so easily for someone like him. Toma will not be hurt because of him. He will do what their mother and father could not do; he will protect Toma from anyone and anything.
Fight me, cut me, and make me bleed. But, not Toma. You will not touch him.
It’s a strange predicament he finds himself in. Chobe wants Toma to be strong, but does not want to lose him in the process. As criminals, they fight, kill and risk losing their lives as well. This is the life that Chobe has chosen for them… and maybe that’s why he is so intent on protecting Toma. His otouto could have had a very different life and could’ve become a very different person, but Chobe took that opportunity away when he decided to join the bandits and pulled Toma along with him. Toma had been conflicted, a little boy crying and begging for direction, and Chobe stepped in, denying Toma the chance to find his own path.
Don’t know what the right thing to do is? Then just believe in me!
He should’ve let go of Toma’s hand long ago, but was never able to. After all, what would be the point of anything if his otouto isn’t by his side? Chobe is strong on his own, but even stronger with Toma next to him. People have come and gone in their lives and the only constant presence they have is each other. Even if Chobe had let go of Toma back then and pushed him down a different path, he knew his otouto would only reach out for him and demand that he go along as well. And Chobe, who isn’t swayed by others, cannot refuse Toma. To separate one from the other would be the same as splitting a person in half.
And it feels nice...to know that his hands that are meant for killing can also be used for protection. His hands have blood on them and his body often feels like he’s being torn apart, but Toma is safe and not bleeding. His skin is still soft, his hair still moves like water, and the only mark on his face is the worried furrowed brow and frown that he gives his injured niisan. If Chobe can keep his otouto safe then everything he’s done in his violent life would be worth it. He would be fine dying and burning in hell, knowing that he did at least one good thing. Maybe his protection is preventing Toma from growing stronger, but the risk of not doing so is too high to accept.
Chobe thinks that Toma is like a wildflower, something beautiful blooming among a harsh and terrible environment, whereas he is the rain... trying to nurture the flower but always in constant danger of drowning it. Toma, though, thinks that they are more akin to weeds. Sturdy and persistent, adapting as they see fit, taking advantage of their surroundings, and disposing of anything that’s seen as a threat.
Weeds are considered undesirable, a nuisance, a “plant in the wrong place”... but Toma prefers that. After all, flowers can be crushed easily and are more likely to wither and die. And in this cruel world he lives in, there is no “right” or “wrong” anyways. There is only the two of them. Weeds adapt and persevere. He thinks about that a lot when he looks at Chobe with his scars, foul language, unyielding personality, rash actions, and his unending strength and ruthlessness in battle. His ability to adapt to whatever the circumstance enables him to not only survive, but thrive in this lifestyle of theirs. Whereas most people around them get crushed and die, Chobe continues to grow stronger and stronger. Toma thinks of this and smiles one of his rare genuine smiles that are only reserved for his niisan.
Weeds are beautiful.