Chapter Text
“Eiji,” a soft voice called from the other room. Without taking his eyes off of the carrot that he was currently peeling with his favorite knife, Eiji angled his head in the direction of the doorway and opened his mouth to reply.
“Yes?”
“Could you please make a little extra soup? Charlie said he might visit again tonight.”
“Okay, Nadia!”
“Thank you, Eiji.” Eiji finished peeling the carrot and leaned down in concentration, chopping the carrots up swiftly in a practiced manner. After he finished, he slid his knife down the cutting board to set the carrots aside with the ones that he had already prepared, humming to himself and smiling toothily at his little accomplishment.
Butter, then the onions, curry paste, Eiji recited in his head, puffing out his cherub cheeks and pursing his lips together. He wanted to get this right. With one hand tossing the onions around the pot with a small spatula, Eiji tiptoed on his high stool to reach the broth and the stuff that made the soup creamy. He added some garlic before he poured in the carrots, his eyes sparkling and a soft “ooh” of wonder escaping from his mouth.
It smells really good, I want everyone to like it, Eiji thought as he finished, closing the pot and letting it all boil. As he set aside his knife, he barely managed to hear the lightest of footsteps approaching the kitchens. Turning his head again sideways, he was met with Yut Lung’s dark eyes peeking from the doorway, his loose curtain of hair falling over half of his face. He was dressed in grey trousers and a simple white sweater, and while the clothes were certainly cheap and quite loose on his slim frame, he still looked like the regal angel that stepped into the orphanage five months ago.
Wearing a black cheongsam and with red delicately painted over his lips and cheeks, his eyes lined with kohl, hard and glinting like onyx and clutching —
“Yue!” Eiji’s smile grew even wider at the sight of the six-year-old. Eiji discreetly switched the heat at a lower setting with his eyes still on him, letting the younger one know that Eiji was paying Yut-Lung his full attention. “Are you hungry? I’ll be finished soon, Mooncake.”
Yut-Lung scoffed at the nickname and crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. “I am a big boy now, Eiji,” he said hotly, tilting his chin upwards, and Eiji bit his lip to stop himself from smiling at how Yut-Lung pronounced his name as “Eychee”. “And… and I, I wanted to ask you, if you could t-tie my hair.”
Nadia did say that Yut-Lung turned out to be a really smart child, Eiji thought with pride, recognizing that the younger boy barely stumbled through his English. He seems a little flustered, but maybe it’s because he is asking me for help after saying he was a “big boy” now.
Eiji jumped from his stool. The soup can wait, Yue’s hair is a little bit more important, Eiji decided as he wordlessly led him to a wooden chair. Yue handed Eiji a small Chinese comb, white lilies painted over the thick wooden base, which Eiji promptly used to brush his midnight hair over Yue’s left shoulder without even sparing a curious glance at the obviously expensive item. Gathering up his long hair with one hand and untangling the loose knots in his hair, Eiji used Yue’s signature red band to tie it all up neatly, leaving a bit of his fringe to frame his face softly.
“All done, Mooncake!” Yut-Lung’s pale fingers ran through his hair, and in contrast to the usual stoic mask he hides behind, he giggled a little.
“Xie xie ni,” Yut-Lung thanked, the Mandarin sliding off his tongue naturally. Eiji patted his head, returning to his high stool and grabbing the salt from the counter.
“Bu ke qi.” Eiji answered in clumsy Chinese, but he knew Yut-Lung appreciated it anyway. “Do you want to taste the carrot soup for me?”
Yut-Lung nodded quickly, eagerly approaching the counter. Eiji blew on a spoonful of the carrot soup before slipping the spoon in Yut-Lung’s mouth.
“Yummy?” Eiji questioned. Yue nodded, before completely swallowing the carrot soup and gulping it down. He paused.
“But more salt,” he licked his lips thoughtfully. Eiji nodded.
“Can you help me set the table?”
“Hmm… only if you give me more soup than the others.” Yut-Lung puffed his chest up a bit, and Eiji laughed, acquiescing to his request and taking another spoonful of carrot soup from the pot.
“Just one more spoon, then. Say ‘aah’,” The Chinese boy gracefully leaned forward and sipped from the spoon.
“You are good at making food. Like Mama,” Yue complimented, and while Eiji noticed the subtle sadness in his words, his nine-year-old self wasn’t capable of understanding the flash of pain and grief in his friend’s dark eyes. He gently placed a hand on Yue’s cheek, kissing the top of his head like how Nadia kissed everyone in the orphanage before sending them off to bed.
“Yes, your Mama guided me to you, so that I can keep making you good food even when she cannot.” The younger boy didn’t hug Eiji, didn’t even lift his arms, but he let his forehead rest on Eiji’s chest and broke from his usual perfect posture.
“I miss Mama,” he whispered. The Japanese boy said nothing again, opting to pat his back soothingly and holding the other in a loose embrace.
It was dinnertime once again at Chang Dai Orphanage.
The very first time that Eiji met Charlie was a week after he had settled in the orphanage. Charlie, a gangly ginger-haired man, was dressed in a brown suit with a gold badge pinned to his belt. Eiji had stared at a familiar hint of metal peeking under his blazer, trying to figure out if Charlie was going to cause trouble, before innocently asking him if he was a policeman. Charlie had smiled at him before nodding and explaining that he was, to be more specific, a detective that helped catch those who hurt other people. But it was only when Nadia hugged the man in greeting and explained to Eiji that he helped her start Chang Dai, that Eiji relaxed around the man.
After a few months, Eiji had finally taken a strong liking to the brash redhead when he had seen how gentle Charlie had been when he took a new boy in Chang Dai. Skip, a boy of around three years old, had been crying when Nadia pulled them in from the rain, and Eiji had witnessed how patient Charlie had been, drying Skip’s hair and his tears. In the blink of an eye, Eiji had known Charlie for about a year and trusted him almost as much as he trusted Nadia.
By the time Charlie arrived that night, everyone was already seated at the table and helping themselves to Eiji’s carrot soup.
“Hello, Charlie,” Nadia greeted demurely, setting down her bowl. “Everyone, greet Mr. Dickinson a good evening!”
“Good evening, Mr. Dickinson!” chorused the small group of children as Charlie took a seat beside Nadia. He gave a friendly little wave in return. Sing Soo-Ling, a Chinese boy who had spent all of his five years in Chang Dai, tugged at Eiji’s sleeve.
“Eiji, Eiji!” he giggled, giving Eiji a wide grin. “Eiji, did you make this?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I like it.” Absolutely adorable, Eiji cooed in his head as he watched Sing swipe his bowl from the table and slurp down the remaining carrot soup. “Creamy!”
“Woah, woah, are you saying that Eiji, a mere nine-year-old, made this heavenly concoction?” Charlie exclaimed, wide eyes going back and forth between the soup and the Japanese boy in question. Eiji blushed under the praise, filing the word “concoction” in his head. He would have to look that word up later.
He looked down at his hands, trying to smother his swelling pride. “N-Nadia taught me how, sir.”
“What’re you looking down for, kid, you should be real proud of this! It was as if Nadia herself made this!” Out of the corner of his eye, Eiji noticed it was Nadia’s turn to redden, although it was so subtle that Charlie hadn’t noticed. “Say, Nadia, have you considered running a restaurant on the side? It might help with the bills, and we can send most of ‘em to a proper school!”
Nadia sighed. “I had thought about it, Charlie, but they’re not old enough to take care of themselves while I’m gone.”
“By the looks of it, I’m sure that Eiji —”
“Eiji, Eiji!” Sing was tugging at his sleeve again, a carroty mustache above his pouting lips. Eiji snapped back from his little eavesdropping moment, looking down at Sing’s wide eyes and absent-mindedly brushed away the soup on his face.
“Yes, Sing?”
“Will you read to me later?”
At Sing’s childish favor, Yut-Lung’s head also snapped up similarly to Eji, and he set Sing with a cold glare. “Eiji is already reading to me.”
Sing looked crushed. Eiji hastily tried to remedy the situation. “Don’t worry, I’ll read to both of you.” He turned to the smug-looking boy. “Be nice to Sing.”
“Why’re you looking like that, squirt?”
“Shorter!” cried Sing, wrapping his arms around a dark-skinned boy wearing a rather large pair of sunglasses on his face. Shorter yelped, his grip on his half-empty bowl almost slipping. “Yue’s n-not, he’s not sharing Eiji!”
“Geez, what are you, five?” Shorter paused. “Wait, you are five.” Eiji resisted the urge to snort, helping Shorter get loose from Sing’s chaotically painful grip. “You’re quite the popular one, Eiji. Can’t you just read to them both?”
“That’s what I said,” grumbled Eiji as Sing finally released Shorter, only to shoot his chubby little arms under Eiji’s elbows, squeezing his waist tightly. “Oof!” Sing knocked the wind out of him. Shorter guffawed.
Yut-Lung, who hadn’t stopped glaring at Sing, spat out, “Absolutely distasteful.” In Eiji’s arms, Sing furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth, probably to ask what “distasteful” meant, so Eiji quickly cut him off with a nervous chuckle.
“Ah, hah,” he half-chuckled, half-coughed. “Skip, do you want to join Sing and Yue tonight?” Skip, the first one to finish eating, looked up from where he was washing his bowl. His eyes were alight with eagerness, a far cry from the dull coal they had been when he first came to the orphanage.
“I want fairytale!” Skip yipped.
“Me too!”
Shorter, bless him, had walked over to Yut-Lung and settled a hand down his shoulder, a subtle way of keeping him in the conversation, and in the present too. Eiji had noticed that his eyes were getting a little glassy. “You okay with everyone listening to Eiji, Yut-Lung?” Shorter asked, his tone deceptively careless, but with an underlying hint of gentleness that came with being Nadia’s brother, that came with being the one to welcome the other four boys into Chang Dai.
“Yeah,” Yut-Lung blinked. Eiji and Shorter could practically see his focus leaving whatever bad nightmare he had thought of and returning to the scene in front of him. “That is okay.”
Happy birthday, to you.
Ash was walking. With nothing else but a bagful of clothes and a purse full of money, he walked behind street lamps, away from the light and away from the doors and windows that Ash was too wary to walk beside. He had his head down and his shoulders slumped forward, but underneath his blonde fringe were jade eyes that were sparking with life, with an alertness and an awareness that only belonged to people with something to hide.
Happy birthday, to you.
He didn’t know exactly where he was, but Ash could guess that he was still in Massachusetts. He’d only been walking for a few hours, after all. Ash wondered in his head if his act could be counted as “running away” when he had actually just walked out the front door like he was going out for a walk. He supposed that it still did, because he didn’t plan on returning and, if he saw fit, would break into a run if it meant not having to go back.
He clutched the only personal item he had on him to his chest. It was a boxful of poems and letters that his older brother Griffin had written. He hadn’t heard from his brother in a year, the last letter a rather lengthy seventh birthday letter with another adventurous tale of his service in Iraq, as well as a promise to be home soon. I will do my best to make it before you turn nine years old, he wrote. I wouldn’t wanna miss my little soldier growing up.
Happy birthday, dear Ash…
Ash thought of Jennifer, her eyebrows permanently wrinkled with worry, her thin lips drawn up in a pained smile, and her hands veiny yet gentle when they pushed his hair back. He thought of his father, Jim Callenreese, who called him names and told him to suck it up and ask for payment the next time, not caring that his son had just been used and exploited, not caring for Ash or Griffin, blind to the tear tracks drying on Ash’s cheeks. But Ash thought of the many times that Jim had entered his room when he thought Ash was asleep, the sacred, secret times where Jim pulled up a chair and sat next to his son. He thought of Griffin, his memory beating alongside Ash’s heart, his face now a little unclear in Ash’s mind, but the lingering feeling of his affection still haunting Ash’s dreams and arms. He thought of him, his baseball coach, who had tricked him, who had made him feel worthless and who had ruined Ash's—
… Ash’s what, exactly? What was there to ruin when Ash had nothing in the first place?
Happy birthday to you.
Ash stopped walking. He slowly looked up to meet the beady eyes of a tall, balding man. Ash fought down the urge to shiver in unease as the man stared at him, giving him a slow and thorough once-over. Ash gripped his bag’s strap a little harder, forcing himself to continue looking straight at the man.
“Hmm,” the man murmured, taking a step forward. “Pardon me for intruding, but you look like someone who could make use of a bit of cash.” He leaned down, a twisted smirk on his lips.
Despite the foreboding, disgusting feeling of something crawling under his skin, Ash doubted that he could ignore the stronger feeling of hunger that clawed at his stomach.
He nodded once, and the man’s smirk grew.
And no matter how difficult that promise of coming home to you soon will be, it’ll be worth it to watch you eat your words when I get back! Stay out of trouble, you hear me? I love you, Ash, Happy birthday again.
Two years after leaving the mansion, and Yut-Lung still had nightmares.
Yut-Lung didn’t feel any shame about that. After all, who didn’t have nightmares in Chang Dai? He would sometimes wake up to Skip whimpering in the middle of the night, whispering, “M-mama… please d-don’t hurt me…” or “You’re not, m-my real mama… she would ne-never hurt me!” Sing wasn’t any better despite not going through the consequences of a foster system that was yet to be perfected. Having lived all his life in Chang Dai, he had never experienced being wanted by his real parents. Even though Sing was a quiet sleeper, Yut-Lung knew the boy feared Nadia and Shorter abandoning him as well. He had listened to the younger boy’s quiet sobs, after all, when Sing believed that no one could hear him through the bathroom door and the sound of their shower.
And Shorter, as Nadia’s real brother, felt responsible for them all. He wasn’t obvious about it, but he always kept Sing, Skip and Yut-Lung in sight. He had scared off the children that bullied Skip for his dark skin, he had helped Sing with his math homework and he always made the effort of pulling Yut-Lung in conversations. Shorter was doing his best at making Chang Dai a comfortable place for the four orphans under his sister’s care, and he was even helping Nadia at the restaurant while Eiji watched over Yut-Lung, Sing, and Skip.
And Eiji, the eldest of the five… Yut-Lung gazed out the window, hugging one knee to his chest and leaning forward in his chair. Eiji had nightmares, alright. He would show no sign of it when he was asleep, but he’d jolt into a sitting position on his bed, and he would be out of breath and wide-eyed, violently swinging his head side to side and taking in the sight of their shared bedroom. Yut-Lung also remembered a darker time, a time when no one could get Eiji to speak a single word.
Looking up at the stars twinkling against the slight dusting of the clouds, Yut-Lung remembered being six years old and entering the orphanage for the first time. How he had thought Eiji was mute for a whole three months, before Eiji found him thrashing in the throes of a nightmare, and he finally heard a whisper of comfort come out from the Japanese boy’s lips…
Yes, everyone at Chang Dai had nightmares. But it was only Yut-Lung who had nightmares that could very well follow him into reality. His brothers were probably still alive, after all.
Yut-Lung tore his gaze away from the window and placed his chin on his palm, blearily observing the other four boys in the room. Their breathing patterns were consistent, slow, and deep. He was the only restless one tonight.
He fell asleep on the study table a few minutes later, and the young boy dreamed of the feeling of herbs against his fingertips, a blackboard full of chemical equations, and a salty taste lingering on his tongue and in his throat.
Eiji was twelve years old when Shorter pulled him aside before lunch.
“Hey, Eiji, I gotta ask you something.”
“Sure, what is it, Shorter?”
Shorter took a deep breath. “Could you watch over Sing, Skip, and Yut-Lung all by yourself? I want to help Nadia at the restaurant and to look for more work outside.”
Eiji blinked, and in a heartbeat, replied without much thought. “Sure.”
“Frick, I’m real sorry, man, it’s prolly a lot to ask from you, but if y — what? Hold on, you’re a’ights with it?” Eiji nodded. Shorter stared. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Holy hell, man, it’s a pretty big thing to take charge of the house and those three idiots.”
“Well, you did ask me.” Eiji shrugged. “And I’m older than you. Technically, it should be me who has to go out and help Nadia, but then again, you’re probably not going to be as useless as I am.”
In a flash, Shorter’s gaze hardened. “Ei-chan…”
The warning in Shorter’s voice led him to believe that he had said something wrong. Eiji’s words replayed hurriedly in his mind, and Eiji froze as he registered what he had said. Calmly schooling his face to sport a sunny smile, Eiji glanced up to look Shorter straight in the eye.
As Eiji opened his mouth to casually steer the conversation into a different course, Shorter tsked and cooly cut him off, “‘No one is allowed to talk shit about Eiji, or I will poison them straight into the gates of Hell’... that’s what our darling lil’ Yue said, right? He wouldn’t want to hear you saying something like that.”
Eiji slumped, sighing, but did not offer a response. Shorter didn’t need to coddle him or anything, Eiji knew that he wasn’t particularly the most skilled among the five, in fact, he was far from being remarkable, despite being the eldest. He didn’t know why the other boy seemed so sensitive to what Eiji said about himself, after all, if it mattered little to Eiji, then shouldn’t it be unimportant to Shorter as well? He started a little when he felt Shorter wrap his arms around his shoulders. Eiji didn’t even get to scowl at the massive height difference between the two before Shorter pulled him closer, resting his chin on Eiji’s shoulder.
“You’re so precious to us, Ei-chan,” Shorter murmured. Eiji swallowed, feeling a pleasant warmth buzz in his chest, and reaching up to hug the eleven-year-old back.
“You all are treasures to me, Shorter.”
“Sappy idiot.”
When Eiji was thirteen and when Shorter was twelve, the taller boy got a mohawk and started working under a mechanic two blocks away. Shorter was also apparently gaining rank in the local gang, and was entrusted by the boss to do some of his more personal errands.
And when Shorter walked in one day with his hair a flaming shade of purple, Sing took one look at him and howled with laughter, unable to contain his amusement. Yut-Lung had entered the room and was probably very close to hissing out some reprimand at Sing for being “so obnoxiously loud I wonder if you had finally impaired your own fucking hearing”, when he too glanced at Shorter. His eyes had widened, his jaw slackened, and upon seeing Yut-Lung’s reaction, Sing guffawed even louder. Nadia had only looked amused, bravely sporting a pixie cut herself, but c’mon, Eiji thought, Shorter was purple.
Sing also became a member of the Chinatown gang when he turned nine. He was really, really short for his age, and secretly, Eij always thought that Sing kind of reminded him of a really cute rat, but Sing was honestly a real genius when it came down to strategy and gambling. Ever since Yue taught Sing how to play chess and poker when he was eight, the boy had quickly learned and had grown to be a frighteningly unbeatable force at Chang Dai in any kind of card game or board game. Through the years, he became a valued member for his ability to predict his opponents’ next move, and to land precise blows both in fights and in games to result in the gang’s victory. From what Eiji knew, Sing ruled the casinos with an iron fist and even helped pay the bills at the orphanage-restaurant hybrid that was Chang Dai.
Skip, bless his young heart, had grown up loving boxing. He had watched all kinds of martial arts and boxing movies throughout his early childhood, and even asked Shorter to take him to see cage fights and ring matches. The boy was a natural, a little on the short side, but using that to his advantage. He stayed nimble on his feet and had even entered the ring once, and had come out victorious against some bulky teenager that reacted far too slowly.
Yut-Lung, on the other hand, spent a lot of his time at the library. Eiji joined him a lot and read his own fair share of books, but Yue became obsessed with botany, medicine, and human anatomy. He had an affinity for all things biological and chemical and had all the ingredients of a budding doctor, although Eiji doubted Yut-Lung was going to be a doctor of all things. And Eiji himself?
Eiji was nothing too special compared to the rest. He liked photography and was the best at cooking and cleaning, but the only striking thing about himself was that he had learned how to pole vault.
Pole in hand, a strange mix between fear and excitement keeping his heart rate up and his heels off the ground. He couldn’t feel the slight breeze ruffling his hair, he couldn’t feel the weight of his clothes on his skin, all he knew was that the flexible pole in his hand was warm and grounding, was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that mattered…
“Eiji, Eiji!”
Eiji blinked. Shorter was waving his hand in front of Eiji’s face, the fourteen-year-old sighing in relief when Eiji’s eyes finally zeroed in on him.
“Good, you’re back. I need to tell you something.”
“Yes, what is it, Shorter?”
“Some people are after Yut-Lung.”