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Despite his wiry frame, Fubuki had the grip strength of a giant squid. Ryo discovered this after waking up one night unusually warm, his chest compressed by Fubuki’s arm squeezing the air out of his body. Giant squid was the first comparison to pop into his mind, followed quickly by “boa constrictor.”
The fan in the corner of the room had long since shut off, and the sweltering summer heat had retreated in the middle of the night, leaving only a comfortable warmth. Fubuki breathed softly, his breath timed almost perfectly to the ticking of the wall clock, an inhale every five seconds.
He drooled a little in his sleep. His mouth was slack, but his brow remained unfurrowed.
Ryo was thoroughly unimpressed. He did his best to turn away from Fubuki, trying to detangle himself from the mess of Fubuki’s limbs. His right leg, he found, had also been locked away by the crook of Fubuki’s knee.
With some effort, he positioned himself so his face and shoulder were turned away, but his leg lay flat. He placed his hand beneath the coolness of the pillow, trying to ignore the prickling of sweat on his back, and counted the seconds, ten at a time, until he fell back asleep.
—
Ryo rummaged in the drawer for a spoon, glancing at the eggs on the stove every so often.
“G’mornin’,” Fubuki yawned, his voice floating above the sizzling of their breakfast. “Smells really good.”
“Have you seen the spoons?” Ryo asked, reaching around with his hand. His hand closed around a metal handle, and he triumphantly pulled out a fork.
“For eggs?” Fubuki lifted the fork from Ryo’s hand, putting it back in the drawer. His long hair was disheveled, his eyes still bleary, but his hand was warm and firm.
“ Runny eggs,” Ryo corrected him.
“Simple solution,” Fubuki shuffled over to the toaster oven, popping in two slices of the bread they bought yesterday.
Ryo didn’t comment further. The eggs had started to smoke, the edges crisping and browning while the whites continued to solidify. He slid the spatula underneath the one closest to the edge of the pan, but it stuck in the corner, causing the yolk to spill. “Not so runny, I guess,” he muttered, and hoped Fubuki didn’t hear him.
Fubuki yawned again. He stretched one arm up in the air, the other at his shoulder, his t-shirt riding up to reveal an inch of skin around his waist, soft flesh curving to meet the elastic band of his pajama pants.
“Did you sleep well last night?” he asked, reaching into the cabinets for plates. They clattered inelegantly on the table when he set them down. “You’re up really early today.”
“I slept fine,” Ryo scraped the now scrambled eggs onto one of the serving plates and laid the pan in the sink..
Fubuki cupped his own chin in his hand, squinting at Ryo. “You look tired.”
“I always look tired,” Ryo replied, sitting down on the folding chair facing the small television in the living room. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, listening to the reporter talk about the upcoming Duel Monsters tourney.
… -o Phoenix has confirmed that he will, in fact, be dueling in this tournament, marking his return to the pro-leagues. In other dueling news, Industrial Illusions will be hosting an exhibition next month in Domino City, promising a first look into the Starter Deck Tournament Promotional cards for the 2008 world championship, as well as a retrospective installation on the Duelist Kingdom, including an exclusive screening of the duel between the King of Games Yugi Mutou and CEO of Kaiba Corporation Seto Kaiba. The exhibit will also -
A piece of toast pushed itself into Ryo’s upper lip.
“See? You are tired.”
Ryo lifted his head, ignoring the crumbs brushing his chin, and took the toast in one hand.
“Am not,” he gingerly bit off the corner of the bread, licking his lips in the process. Fubuki had left pretty impasto daisies of butter on the toast, a canvas Ryo felt guilty about destroying. He placed it on the plate in front of him, dusting his fingers beneath the table.
“Stop being so stubborn,” Fubuki scowled, waggling the butter knife over the bread he held, like he was trying to hypnotize it. Or stab it.
Either way, not all that frightening. He needed to work on his scowl.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing,” Ryo said. He took another bite of the bread to hide his inability to keep the corners of his lips weighted down.
They kept the butter in the fridge, but the daisies had melted, and dripped from the crust in rivulets. His fingers were already oily.
Somewhat appeased, Fubuki’s gaze drifted to the television, too.
… have also put in his bid for a parliamentary seat in the next election. The Manjoume Conglomerate has also seen record prices and spikes in the buying of their stocks.
“Eggs, too,” said Fubuki. His eyes stayed on the tv, holding a fork out to Ryo.
“I can feed myself.”
“Prove it,” Fubuki said, turning back to him. A gleam had replaced the dazed sleepiness in his eyes. “Eat properly, and I’ll concede.”
“Isn’t it too early to be getting into your regular dramatics?”
“Or is the proud Kaiser Ryo going to abdicate today?”
They stared each other down. Fubuki stood straight with his arms crossed, no less intimidating in his sleep clothes, with his hair still disheveled, than he did in the duel arena.
“Give me that,” Ryo said. He ignored Fubuki’s smirk as he stabbed the fork into a piece of egg. “For the record, I’m only eating these eggs because I don’t want to duel you before lunch.”
“A wise choice,” Fubuki relaxed, leaning once again with his back to the counter. “Otherwise, you would’ve dueled me hangry, and that’s worse.”
Out of spite, Ryo ignored the small piece of scrambled egg he had dropped on the table.
He dutifully ate the rest, his stomach thanking him. Traitor.
The Pro-Dueling Major League preliminaries will begin next month. Among the projected winners are long-time favorite and dueling prodigy Edo Phoenix, American newcomer Reggie Mackenzie, and former champion returning from a years-long hiatus Kouyo Hibiki. This is also the first league where Duel Academia graduate Asuka Tenjouin is slated to…
This time, a cup of tea bumped gently against his wrist.
“I’m eating the eggs,” Ryo pointed at his mouth with the fork.
“I know,” said Fubuki, and he set the cup of tea on the table. Its earthy scent wafted up, full and inviting, although the steam irritated Ryo’s eyes.
“Looks like a pretty exciting season.”
Fubuki sipped his tea, moving to stand beside Ryo so they both faced the television squarely. “Not as exciting as the season when Kaiser Ryo returns,” he promised. “I can do the dishes today.”
—
“Ryo?” Fubuki whispered.
Inches away, Ryo slept on. His hair wisped like crow feathers in the dark. At some point during the night, he had shed the blanket they shared, half of it spilling over the edge of the bed, and the other half tucked in at his waist. He had curled in on himself, knees drawn up to his chest.
His shoulder blades were too prominent against the thin fabric of his shirt.
Fubuki frowned. He settled for watching Ryo’s back rise and fall with his breathing, forgetting what woke him up to begin with.
Had Ryo always been so thin?
Maybe he just misremembered. They met in their first year at Duel Academia, right? That wasn’t so long ago - only three years.
He corrected himself - five years.
He tugged at the blanket so it covered them both. Ryo’s shoulder twitched as Fubuki moved to cover it so he wouldn’t catch a cold.
“Did I wake you?” No response from Ryo except a small, light snore.
Fubuki bit his lip to stop himself from laughing audibly, unable to contain his trembling from giggles. That really would wake him, and then Ryo would be even more tired the next day. Fubuki couldn’t let that happen.
Ryo cut an intimidating image out every morning and wore it with the same pride he wore the title of ‘Kaiser.’ Most people only ever saw that Ryo, with the same sleekness and power of Cyber End Dragon, and not the Ryo with the low snore that sounded like a baby cow.
He wished he could record that sound, and keep it forever. His phone was too far away, anyway, perched on the edge of the desk, plugged into its charger. Ryo would kill him if he ever found out.
He would have to commit the sound to memory instead.
His memory was imperfect, or rather, incomplete.
Sighing, Fubuki listened to Ryo’s breathing. He lay as close to Ryo as possible, putting his leg over Ryo’s icy lower leg, and his arm around his shoulder.
He tried to memorize that, too: the way Ryo relaxed against him, his limbs unfurling somewhat so they weren’t locked so tight, and his breathing slowed and synced with his own.
—
The razor slid over Fubuki’s chin in smooth strokes. It had taken some getting used to, at first, but it grew to be one of his favorite parts of the day. Not just for the sensation of the razor against his skin, the way it grounded him, but because next to him, Ryo hummed while brushing his teeth.
He was slightly off-key, but his voice was pleasantly low and surprisingly smooth. Ryo didn’t sing, ever, not even when they were younger.
Back at school, Ryo didn’t so much as listen to music while studying. He remembered begging Ryo to go to karaoke with him, together with Yusuke. A roommate bonding activity, they had called it. They needed to celebrate acing their first exam at Duel Academia; what was he being such a downer for?
He must have been lonely those two years before Asuka and Syo got into the academy.
Ryo spat out a mouthful of toothpaste, holding his hair back with one hand. A strand escaped and curled around the back of his neck. His humming grew softer, adjusting to the volume difference without the sound of the toothbrush. Fubuki couldn’t quite place the familiar melody, but Ryo’s voice didn’t falter, joining the thrum of rushing water as he washed his face in the sink.
A light layer of stubble had grown in, as if his face demanded to be shadowed at all times, if not by dark bags under his eyes, then by any means necessary. His eyes, at least, looked brighter than they had in the past few days, the circles under his eyes more beige and less violet. Ryo’s eyes always stood out from the rest of his face, though.
Luminous eyes, almost violent in their brightness.
Those eyes had drawn Fubuki in from the moment they met. They used to be cold and callous, but had grown steely in the time before his return. He had grown taller, too, his shoulders broader.
Ryo straightened up, wiping his face with a towel. Weren’t they the same height before? When did Fubuki get taller than him?
“You alright?”
“Hm?”
“Are you alright?” Ryo repeated slowly. His face remained passive, but his voice cracked, like the sound of boots treading fresh snow. “You’ve been holding that razor to your face for the past five minutes without moving.”
Fubuki blinked. “Oh.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, quickly shaving the little stubble left, and splashing his own face with water. “Sorry, I forgot. Just thinking.”
“What about?”
Fubuki stuck his tongue out and winked at Ryo in the mirror. “To be honest, I don’t remember. Just spacing out, I guess.”
Ryo turned to him then, irritation setting his brow. “Stop that.”
“Haha, must a man apologize for being too-”
“No. That.” Ryo’s voice came out gently, despite his peeved expression. “You always do that, you know.”
His expression softened, his eyes widening, brow unknitting. “It’s fine to just take a few moments to think about things.”
But Fubuki had already done so, without waiting for Ryo’s permission. Always. He said he’d always done this.
He might have dwelled upon it longer if not for the light brushing of a towel against his jaw. Ryo’s hand towel, worn soft from use, still warm and damp, and with the force of Ryo’s hand behind it, rubbed at Fubuki’s cheeks. “You missed a few spots of shaving cream,” Ryo said.
Fubuki held as still as possible. Ryo hummed in approval, but Fubuki was selfish: he wanted to keep this image of Ryo, too, the corners of his mouth pulled upward at the corners, his bangs flat against his forehead, eyes squinting in concentration.
Ryo pulled away too soon. “There. You’re good now.”
“Thank you.” The image of Ryo’s face shifted, a real smile replacing the half Fubuki had spent the past few seconds desperately trying to etch into his memory.
–
It was too hot, and the fan had turned off again. They set it for three hours right before sleeping, trying not to spend too much on the electricity bill.
His heart was pounding again. Every night, recently, some imperceptible change in the air, or some inaudible sound outside, or some dream he could never remember, woke him up, and sent his heart racing. Or maybe it was the other way around, and his heart decided to skip at night when he was asleep. Maybe it was the heat.
Ryo’s shirt stuck to his back, the tag declaring its presence by scratching against his neck. He was tempted to take it off, but found himself trapped, as usual, beneath Fubuki’s weight. He had somehow managed to fall asleep half on top of Ryo, his chin almost resting on Ryo’s shoulder.
His hair stuck to his neck. Ryo brushed the strands away as best he could without pushing Fubuki off of him. Fubuki mumbled something, his eyelids twitching, so Ryo stopped.
Their first year at Duel Academia, Fubuki slept in the bunk above Ryo’s. Always the life of the party, the type of guy that even captured the third years’ attention. A slight boy with a winning smile.
A boy who tossed and turned in his bunk bed when the night fell, shaking the bunk bed so furiously that Ryo thought the whole thing might collapse. The creaking of the bed, the ocean outside, Yusuke’s occasional snores; these were the lullabies to which Ryo fell asleep, tucking his deck under his pillow.
He thought he heard Fubuki sob once, their first week in the dorm, after Yusuke fell asleep and Ryo had not yet drifted off.
He thought he heard him whisper things that sounded like “mama,” or “Asuka”, but he hadn’t known Fubuki enough to ask him about them at the time.
The sound of the ocean alone his second year kept him up, unaccustomed to the stillness.
His bed didn’t shake now, still except for the light rising and falling of Fubuki’s breathing.
He let himself relax, not realizing how much his shoulder ached until he had released it from its tensed position. Fubuki’s weight on him was sticky in the heat, unpleasantly heavy.
Ryo closed his eyes anyway, trying to focus on only the way Fubuki’s wrist lay right above his heart. His own heart beat rapidly, but he counted the beats of Fubuki’s pulse. He wondered if Fubuki, in his dreams, could feel him trying to emulate his heartbeat.
–
Syo waved from the outdoor patio of the cafe, a bright smile on his face. Ryo didn’t notice him until Fubuki pointed him out.
His brother looked good. A cup of half-finished latte sat in front of him, a half-filled notebook beside that. He sat with an air of relaxed ease, a well-fitted cardigan across his shoulders. “Brother, Tenjouin-san,” he nodded at them each in turn. “You made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss seeing our old friends, would we?” Fubuki winked, sliding a chair out from the table. He gestured to Ryo to sit while he pulled out another chair. “Where’s Asuka?”
“She said she’d be a bit late,” Syo said with a mild, apologetic smile. “Something about being stuck in a meeting?”
“On a Sunday? Sounds like she’s just avoiding me,” Fubuki laughed. His arm shook, his wrist on Ryo’s shoulder vibrating like a purring cat.
Ryo brushed his arm off gently.
Fubuki nodded, folding his hands over the table instead.
“Well… it’s about next weekend’s preliminaries, she says.”
Syo didn’t look at Ryo. Or, at least, he tried not to, but Ryo caught the way he glanced at him for the barest moment, the way he kept having to retrain his eyes on Fubuki.
“It’s okay, Syo.” Ryo picked up a menu, skimming through it. “We can wait for her. What have you been up to lately?”
“Um.” Syo took a long sip of his coffee. “You guys came all this way, are you sure you want to hear me talk about work?”
“I want to hear how my little brother is doing. Is that a crime?”
“No! I’ve just been busy, not much to report.” Another sip. He choked this time, sputtering back into his cup in his haste to avoid Ryo’s questions.
“It’s okay,” Ryo repeated. “You can talk about dueling in front of me, I’m not going to run off to the underground as soon as you mention cards or something.”
This was a mistake; Syo’s demeanor hardened at the mention of the underground. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you wouldn’t.”
Fubuki looked between Ryo and Syo. “Anything you would recommend from this place, Syo?”
Syo’s bitter expression lingers for a moment, but his gaze slid away from Ryo and toward Fubuki, his eyes relaxing somewhat. His shoulders fell. He pushed his glasses back up with his index finger, obscuring again the dark circles that peeked out earlier.
“I like their lattes,” he said, gesturing with the cup he held.
“I’ll have one of those, too. They look good.”
Syo only nodded. His glasses slid down again, as he swiped to a new note page on his tablet. He idly tapped his pen against the page, leaving tiny dots on the otherwise blank lines.
“What’s with this atmosphere?” a voice asked from behind Ryo, and he turned to find Asuka with her hand loosely curled around the metal back of his chair. “I’m only a few minutes late - did you guys get into a fight or something?”
“Asuka!” Fubuki’s relief from the tension was audible. “We were just catching up with Syo-kun. I was scared you were avoiding me these days.”
“I am,” Asuka responded, but her smirk indicated otherwise. She took the chair in between Syo and Ryo, sliding her bag off her shoulder.
“So cruel, Asuka,” Fubuki shook his head. “Looks like Ryo’s the only one I can trust not to break my heart,” he sighed.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Ryo said. He pressed the side of his boot to Fubuki’s sandals in an attempt to apologize. Fubuki’s calf pressed back against his.
The cafe server came and took their orders, waved down by Asuka.
“And how are you doing?” Asuka smiled at Ryo. She, like Syo, looked happier than ever post-graduation.
She looked a lot like Fubuki, he realized. They had the same nose, similar curves in their jaw, the same warm brown eyes that blazed when they caught the light at just the right angle.
“I’ve been well,” he said. “We’ve agreed I’m not going back to professional dueling for a while, at least not until next season, but I got a job recently at a card shop, and it’s not so bad. This one,” Fubuki threw a peace sign, “has been studying for entrance exams for university.”
“That’s great to hear,” Asuka said. “Especially for you, brother, I’m surprised to see you so serious.”
“I am devastated that you continue to insult me,” he clutched his chest with his free hand, to which Asuka rolled her eyes.
“Just an observation.” She turned back to Ryo. “Speaking of serious, did you hear about Syo’s new Cyber League? They call him ‘Prinze,’ you know. The prince of the Cyber League.”
“Is this true, Syo?”
Syo stared at his notebook. “Yeah,” he said. “Well, ‘Kaiser’ was already taken, so what do you call the king’s little brother, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Ryo might have said, if he had been a better brother. Silence nestled between the four of them instead.
Asuka was the first to speak again. “I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve all gotten together like this. It feels a little like back at the academy, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Ryo agreed. “I’ll admit, I can’t believe you and Syo graduated already. That means I graduated, what, two years ago?” They all stopped to thank the server for their drinks. “That feels… wrong, somehow.”
“What, no praise for me for graduating?” Fubuki teased.
“If I praise you in public, it’ll go to your head.”
“Ah! Is this what they call tough love? How cruel, Ryo!” Fubuki made a grand gesture of pinning his hand to his chest, his fingers splayed flat. With his other hand, he cupped his jaw.
“Brother…” Asuka began, looking as though she might consider throwing her coffee in his face.
“You’ll understand when you’re older, Asuka, how much a man’s indifference can hurt!”
Ryo took a tiny sip of his latte, careful not to get any foam on himself. He hadn’t drank coffee in a few months - the caffeine made his heart skip too fast, filled his chest with pain, his head with anxious thoughts.
“Seriously, doesn’t it embarrass you to sit so close to this guy?”
“I grew up with Syo, nothing can embarrass me.” He knew even before he finished the sentence that it was the wrong thing to say, but like an effect activated in error, he couldn’t stop it.
Syo sipped his coffee. “Me? I’m not the guy who nearly killed himself and his little brother while fooling around with shock collars because he lost one duel,” he replied coolly. His voice dropped in volume but rose in speed and pitch. “Or the one who let everyone think he died and mourn him for months only to wash up like nothing happened. I mean, we’re all happy that you’re alright. But the other thing, that’s pretty embarrassing, too, don’t you think?”
“I shouldn’t have-” Ryo began, but Syo cut him off.
“Actually, I have to go.” He stood up, placing a bit of cash on the table, and collecting his notebook. “That should be enough to pay for your drinks, too, right, brother? Don’t worry, it’s my treat.”
Fubuki and Asuka exchanged glances. “Maybe I should also go home,” Asuka said, giving Ryo an apologetic look. “It’s been a pretty long day.”
“Let me pay for your coffee,” Fubuki insisted, but Asuka got up as quickly as Syo did.
“No, I insist. Mom will kill me if I let you pay while I’m on a pro budget.” She rummaged in her bag for her phone. “Speaking of mom, she’s worried about you. You haven’t called in the past week.”
“Can you please tell her I’ve just been busy?” Fubuki held his palms together in a prayer in front of his face. “You know how she can get sometimes.”
“Tell her yourself,” Asuka said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was good to see you both again.”
Ryo stared at the bubbles in his latte as Fubuki watched his sister disappear into the crowd. “Siblings,” said Fubuki.
“Siblings,” Ryo agreed.
Fubuki drained his coffee, knocking it back like he was toasting. “Thank you, by the way.”
“What for?”
Fubuki smiled, both hands wrapped tightly around his cup. “For taking care of Asuka while I was gone, of course.”
“She’s tough. Didn’t need me to watch over her.”
“Yeah,” Fubuki said thoughtfully. He wiped the lip of his cup with his thumb. “Should we go home, too?”
Ryo nudged at Syo’s empty chair across from him with the toe of his boot. “Yeah,” he agreed.
On the train home, Fubuki gave him a quizzical look when Ryo linked his pinky finger through his on the platform, but he smiled and turned back around when Ryo let go with a small shake of his head. He let Fubuki rest on his shoulder, not moving him for the rest of the way home.
–
His mother’s voice echoed in Fubuki’s ears hours after their call ended. Like a good son, he had called her after their visit with Asuka, and like a good mother, she had asked him if he was eating enough, if she needed to send him any money, if he might be finding a job soon?
He reassured her he had everything he needed, skirted around her fretting about how out of touch he had been with her, and then finally the topic of Asuka came up. He knew Asuka got a job as a pro-duelist already, and yes, he was so, so proud of her.
And he was.
Of course he was.
Who wouldn’t be proud of a little sister like Asuka, who graduated from Obelisk Blue at Duel Academia and was immediately scouted for the pro-leagues? Certainly not the brother who was currently unemployed despite being two years older, and who had missed the cutoff to take university entrance exams because of extenuating circumstances caused by his little sister’s friend nearly getting them all killed, and for whom, despite his past talent in dueling and showmanship and potential as the Blizzard Prince, it seemed, dueling was no longer a passion. For someone like that to be bitter, he would have to be a really bad brother.
He wasn’t bitter, actually. Just jealous.
Fubuki wasn’t sure which was worse.
Ryo, next to him, shifted in his sleep.
Sometimes, when watching the news in the morning, something about Syo’s Cyber league would come up. Some interview or an advertisement, and Ryo would comment with an almost-smile that it looked like Syo was doing well these days.
He always chalked the softness in his voice up to wistfulness; Ryo, after all, was a Cyber player himself, and the Cyber Style Pro-League had been his dream first. Maybe it was, rather, a desperate attempt to hide his jealousy.
Asuka used to measure up to only his waist, and she used to cry when he wouldn’t let her play duel monsters with him and his friends. Fubuki couldn’t reconcile his baby sister who begged him to teach her how to read his cards when she could barely write her name and who stayed up late with him in middle school so they could watch the Battle City DVD sharing the one pair of earbuds that always made static sounds whenever a trap card was activated just so their parents wouldn’t catch them, with the young woman dueling in sold out stadiums, whose face was broadcast across the city.
The fan they kept in the corner finally shut off, the sudden absence of its whirring leaving Fubuki’s mother’s voice ringing even louder in his ears.
Ryo’s hand twitched on the pillow, a scratching sound filling the air. He exhaled, a dissatisfied sigh. He pulled his knees up higher, the bone jabbing into Fubuki’s hip.
Fubuki sucked in his breath, stopping himself from yelling at the last second.
Asuka was like Ryo, sharp edges and steely resolve and pointed ambition.
He had thanked Ryo earlier for watching over his sister, and it was true that she didn’t need someone to take care of her.
He still wished that he could have been there to watch her grow into the Asuka she became. He just wanted to be sure he hadn’t made up the sister he remembered.
With his hip throbbing, Fubuki turned on his side, and laid his hand over Ryo’s. Ryo’s hand stilled, his face softening.
“You all changed on me,” Fubuki whispered, careful not to wake Ryo. “You all grew up and left me behind.”
But then, that wasn’t entirely true. Here was Ryo, right in front of him, smaller than he had ever looked in their days at the academy.
Fubuki held his hand until morning, falling asleep somewhere along the way.
–
“Be honest,” Ryo said.
“It’s…”
“I mean it,” Ryo’s reflection unwrapped the towel atop his head. “You can be honest.”
Fubuki examined his hair in the mirror, twirling the end of the braid between his fingers. One strand was an inch thicker than the other, and loose bits curled away as if the ends wanted to disconnect from his scalp entirely. The braid fell lopsided down his shoulder, almost angular in some sections. “It sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“But you tried.”
“Listen, I never claimed to be a good hair stylist,” Ryo said, running his towel over his hair. It was no longer dripping, but his wet curls had left dark splotches on his shirt.
“Come here,” Fubuki said, patting the edge of the bathtub. “Let me do your hair for you.”
“This is ridiculous,” Ryo muttered, but he obliged.
“Hmm, your hair is actually too short to bring back into one big braid,” Fubuki frowned, instead brushing a strand away from his cheek and another section behind his ear. “I can do at least this little section though. I’ll be quick,” he promised, “And then you can dry your hair so you don’t catch a cold.”
“I won’t catch a cold,” Ryo scoffed. “It’s too hot.”
“You don’t actually catch a cold from being cold,” Fubuki rolled his eyes, gathering Ryo’s hand with one hand and combing through it with the other. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one.”
“We’re both supposed to be,” Ryo said, leaning in slightly in response to Fubuki pulling at his hair. “That’s the curse of being the older brother, remember?”
“Don’t move so much,” Fubuki scolded him. “I don’t want this braid to be messy.”
“Where did you learn to do this anyway?”
“I used to do Asuka’s hair when we were kids,” Fubuki said. “You should have seen her in grade school. She was the cutest with her twin braids, and the coolest girl on the playground. All of the kids were terrified she would beat them up.”
“I’m not sure you should brag about that.”
“Only the bullies. She was really popular,” Fubuki assured him. He wove the strands of Ryo’s hair slowly, tugging them at each turn to make sure the braid remained tight. “Stop fidgeting!”
“Okay, okay,” Ryo said, still straining his neck. Fubuki continued braiding. “Asuka’s a good kid.”
“I know. She’s the best.” Fubuki frowned, tucking another loose strand of hair behind Ryo’s ear. “You know, Syo’s a good kid, too.”
Ryo held still this time. “I know that.”
Fubuki pulled at the center strand, passing it under the right strand.
“He hates me.”
“He’s been through a lot.”
“So has Asuka, but she seems to have forgiven you.”
When he had gotten into Duel Academia, when he came back out from the entrance exams and brandished that freshly ironed blue jacket, Asuka had been the first one to exclaim that he had done it, that she never doubted him. Then, she had told him he should have played Ultimate Stage Costume with Panther Warrior in defense position because it would have given him more time to stall for a better combination.
This had definitely happened.
“Ow!” Ryo exclaimed as Fubuki pulled extra hard at his hair.
“Sorry,” Fubuki murmured, running a finger soothingly over the spot between Ryo’s jaw and his ear.
“Here, hold this,” Fubuki waited until Ryo’s fingertips held his hair in place to get up and rummage in their cabinet for an elastic. “Asuka never stopped searching for me.”
Several bandages, an expired bottle of vitamins that neither of them had the heart to throw out, Ryo’s heart medication. Fubuki continued, “Besides,we had a really different relationship growing up from you and Syo. I embarrass her, can you imagine?”
“I think siblings are supposed to embarrass each other. Syo has plenty of reasons to be embarrassed of me.”
“As much as I appreciate the flair of the black coat, I will say Hell Kaiser wasn’t your best moment,” Fubuki agreed. “Look,” he said triumphantly, brandishing the elastic he found tucked into the back of the cabinet. “Asuka had two years to mourn me, and then another two years to get over my little excursion as Nightshroud. Syo thought you died. I’m sure that’s scary for him.”
He tied off Ryo’s braid so it hung down from the side of his face. “Give him some space, and some time.”
“I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.” Ryo massaged the side of his head where a bit of skin showed through his hair, right above the braid.
“You’re going to mess up your hair if you keep doing that,” Fubuki pulled his hand away. “And maybe not, but you can still cheer him on.”
He gave Ryo’s hand a squeeze, sitting at the tub next to him when he didn’t pull away. “That’s our job as big brothers, right?”
“You,” Ryo said, twisting his hand out to intertwine their fingers instead, “are the most embarrassing person I know.”
“That,” Fubuki squeezed Ryo’s hand, “is a total lie. You just don’t appreciate my showmanship.”
“Okay,” Ryo said, resting his head against Fubuki’s arm.
“Your hair is still wet!” Fubuki shrieked, pushing him, but still holding on to his hand.
Ryo laughed, a real laugh that came from his gut, throaty and low. “What?” he asked when he stopped, catching a glimpse of Fubuki’s smile.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that before.”
Had he? Ryo wasn’t exactly known for his joviality.
“Shut up,” Ryo said, and tilted his head to the side. The braid Fubuki had put in swung gently at his chin.
He threw his towel over his hair, tousling it with one hand, while the other gripped Fubuki’s hand, a small smile still present on his face.
–
3:18 A.M. rolled around fast when the night was humid. The fan clicked off at 2, and Ryo hadn’t awoken. At 3:07, numbness in his shoulder jolted him awake.
A shooting pain down the arm was an indication of a heart attack.
His chest hurt.
Ryo reminded himself to take a breath, that numbness was not a sharp pain, and the culprit was, instead, Fubuki, who had laid his head on the top of Ryo’s arm.
It was so hot, trying to take a deep breath was like swallowing pool water, and the more he tried, the more his ribs ached. Chest pain, that was a symptom, too.
His chest hurt - his chest hurt, and his head was fuzzy, and his chest hurt.
His heartbeat resounded throughout his body, a thump thump thump thump that made his ribs and his breastbone shake, threatening to rip a hole through his chest, and maybe then he could breathe finally, because he was trying so hard and it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt-
“Ryo?” Fubuki’s voice was thick with sleep, barely audible above the pounding in Ryo’s ears.
His head throbbed, keeping time with his chest. He almost laughed because wouldn’t that be a ridiculous last thought?
“Ryo!” Fubuki’s voice again, louder this time, more alert. “Ryo, hey,” his bleary vision could just make out the outline of Fubuki’s concerned face, the way the moonlight through their curtains illuminated the side of his cheek. He could just vaguely register the itch of Fubuki’s long hair brushing onto his cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I think I’m having a heart attack,” Ryo said - barely said. Each breath had to squeeze out of him.
“Hey, hey,” Fubuki’s hand was warm against his back. Too hot. Sweating, that was another symptom. Cold sweating or hot sweating? He couldn’t remember.
Warm hand on his back, a strong hand, stroking his spine, and between his shoulder blades, helping him sit up. “It’s okay, it’s alright, we can call the hospital, okay?”
“I’m dying,” Ryo gasped. “I can’t breathe, and I’m having a heart attack and I’m dying, and, and…”
“Try to breathe,” Fubuki’s hand moved in small circles between his shoulders. “I’ll get the phone, okay? Are you in pain? Do you have any other symptoms?”
“My chest.” His heart skipped so hard the palm of his hand seemed to pulse. “I - numbness, earlier. Shoulder. Head hurts.”
“Chest pains,” Fubuki murmured, still massaging Ryo’s back, but reaching over him to grab a phone. “Anything else? Jaw pain? Nausea?”
Ryo shook his head. His head already hurt; why did his eyes and nose have to feel so hot on top of that? “I’m dying, and Syo’s never going to forgive me.”
He choked on the last syllable.
Fubuki stopped dialing, the phone blurring in and out of focus while Ryo strained to watch.
He took his hand off Ryo’s back, leaving a cool sensation behind when he stopped making little circles. His hand was soft against Ryo’s cheek. “Ryo… I think you’re having a panic attack.”
“What?” Tears and snot fell in thick drops onto their blankets, leaving dark splotches that even Ryo’s blurry eyes could see.
“Hey, that’s a good thing,” Fubuki said, resuming rubbing little circles into Ryo’s back. The constant pressure lulled him, slowing his heart after a few minutes. “It means you’re not dying.”
“I don’t want- I-”
“It’s okay,” Fubuki said, over and over again. “It’s okay, you’re not dying, it will be okay.”
“How can you know?”
Fubuki continued to make rings between Ryo’s shoulders. “You’ve died before, right? Doesn’t it feel different this time?”
Ryo’s breathing gradually slowed. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, this is different.”
“See? Just breathe, you’re okay.” Ryo exhaled, inhaled, held his breath, exhaled again, and repeated until he could breathe without hiccuping.
It took several minutes more, but eventually, Ryo’s heart returned to only slightly faster than its normal pace, accompanying a heaviness in his head and itchiness in his eyes and throat. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Fubuki. He leaned his weight against Ryo’s. “This is kind of funny, isn’t it? It’s like having a sleepover every night, like we did during our first year at the academy. Only,” he paused, “without Yusuke, I guess.”
“I don’t know if sleepover is how I’d describe it.” Ryo, too, leaned against Fubuki. “Either back then or now.”
“Aw, come on,” Fubuki’s voice was soft, but it shook his whole body when he spoke, sending vibrations down Ryo’s side. “You don’t have to take the fun out of it.”
“You used to be the one keeping me up, you know. You cried in your sleep. You shook the bunk.”
“Did I?” Fubuki drew away.
“I’m not mad,” Ryo promised. Here he was, only just having inconvenienced Fubuki, and he was already upsetting him. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I just…” Fubuki’s voice trailed off. “It’s probably nothing,” he laughed. His shadowed face betrayed no hint of concern.
“Don’t do that,” Ryo said. “Please.”
“Hm?”
Ryo took a deep breath. Twinges of pain lingered around his chest, but at least he could breathe again. "You just saw me at my lowest. Don’t do that thing you do where you’re, I don’t know, playing the fool?”
“That was your lowest? I didn’t even need to put on the Nightshroud mask.”
Fubuki stared straight ahead, not meeting Ryo’s eyes. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“Don’t be.” Fubuki bent forward slightly, the moon a spotlight on the corner of a shy smile on his lips. “I knew. I believed in you, I knew you would save me.” He sighed, his hands twisting the blanket in his lap.
“I remember that much. There’s a lot I don’t remember, but I remember that part.”
“I’m sorry for putting you through so much trouble.”
“Don’t be,” Fubuki said again, putting his head back on Ryo’s shoulder. “Besides, I’m not the person you need to apologize to most. You said a lot about Syo earlier when you thought you were dying.”
Ryo sat still, despite the prickling heat, made worse by Fubuki’s weight pressed up so close against him. “It’s harder to talk to him.”
“And when has the great Kaiser Ryo Marufuji ever backed down from a challenge?”
“Shut up,” Ryo said, but he didn’t push Fubuki away. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You and Asuka have a good relationship.”
The following moment lasted for so long with only the sound of the clock on the wall and their quiet breathing that Ryo wondered whether Fubuki had fallen asleep. When he looked down, Fubuki’s eyes were wide open, staring at some point in the distance.
“I worry sometimes,” said Fubuki. “I’m missing a lot of time. I can’t remember what Asuka and I used to be like.”
“She’s grown up just fine,” Ryo assured him.
“But that’s just it,” Fubuki sighed, deflating a little more into Ryo. “I’m her big brother. I’m supposed to be the one to protect her, but I missed her entrance exams, and I graduated beneath her from the academy, and sometimes, I still feel like I’m in first year.”
He frowned, a dip appearing in his brow. “But god, we’re already twenty. We’re adults. And I forget that, and then I think: what else did I forget?”
“I’ll help you remember all the important things.” Ryo blinked. “You could have just asked, you know. I would have filled you in on everything you missed.”
Fubuki snorted. “Yeah, seems like neither of us is really good at asking people for help.” His eyes focused back in, glancing up at Ryo. “I couldn’t let people just think of me as the poor missing boy forever, especially not Asuka. And you graduated right after I came back, and then you were off to the pros. I couldn’t distract you by asking you to hold my hand through high school.”
“Maybe things would have gone differently if you did.”
“Maybe.”
Fubuki yawned, his jaw digging into Ryo’s shoulder as he did. Tiredness crept over Ryo, weighing down his eyelids.
“We really messed up, huh?” Ryo asked, unable to contain a yawn of his own.
Fubuki laughed. “Yeah.” He yawned again.
A moment passed before Fubuki asked, “Is tomorrow Sunday?”
“Mm-hmm,” Ryo said, blinking the sleep that encroached at the corners of his eyes. His voice sounded too loud in his own ears.
“Then the convenience store down the street is having a sale on popsicles. Wanna try and grab a box?”
“Might as well,” said Ryo. “It’ll be good to combat the heat.”
“Can we get ice cream, too?” That sounded nice.
“Go to sleep,” Ryo said aloud. “We’ll have to be up early tomorrow to beat the housewives for that sale.”
Fubuki happily laid back down, pulling the covers up to his chin. Ryo followed. They blinked at each other for a few minutes, Fubuki giggling, and Ryo struggling to stay awake, but eventually, Ryo fell asleep.
He awoke the next morning to the sound of children begging to buy ice cream at the store. A half-formed thought about popsicles stirred in his mind, but was halted by the discovery that Fubuki had wrapped himself around Ryo’s torso and was snoring softly, their blankets a sweaty pile on the floor. Lulled by the heat and the cadence of Fubuki’s breathing, Ryo laid his arms around Fubuki and fell back asleep.