Work Text:
Koko had spent his entire childhood thinking of Seishu Inui as being made of paper. Always present, either at school or at home, easily blown away but never too far for him to reach. A somewhat unnecessary copy of another sheet, almost identical, save for the slightly lighter tone of the ink.
The idea only seemed to be further proven over time. Paper Seishu was saved from turning to complete ashes, yes, and for Koko, that was his first big mistake: not looking intently enough, not distinguishing exactly what the one he held was made of. He’d make sure to look harder, but the damage was already done.
At some point, Koko started to liken Seishu to tracing paper, specifically. Something that belonged in the hands of a professional, and could only serve as a way through to something else. After all, nobody had ever needed tracing paper without an additional, an original , that they wanted a duplicate of.
A couple of years later, Koko failed again.
Paper Seishu had been left against a wall, behind a curtain, becoming one with the landscape of the library and fusing with his surroundings, as if he were just another book. Naturally, Koko would later try to tell himself, if one were to look at a translucent white sheet against a white background, it would be impossible to tell whether it was solid white or not.
But Akane was gone, and all Koko had left was a piece of tracing paper with her contents copied. The conclusion was clear: he needed to treasure that page and make it perfectly understandable. Readable from a mile away. He made it a habit to spend every waking hour browsing through endless tomes and learning all of their contents by heart. By night, he found his comfort in the refuge he shared with his dearest friend, his best source of memories.
And Paper Seishu delivered. They took it upon themselves to be the walking history of the first generation of Black Dragon, their tales, their adventures, and their glory. They kept their own collection of anecdotes permanently written in their minds, with ink stains all over, but much better than they would have been empty.
Never one to give a second thought to that which he already considered to be true, it took many years for Koko to change his mind. And it wasn’t like he was looking for it, either. It happened instantly, almost randomly, but it turned his perspective upside down with such ease, that Koko could have thought he’d always abided by that new belief.
Shinichiro’s shop was not far from Koko’s own house; most afternoons, Inupi and he made the way back together on foot, laughing about whatever or just enjoying each other’s company. Especially with the last vestiges of snow being chased away by spring, the air felt charged with some strange energy. Electric, almost. Healthy, but brittle.
Inupi was walking ahead of him, looking back at him, when a single ray of sunlight shone briefly through the clouds, crowning his golden hair. He was talking about his hopes for the new generations with a small smile on his face, only the tiniest corner of his lip betraying the slightest tinge of insecurity, and Koko couldn’t help but think he was more like glass. See-through, transparent, letting the light filter through without distorting it, somewhat permeable to its surroundings, unaffected by anything if it just passed along.
Glass Inupi was rigid but fragile. He had risen out of the most common sand, had been unwillingly forged in fire, and made into beautiful artwork, crystalline and delicate. He was thick enough to withstand the wind, that much was expected, but Koko started fearing he would break with a particularly harsh blow, and that he would be impossible to ever fully put back together. He had turned from the ground to stand on to something Koko could shatter if he ever handled him a little too bluntly.
One thing was for sure: if he ever did break, it would take their world by storm. The shards would be incredibly dangerous, a magical mix of mirror and knife. Something that was better kept within eyesight, yet away from wandering hands. The idea made Koko’s stomach turn, but, rather than entertaining it, he chalked it up to the same uncanny resemblance that had always haunted him and vanished the thought away.
He waited patiently for his friend to get out of the reformatory. Still, the purple heels that crossed the door didn’t belong to Glass Inupi anymore - it took Koko less than a minute to realize that this new version was much tougher and much more inflexible than the one he’d seen being dragged in. Unwavering in his resolve to rekindle their old gang, even after being knocked to the ground by a relentless beast.
Then Toman challenged Black Dragon again, and Inupi stood alongside him behind Taiju, putting his entire strength into the fight. He delivered hit after devastating hit with an iron fist, knocking people to the ground as easily as flies, all with the same blank expression that only Koko could read. A hollow-sounding shell made of what had been left behind after time had eroded the one that had once held Shinichiro’s memory and pride, as well as their own.
Iron Inupi was strong, not only physically. If his attacks could match Koko’s one by one, his mind had turned into a solid block of metal, impenetrable and immovable. It didn’t erase the fact that Koko knew him better than he knew himself, inside and out, but it made his willpower indestructible. When they lost, Iron Inupi did not lay himself down in the snow to rust. Instead, he chose to stand strong and move forward, and Koko was pulled along by some mysterious magnetic force that compelled him to follow Inupi, and Inupi only.
Never mind that he’d had such a revelation on Christmas, of all days. The feeling inside him had grown impossible to ignore, but Koko refused to name it. There was no space in his life for another devastating defeat, so willful ignorance seemed like a much better option than watching an iron gate close in his face. Feelings were of no consequence to the hardness that had characterized their lives for the last few years, and having such a weapon on his side could only yield good results.
The following events might have gone down in his personal history, Koko thought, as the longest and stupidest list of mistakes he had ever made. That in itself was no small feat, given the fact that he’d committed a number of crimes that rose beyond human counting capability. However, in the span of a few days, he had truly managed to outdo himself.
Being kidnapped, threatened, or exploited by the S-62 generation, he could take, but Takemichi had been beaten unconscious because of him. And Inupi… Koko was certain he would never forget the look in his eyes. Perfect emeralds, clear, pure, the green of their glow determined to rekindle the hope that seemed lost. With Mucho’s fist colliding with his face repeatedly, Inupi had remained calmer than the sea on a quiet spring morning, as if nothing on Earth could scratch his resolve.
But he was dying, the color slowly drowning in the crimson of his blood, and thus Koko gave in. Or, more accurately, gave up completely. There was no stopping the monsters that were dead-set on destroying Toman, so a desperate attempt was all he had left. He voted in favor of resorting to murder, hoping it would at least deter the division captains from furthering the conflict that night, out of respect for their leader.
Oh, what a fool he had been.
If Iron Inupi was strong through toughness and denial, Emerald Inupi was stronger through acceptance and understanding. Inupi redefined Koko’s concept of nobility that night, owning up to his flaws, his past, and his actions, and calling him out on his every wrong. It was too late already when Koko figured out how useless it was to even try to stop him, he had already been engulfed in that ethereal green light and the promise of hope that Inupi had shared with him his entire life. The tears that clouded his eyes served only as a reminder that he had been born from the ground, just like the rest of them.
There was but one mistake left for Koko to make, for the greater good. He had to play the part until the very end. He had to let Inupi go so that he could continue to glow, untarnished and unbound by an ashen chain that would only drag him to his ruin. And Koko would continue to do what he did best, content with the knowledge that the world could appreciate something precious.
Koko was out of choices. Takemichi was unconscious once again, and it was his job to clear up the absolute chaos Mikey had left in his wake (or, rather, in his trance), but he could not leave him alone with the chance of such a beast returning. His feet carried him through the empty streets on autopilot, searching for anyone who could be of assistance. It wouldn’t take much, but the care was needed urgently, so he ran until he came face to face with the largest source of light on the block. A large glass shop display showcased a bike - quite the old model, but in pristine condition.
Of course that was his subconscious’s idea of help.
Koko had long stopped pretending. He knew perfectly well he could never completely abandon the part of his soul he’d given for Inupi to hold, but to be knocking on his door at such an hour on the stormiest night of the season was something else entirely.
In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised Koko to see Inupi helping. When a friend so dear was in danger, it was a given that he’d act quickly and responsibly, although Koko had a feeling Inupi would have helped him regardless of what the issue was. The boy had always offered one hundred and fifty percent of himself when it came to their friendship, and if Koko hadn’t let go, why should he?
Still, he didn’t feel like clinging on to nonexistent hopes, much less formulating exactly what it was that he could hope for. There was nothing to be done; their lives had taken separate, irreconcilable paths, and he had only his memories to deal with. He didn’t know what exactly Inupi was made of, but he had exhausted his chances of figuring it out long ago, and begging was not a word in his vocabulary.
Happy? Koko didn’t remember the last time he was happy. But he had learned to embrace the conformity of doing that which he was good at, a safe position that could both exempt him from the worst fights and assure him that he wasn’t at risk of being replaced. It wasn’t about Akane anymore, hadn’t been for a long time, but Inupi didn’t have to know that. So Koko flashed the best smile he could muster and turned away as quickly as he could, sweeping everything under the rug once again and pretending his tears were just part of the raindrops painting his face.
Koko made sure to avoid running into Inupi, even when visiting Takemichi at the hospital. He wasn’t sure what drove him to stay, he ventured a guess that he at least owed it to the one who had stood up for him despite having been his opponent for far longer than he’d been his boss. Sure, the boy had a habit of getting himself brutally attacked in his endless pursuit of righteousness, but Koko would have been lying if he said his energy wasn’t a little bit contagious. He made the whole ‘taking the easy way out’ thing look pitiful, and that weighed on Koko’s chest in a way that was not easy to ignore.
The end was near, that much was evident. A whole week went by in the blink of an eye, running endless errands, prepping for the upcoming fight, and then another, trying to shove down the voice in his head that just wouldn’t shut up about seeing Inupi again. His last attempt at rationality was spent convincing himself that nothing good could ever come from stirring up old feelings.
But the promised day came way faster than he expected, and the aforementioned feelings didn’t feel all that old to him. Instead, as night approached on the ninth of September, his own heart -the traitor- felt like an anvil weighing him down in the middle of a whirlpool. Two massive forces were colliding for what was possibly the last time, with Koko stuck in the middle and falling, falling, falling, forgotten by everyone around him.
“Koko!”
A breath of fresh air.
If there was one thing that Koko could say for sure, was that there was no one at that freight yard that Koko wanted to fight less . He hadn’t made up his mind yet as to how bad it would be to come face to face with him again, but he would never forget the last time they’d fought one another. Koko couldn’t take another one of those. It had left him broken and confused, erased everything he thought he knew, and refused to rewrite it.
Inupi wasn’t fighting him, though. He was up against Waka and Benkei, and he was alone .
“Would Shinichiro have wanted all of this!?”
Paper Seishu would never dare stand up against the first generation of Black Dragon.
“Koko! What are you doing!?”
Glass Seishu wouldn’t put himself in the way of a blow that would most certainly kill him.
“Help me out here!!”
Iron Inupi would rather die than admit he couldn’t do it alone.
“You’re my one true friend, right!?”
Emerald Inupi would much rather dig through their past than appeal to their future.
And then it hit him.
Assigning Seishu Inui a material worth was inherently wrong. It would have been impossible to fit him in just one box, he was his own human being in perpetual evolution. He’d proven his love and loyalty to Koko over and over again, and he was not worth anything Koko could ever equate him to. No, the only thing Koko could give Inupi to make up for everything he had tried to reduce him to was himself. His strength, his support, and most importantly, his willingness to grow.
They’d fall, for sure, but it didn’t matter. Never mind losing the battle, Koko was certain he’d be winning in life as long as he had Inupi by his side. He’d follow the man he loved into hell itself if necessary. He’d stand by him were he stained like paper or transparent like glass, tough as iron or precious as an emerald. Whatever Inupi was, Koko would love him.
Whatever they were made of, they’d last.