Archive of Our Own

Leonardo and his brothers are freshly twenty-one years old, and celebrate the milestone the way every other American twenty-one-year-old does.

“You are all terrible at holding your liquor,” Usagi laughs, as a radiant, wobbling white shape above where Leo is sprawled. He can feel the sound right down into his toes, and it’s bouncing around his head like an echo. Mikey giggles along with their guest, slumping even more heavily into Leo’s shoulder. “It is though you have never had a drink before.”

“Because we haven’t,” Donnie explains with a hiccup. He is the quietest of them, and also the most determined to be mobile. Leo long ago gave up on the task. He still agreeably reaches up to take the bottle Donnie brings over from their stockpile on the kitchen table and pops the lid off on his shell. (Having a broken scute edge means he makes for a pretty reliable bottle opener. Everyone needs an interesting party trick, Leo supposes. It entertains his family, and that’s enough reason to keep doing it.)

“Speak for yourself,” Raph snorts.

“It would be smarter to let him speak for you,” their father says, appearing out of nowhere. He’s been periodically checking in on them, ambling into the room with a serving platter of water and watching to ensure they all drink at least half of what he provides. Master Splinter presses his knuckles to their foreheads like they’re babies with fever each time, too, but Leo can’t think of anything he might be checking with that. “You are not meant to have had alcohol before this evening, Raphael. It is not good for developing minds.”

Mikey cackles to himself. “Explains what’s up with his brain.”

“What was stopping them?” Usagi asks, and likewise takes a glass of water. He has politely taken one each time Master Splinter has offered, and keeps bringing the empties into the kitchen. He’s kind like that.

“Legally, citizens under twenty-one aren’t supposed to be sold or consume alcohol.” Donnie has had a wide collection of different types in reserve for their birthday; he’s been keeping notes on which he likes best, but given the way he’s been swaying Leo wonders how legible they’ll be. “Not that we’re legal citizens.”

“But it would have been irresponsible of me as your father to let you drink before any of your peers. I have had enough trouble with you four without the effects of poison hindering your abilities, besides. Sit up to drink, Michelangelo. You would embarrass yourself, drowning like that.”

Mikey pushes on Leo’s plastron to get himself up. Usagi quietly braces him with a hand, and Leo watches, and is so thankful that his friend came to visit, and is thoughtful towards his family, and that he is near enough to touch. Leo’s head is pillowed on the cuff of his hakama. If he lifted himself up a little, he could make a mattress out of Usagi’s lap.

He won’t do that, of course. He’s plenty happy with Usagi being here at all. His family do not have to know how deeply his affections run; Leo isn’t sure he wants to test the strength of his friendship and family bonds all in the same night.

The alcohol keeps suggesting he take a chance on something stupid. A comment, a reaction, a touch. Leo keeps drowning it in more of itself.

“You have not had enough yet, I take it?” Master Splinter asks, amused, when he has pet Mikey’s forehead and moved on to watering Leo. “I must warn you, my sons, you will not find these beverages as entertaining coming out as going in.”

“First one to barf loses! Whoo!”

Leo thinks he might quickly become the night’s loser, even though dulled senses are the worst of his symptoms, because Usagi has braced him upright too, hand warm on his shell, and his soft rabbit thumb is petting a gentle back and forth where no one else can see.

“I have a request of you,” Usagi says, when they breach the surface of the city and then climb higher still, determined to watch the pink of sunrise spread over the Hudson. Leo’s head is aching, but he couldn’t refuse the request, when Usagi had prodded him awake with a secretive smile and led him out of the lair as though he had been training in the ways of the ninja.

“Anything,” Leo says without hesitation. He reaches down the ladder to give Usagi a final tug upwards, and Usagi doesn’t need the guiding hand, but takes it anyway.

They aren’t in a rush – they sit on the ledge of the glass building they’ve scaled and watch the city come alive with colour and noise. The dawn shimmers on the glass and dyes Usagi’s fur a charming strawberry. He breathes in the morning with a smile on his face, eyes locked on the small bits of nature New York offers, and Leo likewise smiles and watches him.

“Gennosuke recently led me into some trouble. He does that from time to time. Fair, I suppose, since I often bring trouble to him, although I usually do so by accident. He herded his most recent bounty right to me, as he knew where I was in town and that I would not leave him without aid. Awful friend,” Usagi adds warmly. “And more fool him, this time; I requested he give me my half of the bounty when he turned the scoundrel in to the local daimyo.”

“That’s unusual for you.” Usagi is a ronin by circumstance but a vagrant by choice; he prefers to rely on barter systems and the kindness of strangers instead of money. It attests to what a good man he is, Leo thinks, that he has never gone hungry by doing so.

Usagi grins at him, so brightly that his eyes scrunch and the sun is momentarily cowed. “I was saving for a special occasion. It is not every day that a dear friend comes of age. Granted, you would have done so years ago on Second Earth…”

“I get it, you were ancient and wise when I was still fresh out of the ooze.”

“Many times your elder!” Usagi agrees.

“Then you honour me with your company, oyaji,” Leo says, as deadpan as he is able. His laughter cracks through the facade a moment later, as does Usagi’s. They curl over the dizzying drop to the street far below and let their giggling fall onto the heads of early morning commuters instead.

Usagi pulls himself together first. His fingers tap Leo’s. “Joking aside, Leonardo, it would mean much to me if you would let me treat you to a night out. In my world.”

“A night out? Uh, doing what?”

“Whatever you would like to do. There are a variety of restaurants in Edo I would enjoy taking you to. They have fine sake to sample. The summer has almost ended – there are festivals all over the country.” Leo has never seen his friend so animated. “The stars are beautiful this time of year, and I know many quiet places to best see them from.”

The morning sun has spilled molten gold into the brown of Usagi’s eyes. Leo’s stomach flips. He reins his imagination in with a dose of realism; “I don’t know if letting my brothers loose on your world while they’re still in birthday party mode is a good idea. You saw us last night.”

Usagi laughs through his nose. He is a very forthcoming person, so it is strange to watch him hesitate to speak. “I hope it is not rude of me to say so, Leonardo, but… if you were willing to visit alone and let me monopolize your time, I would enjoy that most.”

It is a long drop from their perch to the ground. It is an equally large leap of faith from what Usagi is suggesting to what Leo desperately wants to believe he means.

“Not rude,” Leo says, whisper-soft, as if he might wake his brothers and frighten his own nerve if he speaks the truth any louder, “I, uh… I’d like that a lot too.”

Leo doesn’t know what to expect, portalling through to Second Earth by himself, at night, and with his father’s cryptic, “I suspect you will be coming home a wiser man,” at his back. He doesn’t know what he should be expecting. That Master Splinter let Leo venture off on his own at all is confusing – the old rat has sharper eyes than anyone else Leo knows, and what he can’t see he senses other ways. He must have noticed the extra attention Usagi gave Leo when he last visited.

Maybe he thinks nothing of it. That’s as disheartening an idea as it is comforting.

It soothes Leo’s anxiety, to find Usagi waiting for him on the other side, looking no different than he has any other visit. Except, perhaps, cleaner. He does not have more than one kimono, but it is not stained with blood or grass, and his daishō scabbards are polished, and the blue ribbon holding his ears up looks freshly re-tied. Leo has nothing formal to wear for a night out either – but he did stay up late detailing the katana holstered on his back, and by Usagi’s standards, he suspects that is more than enough effort spent.

“You look nervous, my friend,” Usagi murmurs, giving Leo a curious up and down from where he is leaning on a large rock. The portal light behind Leo fades, and then it is only the last dregs of the day and the flickering paper lantern by Usagi’s side giving them anything to see by. Leo still feels as though he has been thrown into a spotlight. He rubs at his neck.

“Not nervous. More like… apprehensive? I’m not sure what to expect.”

“Then let me be your humble guide!” Usagi is clearly in a good mood, because he bounces up from his slouch an into a short bow. He gestures at the bobbing lantern glow of the city nearby, across a swath of dark grass. “Beyond this point, Leonardo-san, you will find a long stretch of pounded earth which we call a street. This will lead us to a town, wherein you may select a business from which to procure food–”

“Very funny,” Leo gripes, swatting at Usagi’s shoulder.

“Had I not trained as a samurai, I might have been a comedian,” Usagi agrees. He cups a hand to Leo’s elbow and gently pulls him toward the city, and Leo exhales out what he hopes is the worst of his worry.

It sticks to him like a burr anyway, because Usagi’s fingers brush down his arm and catch momentarily on his own, and Leo thinks, just for a moment, that his friend intends to hang on.

“You don’t have anything to play,” Usagi explains, when Leo helplessly displays his hand of cards. There are no numbers on these, only various hand-drawn images of plants and animals. “Draw from the yama.”

“The mountain giveth,” Leo sighs, having already done so several turns in a row. He has apparently terrible luck, and keeps drawing from the same two suits. There are twelve to choose from, and somehow he has drawn only sakura and pine. He squints at the card he pulls. “Another pine, I think. The motif is the same.”

Usagi grins into his slurp of sake and pours them both a refill; the cups are shallow bowls that only hold a sip’s worth. It’s been helpful for Leo, who still hasn’t decided how he feels about the flavour. “Shame we aren’t playing a game where that would mean something.”

“For all I know, you’re just making the rules up as we go. Maybe I’ve already won.”

“You insult my honour, Leonardo-san. I assure you,” Usagi adds, glancing up through his long eyelashes, “Between the two of us, I am currently the much luckier man.”

The temperature in the room abruptly goes up several degrees. Leo reaches for his own sake just for the rush of coolness, though Usagi’s Japan is centuries behind that of Third Earth’s, and lacking refrigeration, so the alcohol is only as cold as the air can make it. He shudders at the harsh afterburn. Usagi’s grin grows.

They have a considerable amount of company in the izakaya; it is nearly full with patrons, standing by the entrance and sitting at tables in the middle of the room. Leo counts himself as fortunate that they were able to secure one of the booths flanking the walls, because the sheer amount of people near to him is something he’s still adjusting to. He has to keep checking over his shoulder. He wants to pull his mask back up.

Usagi reaches across the table and lays his hand atop Leo’s, and Leo nearly jumps out of his shell.

“I regret to inform you that you have lost again, my friend. Ina-shika-chou.” He gestures to the spread of cards on his side of the table, but Leo cannot focus on the images, because Usagi’s touch has not left. It is comfortably laid over his, fingers lightly curled around his forearm, thumb flicking an idle pattern over his scales. It is soft and sharp all at once. Leo has never before so distinctly noticed that Usagi has claws. “The boar, deer, and butterfly. This combination is worth five points. Your options are… much more limited.”

“I should just give up, huh?” Leo asks faintly.

For a moment, his pulse is trapped in the squeeze of his friend’s grip. Usagi’s voice is smooth and cajoling when he says, “Koi-koi! I’d rather give you a fighting chance. Look here, the moon is high on the night sky of our table. All you need to find is another silver grass card to capture it, and then you can pair it to your crane and maku for a six point combination.” He toasts his sake cup towards Leo and smiles as if they are sharing a secret. “Gambatte.”

Leo nearly knocks his own drink over when he reaches, with the way his fingers are shaking. He pulls a card from the draw pile. He lifts a single finger to brush the underside of Usagi’s wrist with the other hand, and is pet again in reward.

He holds his card out for them both to see. Silver grass. Leo taps it to its pair.

“With that you take the tsuki. The August moon,” Usagi says, guiding both cards into place next to the collection of tree limbs and cherry blossoms on Leo’s side of the table. It makes a pretty picture. “Sankoh. The three lights combination. At this point you call agari, and then I lose, because it is your turn.”

Leo is in no rush to push his friend’s touch away.

“Koi-koi,” he says instead, and the game goes on.

“Indulge me,” Usagi insists, pushing Leo towards a stall bannered in colourful fabrics. The gentle wind makes flags out of every one of the sheets and garments not already in the hands of interested buyers. “This is an excuse to experience some of the local culture, if nothing else.”

“I’m already familiar with kimono,” Leo argues, hoping the warmth in his cheeks is not too visible. He has not had near enough sake to excuse it.

“Luckily for you, these are yukata. They are not nearly as expensive or susceptible to damage as fine silk things are. And,” Usagi adds with a smile, “It appears they have plenty of your favourite colour. Sumimasen! Ano aoimono, okudasai!” The shopkeeper comes hustling over to them at the call, brandishing a long bamboo staff with a hook on the end. She unlatches a garment from the highest rack of the stand with it and quickly lowers it into Usagi’s hands. “I think this suits you.”

It is richly dyed – the white fabric is printed with deep indigo hexagons in a tightly-knit pattern, like links in samurai platemail or the scutes on Leo’s shell. He raises a brow at his friend.

Usagi’s smile grows. “Admittedly, the kikkô pattern is meant to mimic a tortoise’s shell. It is handsome. I think of you whenever I see it.”

Leo has no choice but to shrug the yukata over his shoulders then. He stands silently while Usagi straightens the lapels and folds the fabric around him. He fails to catch his gasp of an inhale when soft rabbit knuckles brush over the ever-concave edge where his shell is scarred; Usagi reaches up to smooth the same part of the fabric again, as though he is slowly assessing how well his fingers fit into the hollow.

The vendor suggests a silver obi to keep the yukata closed, and Usagi neatly wraps that around Leo’s waist as well. His hands rest at the front of it, once it is tied. His thumbs massage the fabric smooth. There are faint shimmering lines of what must be metal spun into the rope that decorates the middle of it.

“As pale as the autumn moon. You know,” Usagi says, as if he and Leo and the garment are sharing a secret, “Legends say rabbits once lived on the moon. Some are still up there, mining silver to toss into the sky as stars.”

Leo swallows. He watches his friend’s hands. “Is that the kind of story I’m supposed to learn something from?”

Usagi chuckles lowly, his smile pressing into his cheeks. He glances up at Leo with a playful tilt to his head and lips both. “You know I am not much for metaphors, Leonardo.” He gives the obi edge a tug. “I simply think there are many things that you wear well. It is an honour to put beautiful things on you.”

He turns to pay the shopkeeper a horrifying amount, by Leo’s estimation of coin value in Second Earth. Leo, perhaps impolitely, watches the way his rabbit tail flickers like an excited flame.

(And wonders, to his utmost shame, if Usagi would enjoy taking the yukata off him just as much.)

“It sounds like someone is in trouble,” Leo points out, though he can’t see over the crowd and confirm it. He steps up to his tiptoes, but between the dark and the shifting bodies the most he can spot is whirling fabric and fur.

“Likely a fistfight has broken out in the street,” Usagi shrugs. He tilts his head at Leo’s sharp look. “It is quite normal here. Cheap entertainment.”

It is not like the samurai Leo knows to turn tail on someone in need; Usagi’s immediate step away is a sparking flint to the kindling of Leo’s sense of honour.

“You’re going to ignore it?” If it comes out as accusatory, Usagi doesn’t take offense. Instead, he stops, tweaks an ear, and bobbles his head in a considering motion.

“It sounds like two adults. Men, probably drunk. No one is calling for bets, so it isn’t likely a dire situation. They will exhaust themselves, or the local authorities will break them up. Are you asking me to be meddling, Leonardo?” he adds with amusement. Whatever he sees on Leo’s face is enough of an answer to push into the crowd, some of whom part like a curtain for him, when they spot the daishō on his hip. Leo follows in his wake, to a similar reaction; he did not want to dirty the yukata his friend bought him by layering his sword holster straps over top of it, so has tied them at his side as well.

Usagi was right: the two people fighting both seem to be male, and based on their unsteady steps, have both been drinking. One is more slender than the other, but has better coordination. He keeps weaving out of the way of the larger man’s charging attacks, and laughing along with the crowd when they catch and shove the bigger fighter back into the makeshift ring. The state of the smaller man’s shirt and the blood oozing out of his snout suggest the fight hasn’t entirely gone in his favour, though.

“They might actually be friends,” Usagi muses, once they have made their way to the front of the ring. He glances sidelong at Leo. “I would hate to ruin their fun.”

Leo frowns. Around him, onlookers have begun jeering and pushing at the drunk men more aggressively. “Their audience is getting awfully excited. I have a bad feeling about this.”

The silence from Usagi is long, and the look he’s giving Leo is hard to pin down.

“Alright,” he says eventually, “I’ll meddle. But I am going to have my own fun doing so.”

He steps out into the ring before Leo can respond, his arms still folded. It takes a moment before anyone notices him, and when they do, the consensus is that he’s another opponent. Both fighters stagger back from one another when they notice Usagi, and then simultaneously charge him.

Leo expects his friend to unsheath a blade. Usagi is not a large man, after all, and stands shorter than both the drunkards – even if he were bigger, he hasn’t trained in martial arts like Leo and his brothers. Bushido is the way of the armed warrior; samurai are swordsmen. He is as good at defending with the blade as he is attacking with it.

The booming sounds that comes out of Usagi’s mouth just before the men collide with him makes the entire audience jump, Leo included. It is one part barked command, and one part rolling snarl, raw and grating enough that it vibrates inside Leo’s shell. “ORRRRRA, naniyaten dayo? Yameruyo!”

Both men skid to a stop. The larger one stumbles on his own momentum and topples into the dirt. Usagi takes a single step forward to pin the man’s sleeve with his foot and stare down at him. His elbows lift just enough to highlight the daishō at his side, and his opponent’s ears flatten down against his skull.

It is a surprisingly quick dispersal of both fighters and crowd, then. The brawlers scramble backwards. Leo watches in bewilderment as they and everyone watching scatter back into the dark, hastily pushing each other out of range of Usagi’s glaring… and, Leo realizes, as he catches snippets of what the escapees are saying, more specifically out of range of his swords.

He is, after all, still part of the samurai class. By law, he could cut any of them down without consequences. Usagi is too good a man to do that. But he could.

“You growled,” Leo blurts, when they are left alone in the street again. Usagi scratches at his cheek and looks up at him with a far too unaffected expression. “I mean, you– I’ve never heard you talk like that. You startled me.”

“Hm,” Usagi hums, his nose twitching once, “Well, I was raised by a lion.”

He turns almost immediately on his heel and walks away. Reading body language has never been Leo’s strong suit, but he does his best as he hustles to follow. Usagi isn’t usually someone who avoids eye contact or conversation; maybe he’s embarrassed at his own theatrics?

“I– uh, it was pretty impressive,” Leo suggests awkwardly, falling in stride. Usagi’s gaze settles on Leo’s chest instead of his face. “Intimidating. I appreciate your, uh, nonviolent approach.”

The curve of Usagi’s shoulders soften. But when his eyes flick upward, the glint to them is steel-sharp.

“Few are as gentle as you are, Leonardo,” he says. “If I am going to scare you off with my actions, I would rather do it now.”

Leo’s stomach flips over itself so suddenly that it throws his balance off. He catches his stumbling feet and gulps down a mouthful of air to push down his dizziness. Usagi hums shortly.

“I’m not afraid,” Leo reassures him. The hammering of his heart is something else entirely.

Leo’s not sure what to make of the friend of Usagi’s that they run into. She’s very… affectionate.

“Maaaa, kochira wa dare desuka? Usagi-chin no… to-mo-da-chi?” She reaches out to take and squeeze Leo’s hand, and he can’t tell if the smile is mocking, or if her fox face just makes all of her expressions appear that way. Sharp canine teeth peek out from the upper edges of her mouth. “You must be Leonardo. Usagi-chan speaks very fondly of you.”

“Though I cannot say the same of Kitsune.”

“Deny all you like, tono, I know I’m your favourite. Come and sit with me! I came into some very good money today and sake is better when shared, wouldn’t you agree?” She is already holding on to Usagi’s arm, and tows him down to a seat beside her in one somehow-graceful movement (that Usagi himself does not manage). Leo carefully kneels on the opposite side of the low table, adjusting his swords and studying the collection of plates and cups as he goes. Either Kitsune has been in the izakaya for a while, or she eats quickly and copiously.

She pushes a half-finished dish of gyoza Leo’s way and simultaneously flags a server over to order something else. He waits until Usagi gives him an encouraging nod before helping himself to a bite. When several more plates appear before him, Leo helps himself to those as well. He hesitates on the sake, though.

Kitsune finds his reluctance funny. She leans toward him and waves the bottle around like a carrot to a proverbial donkey. “I promise I’m not buying your attention, Leo-kun. My only interest is in your wallet.”

“Do not steal from my friends, Kitsune,” Usagi sighs into his own sake cup. “You need not drink if you don’t want to, Leonardo-san.”

“Oh, how formal! You never use -san for me.”

“I respect you less.”

Leo can’t help his snort; he’s never heard Usagi so blatantly insult someone. Thankfully, Kitsune finds the humour in it, and giggles over her next pour of alcohol. She winks when she catches Leo’s eye. “Don’t be fooled; Usagi-po and I go way back. He’s only formal with people he doesn’t like.”

“Kitsune.”

“And people he really likes,” Kitsune adds, her grin so sharp it could cut. “He’s been trying to make a good impression on you, I think. Hasn’t even gotten into his cups this evening. You’re such a polite flirt, Usagi. What’s going to happen when Leo-kun finds out what a mess you are?”

Leo hasn’t ever seen Usagi go so still and quiet.

“Well, he’s not living in a sewer with three obnoxious brothers,” Leo blurts before he can really think out what he’s saying, “So he’s already making a… better…” He stops himself from finishing the sentence by chucking the shot of sake in front of him down his throat. Kitsune bursts out laughing.

“Oh, I like him,” she declares, patting Leo’s wrist and pouring him another drink. She settles back into her seat in a flourish of sleeves, and casually pets back the fur on Usagi’s cheek – he’s flushed red around his eyes and nose, but thankfully also smiling. “Drink up, now, Usagi dear. I’ve got to do my best to embarrass you.”

“You do not,” Usagi hums, but tilts back his glass nonetheless.

“I do so,” Kitsune says, reaching for a piece of wagashi and tossing it into her mouth. She rolls another between her fingers and holds it out for Leo. “I have such good stories, after all. For example: did Usagi ever tell you about the time we dressed him as a woman?”

“Konpira daigongon, oite ni hokakete, shu– ah! Wrong!” Usagi cuts off his own singing with a laugh, his hand latched firmly onto Leo’s wrist. He tends to hold on when he tries to grab for the little oyster shell they’ve been using to play the game and Leo has already pulled it away. Leo prefers to win with this mistake over all the rest; Usagi’s palm is hot to the touch, and the contact is becoming addicting.

As is his laughter. He’s doubled over and hanging on to Leo for dear life, though the rhythm challenge isn’t all that funny in its own right.

“Too slow, Usagi-chin,” Kitsune drawls, pouring him another shallow glass of sake. “Honestly, it’s as though you’ve been drinking or something. Get it together. A maiko would never lose like this.”

“She would lose in whatever way was necessary to be sure her patron had a good time,” Usagi argues, pushing himself upright and throwing the liquor back. “I make an excellent maiko.”

“You did make a lovely one. Let me doll you up like that once more, ne?” Kitsune waves him closer, but Usagi stays where he is, ignoring her encouragement until she makes the effort to move herself. She shuffles in behind him with a grumble and loosens the band holding his ears aloft.

Leo does a very good job at not gasping when they tumble onto Usagi’s shoulders. He does still choke on his own hurried drink, though. He didn’t realize his friend had lop ears.

“Come, let’s play again,” Usagi says, leaning forward enough to annoy Kitsune and to tease the oyster shell out of Leo’s fingers. His ears sway around his face, framing the plush fur of his snout and cheeks with even more softness. Leo reflexively tightens up his grip in the fight not to touch them. “You do the song this time.”

“I can’t make you pretty if you don’t sit still, tono,” Kitsune warns, pulling bits of ribbon out of her bag and breaking branches off the bar’s plant decor. She leans over Usagi’s back and brushes his ears her way.

“He’s already–” Leo bites down on his tongue. Usagi’s eyes flick up to his, wide with surprise.

“Drunk and being silly? So are you, Leo-kun. Come on now, your turn to play maiko.”

He and Usagi both do as good a job at the song and tapping game as they can, given all the distractions. Leo fails after stumbling on his words and losing the rhythm, but he would have been doomed even if he spoke Japanese fluently, because Kitsune finishes her ear-styling a moment later, and the view grinds his thoughts to a halt. With his ears folded and wrapped and decorated with all sorts of baubles, Usagi looks suddenly less like a vagrant and more a high-society entertainer.

Kitsune reaches over the table and tucks a matching flower into the side of Leo’s mask while he’s gaping.

“There, now Usagi-don is fit for admiring,” she grins, her fluffy tail flicking. She folds a hand out in front of Leo’s face. “I’ll be accepting the fee for his mizuage in whatever monetary format you Third Earthers normally use.”

Leo doesn’t recognise the term, but it has Usagi reacting violently. He jumps as if shocked and swats at Kitsune’s side, barking in rapid Japanese. Kitsune breaks into cackling laughter and rolls out of his reach, collecting her bag in one hand and giving Leo a playful bow before bouncing to her feet.

“Have fun, you two!” she says gaily, and leaves the bar in a whirl of fabric. Leo dumbly watches her disappear.

The loud sigh from Usagi comes through the press of his palms against his face. “She has kindly left us the bill. I should have known.”

“What did she mean by…?” The miserable look Usagi gives the table when he peeks his eyes from behind his hands stops Leo’s question halfway. He pivots. “She left us an almost-full pitcher of sake, too.”

“Your favourite beverage,” Usagi says dryly.

Leo takes the bottle around the neck and pours them each a full saucer of alcohol. He pushes Usagi’s cup towards his side of the table in tiny cajoling increments until Usagi glances up at him. His face is burning red under the thinnest parts of his fur. His forehead is scrunched together like he is expecting Leo to yell at him.

Leo should not feel a spark of excitement at such an expression, but he does. Hope swoops in to puppet his next motions before he can overthink them.

“I enjoy it more in your company,” he murmurs, and with a quick inhale for bravery reaches out and grips his friend’s wrist. Usagi’s hand relaxes – like an invitation, so Leo cautiously slides his touch back until he’s holding Usagi’s palm instead.

Usagi studies their joined hands. His breathy laugh is shy.

“I do need the drink,” he says, and takes it directly from the jug.

“I don’t think you’re holding your liquor any better than I am,” Leo points out, watching Usagi stagger to his feet once their meal and drinks – plus Kitsune’s left-behind meal and drinks – are paid for. To be fair, Usagi’s balance is steadier once he’s upright; Leo finds the entire world still spinning when he gets to the same place.

“I have had more practice. Keep your eyes open, na? Closing them makes it worse. I will be here until the dizziness passes.”

“Stay there after, too,” Leo says. He laughs at his own audacity once his brain catches up with his mouth. Usagi glows beside him, a white canvas for all the firelight to flicker over. He’s the easiest thing in the room to focus on, and stationary enough to root Leo’s swaying brain in place. “What now?”

“Earlier I might have suggested dancing, but we would make utter fools of ourselves doing that now.”

“I have utter ninja grace,” Leo shrugs. He catches himself a moment before tilting too far backwards.

“I have ancient wisdom, as the more experienced of our two, and can guarantee it would be a bad idea,” Usagi chuckles. “We’ll start with walking out of here. Let me know if you want to stop, or if you are feeling sick.” His palm presses to Leo’s shell and guides him toward the door, and were it anyone else Leo might be annoyed at the maneuvering. But he is too drunk to really pay attention to the other patrons and serving staff in the izakaya, and is more than happy to lean into his friend’s touch.

He has only coveted it since they became friends, after all.

The night air is a refreshing change; Leo feels immediately better at the coolness of it on his skin, after hours of indoor heat. He leans back into Usagi’s bracing arm and enjoys the pocket of warmth that still lingers there, partially because of the contrast. Mostly because it is Usagi.

“We should have done this sooner,” Leo decides.

“Your father was very adamant you not celebrate here until after your twenty-first birthday.”

Leo cracks an eye open. He dares not ask why Master Splinter would specify that. “I’ve spent nights in your world before.”

“Celebrating, Leonardo. I hardly think racing across the countryside and fighting bandits counts as a vacation.” For all the firmness of his words, Usagi is smiling. He continues to lead them both down the street, his arm looped around Leo’s back and fingertips casually studying the shape of his shell. “I had hoped to give you an experience here that was not entirely dangerous.”

Leo is leaning too much to stop the momentum anyway – he follows his inclination to nudge his beak into Usagi’s temple. He points out the obvious: “You’re here. That’s dangerous.”

Usagi’s breath in is shuddering. Leo can relate. His heartbeat is making a second drum out of the lake of alcohol in his stomach. “That… that is likely more the reason. I– perhaps we should sit down. Here.”

Sitting is easier than standing. Leo folds up quite comfortably against the tree Usagi has set him under, though in the dark he can’t see where all its aboveground roots are. They’ve left the light and commotion behind and wandered out into the tall grass again, and from here the town looks like a slow-moving diorama. Leo scoots sideways to give his friend room to settle beside him. Usagi kneels between he and the view instead, squinting at Leo’s face in concern.

“It is easy to forget just how many things are new to you, my friend,” Usagi says. “If any of this has made you uncomfortable, I would prefer to know than to… well. My delight at having you here has been overshadowing some of my sense already, I’m sure.”

Leo stares at the twitching of his friend’s nose while he tries to make sense of the words. Everything is coming half a beat too slow, thanks to the alcohol. “What are you worried about?”

Usagi doesn’t speak right away. He sighs and glances out into the dark, his elbows pillowed on his knees and hands folded together.

“Usagi,” Leo murmurs, and takes two of his friend’s fingers for himself, “Hanashite.”

The thumb resting against Leo’s knuckles pets over them a few times, tentative. “Your father has trusted me with your wellbeing. You have been trusting me with… everything this evening. I do not intend to fail either of you.”

“But?”

Usagi rubs at his face. One of his feet jerks so suddenly that it rocks him where he’s squatting. “But I have never been known for my impulse control, Leonardo, and I cannot help but fear that I am coercing you into things you might otherwise dislike. I have been so ready to see what I want to see that I have been acting in my own interests, and I– Leo–”

Leo doesn’t have the strongest impulse control either; he’s rolled forward onto a knee and started pulling his friend toward him before he’s fully found his balance, and before Usagi’s finished his thought.

Sat on the dirt outside of a feudal town was not where Leo ever imagined finding his confidence nor acting on it, but Usagi falls into him with a sound more desperate than Leo’s ever heard, and that makes the moment better than he could have pictured anyhow. The paw Leo is already holding cinches around his fingers so tightly it hurts. Usagi’s free hand hits him in the plastron, then skids sideways in an uncoordinated reach for support.

Leo presses his lips against Usagi’s over and over, stoppering up his every attempt to speak. He has no idea if he’s doing it right, or doing it well, or if he should be able to keep track of all the places they’re touching – he notices each point of contact in piecemeal. Usagi’s fur is downy soft in the palm of his hand. Usagi’s nose is cool against his cheek. Usagi’s shallow exhales are close enough that Leo can swallow them, so he keeps taking bites.

The cricket song around them rises like the appreciative clapping of an audience. The noise of the village fades to a distant hum. Usagi’s gasps for air are louder than thunderclaps.

Keeping upright is proving to be a challenge, so Leo follows gravity’s lead and leans back into the support of the tree trunk. He brings his friend with him. They’re similar sizes, and Usagi probably the stronger, but when Leo grabs his knee to pull him closer, Usagi falls into his lap as easily as liquid into a glass. He’s shaking with the effort of keeping any space between them.

He finds the force somewhere. Leo kisses him harder, and Usagi wrenches himself back, twisting his head to the side and pushing himself upright. His claws bite into the tree bark and send bits of wood drifting down onto Leo’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Leo says immediately, though he isn’t.

“Leonardo,” Usagi pleads, wretched. His chest is rising and falling like waves in a hurricane. His thighs are shuddering on either side of Leo’s waist, the muscles locked in position. Leo sets his palm on one and wills it steady. “You are not in your right mind.”

“I get that a lot.” To be fair, it’s a bad joke, and now isn’t really the time – but Leo’s too full of delight to take anything seriously. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything to take seriously, except the fact that he was reading the signs correctly. Usagi wants him too. Usagi let Leo kiss him. Usagi’s straddling him, warm and heavy and perfectly shaped to fit around the awkward arcs of Leo’s natural armour, and he’s still holding Leo’s fingers in a vice grip.

“I should not have given you anything to drink. ‘Sake wa hyaku doku no naga’.” He sounds as though he’s rationalizing to himself. Usagi has his eyes crimped shut. “I– I am sorry, my friend. I am a fool to my impulses. I should not have–”

The front of Usagi’s kimono is gaping open; the fabric and fur alike are moving with his rapid heartbeat. Leo slides his fingers between the lapels and presses his palm there instead. Usagi chokes on his own words and goes silent.

“I know I’m not as worldly as you are,” Leo says patiently, “But I’m an adult, Usagi. You aren’t making my choices for me. I want you here. I’ve… wanted you for a long time. Since well before the sake.”

The tension around him slowly settles. Usagi’s weight melts into his hold like earth shifting after a landslide, unsteady but finished with the worst of its momentum. His gaze gradually returns too, nervous of what it might find. Leo meets him with a smile.

“I do not do well at keeping loved ones,” Usagi whispers, his eyes dropping to Leo’s mouth, and then to their joined hands. “If you feel differently after this, I will understand.”

There’s no lifetime where that would ever be a possibility. Leo tugs gently at his friend’s fingers, and Usagi slowly falls into him.

“Ask me to do this again tomorrow,” Leo promises, kissing the taste of rice off his lips and then tongue, “And every single day after that.”

It was neither of their plan to end up half-dressed and panting in a matress of grass, but they are both reckless people, and the alcohol in their bloodstreams is encouraging, and it is far too easy to let the touch Leo is exploring Usagi’s body with go places it perhaps should not.

He can’t find it in himself to regret it.

“You said you knew n-not what you were doing,” Usagi snorts, his elbows pressed to the tree above Leo and his forehead braced against them. Every bit of him is hot under his fur. His clothes are loose on his arms and forgotten on the ground. His hips are canting forward like Leo is a runaway horse he is barely staying atop. He’s silk in Leo’s hand.

“I’m a good improviser,” Leo murmurs, watching Usagi’s forehead scrunch and mouth open in silent gasps. Leo is also from a world that has educational material on the subject, and has spent far too long developing strategies for this moment over the years. He bites his lip as a shift in technique sends Usagi reeling away from the tree to settle farther back on Leo’s hips. He rolls his head up to the starlit sky and moans at its dark canvas.

Colour explodes behind him, and sound a moment later. Leo doesn’t stop what he’s doing, even when Usagi startles; he is all the prettier silhouetted in the the glow of festival fireworks. The autumn moon isn’t half as gorgeous as he is, with all his silver fur. It’s just another decoration, dipping into and away from the bundle of ribbons and branches tied around his ears.

“Leo–”

Usagi shudders and jerks forward, desperately grasping for support, and finds it in the scoop of Leo’s shell, where damage and time have built a convenient handhold. Leo kisses his wrist and grins against the pulse there. “Don’t fall over, oyaji.”

Usagi laughs so loudly that he momentarily kills the rhythm. He folds himself forward to kiss Leo properly in the pause, still snickering.

“What?” Leo has to ask.

“In the spring I will be twenty,” Usagi says, scruffing the collar of the yukata he bought and holding on like he means to never let go. He rubs his nose and cheeks and chin over the planes of Leo’s face, smiling against his skin. “I came of age before you, Leonardo, but you’re the elder man.”

“Stay here with me.”

“In the grass? Forever? I already feel like something’s crawled into my shell.”

“You will learn to love the companionship of insects,” Usagi says, determinedly keeping his eyes shut and his arm locked around Leo’s middle. Leo doesn’t really mind. His friend’s body heat is keeping the morning chill away, and there’s dew glimmering on the stalks of grass surrounding them. It’s quieter here than New York ever is. “They are hard at work chewing on you. Do not rise and upset them.”

“Oh, gross.”

“You live in a sewer.”

“I live in a water filtration building. And formerly a cistern built by an ancient civilization. You’re the one always sleeping in the dirt, Usagi.” They are both morning people, and pleasant when they first wake up; the joking is merely that. Usagi still opens his eyes as if he might find disgust in Leo’s expression.

There is much Leo still has to learn about his friend. Most alarming so far is this apparent worry that he is going to be a disappointment. Leo can relate to that too well. He’s determined to head it off at the pass.

He rolls onto his arm and halfway over Usagi. His head complains at the movement, but he mostly hides his wince. “Good morning. Ask me to kiss you?”

Usagi does nothing more than exhale at him, wide-eyed and cautious. He brings his hands up to cup Leo’s cheeks before guiding Leo down onto his lips. Each kiss is more lingering than the last.

“Dozō,” Usagi whispers, and pulls him in again.

“About time you got back,” is about the greeting Leo expected, given it’s Raph that first spots him when he steps back into his own world. His brother gives the (tidied) yukata a quick up and down and whistles. “Nice digs. Where’d that come from? Gift from a feudal lord or somethin’?”

“A gift from Usagi,” Leo says, equal parts entertained and unnerved by the way Raph freezes.

“Hm.” He crosses his arms over his apron and gives it a more critical look. Leo readies his excuses for the grass stains on the back and area of his knees. He thankfully doesn’t need them. “Alright. Not bad. You had breakfast yet? Things One and Two are still sleepin’, so we got first crack at the bacon.”

“Thanks, Raphael. I… wanted to talk to Master Splinter first. Is he awake?”

Raph jerks his shoulder and chin toward their father’s room, which is enough of an invitation to check. The walk there feels twice as long as it should. Leo has to take a breath before knocking on the shoji frame, and another while he waits for recognition and permission to enter.

He wonders if he should have changed out of the yukata before he took the portal home from Second Earth. Once he’s slid open the door, Master Splinter gives it the same sort of look over as Raph did, his knuckles set to his lips and an assessing glint in his eye. He greets Leo a moment later. “Did you have a good night, my son?”

Warmth prickles at Leo’s cheeks. He wills it away as he steps into the room and takes a seat on one of the floor cushions. “I did. I saw lots of interesting, uh… there was a festival on.”

“Oh, what for?”

“I… don’t know,” Leo realizes, tugging at his mask tails self-consciously. He had been too distracted to ask. Usagi’s company had been the sole focus of his attention.

Master Splinter is already smirking. “So your trip was very educational. Leonardo,” he adds gently, leaning forward from where he’s sat, “You have always been the most honest of my sons.”

“The worst liar, you mean,” Leo sighs.

“Do you have something to lie about?”

“No, not…” It has never been so difficult to look his father in the eye. Leo is not ashamed of himself or his actions, and he is honoured by Usagi’s affection. He wants to tell Master Splinter about it before he tells anyone else. He wants to share the joy that’s been ping-ponging around under his plastron since yesterday. He wants to know if his father knew. “I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m just not sure how to say it.”

The long pause he’s given to work up the words just makes it harder. Leo swallows thickly.

“How bad is the hangover?” Master Splinter asks, apropos of nothing. He smiles when Leo startles. “I have no illusions about what I was condoning, sending my eldest off to spend a evening with his dear friend. You will need plenty of water, aspirin, and a shower, if your your night out was as enlightening as I suspect it might have been. That is a handsome yukata, by the way. Despite the stains.”

“Father–” Leo starts, anxiety forcing his hand. Master Splinter holds up a palm to quiet him.

“Did you have fun?” he asks.

“Yes,” Leo admits quietly.

“Did Usagi-kun keep you safe?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy, my son?”

Leo’s voice fails him. He nods instead.

“Then that is all my worries settled,” Master Splinter says. He extends a hand and beckons with a scoop of his fingers, and Leo hesitantly scoots forward. His father pulls him in to a hug, his paws bracing against the back and side of Leo’s head. He kisses Leo’s brow. Leo hangs on to his wrist, swallowing back his desire to cry. “You are not subtle anyway, little turtle. There are much more worthwhile things to fear than my sons choosing their own paths and partners. I cannot promise any safety from your brothers’ teasing, though,” he adds, and Leo can’t help his wet laugh.

“He…” It is a moment before Leo can find his voice again. “He might be a bad influence, sensei.” Master Splinter hums in interest and pulls back to look at him, already fighting down a smile. He can tell there’s no reason to be worried. “Turns out Usagi is a year younger than me. He shouldn’t have been drinking while he was here.”

“That explains much about his penchant for leaping before he looks. You all have that in common,” Master Splinter says sagely, nodding. “Invite him here for his own birthday, Leonardo. You can introduce him to more than sake, and I can lecture another irresponsible son.”

“Hai, sensei,” Leo nods, too warm inside to fight down his smile.

“Now help your father up. I can smell the bacon Raphael is making, and can hear Michelangelo moving around upstairs. We have very little time to eat before all the best pieces are gone.” Master Splinter doesn’t need the hand, but the way he squeezes Leo’s arm and hangs tight as they leave the room is a reassurance he didn’t realize he needed. “And I don’t want to miss a moment of your brothers’ reactions when they learn I have won our bet.”

“You would drink this willingly?” Usagi says with a full-body wince, pressing the can of NukeThirst back into Mikey’s waiting hand. His face contorts as he tries to scrub the flavour off his tongue with his teeth.

“It’s meant to be an invigorating experience,” says Mikey, pouring the suspiciously vibrant liquid into his mouth until it almost overflows. He swallows it in a forceful gulp. “I figure either this is a pretty close match and I’m getting a taste of what our mutation ooze was like, or this is the ooze that mutated us, in which case I’m probably gettin’ suped up with each slug.”

“Don’t even joke,” Donnie groans.

“It’s meant for people without tastebuds,” Raph agrees, nudging Usagi’s arm with a different bottle. The glass container and lack of bright colours immediately appeal more to him; Usagi takes the drink graciously and throws it back. Leo watches his throat work.

It’s good to see him having fun. It’s good to see him here. Matching up the free time in their mutually chaotic lifestyles and getting messages to Usagi when he has no regular address can be difficult. They’ve both still made the effort to try. The visits aren’t better now that Leo can welcome him with a kiss, but they are different – seeing Usagi happy is all the more rewarding, the more Leo learns about him.

For example, Usagi was more than interested in the invitation to drink with them again, and has only doubled down on the enthusiasm since he found out it was a surprise birthday party and he the guest of honour. Celebrating each year of life isn’t as common a practice in his homeland as theirs, and Usagi had laughed at the fact that “twenty was not even a remarkable age”. Leo can tell he’s flattered by their attention, though. His feet have been twitching all night.

He’s also been drinking everything handed to him, to Leo’s mild concern and his brothers’ delight.

“Listen, what you really need is a mixer. Something fancy,” Mikey insists, reaching across the table to draw an armful of various bottles and cans toward himself. He flips up a fresh solo cup and starts freehand-pouring liquids into it. “Even that really burny stuff goes down smooth if you get the right ratio of sweetness happening.”

“Ugh, Mikey, that looks awful. Your drink is visually more upsetting than some of my biochemical projects. Including the ones growing mold.”

“But it’ll be tastebuddily delightful. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“I’m not trying that,” Donnie snorts.

“Usagi’ll try it,” Mikey says cheerfully, at the same moment he adds a splash of the NukeThirst.

It’s about time Leo stepped in. He folds his frown tighter and adopts his best Leader Voice. “Don’t give that to our guest. You don’t have to put that anywhere near your mouth, Usagi.”

The smirk Usagi turns on him is all narrow-eyed mischief. It’s swaying, too. He’s had a lot to drink. “I do not fear the challenge. Pass it over, ne?” He reaches Mikey’s way, and nearly drops the cup when he first tries to grab it. Mikey helps him bend his fingers around the sides, snickering. Usagi toasts him with it before throwing his head back. “Kampai!”

“Aww no, don’t down the whole–!”

“Don’t choke,” Leo grimaces.

Against his hopes, Usagi lurches forward sputtering. The only liquid on his face is thankfully just what the cup rim left there, and he scrubs it away with the back of his hand, but his expression and pained laughter suggest that a weaker person might have just thrown up. “Michelangelo, that was atrocious. I have not had something so rancid in my mouth since Jotaro fed me a pork bun made of dirt.”

Mikey takes the cup back, wheezing too. “You’ll have to introduce me! Two culinary masters are better than one.”

Usagi sways with a heavy head from his deep forward slouch to a recline against the couch, grinning the whole while. His hand slaps down on his thigh and drops onto Leo’s hand from there. “That is a threat!” he giggles at the ceiling. “You would make a me– a menace out of my son!”

The laughter provides, at least, some padding for the weight of his words to fall onto. The room quiets in stages – Leo and two of his brothers first, then Usagi, with a sharp inhale. Mikey’s snickers only linger and echo until he realizes how still everyone else has gone. “Wait… what?”

“Sorry, Usagi, did you say…?”

Raph asks the question least delicately: “You got a kid?”

It’s surprising how quickly Usagi can move, with all the liquor in his system. His hand pulls away from Leo’s in the same split second that he rises to his feet, and he maneuvers his dangerous off-balance lurch when the vertigo hits into immediate forward motion. He outright dodges the arm Raph throws out to support him. He is retreating from the room and down the concrete platforms toward the water like a man possessed, his steps all over the place. He trips when he reaches the nearest set of stairs.

Calling won’t stop him. Leo vaults over the back of the couch with only the slightest brain-wobble and darts after Usagi. His brothers are right behind him. Leo waves them back.

The stair railings have thankfully kept Usagi from plummeting into the waterway, but he’s leaning on them heavily, and stops with a clumsy motion halfway down one set, clearly battling with dizziness. He’s stopped there just long enough for Leo to catch up and swing in front of him. “Usagi.”

His eyes are closed tightly. None of the alcohol made him look as sick as he does now.

“Usagi,” Leo says again, and tentatively wraps a hand around his elbow.

Usagi straightens. His shoulders roll back and head rises, but his eyes do not open. Neither does his voice shake. “If you have changed your mind, I understand.”

He is freshly twenty years old, and yet has experienced more than the majority of people his age on Third Earth ever will. Leo learns more of Usagi’s history every day – he knows now that Usagi spent years as a samurai in service, and in battle, and that he lost much in that time. Leo knows about the alarming amount of enemies who want Usagi dead. He knows about Usagi’s attempts to secure a Battle Nexus championship, and his determination to understand the culture of Leo’s world, and what weaknesses he turns to vices for.

He knows that Usagi has not called anywhere home since he was a child. Until now, if Leo can help it.

He ducks under the twitching of Usagi’s nose and kisses him. Just once, and shortly. Enough to knock him off whatever thought-track he’s been racing down. Usagi startles. Leo makes a face. “Oh, that does taste awful.”

If he had not been studying Usagi’s expressions, he might have read the intense look he’s being given as anger. Usagi’s jerked back, and his gaze keep darting back and forth, and his forehead is so pinched that it’s turning red.

“Do you think he would want to visit? Your son,” Leo adds, though he’s sure it’s obvious.

Usagi bristles. “That is not– he– Leonardo, I would not put you through that.”

“Can’t be worse than Mikey.”

“It is not as simple as– he–” His voice doesn’t exactly break. It catches, stumbles through the alcohol lingering in his esophagus, comes out raw and lifeless. Usagi’s eyes go glassy. “What do you mean?”

“I think,” Leo says carefully, swallowing back the sympathetic tightness in his own throat and taking Usagi’s hand, “That whatever is scaring you is a bigger deal on Second Earth than it is here. I don’t want you to go anywhere, Usagi. I’m not upset. Just curious.” He considers. “And a little caught off guard.”

Usagi’s determination to exile himself seems to leave him in a breath. His entire posture goes loose. He slouches into the railing and stares out at the rushing water. Leo strokes his arm (and gives his brothers a nod, when he spots them apprehensively eavesdropping).

“Leonardo.”

“Yeah.”

Usagi breathes shortly through his nose, glaring at nothing. His words are much softer. “Everything sounds simple when it comes from your mouth. Do not give me hope. Please.”

Leo understands wanting something he’s not sure he can have. He can see where the fear is coming from. He’s having a hard time imagining Usagi with a child, and a harder time conceptualizing what that means for Usagi and himself. Keeping his own secrets only prolonged Leo’s want not to have to, though. He suspects the habit is doing Usagi even fewer favours.

Leo folds his palm into Usagi’s and leans on the railing too, glancing at the drop to the water. He squeezes the hand he’s holding until his partner looks at him. “I mean it.”

Usagi swallows.

“Ask me again,” Leo adds, leaning close enough to touch. Usagi takes the invitation in careful motions. His fingers find Leo’s cheek, his jaw, the line of his neck. His forehead and Leo’s come together. “Now and tomorrow and every day after that.”

“I do not want to make your life difficult,” Usagi whispers. But everything about their relationship is an exercise in going with the flow. There are confusing new things to adapt to every time they turn around.

Leo nudges himself even closer. He shores up his grip.

“Koi-koi,” he suggests, and Usagi closes the gap to kiss him.