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It was a defect that Judge was unable to fix. It started to happen ever since they were little kids, even before Sanji left. Little gasps would wake each other up, nightmares that happened more often than they’d ever admit to the others. It was always a secret, a necessity for survival under that roof. It did get better as they got older and the enhancements became more and more advanced. It still happened.
Yonji woke up with a gasp. His body choosing the fight response for him, closed fists, wide eyes, and thundering heart. Once he had given his empty room a look over from his bed, he allowed his muscles to relax. Controlling his breathing came as second nature too, so he found himself suddenly in a huge empty room, just breathing, wandering eyes still looking for danger that might be hiding.
It had been brought up before. Yonji wished he didn’t remember, just a little after Sanji disappeared, the nightmares became more constant. Ichiji usually grunted, annoyed, and forced himself back into bed. Niji stayed sitting down, usually not sleeping until the next night. Yonji liked getting up and either walking for a while, or getting a cup of water.
It was a random day at breakfast, a raid had been successful just days prior and their enhancements were halted, all in all a calm day. It had been Ichiji who spoke up with permission. It was, as always, extremely well articulated. How ‘bad dreams’ were keeping them awake some times, and how it may be something that Judge could fix. And Judge actually seemed to consider it for a moment, before saying that if it did not impact their training or fighting, then he did not care about losing time on it.
Breakfast continued as usual that day, until they all got up and were forced to watch Ichiji get slapped in the face for even bringing up something so stupid.
It was never again mentioned, and just weeks later, they were all sleeping in separate rooms.
The floor was cold. Which in itself, was extremely unusual. He was designed to not let slight sensations affect him, only threatening ones. But today just the chill from getting on his feet was enough to make him shiver as he walked to his door. That did seem to happen more as he got older, whenever he had bad dreams all of his senses got heightened. The floor was cold, the tea he sometimes drank actually felt warm and comfortable in his chest.
It all felt wrong.
The lonely and long hallways seemed even lonelier at night, still, Yonji turned automatically on his way to the kitchen, determined to get something quick to go back to sleep. He wasn’t exactly sure what training would be awaiting him tomorrow, but if the last days were something to go by, then he’d need the rest for his body to reset.
The kitchen light was on, his muscles tensing all over again, even though he knew logically there was no threat behind the huge doors. The cold of the night was not helping his right arm either, feeling the slight discomfort of the metal with which it has been replaced.
Ichiji also had wide eyes and a prepared stance when Yonji let himself in, both visibly deflating when crossing eye contact.
“Uhm, hi.”
“Hello, Yonji.” It was only the two of them, and yet Ichiji couldn’t drop his façade. How long would it take to no longer be a mask but who you are?
There was a simple white cup between his brother’s hands, a little steam coming from it. Tea. There was no one else around, and only the electric kettle was out. It was weird for them not to wake up maids or guards in case they needed something, but it was even weirder coming from Ichiji. Still, Yonji said nothing.
There was a heavy silence that settled in the huge kitchen. Suddenly, every little sound was too loud, the water being boiled, the slight clinking of the cups as Yonji got his favorite one out (a deep blue one that calmed him down.)
When the tea was done, Yonji was careful to sit at a respectable distance away from Ichiji, not too close, not too far. He hated moments like this where there was a blurry line and he could feel something was off but not exactly knowing why, how, or if that even was what he was feeling.
Ichiji didn’t seem to care at all about this weird encounter, his eyes fixated somewhere far away as he slowly sipped his tea. It was weird seeing him like this, curly hair that fell freely, reaching his back, no shades, wrinkled pajamas. It’s almost like he was cosplaying being a human being. And Yonji was sure he looked exactly the same.
The warmth of the tea was comfortable, even if his mind knew that this temperature was too hot for a regular person. Thankfully he was not. The taste of lavender was the closest thing to soothing that he could find, more a ritual than it actually having a real effect on him. Ichiji was having a different flavor, from the smell of it.
Whatever the hell this was, it was becoming unbearable.
“You had a weird dream too?” Yonji decided to break the silence.
Ichiji hated the word nightmares ever since that day at breakfast. He never called them that from then on, and neither did all of the bunch. They just became weird dreams.
Without his usual glasses on, his stare was even more unsettling. Out of everyone he had the coldest eyes, and not just because he was Judge’s right hand, but because of their icy color. If there was something that Yonji would never forget about his mother, it was those eyes, because everytime that Ichiji looked at him, it was like staring right at them again.
Well, without the warmth behind them.
“Yes.” Ichiji didn’t care to hide how cutting his tone was, returning to sipping his tea.
That weird thing lingering returned, making his tea seem warmer. Or maybe it was the whole kitchen. His arm hurt.
When Ichiji spoke again, Yonji almost jumped, “What did you even dream about?”
They were not exactly known for casual conversation. And Yonji was sure this wasn’t that either. It was an interrogation. In order to successfully run the military of a country such as Germa, Yonji knew how to operate these kinds of conversations, though. But there was always something about their older brother, how he was always perceptive and never missed anything. Perhaps it was the blood they shared, perhaps their history. Whatever it was, he couldn’t speak the truth to Ichiji. What woke him up was a looming figure standing taller than he usually was above him, Judge, looking down with a scalpel and a chronometer.
So, instead of lying, he simply cuts the truth.
“Uh, just about some training…”
Ichiji stopped, looked at him with a frown, and then returned to his pose and thousand-yard stare. Whatever his brother was thinking about, Yonji couldn’t even begin to guess. There was a finality with how he stared at him, as if he was expecting more. Yet, Yonji didn’t dare to ask what Ichiji had dreamt about. What good could it do?
Thankfully, his tea was more than halfway gone, which meant Ichiji’s was most probably almost gone too, and he’d be left alone soon. He saw Ichiji gulp the last of his tea, a slightly surprised expression when it happened, looking at his mug as if he had been betrayed.
Ichiji did not look at him when he asked, “About training with Judge?”
The question took Yonji by surprise, sure, but what made him shiver was Ichiji’s tone. It was careful and low, something he had never heard before coming from him.
“Yes…”
Because lying would be way worse.
Yonji expected a lash out, to abandon his tea in order to protect and attack. So when that didn’t come, he had no other option but to look at Ichiji, fully expecting at least a scowl. What he was met with was his brother looking into his cup lost in thought, a slight distraught expression on his face. Normally he’d make fun of that, but maybe it’s the fact that the tiles still felt cold against his feet that stopped him.
Yonji wished he was alone. That he had just walked into an empty kitchen, made himself some tea and went back to sleep. Instead he is dealing with what was sure to be the future ruler of Germa looking… worried . And Yonji hated feeling like that too. Yonji hated feeling. That same thing that made everyone else but them weak, that same thing that ripped Sanji away from them.
Had Ichiji dreamt about Judge too? And if so, why would he? He was certainly the favorite, he always got advantage in everything and always got the newest enhancements first. He was respected among them, and a future was promised to him. So why the hell would he be worried? And why did Yonji care?
The scraping of the chair against tiles brought him back to reality, Ichiji standing up and leaving his cup on the table. He says nothing, neither of them do, but Yonji follows his figure with caution. Slow movements, slouched posture. When Ichiji presses a palm on his shoulder and looks him in the eyes, Yonji almost wants to do something to keep him from leaving. Whatever the hell it is.
Instead, as expected, Ichiji leaves the kitchen without another word. Yonji is left to stare at the closed doors, then at the empty cup that tomorrow before they even had time to even get up, would’ve been washed and put away by people that were less than them. People that were supposed to make the tea they just drank. People who also had nightmares, who also were unable to do anything about it. Just like them.
It feels like he is in the precipice of something, that if he dared to even gaze down, then he’d fall. And he knew that whatever was awaiting him on the bottom of that dark place was no good, it was something that reminded him of an estranged blond brother.
Instead, Yonji got up and placed his empty cup beside Ichiji’s. He kept rubbing his arm until he was able to sleep again.