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He wasn’t really sure why, but he’d been thinking almost constantly about home lately. Rather, he’d been thinking constantly about his parents, and about Anran.
Once, while their parents were away as kids, he had managed to get himself hurt. It was only when he grew a bit older that he would look back then, and understand why Anran seemed so upset afterwards. It wasn’t just because he got hurt, maybe that wasn’t really it at all—it was because their parents were upset with her for it. They blamed her for not looking after her little brother closely enough, and this was her burden to bear as the eldest child.
Since the day he was born, she would be expected to look after him. To take care of him when they were busy, to help him grow up into someone just as great as her. She had to always be setting an example, and as he grew alongside her, all he could hope was that he would become someone their parents could be proud of, that they would be as proud of him as they were of her. And maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. He couldn’t tell sometimes, if he was being honest. When he was placed in Water College instead of Fire, that was really when he started to doubt himself, and even after he saved Anran during the Null Sector attack, those doubts would follow him, flickering in and out in his mind like a broken bulb.
And every time it flickered back on, it illuminated the image of his sister, standing there, him standing in her shadow. Left to always think: “Will I ever shape up to my older sister?”
The reality was, he was always just her burden. Not only did she have to make their parents proud, but she had to make him proud, too. She had to teach him how to be like her, to set a bar for him to reach and help him reach it too. She had to carry him with her everywhere she went, and for a long time, he often just thought of them fondly as inseparable. But at times like this, he started to wonder if she saw it that way, too. If she really enjoyed always having her little brother by her side, or if she’s relieved every time they’re finally apart for a while. He wondered if, really, there was no need for him to keep clinging to her shadow, trying to share the light she gave off. Maybe it would be fine if he were to just disappear. Maybe it would be better.
This started getting worse when they were both recruited by Overwatch.
At first, it was the same idea as before: everywhere she went, he went. Everywhere he went, she went. They would never be separated, always together, a package deal. Siblings with an unbreakable bond, it would be criminal to force them apart. But as they each got to know the others a bit more, and he found himself separated from her more often, he started to wonder if maybe this change of pace was something she’d been yearning for her whole life. Not just getting to be out there with brand new people, but having a grand opportunity to get away from him.
It kept him cooped up for a few days, as much as he could get away with. They were given separate rooms, so he could get away with it for a decent amount of time. Anran wasn’t training every day while they were still settling in, and not always with him. It gave him a good chance to keep to himself for a bit, give her some space in case she really needed it from him.
It worked, for a while. Until she noticed. Nobody else did, but of course she would have.
It started as just a simple knock on his door, abrupt but not entirely unexpected. And, of course, when he opened it, there stood his sister.
“Hey,” she greeted simply. “Wanna hit the training grounds? I’m a little out of practice since we've been taking it easy for a bit.”
“You? Taking it easy?” Wuyang grinned slightly, hoping he would be able to just decline. “I doubt that, the Anran I know would never take breaks.”
Anran huffed. “Whatever—let’s go.” With that, she grabbed him by the wrist.
“Wh—hey, I didn’t say yes!”
“Don’t care,” she dragged him through the doorway, starting down the hall. “I wasn’t really giving you a choice anyway.”
Shortly, they reached the training area, and she promptly threw him towards the center. As he reached for the collapsed staff on his belt, he thought: Well, this sure feels familiar.
Knowing from the past, he extended his staff and immediately prepared himself, though he was nowhere near mentally prepared right now. “Anran, wait—”
“What’s been going on with you lately?”
He froze. He had expected her to start throwing flames at him immediately again, but instead, she just stood there. Staring at him, waiting for an answer. An unreadable emotion burned behind her eyes, and the only thing he could think to pull out of it was disappointment. Judgement.
“What are you talking about?” he tried, though he knew he couldn’t count on fooling her. “You haven’t been training much lately either, I thought.”
“That isn’t what I’m talking about and you know it. What’s going on with you?” she pressed on, finally extending her fans at her sides, flames flickering to life across the edges. “Tell me. And don’t lie to me.”
“I—” Wuyang sighed, quickly trying to search for the least honest way to say anything. “I’ve just been thinking about mom and dad back at home, that’s all.”
“And?”
“And...” he hesitated. “And nothing.”
“And nothing,” she echoed, not believing him for a second. “What are you thinking about, whether they’ll really be proud of you or not for this? Whether they’re already disappointed in us somehow? Or are you thinking that maybe you’d rather have just said no, stayed home and let me go off and do this because you think you can’t handle it.”
Wuyang gritted his teeth, grip tightening on his staff. “You really think that’s something I would do? You think I can’t handle this?”
“No, I said because you think that,” she corrected him. “Well? Is that it?” She stepped closer, carefully, determined gaze trained on him as she searched for anything that gave her a real answer, or anything that might break it out of him. “Is Overwatch too much for you? Not the heroic adventure you were hoping for?”
“That’s not it!”
“Then tell me what is!” Anran finally broke position, surrounding her body in flames as she dashed towards him. He quickly dodged out of the way, narrowly avoiding being burnt before sending a wave towards her in retaliation. She jumped out of its path, trading his effort for a barrel of flames.
Wuyang barely guided himself out of the way with the water beneath his feet, scalding fire brushing past his shoulder. He wasn’t in the right headspace for this—but she gave him no choice. He grimaced, and in the moment that his gaze met hers again, he finally broke.
“Fine!” he shouted, clanging the tip of his staff against the ground and sending a large wave towards her, more an act of frustration than an attempt to trade attacks again. “You wanna know what I’ve been thinking? I’ve been thinking, ‘Man, it must be great for Anran that she finally has a lot more people her speed to be training with, huh?’ I’ve been thinking that maybe, Overwatch was just the right thing for you! That maybe it could help you get away from me more!” He continued gliding out of the way of her occasional fireballs, sending orbs of water and sparing waves right back at her. Messy, uncoordinated, frustrated. “I’ve been thinking about how I couldn’t even pass a basic civilian exercise, and you knew exactly what to do! Because I couldn't even be smart enough to read some stupid manual! I’ll never match up to you, and just because Overwatch had to drag me along with you doesn’t make that any different! It doesn’t matter what I do or how hard I work, because no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to catch up to you—it doesn’t matter who I’m riding with, because no matter what, I’ll always just be stuck trying to catch up to you!”
Anran faltered, and the look she held in her eyes suddenly dropped, falling into something much more pained, a look of shock mixed with hurt. Wuyang's breath caught in his throat—did he go too far? He cursed himself mentally, wishing he just kept his mouth shut. He wanted to let his shoulders fall instead of being poised for another attack, but he was frozen stiff. He could only watch as her eyes shifted to the ground for a moment in thought.
“...Anran, I—”
The grip on her fans suddenly tightened, her eyebrows knitting into anger. She rushed towards him, and he had to throw his guard back up last second, narrowly dodging as flames swept past the side of his head. He turned on his heel, trying to gain some space between them, just barely getting away as her fans closed and became more akin to punches being thrown towards him.
“You think you understand how I feel about any of this?!” she screamed at him, practically white-knuckling her fans as her fist swept in front of his face again. “You have no idea what’s ever gone through my head about you!” All of the impulsive frustration in Wuyang’s eyes melted into fear and regret as he continually backed away from her, jumping to the side, parrying with his staff—frantic movements to meet her barely-coordinated attacks. “Every second that I’ve ever been left alone with you, I’ve always thought: I have to keep Wuyang safe, I have to make sure I protect Wuyang, I have to make sure I’m there for him when he needs me. Every time we would go home from school, I had to brace myself to even look at mom and dad as soon as they opened the door, I had to prepare myself to talk to them about how I’ve been doing and more importantly how you’ve been doing, whether or not I’m still setting a good example for you, whether I’ve been looking after you while we’re off on our own and whether you’ve still been okay. I've had to sit there waiting for their approval, to know if I'm still doing a good job or not, if I'm letting them down or if I'm doing everything right.
“Every single time!” she managed to grab ahold of his shirt, throwing him back a few feet. He staggered, barely finding his balance and regaining his posture as fast as possible. “I’ve spent my whole life looking after you! You’ve been my responsibility this whole time—this whole time I’ve been tasked with taking care of you! Always be there for you, look after my little brother, be a good role model for my little brother, do everything I can for my little brother!”
Tears pricked in the corners of Wuyang’s eyes, and he held onto his staff, trying to steady the shaking in his limbs, fighting the urge to fall to the ground and cover his ears, crumble into a ball and pray to disappear on the spot. He felt like a deer in headlights as Anran dashed towards him one more time, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself—
But instead of a fist or a ball of fire, he felt her colliding with him, arms wrapping tightly around him. She pulled his head against her shoulder, and his eyes shot open in shock as she practically held onto him for dear life. His knees refused to support him anymore, and she lowered them both to the ground after he let his staff slip from his hands, clinging to her as he couldn’t hold back his tears any longer.
“And you have no idea how important you are to me,” she whispered, voice crackling with tears of her own, a stark contrast from her shouting just a moment ago. “You have no idea how much I’ve held myself to those standards, all those expectations—it’s not just mom and dad, Wuyang. It’s me, too. I have to do this for you, don’t you understand?” She breathed in shakily. “You’re my little brother. You always will be. And I love you so, so much—I would never trade you for the world, I wouldn’t do a thing to ever get rid of you by my side. I could never leave you behind like that…how could I live without you right next to me?”
She wasn't angry at him, no. Not really. She was hurt—hurt that her little brother would think so low of himself, that he might think of himself that way. As if thinking of himself so terribly meant that he thought so little of her.
Wuyang took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for just a second. “I never—” A slight sob escaped him as he searched for the words in his throat. “I’ve always thought I could never be nothing more than a burden to you, just something weighing you down all the time…you’re always forced to take me with you, how can you never get tired of me?”
“I could never be tired of my little brother, Wuyang,” she let go, leaning back to take his face in her hands, smiling through her tears. “It doesn’t matter to me how hard anything has ever been, I want to take you everywhere with me. Forever. You could never weigh me down—in fact, you’re always pushing me to be even better.”
“You never asked for me to be your obligation, sis,” he whispered, placing one of his hands over hers.
“And I’m embracing you as my responsibility anyway.” She pressed her forehead against his. “I never asked for it, no. But I wanted to take care of you, I wanted to keep you safe as much as I can and make sure I set a good example for you. Ever since we were little, ever since the moment I first looked at you, I knew that I wanted to protect you forever, and I would. We’re both under mom and dad’s expectations, and you’ve said it yourself: you have to work even harder than me. Harder than anyone else. Don’t you think it’s only a little fair that I’m hard on myself to try and make sure you can make them just as proud?”
Wuyang held on tightly to Anran’s wrists, staring down at the ground. Growing up, he always knew Anran loved him. That was never really a question—of course she loved her little brother. But she could love him and still grow tired of him, still resent him at times for dragging her down. He thought he might go his whole life without knowing if she really felt that way, just believing that instead of having confirmation of anything different. They were only 19 and 22, and they never talked about it once until now. During the Null Sector attack, they had only just barely touched on it. The idea that he might be in her way, and the fact that she just wanted to protect him. They touched on it the night they found their recruitment tokens, the idea that he wasn’t ready yet, that she was carrying him all her life, and the fact that they both knew he had to work even harder than her, the fact that she knew he was good enough and that she would always be proud of him.
After a few seconds, he let out a small laugh, closing his eyes. He shifted to hug her again, and she held onto him in a firm yet more relaxed way, much more comforting than impulsive, less desperate and more reassuring.
“I’m sorry,” Wuyang said quietly. “For not just talking to you sooner.”
“I’m sorry too,” Anran leaned her head against his. “For letting you think that way in the first place.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“And it isn’t yours, either.”
He smiled. “Call it even, then?”
She laughed. “Call it even.”
Both of them drew back again, and Wuyang sighed, looking down at his staff. He wouldn’t say it in that moment, but he couldn’t be more grateful to have her as an older sister. Someone who, despite being hard on him sometimes, would always be understanding of everything. They were both under similar expectations, both awaiting judgement from the same parents, and they both had to work hard. They would never get anywhere if they fought with each other, and so they avoided it. They only swore to guide each other, helping one another along, lifting each other up higher and higher while trying to make sure they could keep the other on the same level with them, always staying by each others’ side and never leaving the other behind. He was grateful to have the older sister that he did, and he would never give her up for anything else. He would never have made it so far without her. He only hoped that he had never taken her for granted.
“Hey,” she pulled him out of his thoughts, smiling reassuringly at him. “We’re both still growing up, okay? Especially you. We’ll work through everything together, nothing will ever change that.”
He smiled, collapsing his staff and putting it back in its place on his belt. “Yeah…yeah, we will.”
Taking a deep breath, Anran resigned her own weapons and pushed herself off the ground, extending a hand to him.
As he took it, he felt a warm relief wash over him—no matter how hard he fell, his older sister would always be there to pull him back up.