Archive of Our Own

… The road is long

With many a winding turn

That leads us to who knows where, who knows where

But I'm strong

Strong enough to carry him

He ain't heavy, he's my brother

Three

Rakta remembers the day Hayato arrived, clear as a summer day, even though he was just a small child himself. 

He doesn't think he could ever forget the small bundle, grasped securely in Master's strong arms, with a little tuft of wine colored hair peeking over the blanket. The big basket -where the child probably had been abandoned in- hanging from Master's elbow, rocking with his movements like he's trying to soothe the small one, now cuddled up his chest, to sleep.

He must be around three years old, Rakta muses. Certainly less than four, at least. He looks even smaller than that, but he thinks that has more to do with a lack of proper nutrition - his eyes (such a pretty brown-red, he notices with slight awe) are too aware and clear, he can't possibly be younger.

Bacchus, noticing his wandering mind, stops his clumsy attacks and follows his gaze. His light grey eyes shine, and he breaks protocol (risking a very serious scolding), abandoning their sparring match to run up to Master, small feet thundering on the cobblestone path like the ceremonial drums of the New Year’s festival.

Without anything else to do, now that his partner has run off, Ratka shrugs his small shoulders and follows. Better to satiate his own budding curiosity than wait, twiddling his thumbs, until Bacchus gets scolded into returning or bores of the new little face and comes back of his own volition. Maybe, if they are quick, they can go back to training before Tanaka-sensei returns from his bathroom break and catches them slacking off.

Master lets out a small chuckle, getting down on one knee so both six year olds can get a better look at the bundle in his arms. The baby (maybe ‘toddler’ would be a better description, but Ratka sees his squishy cheeks and pudgy hands gripping his blankie closer to his chin, and can’t call him anything else) watches them warily but obviously curious himself. He doesn’t shy away when Bacchus raises an arm to touch his hair, or when Rakta reaches out to grab his little foot, hanging under Master’s elbow near the basket. 

That’s how he notices the writing on the thing. He uses his free hand’s pointer finger to slowly follow the kanji.

“Suo… Hayato”, he mutters, looking up to see if he’s right.

Master hums. “It might be, or we could use the Chinese pronunciation. Try that one, let’s see”, he encourages. Bacchus shrinks in his peripheral- he’s not picking up chinese at all, despite his efforts, and hates when it's brought up. 

Rakta recalls the books he’s been studying and tries his best. “Su… Su Fang. And… mm…”

Master waits patiently. Ratka gathers himself.

“Sun Fei?”

The smile he gets in return is reward enough for his struggles. His chest swells, and he shoots Bacchus a slightly mocking smile. The other boy scowls at him, then turns back to their caretaker.

“Was he left outside, by the doors?”

The older man looks down at the child with the smallest hint of sadness behind his eyes. Hayato -Sun Fei-, in turn, looks up to him with a brilliant smile, more gums than teeth. He babbles, or maybe mumbles, something unintelligible under his breath, as one pudgy hand raises to play with the hanging ends of Master's tassel earrings.

Even Rakta, stoic as he’s trying so hard to be, can’t help but echo the gesture. He truly is adorable.

“He was. Poor thing was shivering in his basket, covered in cherry blossom petals. I saw him when I returned from my patrol, just now- who knows how long he's been there. Let’s hope he doesn’t get sick.”

Behind the man, a few of the older disciples -already sworn members of Red Chanpuru, being 15 and up- are also returning home from their own shifts, and another batch can be seen gathering outside, ready to head out instead. Ratka wonders how could it be that no one else saw Sun Fei before Master did. Maybe he was really, really quiet?

What a sweet child.

“Don’t worry, Master!” Bacchus screams, fist pounding his small chest, proud smile stretching his lips wide. “I’ll take care of him if he does! He’s my new little brother, after all, isn’t he? It’s my duty!”

Ratka remembers, suddenly, that he and Bacchus had been the youngest pupils of the Red Vortex, until right now. Everyone else that has been taken in lately has already been older than six. This is, truly, the first time they have a younger sibling.

His heart gives a weird turn in his chest, and he can feel something kinda heavy settling on his shoulders, its weight noticeable but not uncomfortable. He feels the need, the urge to keep his eyes on Sun Fei, to make sure he’s alright. He wants to see how his smile looks when it’s full of teeth, how tall he’ll grow, how fast he will learn their way of life. He wants to teach him his mother language, and help him study his own in turn.

For once, he doesn’t roll his eyes at Bacchus’ loudness. Instead, he can feel himself mimicking his friend, standing taller, watching as the setting sun makes his shadow cover the younger child. He nods, decisively, echoing his friend’s declaration.

Someone has to make sure Bacchus doesn’t… stupid-ify? the child.

Bacchus stops his smiling to growl at him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can tell by your face it’s something mean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You meanie!”

Apparently, that last shout had been too much- Sun Fei’s face scrunches up in discomfort, beautiful eyes teary. He starts to fuss, not yet a full wail, but enough to stop both children in their squabbling.

“Look what you did! You scared him!” he scolds, giving him a quick shove in reprimand. Bacchus, looking as guilty as he had when he accidentally stepped on that stray cat’s tail last week, doesn’t try to hit him back, instead covering his own mouth with two hands.

Master chuckles softly at them, raising to his full height and bouncing the child a little, helping soothe him into calmness again. He also uses his free hand to pat their heads, one at a time. Ratka feels himself blushing at the attention, and knows Bacchus isn’t better.

“Well, that’s a relief to hear. But if you want to protect this little one, you both better return to your training. I can see your instructor coming this way, and he doesn’t look happy.”

Ah. Damn it. This is all Bacchus' fault.

__________________________________

Four

Hayato had already known how to walk by the time he got to the Dojo. He could also speak a little of two languages (his parents must have been Japanese and Chinese both, or something), and write the kanji in his own name.

But he didn’t know how to fight, yet. And that, Bacchus could help him with.

“Rakta-nii said… ‘yato too young to fight”, Hayato mutters, fist smushing against his chin and raising his lower lip in turn, making his words a little slurred. They have just recently gotten him to stop sucking on his thumb, and this has been the compromise.

Hayato is way too good at getting them to agree to his terms, for a four year old that can barely pronounce a full sentence.

“Rakta isn’t the boss of us”, he replies, stretching in place. He catches sight of Hayato clumsily trying to mimic him, and has to contain his coo.

‘Hayato’ was how both Bacchus and Rakta called him, when there was no one else around. Master preferred ‘Sun Fei’, being of Chinese ascendence himself, and everyone else in the Red Vortex followed his example, but… Well, Bacchus didn’t really like Chinese that much (not because he couldn't get a grasp on the language, shut up Rakta), and Rakta refused to be let out of something including their youngest, so it became kind of their thing. Like a secret codeword. And Hayato, smart boy that he was, had caught on quite quickly, never questioning why that was sometimes his name, sometimes not.

“Here, let me show you”, he chuckles, walking up to him to carefully move his limbs in the proper positions for each kata. It wouldn't do for Hayato to get hurt in their first lesson; and Master had taught them this before anything even close to a spar could happen, so he had the motions more memorized than even his own name.

“Why?” Hayato asks, pliant, letting himself be moved this way and that. Bacchus scowled a little when he realized a few of the katas were kind of impossible for the child, seeing how his limbs weren’t long or flexible enough yet.

“Why, what?” he asks back, distracted as he course-corrects and decides to just start on the easiest moves.

“Why fight?”

“Well, so you don’t get hurt when someone attacks you”, he replies. “Besides, learning how to fight like Master is really cool. Just imagining me’self all grown up, kicking ass, wearing whatever earrings I earn, just like the elders…!”

“Mm… But…‘Yato don’t…”

“I don’t”, he corrects.

“Don’ like to… hit. Blood… is bad”, his tiny eyebrows furrow, as he stops moving like Bacchus instructs to focus on his words. “Making someone blood… bleed, is… bad. ‘Yato… I don’t like it.”

Bacchus stops then, something a little cold yet warm at the same time settling on his chest. He truly is a kind, sweet child, huh? His four year old brother, more concerned about hurting others than being hurt in turn. Bacchus doesn’t think he has worried about someone else like that before, and he’s seven. He only really cares about being cool like Master, getting enough food to fill his belly, defeating Rakta and making sure Hayato is okay. Those are the things he worries about, and they all involve him or people he cares about.

He drops down to Hayato’s height, not that there’s that much difference between them, and tousles his hair a bit. It’s as soft as it was when they just met, the color just as pretty. Like silky wine.

“You are a good kid, ‘Yato. But not everyone out there is like that. If you don’t want to punch, that’s cool, but I’ll teach you how to keep yourself from getting hurt, at least. So you can continue to be kind, while being safe.”

Hayato’s smile is a sweet, shy thing. He looks up at Bacchus like he's this amazing giant, like he could keep all the bad people in the world away from him. Like he's a smart, strong, cool person. No one's ever looked at him like that before.

He clears his throat, standing taller and putting his hands behind his back like Master would do.

“Okay! Enough chatting. We've already stretched, so I'm gonna teach you something very cool!” Hayato's eyes twinkle even brighter, full of wonder and curiosity. Bacchus smiles in return. “Two things to keep in mind: first, never ever close your eyes. Never. And second… Have you ever seen a beetle?”

__________________________________

Five

In Rakta’s expert opinion, the smell was the worst of it. Something aged, a little like a pungent cheese, earthy and with undertones of something he'd heard the older kids describe as ‘ammonia’.

It was awful.

Master smiles down at the three of them, brushing Rakta's long hair from his face before scooping the last serving of natto on Sun Fei's plate. He moves on to the other side of the room, with a brand new container, to serve other trainees.

“What is this?” The little boy asks once they are alone, chopsticks poking at the little, viscous beads. With every drag of the utensils, web-like strands form, like a particularly stubborn spider trying to make its home on the bowl.

“Natto”, Bacchus groans, digging in with a pout. His Natto-to-rice ratio is abysmal- he'll run out of rice before even making a dent in the soybeans. A rookie mistake he should know better than to do. “Whenever we're short on food, Master breaks this out. You've never eaten it before ‘cause you were too small and little kids usually can't stomach it. It's…”

“Very nutritious”, Rakta continues, stiffly. “But not tasty. Still, it's good for you, and Master said you're old enough to have it now.”  He keeps chewing on his own bite, doing his best to hide his disgust. Contrary to his fri- fellow apprentice, he uses the -smart- method of eating the natto first, then rewarding himself with plain, perfect rice. It’s disgusting to have the fermented monstrosity by itself, but it’ll make it all the more sweeter when he’s done and can enjoy a meal that doesn’t taste like poison. 

He doesn't mind the texture as much, thankfully, since every other kid in the dojo says that's the worst part, but he hates the taste almost as much as the smell. His eyes water a bit -because of the smell, he’s not crying, for god’s sake, he’s eight years old, he would never- but he soldiers on. He can see Tanaka-sensei and Amar-sensei both watching them like a hawk from the side of the room, arms crossed and stern, so he schools his face into a picture-perfect neutrality.

Bacchus, to his credit, hasn’t started gagging yet. The same cannot be said of...

It’s almost funny, when the youngest takes a careful bite of natto and rice, and almost immediately spits it back out into his hand. Ratka quickly looks back at the teachers; Master, the senseis  and the other adults have lost interest in the trainees, trusting them to eat, and seem deep in conversation with each other. Good; they didn’t see Hayato. His face is scrunched up in something like comic betrayal and honest despair, and he immediately starts shoveling the natto to the side, going directly for the rice.

“That's horrible”, he says, thankfully with a low voice. “‘Yato- I don’t like it.”

Bacchus hums in agreement. “Yeah, no one does. Still gotta eat it, tho. It’s… good for us, according to the teachers. And there’s nothing else to eat, anyways. Just rice and natto today, it seems.”

Hayato pouts, taking a drink of water to wash down the lingering taste.

“I’ll just eat rice”, he decides.

And he probably will get away with it, Rakta thinks, since the teachers are no longer looking at them. If they were, Hayato would have no choice on the matter. As it is, as long as they make the natto disappear somehow, he’ll be okay (for this meal, at least; he knows the younger one wouldn't be able to avoid natto forever). 

Bacchus finishes his meal with a small burp, face disgusted, and immediately chugs down a glass of juice. He wipes his mouth, then looks at Hayato’s meal with a doubtful face.

“Are you sure? It’s disgustin’, yeah, but it’ll make you full. With just rice, you’ll go hungry- I’d know, I tried it before.”

Hayato nods, cheeks full of rice, like a chipmunk. He does seem a bit disheartened at the idea of going to bed with an unfilled belly, but doesn’t falter in his resolve… until he finishes all the rice, and is left staring down at a serving of natto, with a little hand grasping his changsan just over his stomach.

Still hungry, then.

Rakta looks down at his own bowl. He’s done with the natto, and usually this would be the best part of the meal. But Hayato is gripping his chopsticks again, and he looks about ready to cry as he starts messing with the beans on his plate…

His hands move without conscious thought, and he switches his plate with his younger brother’s.

“Rakta-nii?” Hayato blinks up at him, confused yet hopeful. His red-brown eyes wide and shiny, like he’s looking at his hero.

It makes the despair he felt since he made the switch vanish from the pit of his stomach. He ignores the little boy and starts to work on the remaining natto, face muscles fighting the good fight to remain neutral and cool. From the corner of his eye, he sees Hayato scarfing down the rice like it’s his last meal on earth.

Master walks up to them, peering over their shoulders. 

“Good job on finishing the natto, Sun Fei”, he congratulates, clasping the little boy on the shoulder. “Rakta, don’t dwindle, training resumes in twenty minutes.”

Rakta’s face burns, but he doesn’t reply. He starts shoveling the natto faster into his mouth.

Sun Fei doesn’t say anything, but when the boys leave the dining room to go back to their lessons, his little hand grasps Rakta’s and squeezes.

Maybe natto truly is good for their nutrition- Rakta suddenly feels twenty feet taller. Like he just got his earrings, like he’s now fully grown.

__________________________________

Six

Bacchus yawns, hand scratching his stomach as he walks towards the kitchen. It’s very late at night, so much that he knows he’d be in deep trouble if the teachers or one of the older apprentices saw him. But the raging storm outside had woken him up, and he decided a warm glass of milk would be a good way of going back to sleep faster, so…

Wait- that sound? Something like a sob, but choked… barely audible under the storm, and-

Coming from Hayato’s room?

Bacchus doesn’t think twice about it, and opens the door without knocking. Doing so would only increase the chances of getting both of them in trouble, after all.

Hayato is kneeling beside his futon, looking up at his entrance with wide and teary eyes. His little hands are holding the blankets in trembling fists, and there’s something dark on them, like a stain or-

Wetness.

Oh. Oh.

Apparently recognizing the realization on Bacchus’ face, Hayato drops the fabric back on the mattress and buries his face in his hands. His shoulders tremble, and he looks like the saddest, most tragic little boy he’s ever seen- and he’s seen a lot of boys get delivered in sad and tragic manners to the Crimson Vortex’s door.

But even though those boys are also kinda his brothers, they are not his brothers, not like Hayato is. Not that he loves them any less, but-

Well, he wouldn’t help them deal with pissed sheets, that's for sure.

“Hey. Hey, ‘Yato, it’s okay”, he whispers, kneeling down by his side to gather him into his arms. Hayayo goes willingly, letting his older brother catch and hold his entire -minimal- weight. “It’s okay, it happens to everyone. Storm’s kinda scary, huh? Or didja have a nightmare?”

Hayato slumps deeper in his hold. He buries his warm, wet face into Bacchus’ chest. “Nightmare.”

He pats his back, dragging his hand up and down the small spine. “Want to talk about it?” He can feel the shake of his head, so he shrugs. “That’s okay. Probably better to try to forget it, so you can relax and go back to sleep.”

Hayato’s shoulders tremble again, as if he’s once more containing his sobs.

“But- but my bed is wet now. I can’t sleep here, and- and if I change the sheets, one of the teachers will notice, and-and-and-” he can’t seem to get the words out.

Realistically, Bacchus knows nothing would truly happen to the little boy if he admitted to wetting the bed. Master has probably dealt with this exact situation a thousand times, and even if he was the kind of man to get angry at stuff like that, which he isn’t, he’d surely let Hayato off the hook. It’s no secret he favors him, in the same way he and Ratka do, he believes.

But he also understands the anxiety, the embarrassment. He, too, wouldn’t want to look Master in the eye and admit to something childish like being so scared of a dream that he pissed himself. Even if Hayato is still kind of a baby, and gets a pass, he can’t exactly tell the boy to not mind it, when he himself would mind a lot.

“It’s okay, don’t cry”, he comforts instead mind whirling, desperate to find a solution. “We can fix this, no one has to know.”

“How?” he asks, but it's more of a sob. He hasn’t seen Hayato scared like this before, ever. He’s clutching Bacchus’ sleep shirt like a lifeline, like he’s begging for him to make this all better somehow.

Fuck, he just woke up, his mind is not ready for such heavy thinking! All he wanted was a warm glass of milk and to go back to-

“Oh! I know!” he crows, a happy smile stretching his lips. He grabs Hayato by the shoulders to separate him from his chest for a bit, so the younger boy can look at it. “You can come sleep with me in my room!”

“Bacchus-nii’s… room?” He blinks up at him, two fat tears running down his cheeks but thankfully not followed by more.

“Yeah! It’s warm and cozy, and the storm doesn’t sound as strong there, since it’s deeper in the compound. And if we leave your sheets as they are, they’ll probably be dry by tomorrow morning, and surely by tomorrow night. No one will ever know!”

Hayato drags his sleeve over his wet cheeks, biting his lip.

“But… What if, what if I have another scary dream? And… if I get Bacchus-nii’s bed wet, too?”

“Well, for starters, you won’t be drinking anything before bed, that's for sure”, he pats the boy’s head, feeling the soft strands between his fingers and smiling down at him, chest puffing out. “But you won’t be having any more of those dreams tonight, don’t worry.”

“Why not?”

“Well”, his chest swells even more, and he stops hugging the boy to put both hands on his own hips, a little like the superhero of that movie poster downtown. “Because I’ll be there! You can’t be scared in your sleep if you know your older brother is protecting you from all the scary things!”

Hayato thinks about it for a few seconds, before a small, shy smile breaks through his sadness and fear. His little shoulders slump again, but this time, he seems relieved.

He nods, and they walk back to Bacchus' room hand in hand. They cuddle up together under the sheets, and Hayato is out like a light within five minutes.

He never got to drink that warm milk, but it’s okay. His little brother’s head, comfy and peaceful as it rests on his chest, is all the warmth he needs to go back to sleep himself.

__________________________________

Seven

The faint pitter-patter sound was coming closer and closer. Ratka sighs, eyes opening in resignation, as he waits for the little head to pop around the corner.

Hayato rushes inside his room, clearly holding back a laugh. His eyes shine, his hair is wind-swept and his clothes are all wrinkled- He’s probably barely escaped Bacchus. The door closes softly behind him, barely a sound, and Hayato wastes no time in rushing to hide behind Rakta, little body perfectly blocked from view to anyone who’d try and peek through the door, by his brother’s slightly  bigger build and baggy clothing.

His small frame bumps against Rakta’s back. He’s warm and smells like teacakes and tangerines. The rising sun, that had been warming his room ever since he got up to meditate, suddenly feels all the more toasty.

“What trouble have you been up to, for you to hide like this in my room?” he wonders aloud, eyes falling closed again as he re-focuses on his meditation.

Hayato laughs behind him, snuggling closer to his back.

“I took Bacchus-nii’s portion of breakfast teacakes. Me an’ Master were having tea earlier, to ‘tide me over’ until breakfast, he said, but I was so hungry I also ate them. And then the portion Yue-san said was for Bacchus-nii.”

Rakta’s brow furrows a bit, confused.

“You were having tea before breakfast… with Master?”

“Tea and a chat, yes.”

“Huh. What did you guys talk about?”

“I was complimenting his earrings. They are so pretty!”

A smile makes its way to Rakta’s lips. He’s reminded of baby Hayato’s pudgy hand, reaching towards Master’s tassels, the same fascination on his little face back then than in his voice now.

“They are. What did Master say?”

“He says I’ll have them when I’m all grown! I can’t wait- he said they are anti… antich… antiques. That must mean they are very special, right?”

Well, Master must have meant Hayato would have his own pair, but it was okay for the boy to daydream a bit. Every trainee at the dojo idolizes Master, and having the same honor as him would be… well, an honor. 

“And then you stole the teacakes? And Master didn’t catch you?”

“Hmm-mm, he saw me, but he said if I was bein’ sneaky enough that no one else saw, I could keep’em.”

Rakta chuckles a little, relaxing into his posture a bit.

“Master spoils you a lot. You are his favorite.”

Hayato laughs again. His full body weight rests on him.

“I’m Rakta-nii’s favorite too.”

“Oh? Why do you think that?”

“Well… you’re letting me hide here. You always kick Bacchus-nii out when he tries to come in. That’s why I came.”

As if he was listening in, the door was kicked open by the blond nine year old. He was fuming and clearly out for blood, but there was a shine of mischief in his eyes. This was a game to both of them, a new and fun way of playing tag. Should he get his hands on Hayato, Rakta was sure all the retribution he would collect would be in the form of tickles until the little boy cried of laughter.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to aid his rival in any sort of way, not even childish playtime with their youngest.

“What do you want, you idiot? Can’t you see I’m meditating?”

Bacchus scowls at him, but doesn’t step deeper into the room than the doorstep. Smart.

“Is ‘Yato here?”

Rakta very pointedly opens his eyes and looks to his left, then right. Hayato is completely still behind him, not even breathing.

“I don’t see him. Do you? Or has he suddenly developed invisibility powers, and I was just not aware?”

Bacchus looks even more pissed off, but turns back to leave. “Don’t have to be a dick about it, just say no. God, you’re insufferable. If you see the little shit, tell him it’s on sight, would you? And go die in a hole, while you’re at it.”

The door closes with a bang, but Rakta doesn’t relax until he can feel the thundering steps stomp away.

“You can come out now. Since I helped you, and you did interrupt my meditation, you’ll join me now.”

Hayato crawls around his body until he can sit in front of him. He smiles with the sun in his face.

“I like meditating with Rakta-nii! But Master said to go to the training grounds before noon…”

Rakta hums, eyes closing to enjoy once more the early morning peace.

“It’s still early, you’ll be there on time. After meditation, we can work on your Chinese. And your Thai.”

“Okay!”

__________________________________

Eight.

Baccus stopped dead in his tracks when, instead of instantly jumping to his feet, Sun Fei stayed on the ground, hand cupped around his mouth. His eyes were wide, pained and a little scared, but not focused on Bacchus as he should be (as he was being trained to be).

Instead, he looked down at the blood pooling in his palm, dripping from his lip. The color a stark, gruesome contrast to his pale skin, slipping between tiny fingers.

Rakta, who had been focusing on his own 4-way spar with Sunwoo, Ravi and Veer, and Master, who had been overseeing his own spar with Sun Fei, both rush over. Tanaka-sensei, Wonho-sensei,  the other trainees and Yue-san, the housekeeper in charge of household management, stay on the sidelines, probably not wanting to crowd them.

“What is it?” Master demanded, kneeling down to Sun Fei’s height. Rakta, after delivering a chilling glare to Bacchus, joined their sensei, offering the boy a handkerchief.

Sun Fei looked up to them, blinking away the pain. Then… 

A smile. Wide, bright and missing one of his front teeth.

“My tooth fell!” He exclaimed, pain and fear forgotten in the face of this new experience.

Bacchus was grounded to the spot where he had thrown that punch, frozen with something clawing at his insides. He felt faint, like there was not enough oxygen getting to his lungs.

Sun Fei didn’t seem to notice or care about his older brother’s sudden panic. Instead, he gathered himself up from his sprawled position, sitting up straight to show Master the little pearl, surrounded by an ocean of his blood.

Master visibly forced himself into a more relaxed stance. His smile is indulgent when he dutifully examines the tooth.

“Ah, I see… we'll have to find a nice spot to bury it.” ¹

Sun Fei nods, pain forgotten as he starts to look around, like he was searching for the best place. Yue-san takes over, walking up to them and softly grabbing him by his armpits to help him up.

“Come along now, sweetheart. Let's clean you up. Oh, look at your uniform, such a mess of dirt and blood…”

“‘msorry, Yue-san.”

“Worry not, we can use this as a learning experience. I'll show you how to get these types of stains out…”

She took him by his free hand, the other still cupping the bloody tooth, and they walked off together.

Bacchus still hadn't moved a single muscle. His eyes rooted to the spot on the ground where a few droplets of blood had fallen. 

Where he'd made Sun Fei bleed.

Rakta obviously wanted to say something cruel and cutting, the violent edge in his eyes a threat on its own, but Master put a hand on Bacchus shoulder to gently push him down the cobblestone path, so the other boy saved his attack for later.

Bacchus followed in a daze, mind still trying to comprehend what had just happened. It was supposed to be a simple, easy training. Master had asked him to help Sun Fei work on his reflexes and avoidance strategies, and for the last hour, that's what they had done- Bacchus playfully throwing slaps and little kicks, and the younger boy jumping and ducking out of the way, laughing a little under his breath each time his older brother failed to get him.

But with time, Bacchus had gotten a little pissed at how good Sun Fei was at avoiding him. That even when he stopped being as playful and got serious, he still struggled to catch him. He knew Sun Fei got extra training with master, while he and Rakta worked on their second (and third, in the bastard's case) languages; Sun Fei, who seemed to have a knack for picking up foreign tongues (already fluent in four), didn't need to study as much as they did, and could focus extra hard on martial arts. And it showed. Bacchus was eleven, three years the other boy's senior, but it was like trying to hold water in a closed fist; it kept squirming away, flowing from his grip.

And so, he'd gotten more brutal. And fast. And Sun Fei, who was good but still eight, eventually got tired. And it was his older brother who he was up against, so he thought nothing of slowing his pace, trusting Bacchus would mirror his speed and slow in turn.

But he hadn't.

Bacchus feels his eyes stinging, something clogging his throat, a horrible pressure in his chest. He'd made his baby brother bleed. Because he was jealous.

After Master gets done chewing him off, he is gonna go look for Rakta and receive a deserved ass kicking. Maybe then he'll start to repent.

Master directed him to a little place just outside the compound, a small park with a koi pond, wooden benches and sakura trees- probably the ones whose petals had covered baby Sun Fei in his basket when he got left behind at the Dojo’s entrance. They sat down in one of the benches in silence, Master's body a warm pressure against his side. Bacchus quietly moved away- he doesn't deserve the comfort of his guardian's affection.

Master doesn't seem to think the same. He throws an arm around his shoulders, gathering him into a soft side-hug.

“It was already loose”, he says to Bacchus’ bowed head. “It was going to fall anyway; you didn’t hit him with enough strength to actually-”

“I shouldn’t have hit him at all”, he cuts in, before freezing. He- he just interrupted Master. That was… unthinkable. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk over you, Sir, I’m just-”

“I’m not upset at you”, Master reassures, his hold tightening the slightest bit. “At least, not about this. You are young, it’s to be expected.”

Bacchus breathes a little lighter, letting his weight rest a little on his Master’s arms. Letting himself receive a comfort he’s still  not sure he deserves.

“On the other hand…” The older man continues, “We do need to talk about what happened. I could see that you were aware of your growing temper, and you did nothing to tamper it before it went out of hand- And on that, we have taught you better, Bacchus. You know not to get emotional during a fight, let alone a simple spar.”

Bacchus slumps over. “Yes, I know, I’m so-” something cold and ugly suddenly twists inside his chest at the realization- “wait. No, wait, I mean… Master, what do you mean you… saw what was happening?”

Master hums, eyes on the sakura trees.

“Of course, it was plain to see. Your feelings were taking a hold of you, and you were getting more and more aggressive with Sun Fei, without it being a direct escalation of the fight itself. Things happening the way they did… well, it was unavoidable.”

Something like betrayal and panic sinks deep in his stomach. Bacchus pushes himself away from the man’s comforting hold to look at him directly. 

“But… If- if you noticed… Why, why, why didn’t you stop me? Master?” he asks, a little desperate for the man to deny it. To defend himself. To not-

“If I did that, you wouldn’t have truly learned the lesson, now would you?”

-admit to letting this happen. Letting Bacchus hurt-

“No, I- Master, but-” the world was crumbling around him, and Bacchu’s vision was getting blurry around the edges. “Why did Hay- Why did Sun Fei have to suffer for me to-?”

“You weren’t the only one who needed to learn something today, child”, Master answers, always patient but, suddenly, not as kind in Bacchus' eyes. “Sun Fei is still too trusting and relaxed during training- he sees it as a game, more than the serious art it is. I suspect it’s because his first incursion in it was while play-fighting with you”, he mentions, casually admitting to knowing all along about Bacchus, all seven years of age and dumb, trying to teach a four year old katas. “And while that was an acceptable way to get him invested and interested in the lifestyle, it’s not going to work now. He needs to be more on his guard, and expect anything from anyone. This experience will stay with you both, I hope; you’ll never forget the pain of hurting a loved one, and it’ll prevent you from letting your emotions cloud your judgement in battle, and Sun Fei will stop expecting people to pull their punches because of his age, or their bonds.”

Except, an outraged part of Bacchus’ mind screams, he shouldn’t. Sun- Hayato shouldn’t have to be on guard around his family.

Master looks down at him, eyes warm and understanding, like he can read Bacchus' mind.

“I know it's hard, child. You love him, after all. We all do. But it's because we love him that we can’t let him grow soft or feeble. He has a hard life ahead of him, it would be a disservice to that love if we allowed him to confront it unprepared.”

Bacchus swallows his complaints, tries to pay attention and believe master’s words.² 

It’s not as easy as it used to be.

“What do you mean, he’ll have a hard life, sir?”

The man returns his gaze to the trees, contemplative, eyes far away, like he’s staring into the future and not their surroundings.

“You are better off not knowing, for now. The time will come, but it’s not here yet. What I can tell you is this- You know Sun Fei is ahead of his age. A prodigy in many fields.”

Bacchus nods, hands twisting in his lap. That was what had gotten them here, after all; his envy at his little brother showing signs of growing better and faster than him.

He doesn’t understand the dark foreboding in master’s eyes, but he doesn’t think he’s envious anymore.

“There’s a role we -me and the other elders- are preparing him for. We think with his skills, at the speed they are progressing, he’ll be able to step up to the challenge; even if some concessions, and a few sacrifices, have to be made along the way. But worry not, child. He won’t be alone on this journey. The Red Vortex is his family, and the Red Chanpuru will be as well. Just like they are and will be yours. None of you will be alone.”

The man stands up, patting Bacchus’ shoulder as he does. He stays where he’s sitting, head spinning.

“Now, I’ll go back first. Take all the time you need to think about this, but make sure that when you return, you do it with conviction in your heart”, he says, kind but firm, bowing his head a little to make direct eye contact with Bacchus. “You can’t treat Sun Fei like a child anymore. He might be your little brother, but he’s your equal now; he shouldn’t be coddled.”

With that, master leaves. Bacchus feels cold without the man’s warm frame pressed against his side. His mind is a mess, thoughts tangled like Yue-san’s yarn after the stray cat got into her room to play with it.

He knows, in his heart, that Hayato is still young- too young. He’s just lost his first baby tooth today, after all (and doesn’t that reminder make him feel even colder, and like he’s going to get sick). But he’s also grown up trusting master and the elder’s words, and if they say that what they do is to help Hayato be strong enough to face whatever danger seems to be lurking around the corner…

He can’t be the reason his bab- his younger brother gets hurt again. He can’t be the one making him weak.

When he returns to the compound, it's dark outside. Dinner has come and gone, and the internal hallways are empty- except for a lone figure, standing by his bedroom’s door.

Rakta’s eyes, still full of unfulfilled violence, track him as he approaches. He must notice something in him, though, because his battle-ready muscles loosen a bit.

“I’m kicking your ass twice as hard tomorrow”, he says. “You are late. Hayato was looking for you to help bury his tooth. He’s in there”, he nods to Bacchus’ room, not taking his eyes off him, “sleeping in your bed. Got sleepy while waiting. And he had such a tough day, too- first you knocked his tooth out, then he had to eat a whole container of natto by himself- I couldn’t help him get out of it. You better make it up to him tomorrow.”

He doesn’t wait for his response, disappearing down the hallway to his own room. Bacchus stays silent as he opens his door and goes in, kneeling down next to his futon, where the child lays curled around his pillow. In his little palm, open and relaxed in sleep, is the small white tooth.

Tears stream down Bacchus’ face. He makes no move to dry them, letting them wet the edge of the blanket, next to his clenched fists.

He will help Hayato bury his tooth in the morning, he decides. Because they are still brothers. But this will be the last time he lets the child- the boy sleep on his bed.

He can’t coddle him anymore, after all.

(The next time they spar, Bacchus doesn't pull his punches, Hayato never lowers his guard and master smiles down at them approvingly. 

They still patch each other's wounds afterwards, and Bacchus pretends it makes it all better, that he can at least soothe the pain he causes his favorite person in the world.)

__________________________________

Nine

“That’s an interesting accessory”, Rakta mentions, as he walks up to Hayato in the training grounds.

It’s still early morning, so they are the only ones there. The rest of the compound wakes a little later, and breakfast is served before any formal training takes place. The only other people who are probably awake at this time are their master, who must be already out and patrolling, the newly hired chef, who’ll be hard at work by now, and Yue-san, who seems to never sleep.

Rakta himself would, on a normal day, be just about to wake up at this hour. Then, he’d wash himself, do his morning prayers, meditate and head to breakfast, before going to his morning classes, both academic and physical.

But for the last year or so, Hayato has developed a habit of rising with the sun, or rather, their master. He’s out of bed before light finishes washing the entire compound’s garden, and he chases the lingering shadows away with his warm up routine. He’s often sweaty and tired already by the time he joins them in the dining room to break bread, and the day has just barely started.

Rakta wonders where he gets all that energy from.

“Rakta-nii”, the boy greets, tilting his head in his general direction in acknowledgment. He doesn’t stop fighting his invisible enemy (or enemies, judging by the way he jumps, twists and dodges, like there’s multiple assailants ganging up on him). “You are up early.”

“Not as much as you, clearly. Is it wise to tire yourself like this? We do have training later. And there's no teacher here to supervise you.”

Hayato hums, twisting on the toes of his dominant foot like a ballerina, using his other leg to throw three kicks in rapid succession. He’s getting better, not stumbling even a bit as he puts his foot down. It’s followed by a series of punches, swerves and what would probably be a judo flip, if there was someone on the receiving end. He continues moving like this for a few minutes, and Rakta watches in silent amazement. Hayato is good; really good. Leagues better than many older trainees, shaping up like a prodigy.

It's humbling. It’s worrying.

Him and the birdbrained idiot had discussed the increased intensity of Hayato’s training at length. Even younger trainees had noticed how not only master, but their history, math and other teachers too, have been giving him extra work as of late. And even though the child has risen to the challenge, the level of self-demand needed to accomplish it can't be healthy.  But what can they do? The elders won’t hear their concerns, and, according to Bacchus’ talk with master after Hayato lost his first tooth, everything about this situation is intentional on their part.

Apparently done with the spar, he walks up to Rakta, picking up a water bottle from the ground and drinking from it as he goes. Despite the early hours, it's warm and humid out here, and Hayato greedily drinks down half the bottle before answering.

“I checked with Master before he left for his patrol”, he finally says, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “He said as long as I train within our set boundaries, I can do it alone. And I wanted to get a few of the harder moves out of the way before it gets even hotter, later today.”

Rakta nods, still unsure but respecting the younger boy’s resolve.

“Have you meditated already?”

“Yes, but if you haven’t, I can join you.”

Still such a sweet child. The older boy pats Hayato’s soft hair and gives him the barest hint of a smile before nodding towards the compound and leading the way to his room.

They walk side by side for a few minutes before Rakta remembers.

“You never answered about the bracelet”, he mentions, looking down at the thing. Hayato is not the type to accessorize. Whenever he’s not in his training garb, he often prefers silken changsans of plain designs, all earthy colors and easy to move in. He does have his ears pierced, just as every other pupil, but he hasn’t earned his earrings yet, so bare they remain.

Rakta stops in the middle of the hallway, gently catching the younger’s wrist to raise it eye-level.

The bracelet is truly a nice piece, though clearly home-made, with carefully braided red-and-gold thread. At its center sits a golden medallion about the size of a coin, bearing what Rakta belatedly recognizes as a raised Om symbol. The medallion is surrounded by tiny red stones, pearl-like beads, and delicate filigree work. From either side extend strands of colorful thread ending in small tassels.

With a start, he realizes he knows what the bracelet is.

“Ah, Navya gave this to me yesterday”, Hayato answers, looking at the accessory too, a small fond smile on his lips.

Navya is one of the youngest girls, around seven years old, and one of the newest to arrive at the Crimson Vortex, around a month and a half ago. Hayato had been the one to find her, actually- he’d been out on a walk with master, when they got separated due to a conflict escalating on the streets. Hayato had been ordered to step aside and check if the surrounding civilians were safe, and he’d stumbled upon the little girl in an alleyway, surrounded by three suspicious men trying to coax her into following them. Nine he might be, but his hard training undoubtedly paid off, as he’d managed to keep the men at bay until master got there and finished them off. All the while, from what he’s heard, not moving from his defensive stance in front of the girl; and she’d desperately clung to him, feeling safe for the first time in however long.

Hayato, who had learned hindi at Rakta’s knee, had been the only one able to calm her down enough to get her story. She had been living alone with her grandfather, with whom she moved in after tragedy struck and took her parents from her. And not long before Hayato found her, it had taken her grandfather as well. Orphaned, scared and not knowing any other language than the one she grew up with, she’d survived by hunkering down in her grandfather’s house and finding food on the streets.

A common story, for a Crimson Vortex child. Many of them joined in similar ways.

“There’s been a lot of abandoned or orphaned kids lately”, Hayato muses, his other hand going to touch the bracelet, finger carefully tracing the medallion. His kind, usually bright wine-red eyes look sad and worried.

He’s been their youngest member for years, and there had been a lull in new pupils arriving at their doorsteps since he came to their lives (at most two or three a year, for the longest time), so this year, when the number grew exponentially, had been a harsh reality call for him. The elders had reminded them this was usually how things were around here, with new children seeking refuge with them monthly rather than yearly, but it had been a tough pill to swallow after so long.

For Hayato, this year has been his first time as an older brother, too- maybe, Rakta thinks, hand going to Hayato’s shoulder, that’s the reason for his increase in training. He’s taking to the younger children like a fish to water. They adore him, and he has a knack for teaching, incredibly patient and empathetic. Some of those virtues he has learned from their master, but Rakta is sure the rest of them are just genuinely part of him. He’s always been, after all, the sweetest child.

“I recognize the design”, he says, apropos of nothing. “She gave this to you yesterday, August 28th, you said?”

Hayato nods, tilting his head curiously.

“Well, yesterday was Raksha Bandhan. It’s a traditional Hindu ceremony, where sisters of all ages tie a talisman or amulet, called rakhi”, he raises Hayato’s hand again, so the younger boy can take a closer look at the bracelet”, around their brother’s wrists. It’s symbolic; the sister, who receives the brother’s protection and care, wishes protection and blessings in turn for him. The Om symbol adds a layer of spiritual protection. Basically, she’s telling you she cherishes your bond, and loves and respects you as her older brother.” ³

Hayato freezes, eyes widening as he looks upon the bracelet with new eyes. Something builds in his eyes, fragile but determined. Rakta is reminded of that evening, so long ago, where master had found Hayato and both him and Bacchus became older brothers for the first time. The urge to protect, to watch over a shy, growing bud- to be the tree providing shelter from the elements as the little sprout grows and flowers.

That’s the feeling he believes is brewing in Hayato’s heart.

“There’s been many new faces around, and there’ll be more to come”, he says, letting go of his hand to carefully grasp both shoulders. “But don’t feel pity for them. In their misfortune, they’re lucky to have ended up in the same place you are. They are safer and happier than they’d otherwise be, in their circumstances, and in part that’s because of you- You are an amazing brother, both older and younger.”

Hayato lowers his head, bashful, but Rakta catches sight of his burning cheeks and shiny eyes.

No more words are exchanged between them for the rest of the morning. Rakta is not very vocal himself, and Hayato seems deep in thought, but it's okay- they never needed words to communicate between themselves.

Hayato, who speaks five languages and is working on a sixth, chooses to showcase his gratitude by serving Rakta his breakfast, before taking his own portion; a younger brother showing respect to the elder. And Rakta, who in turn understands three of those tongues, conveys his own adoration as he takes the natto from Hayato’s bowl and into his own.

__________________________________

Ten

“Where is Sun Fei-nii?” asks Vihaan, when they get to halfway through dinner with no sign of the older boy. Him, Haoran, Akira, Taeyang and Arjun have become sort of fans of Hayato, lately- the eight year olds follow after him like cute little ducklings. It’s fucking adorable.

Bacchus, who was just passing by their table on his way to leave his dirty plate on the kitchen counter, stops for a second, trying to recall where his (favorite) little brother is supposed to be.

“Uh, I… I’m not sure. Bastard?” he asks Ratka, who is doing the same, but hasn’t stopped at the kid’s request.

“How would I know? We’ve been together all day, birdbrain. If you haven't seen him, neither have I”, the boy bites back, heading out of the room without a glance backwards. 

Baccus scowls at his retreating back. Pretentious prick.

“Not being an asshole is free, you know!” he shouts, earning himself a stern look by the supervising teacher.

Whatever. Ravi walks by him, kindly taking his plate to the kitchen along with his own, so Bacchus is now free to leave. He could go study in his room, perhaps find an easy language to -hopefully- start learning, or…

“Tell you what, kids. If you promise to eat all your natto, I’ll go look for Sun Fei for ya. Maybe he missed the dinner bell or somethin’. And who  knows, if you’re good, maybe he’ll play a game with us or something before bedtime.”

The children all smile up at him, returning their attention quickly to their food and chewing it down, resolute. Only two of them gag- they are getting used to it, thankfully. Poor Sun Fei hasn’t, after all, which is probably the reason he’s missing dinner more often than not these days. Knowing the responsible boy, he likely doesn’t want the younglings to see his distaste for natto and refuse it on principle, as a way of imitating him.

He walks out of the dining area, looking for a small tuft of wine-colored hair. He searches through Hayato’s usual spots- the library, training grounds, his room, Bacchus’ and Rakta’s rooms (though he only peered through the peephole on the other boy’s- Rakta could be a scary motherfucker when he felt his privacy intruded upon), the girls’ sitting area (they are all so fond of the little kid- the older ones coo and fuss over him, and the younger ones are often seen tugging at his sleeves, begging for a story or a head-pat)...

Hayato is nowhere to be found, though. Bacchus grows a little worried. Has he mentioned anything about going out of the compound? He’s old enough to be allowed out on his own, no chaperone needed as long as he gets permission, so… Their master would know for sure, Hayato wouldn’t go anywhere without the older man’s approval. And at this time of the night, he should be…

Bacchus turns on his heel and struts directly towards master’s office. He knocks twice, then puts both hands behind his back, straightening his spine. He can hear more than one voice inside- is one of the other elders here…?

The door opens, and master smiles at him.

“Bacchus, good evening. Can I help you with anything?”

From behind the man, he catches sight of the elusive kid. Hayato is standing by the table at the center of the traditionally decorated room (all wooden planks, chinese art on the walls, tea set cooling on the desk), hands braced on the wooden surface as he studies whatever lies on it. His head tilts up at master’s words, and he smiles gently when he sees Bacchus.

“I was going to ask if you knew where Sun Fei was, actually. What are you two doing, Sir?”

The elder smiles and motions for him to enter.  Bacchus does, following after him and approaching the table; There’s a map of the city there, so big it takes up the entire thing, with little wooden blocks (shogi pieces, he thinks) laying in spots that look random to him, but judging by the purposeful way Hayato moves one of them from one point to the other, must have a reason for being as they are.

“I’m giving Sun Fei some additional training-  strategy and territory management, today, but subjects change sometimes to negotiations, politics, history, culture, leadership…”

Hayato moves another piece. He's so focused on his task, it's like he forgot they were in the room with him.

“And you do this… every night? I… never noticed.”

“Well, we often have these lessons after dinner, while the rest of you children are getting ready for bed. But Sun Fei approached me earlier than usual to ask a very interesting question about resource management and uptake, so we came in here to discuss, and, well… it seems time got away from us”, he says, like it's such a shame, but there's a proud light in his eyes. Like Hayato, voluntarily missing a meal for some extra study, was the best thing to happen to him today.

“But if he does this then… When does he go to sleep? Is that.. healthy?” He asks, twirling one hand inside the other behind his back, nervous. He stares at his brother to avoid making eye contact with the master, afraid to see disappointment in his eyes. He knows better than to coddle the younger kid by now, but… he can't help but worry.

This is still his little brother, after all.

The master chuckles, patting him gently on the shoulder.

“Its very nice for you to worry about your younger, but rest assured- Sun Fei is getting as much rest and food as he needs to properly function. Now, enough of that; why were you looking for him?”

He doesn't really want to let the subject drop, but he recognizes a dismissal when he hears one, so he bows his head a little and shrugs.

“Ah, a few of the younger kids were asking after him. They wanted to invite him to play, since they haven't seen him all day. And, well, knowing he's been training and studying all this time, I guess it's a good idea, right? Gonna help him unwind a bit?”

When he looks back up, he sees Hayato staring back at him, eyes hopeful and a little shy. He doesn't get to play often these days, as he's usually too tired after training, or he's spending some time with Bacchus and Rakta, who aren't really into the same childish games the younger kids enjoy. He seems to sometimes forget he's ten, always being surrounded by people either older or younger than him- unfortunately, he has no age mates in the compound.

Hayato opens his mouth, and Bacchus can taste the agreement in the air, before it's severed down at the root by master's hum.

“It's kind of them to offer, but Sun Fei is very busy at this time. Besides, he's much too mature to really enjoy the younger children's games. Aren't you, my child?”

Hayato's smile doesn't even falter, and Bacchus feels something twist in his chest- because it should. He should be upset he doesn't get to play, ten isn't that far away from seven and eight, he deserves the time to relax and be silly as much as the younger trainees do. Probably even more, considering how hard he works every day.

“Ah, Master is right. We are still far from done here, and I truly should go straight to bed afterwards. If you could, would you tell the children I'm sorry I can't join them?”

He looks at his younger brother, smile firmly in place, shoulders lax as he returns his attention to the map, and wonders when did he get so good at hiding his feelings. At lying.

Master smiles proudly, and guides Bacchus back to the door with a kind, warm hand on his back. They both wish him a good night, and he feels frozen inside as he goes back to the dining room.

Vihaan, Haoran, Akira, Taeyang, Arjun and little Vuvu, who joined the boys in his absence, look so disappointed when he brings them the news that he offers to play with them instead. And so they do, until one of the older trainees scolds them and orders them to bed.

He takes the long way to his room, passing by the master's office. The light of the lanterns is still bright under the door, and he can hear the two voices inside. Hayato sounds tired, but the conversation doesn't seem to be winding down at all.

He goes to bed, and lies awake for a long, long time, until he hears the soft pitter patter of familiar footsteps passing -without stopping- by his door.

He falls asleep and dreams of a small, fragile candle, burning at both ends.

He wakes up wishing he could blow the flame away, let the candle cool down and rest.

__________________________________

Eleven.

Rakta smiles softly, barely a twitch of the lips. He breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh summer night air. The city is alive with laughter, pretty lantern lights and the bewitching smell of spices and original dishes from every culture he can think of. The usually busy avenue, located smack dab in the middle of Bankoku-gai,  had been transformed into a pedestrian thoroughfare for the night; There’s vendors showcasing exquisite fabrics and accessories, people haggling over ripe fruit, young ladies dragging their dates towards the street musicians for a dance, and even a few fair games to entice people into trying their luck. 

The night market is in full swing, and Rakta is enjoying every second of it. And, his smile stretches a little further as he thinks this, he’s not the only one.

Hayato bounces around the busy street, practically dancing from booth to booth. His wine-red eyes sparkle like cider, and his usually neat hair is a mess from how often he’s whipping his head around as he tries to take everything in. Every few minutes he seems to switch languages, greeting each stall owner in their own tongue before eagerly peppering them with questions. He wants to know everything about everyone; where they come from, how they cook their food, why they wear certain colors, what festivals they celebrate, which words they use when they are happy, how they would pronounce his name. Most children his age, as far as Rakta can see, are more drawn to the games, the sweets, and the performers. Hayato likes those too, of course, but what truly appears to captivate him are the people.

The vendors, in turn, seem unable to resist him. By the time he leaves each stall, he usually carries a new phrase, a small trinket, or a colorful sweet pressed into his hands by an amused adult. And Rakta, by virtue of being his older brother and chaperone on this outing, as well as not inclined to buy anything so far, finds himself victim to the unavoidable fate of a pack mule.

It’s, as far as he cares, a perfect night. Made even better by the fact that Bacchus got in trouble with their teacher due to a failed assignment and had been banned from joining them.

He sometimes catches glimpses of other trainees, a few older ones watching out for the younger ones, and another few allowed to roam on their own or with friends due to their age. Rakta had been invited to come by a few of his agemates, but had declined them all in favor of bringing Hayato. It’s been a while since they had any time like this, just the two of them together, enjoying something outside of the compound and their (in Hayato’s case, fast-paced) training. 

“Rakta-nii! Look, look- the grandma from the stall over there gave me this fabric! As a gift!” his younger brother says, excited and bright like he hasn’t been in a long -too long- time. He almost crashes head-first against his chest (Rakta’s latest growth spur had left the younger boy almost two heads shorter) in his eagerness to show him his spoils.

“That’s very nice of her”, he indulges him, examining the sash. It’s soft, probably silk, a deep navy blue with colorful flowers swimming in it, like lotuses floating on a lake at night. It’s truly a wonderful piece, probably expensive- just how charming had Hayato been to the older woman, for her to willingly part from this?

The kid smiles wide, all white teeth in full display. When Rakta motions to take the cloth from Hayato to fulfill his role as parkhorse, he reaches around him like he's hugging him around the waist. Then he quickly dances back and away in swift feet, leaving the sash tied around his hips instead. Too fast to avoid it, and honestly maybe a little too tired to care, he lets it happen.

“It’s for you, now. I think it suits you a lot!” he exclaims, not leaving Rakta any time to refuse before he rushes away and to his next target- the kind Japanese couple manning the closest tea-stall.

Rakta huffs out an amused laugh. A very charming, sweet kid indeed.

He’s about to follow Hayato into the stall -they share a similar passion for good tea- when he notices from the corner of his eye a change in the crowd. 

People start moving around, like a river changing its course. Shrill laughter hushes, loud yells of offers and bargains become polite greetings, children who roamed free are suddenly tugged closer to their mothers. A few stall owners leave their spots to offer respectful greetings, and the performers and musicians lower the volume of their acts to a background level.

Rakta's eyes search the multitude, trying to figure out what's causing the change, when he feels a pressure against both his arms. He startles, before realizing it's Sunwoo and Ravi, who, as freshly 15 years old, have become official members of Red Chanpuru at the latest Ascension ceremony, and had been patrolling the night market to ensure everything goes smoothly.

“Stay alert”, Sunwoo whispers, before taking a step slightly in front of him, hands behind his back like master taught them. Ravi goes with him after he shoots a quick glance towards where Hayato had run off to. They don’t seem overly tense, so it doesn’t feel like there's an imminent fight about to break out, but they do look wary and guarded.

Rakta doesn’t fully understand, but he doesn’t need to. He’s not here as a Red Vortex pupil, but as a guardian; his priorities right now are crystal clear. He takes two steps back, letting the older boys take point as he closes the distance with his brother. Only, he needn't bother; a tug on his sleeve lets him know his charge for the night has come to find him instead.

“Rakta-nii, can I-?”

“Sun Fei”, he cuts in. Both the use of his official name and the stern tone make the boy startle, looking up at him in confusion. “Something is going on. Stay close for a while, until I figure out what is happening.”

Sun Fei doesn’t ask any more questions; he trusts Rakta’s words, and obeys without delay, straightening his spine, hands crossing over his lower back in formal posture and shoulder brushing Rakta’s forearm. From a regular, excited child, to highly trained martial artist in a blink.

Seconds later, the crowd parts enough to let a new face through.

The newcomer is taller than Rakta, is the first thing he notices about him. His dark brown skin, warmed by the lanterns’ light, just a shade shy of his own, makes a stark contrast to his blood-red, sleeveless kurta. He wears fitted black trousers underneath, with leather boots completing the ensemble. He looks around sixteen, maybe seventeen at a push.

This young man comes from money, it's plain to see in the numerous shining bangle bracelets he dons, but his posture is too perfect, movements calculated and measured, like someone who knows their body is a weapon and is extremely adept at wielding it. But it's the golden embroidery on the kurta (the complex patterns a luxury the common people on the market wouldn’t be able to afford) and the solid gold teardrop earrings he’s wearing that gives him away; he belongs to the First Branch. The Gold Dragon.

‘The Dragon that symbolizes the Red Chanpuru has always had three Heads’, master often told them during history classes, whenever it was just the older recruits. He never needed to mention he’s one of them- it's evident in the way he speaks, the way he moves, the way he looks when he talks about the other two. ‘Our branch raises abandoned children, trains recruits, settles local disputes, distributes resources, and maintains relationships with ordinary civilians. We are the heart of Red Chanpuru. Our strength has always come from loyalty, and that’s never changed. The other two… Darkness has seeped into them, like rot consuming an apple from the inside out. If you encounter a member from the Iron or Gold branch…’

“Oh, please don’t go”, the young man says, casual and a little mocking, eyeing the way Rakta’s feet slide on the pavement, how his muscles tense in preparation for movement, the two older boys who shift protectively in front of him. “I’m only here to talk.”

He's too sure of himself. Too cocky, but not like someone who's all bark, or too dumb to properly realize his own limits. He walks, talks and breathes like someone aware of his place in the world; someone who is happy about it. And those earrings… This is no regular member. He is high in the ranks.

He might be a successor, he realizes, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. Or at least, a candidate. A possible future Head.

Someone dangerous is on the prowl, and he came here with a purpose. Rakta resolves to not let him succeed, whatever his plans might be. He clenches his fists, and feels Hayato shift into a more defensive position in response by his side.

“I have nothing to say to you”, Rakta says, voice cold. He doesn't know this man, but doesn't need to- he's seen the aftereffects of what the Golden branch has done to Bankoku-gai, has read their misdeeds on the stress lines growing on master’s face. He has no desire to indulge him, to let the snake whisper his poison into his ears.

“So crude. What does the Crimson Branch teach its pupils, I wonder?” He mocks, before coldness overtakes the teasing edge of his eyes, like frost climbing over a window. “It's no matter if you don't want to talk to me- It's not you I wish to speak to.”

For a second, a glorious, perfect second, Rakta thinks he means Sunwoo or Ravi. That would be okay, acceptable even - an official member of the Red Chanpuru, however high in the hierarchy, seeking another one, even from a different branch, would be of no concern to him.

But then, those cold, dark eyes look past Sunwoo and Ravi like they are not even there, and… trail lower. Past Rakta's shoulders, a little to the left-

“My name is Rudra”, he says, with a smile that tries to be kind but is nothing short of predatory, “and you must be Bhai Sun Fei.”⁴

Rakta can't breathe. He might be having a panic attack.

‘Why does a high ranking member of the Golden Branch know about him?’

The eleven year old takes one step forward, out from the protective barrier of Rakta's back. His hands are folded behind him, and his head is tilted to the side. He's not wary enough for Rakta's frazzled nerves, just… curious. Like he can’t think of a single reason a stranger might be a threat to him, while it's all Ratka can think about.

“Good evening, elder”, the younger boy replies, body tilting in something too shallow to be considered a bow, but still polite.

“Ah, please. Just Rudra is fine. I'm sure we'll see each other often, there's no need to be so formal”, the Golden snake chuckles, walking through Sunwoo and Ravi’s protective wall. The boys, tense, don't move to stop him - what justification would they have? Rudra hasn't been rude, or threatening. Any action they take might be considered as them throwing the first punch.

Rakta doesn't share their hang ups. If his rudeness starts a confrontation, so be it. He'd rather have to explain to master how he came to blows with someone from another branch, than let a potential enemy lay a single finger on his little brother.

He takes one step forward, shouldering Hayato back and away from the approaching teen. The boy allows it, deferential to his elder, but doesn't stop his staring contest with the stranger.

Rudra stops a polite four feet away, but he looks over Rakta’s shoulder at Sun Fei like they are alone in the streets. His protective stance is ignored like it's not even there- like Rudra could just reach past him and simply take the boy, if he so desired.

‘Over my cooling and rotting dead body’, he thinks. But when he opens his mouth to share the sentiment, Rudra blinks in his direction. There's violence and death in his dark eyes, just for a second, and Rakta understands - things won't escalate unless he makes them, and he suddenly doesn't wish to see the extent of Rudra's cruelty. When the older boy returns his attention to the younger one, Rakta remains tense, but quiet.

“Why would we, Rudra?” Sun Fei questions back, accepting the lack of formality in a way that's so flippant, it's like he was waiting for the green light. Like age might be the only reason he has to respect Rudra. Like he doesn't see the gap between their ranks.

“I'm confident you'll figure it out soon enough. From what I've heard, you are a smart boy.”

“You seem to know a lot about me- I'm sorry I can't say the same”, he says, like he's regretful. In truth, Rakta detects a hint of annoyance. His baby brother delights in knowing everything about everyone, after all- the fact that there's someone so big (big enough to cause ripples in the night market just by stepping into it) that he doesn't know is probably making him itch inside.

“I'm sure your Master will tell you all you need to know soon. I'm surprised he hasn’t already… there must be some truth to the rumors that he cherishes you”, Rudra chuckles, eyes crinkling on the corners. He takes one step forward, then another. He extends his hand. “I'll be leaving now, let you enjoy the rest of your night. I only meant to exchange a quick word with you, a piece of advice.”

Rakta is a little too slow on the uptake, and doesn't react fast enough to keep Sun Fei from once again leaving the protection of his back to walk until he's in grabbing distance of Rudra. If Sun Fei looks tiny besides him and Bacchus, Rudra completely dwarfs him. 

The contrast on them is startling - Rudra adorned in jewelry, Sun Fei in a simple changsan; Rudra's eyes cold and cutting, Sun Fei's smart but kind; Rudra tall and imposing, Sun Fei small and innocent; Rudra on the cusp of manhood, Sun Fei a child.

And those two, as different as a jasmine flower and a dessert cactus, are now grasping each other's forearms in formal greeting.

“What advice did you want to give me?” The younger boy asks.

Rudra's smile isn't as performatively kind as before. 

"The tallest branches are always the first to break when the storms come."

Sun Fei blinks. "Is that a proverb?"

"...Something like that."

Rakta feels his stomach twist, even as the older boy releases the younger, raises a hand in farewell and disappears into the crowd, which slowly regains its loudness and energy once the snake leaves their prairie. 

Sun Fei- Hayato watches Rudra's retreating form, eyes wondering but not scared, before he shrugs and returns his attention to Rakta. Then- stops dead. He seems unsure, one arm raising to touch his older brother's elbow. It’s like all the air has suddenly returned to him, and he has to make a conscious effort to not heave like he just ran the entire length of the city.

Rakta doesn't know what's on his face, but he's certain he has a decision to make. He could disregard the terrifying interruption to their night, wave Hayato off and tell him to keep enjoying the market, continue being carefree and relaxed like a child should be, or …

‘The tallest branches …’

“We will return to the compound. We need to inform master about this”, he decides, reaching out to grab Hayato by the wrist to tug him along.

He does want his brother to remain a child longer- but he wants to see him grow up (stay safe) even more. And for that end, he'll sacrifice whatever it takes.

Bacchus is waiting by the door when they return to the compound. Ravi must have texted him. He looks serious and older than his years, and they waste no time going straight to master's office.

Together.

__________________________________

Twelve.

Bacchus has been waiting for this moment… well, all his life, actually. Ever since he was taken in by the Crimson Vortex when he was five years old.

He's fifteen now. Ten years (a lifetime, for him) have passed. He's learned so much- a second language, for starters. How to fight. How to protect someone.

What the Red Chanpuru used to be. What it is today. He had already known parts of it, sure, impossible not to when he grew up around an Officer, but he'd been spared the nitty gritty details until Rakta's and Sun Fei's encounter with Rudra, a few months ago. Master had laid it all out for them, afterwards, despite the fact none of them were official members yet, and Hayato was eleven.

They have learned Red Chanpuru was formed, originally, by three necessary pillars of the same organization, before two of them started rotting. Each had its own legitimate purpose; the Gold Head took care of commerce (finances, trade, supplies, diplomacy, information; they fed the soldiers, they clothed the children), the Iron Head defense (from outside threats like pirates and smugglers, or inside ones like gangs or worse; standing proud and protective in front of their brothers and sisters, an impenetrable wall) and they, the Crimson ones, the people. Bacchus' himself is a living, breathing proof of his branch's commitment to nurturing and raising the abandoned ones, bringing the community together, giving everyone a place to call home.

They used to work together. Gold to feed, iron to protect, red to keep them all united, like the bonds they shared- stronger than blood.

But corruption made the First branch obsessed with profit. Why should they direct their funds to the rest of the organization? When they can hoard resources, manipulate markets, create shortages, sell necessities at inflated prices, bribe officials… everything has a price, its current Officer said, according to master. And they are the only ones that can not only meet it, but set the fare itself.

And then, seen as idealistic and naive by their greedier counterpart, Crimson had to find its own way to feed the children, cut from the family funds. Only, Gold doesn't like to see money flowing somewhere else.

And Iron, tired of waiting for trouble to come to them, had decided to control it from the start. Why should they wait for the enemies to appear? Fear creates order, their Officer claims. And so instead of protecting trade routes, they control them. Instead of fighting traffickers, they run trafficking operations. Instead of collecting legitimate taxes, they extort neighborhoods. They aren't hurting the community, they say- just preserving their strength, the one they need to protect Bankoku-gai, and gathering resources now that Gold refuses to provide them.

And taking children where they can, now that Crimson has closed its doors to both their corrupt brothers and refuses to send recruits their way. Now, without their shield to protect them, and wary of Iron stealing their pupils from right under their noses, Crimson had to find its own strength, train their own protectors. But Iron doesn't like strength growing elsewhere, especially not among the brothers they have long considered weak, dependent on them for protection.

And so, Crimson, who managed resources but never produced them themselves, who trained recruits but never sent them to fight, had to suddenly do both. All the while defending what little they had, and the community around them, from the dark, rotten parts of Red Chanpuru. The parts they couldn’t properly break free from, as a clean, clear fracture on the organization could destabilize the whole city- Bankoku-gai wouldn’t survive a three-way war. So ‘united’ they remain, on the surface, while underwater, a violent, dangerous tug of war grows every passing day.

This is what all his preparation, his training, has been for. Bacchus is ready. He wants this like nothing else in his life.

He’s nervous as fuck.

The Ascension ceremony, where trainees become fully fledged members, happens once every four months, and it's an open affair. The teachers attend to support the children they helped raise; the younger pupils, to honor their elders and learn what’s to come for them, to know what to look forward to; the members of the community, civilians of Bankoku-gai who help provide for them, donate to the dojo and appreciate the Crimson Vortex’s dedication to them, look forward to meet their newest protectors, the kind young men who will soon patrol their streets and keep everyone safe, even if it means risking their lives-

So, yes, there's a full house today, which is kind of nerve wrecking. Bacchus doesn’t understand how Rakta looks as relaxed as he is, fucking unemotional monster.

Their master gives a variation of the same speech every time this ceremony is held, so thankfully he doesn’t have to pay that much attention to it and can instead focus on his breathing. He’ll die before he starts hyperventilating in front of his peers and elders.

Then, the introduction is done, and Yue-san comes forward with the box of earrings.

Veer goes first, and receives Tiger eyes beads; he’s courageous and vigilant, always ready to jump in to defend someone. Zihan, who gets turquoise stones; symbol of communication, of someone able to bring different people together. Itsuki, who to no-one’s surprise, gets the scholars’ lapislazulis. Kenshi and Kento, the twins, with their amber beads, a nod to their effort to preserve their culture, to never forget the history that led them to the compound. Haneul smiles when he’s handed the bronze hoops; recognition to all his hard work and steadfastness. Atharv, who shyly accepts the pearls studs, as a token to his compassion and emotional intelligence.

Then it’s Rakta’s turn. Bacchus is not surprised when he sees Yue-san hand master jade studs. Studs, symbolically tied to balance, modesty and quiet, are kind of exactly what he would have expected for the bastard. And the jade… well, that’s meant to attract good fortune and inner peace, if he remembers his lessons correctly. It’s kind of fitting, and a good omen.

The crowd claps, like they did for all the kids before, but Bacchus can hear Hayato directly behind him cheering just a tad louder than he did for the previous apprentices. He smiles a bit, and allows himself to copy him. He might hate the bastard, but he also kinda-maybe-probably loves him, too. He deserves to have this moment and be celebrated properly. He stares at the other boy, who used to stand at his right, and is now across the inner garden, on the other side of the ceremonial circle, with the newly minted members. Where he’ll soon stand, too.

And then it’s his turn.

He walks on steady legs to the center of the congregated people. Master smiles at him, and he’s not as tall as he used to be (or maybe Bacchus is taller, now) but he cuts the same imposing figure he always did, especially dressed in formal gear (sans his earrings, which all elders take off for the Ascension, to allow the children to truly shine in the moment). His eyes are as warm and kind as always, and he clasps a hand on Bacchus' shoulder with pride brimming in his face.

“Congratulations, my child. You and your brothers have grown so much. I’m truly honored to have raised you”, he says, raising a hand to receive the earrings Yue-san takes from the ornamental box.

Bacchus gets a glimpse of them, before he feels master clasping them on his earlobes. Jade hoop earrings- continuity, wholeness, a steady growth. He feels himself blush a little, and makes an effort to not lower his head, to keep making eye contact with the man who brought him up, who made him the young man he became today.

“You have earned these. Wear them with pride”, he ends up with, letting his hands fall and giving the same small bow he gave the previous boys- a special, once-in-a-blue-moon recognition, as the Official of the Third Head bows to no one, never lowers his head.

Bacchus thanks the man with a choked voice, then turns and joins Rakta on the side. Their shoulders brush.

“Congratulations, birdbrain.”

“Congratulations too, bastard.”

He smiles. The high he feels in his chest- he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so alive.

The claps of his own ascension slowly die down, and everyone looks at the master, waiting for him to bring the ceremony to an end. There are no more recruits of age, and now the feast (prepared by the locals, who have truly outdone themselves this year, from the smell he’s getting from the open windows of the dinner hall) is due to commence.

The Official Head clasps his hands, and the small murmurs of the crowd shut off. Something…

Bacchus frowns. He feels Rakta twitch beside him.

Something feels off. There’s a weird twisting in his gut he can’t explain.

“People of Bankoku-gai, I present to you the new members of the Red Chanpuru. Please support them and rely on them in turn. Respect their authority, for they will only use it in pursuit of your betterment. They’ll seek to keep everyone here, all our friends and families, safe from harm and thriving. And for that, we honor them today, as we do to everyone who joins our ranks, and gifts us back with their loyalty. The little seedlings have grown strong, and it's time they step out of the shadow of the trees that shielded them until this point- so they now become the trees, the shields against the elements.

But now, there’s someone else I wish to present to you all. You already know him- he’s been part of us for a long time, loved by many, respected by all. He, who works harder than anyone, who knows better than most the meaning of true sacrifice.”

Master smiles towards the confused crowd. Then, his head turns to the side, and he raises a beckoning hand.

“Sun Fei. Come here, my child.”

Bacchus' entire body, warm from the excitement of the ceremony, freezes over. By his side, Rakta’s usually composed expression breaks. He can’t explain how, but he has an inkling of what's happening now- they both do. They instantly hate it. They want to- They have to- Someone has to-

He startles when a hand grasps his shoulder. He sees from the corner of his eye as Wonho-sensei shakes his head at him, Amar-sensei doing the same to Rakta. They are serious, more stern than they’ve ever been to them. The message is clear: ‘You can’t stop this. We won’t allow it’.

Hayato, looking just as confused as everyone else (and if Bacchus knows his baby brother, which he does, a little scared), walks up to master, hands behind his back, posture perfect. He’s wearing the bracelet Navya gave him, that he only dons on special occasions, and the formal changsan he only uses for Ascension ceremonies. He doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening, but he still follows master’s lead, loyal and trusting.

Something clogs up Bacchus’ throat, and it's the only reason he doesn’t scream.

When the little boy gets to the middle of the circle, master puts both hands on his shoulders. His voice is high enough that everyone can hear the words, unlike the way he privately spoke to the previous trainees today. 

“I’ve raised you for longer than anyone else here, my boy, as you were younger than most when you arrived. I know your strength, and your heart. There’s truly no one more deserving of this honor than you. And, as heavy as this burden is, I’m confident you’ll rise to the challenge, like you have done with all the little ones presented to you for years. You have proven yourself more mature than most people twice and thrice your age, and your resilience, compassion, ingenuity and devotion know no bounds. You are wise, responsible, adaptable, humble, disciplined, perceptive and one of the kindest souls I have the pleasure of knowing. Some of those values were taught to you here, and some are, I suspect, intrinsic part of your very being.”

Yue-san approaches. She looks incredibly sad when she offers master a different box than the one she previously held. This one looks older, more formal.

Master’s back is to them, so Bacchus can’t see what he pulls from it. He hears the gasps from the crowd, and his nerves, already reaching the sky and his ancestors, grow.

Then the older man takes a step around Hayato, standing at his back (towering over him), to put both hands on his shoulders again, as he allows the congregated people to see.

See Hayato- see Sun Fei, wearing a painfully familiar pair of tassel earrings. Flowing yellow tassels, to be more exact; a symbol of elegance, grace, and rank. A ward against negative forces, a token of harmony, family unity, wisdom and measured conduct. Authority. And then, the red coral beads: longevity, peace, love and loyalty. High social status. ⁵

They are not simple earrings. They are the earrings. The ones who (used to) belong to the master. The Third Official. The Head of the Crimson Branch.

And they are now hanging from Bacchus’ little brother’s ears, like the world's damnest, most terrifying bulls-eye.

Bacchus wants to scream. To cry. To throw up. He might, actually, because suddenly all he can smell in the air is decay, like a rotting corpse. His heart is thundering in his chest, like the precursor of a heart attack.

“People of Bankoku-gai, I present to you my dearest child. The one who’s inheriting all my teachings, all my wisdom, all my strength. The one who’ll continue to protect you in my stead, once he’s ready to fully take the lead. My child, my student… and my successor.”

The words are met with shocked, thunderstruck silence.

“Su Fang Sun Fei is, from this day onwards, to be recognized as the next Head of the Crimson Branch. He’ll become our dragon, the one to keep our people safe. He’ll continue to train with me, to hone his skills and prepare himself for the near future, when he takes into this responsibility fully. But for now, please accept him as I give him to you; our future- our hope.”

And then he drops his hands, walks around the shell-shocked preteen to once again stand in front of him, and gives him the deepest boy Bacchus’ has ever seen from him, like the final nail on the coffin.

The quick hug he gives him afterwards is no absolution from the horror of what had just transpired. No consolation to the pain soon to follow.

And like a spell breaking, the crowd roars with cheers. Clapping, shouts of congratulations, whistles- everyone ecstatic to know there is a plan for a steady, safe tomorrow, already set in place.

The only ones who don’t share this happiness are Bacchus, Rakta… and Sun Fei himself.

When master steps back from the hug, the boy- the young man, now that he’d ascended-, turns in stiff limbs and walks up to the rest of the new Red Chanpuru members. He probably meant to stand behind the crowd, to disappear behind his elders’ backs, have a moment to himself to gather his bearings, but Tanaka-sensei stops him before he can. With a respectful bow (and wasn’t that a mindfuck- their teachers, who they have looked up to all their lives, heeded their words like gospel, are suddenly lower in hierarchy than Bacchus’ little brother), he motions to the front of the group. And there Sun Fei stands, as the crowd cheers him on, excitedly hollering to the little lamb sacrificed in the altar of their prosperity.

It’s too much to bear. Bacchus shrugs off Wonhoo-sensei, sees Rakta do the same for his own jailer, and as a unit, they both step forward, until their shoulders meet Sun Fei’s, just slightly, barely, behind their newly minted leader.

They couldn’t prevent this -maybe it was never an option, Bacchus mourns, thinking back on that evening, the park with the koi-pond, and a childish, bloody smile with one missing tooth. But they will, at the very least, support Hayato as much as they can.

Their baby brother, who’s now the second most powerful (and targeted) person on the compound. Who’ll inherit the heaviest weight of them all, before he can fully grow into his prepubescent body. Who everyone will turn to, expect a response from, demand solutions and guidance from.

And he knows already Hayato will do it. Will break himself into a million tiny pieces, just so everyone can have what they need from him. And he will do so with a smile, because, he now realizes, that’s what he was trained to do. Raised to do.

Bacchus swallows thickly. It should… this should be an honor. It doesn’t feel like one.

The crowd continues cheering. Master keeps looking at them with the same small, warm, prideful smile. The other Red Chanpuru recruits clasp their shoulders, joke about ‘having to now listen to the runt’.

Rakta and Bacchus never leave Hayato’s side the entire night. They don’t partake on the celebratory food, nor join the younger children on the customary dances.

When they retire for the night, it's together, all three of them. They go into Ratka’s bedroom, a sanctuary.

“How… are you feeling?” Bacchus breaks the silence, voice unsure and low.

Hayato doesn’t cry. He doesn’t smile, either. He raises his own hand, touching the swinging ends of his tassels.

“It's… heavier than I thought.”

He's not just talking about the earrings 

After a few seconds of just staring at nothing, deep in thought, the younger boy looks up at them (still so much shorter, so small…) with wine-red eyes too big for his small, beloved face. Eyes who used to be so shiny and now look tired, scared, worn- empty.

“Please… call me Sun Fei, from now on.”

And Bacchus, whose own eyes are watery (because if his brother can’t show his feelings, he’ll do it for him), thinks it's fitting. Because Hayato is the baby brother he raised.

And Sun Fei is the future leader he swears he’ll protect and follow, today and until his dying breath.

__________________________________

Thirteen.

Life changes for all three of them over the months following their Ascension ceremony.

For starters, it’s time to move out of the compound. The dojo, which housed and protected them for as long as they resided in it, is strictly reserved for the pupils. Fully fledged Red Chanpuru members don’t (or shouldn’t) need the protection its walls offer- instead, they become part of the shield that surrounds it, taking residence on one of the empty houses neighboring their old home.

Red Chanpuru members often move out with the same recruits they've ascended in, divided in groups of four or five. As agemates, this almost always means they become roommates with friends, which makes the process a little less bittersweet.

Rakta, Bacchus and Sun Fei are no different. Two days after the ceremony, they silently gathered their stuff, closed their rooms (until a new arrival makes it so another child occupies them) and went to the house master offered them. It was bigger than the other ones, with an extra room besides the main three to act as an office, a small koi pond in the traditional japanese garden, and a modestly sized library.

Another -not so subtle- nod to Sun Fei’s dramatic rise in the ranks.

Still, they’ve… adapted. Living together under the same roof isn’t too different from what they used to do. The most drastic change was they now had chores to divide among themselves, and even then, they’ve naturally fallen into what came easy for each. They only ever bicker over whose turn it is to take the trash out, and that's mostly due to laziness, after a full day of training, patrol, mediating domestic disputes and checking in with the civilians. And whenever they go too long without a decision, Sun Fei simply demands (in his ‘successor’ voice, like it's a serious matter of state and not an annoying chore) they settle it with rock, papers, scissors.

The boy enters now the kitchen-dining room, tassel earrings swinging with his movements. He smiles at Rakta, who’s enjoying a warm cup of tea on the low couch near the open windows to the wooden gallery, and greets Bacchus, who has his back to them as he cooks in the open-concept kitchen.

He’s not wearing his comfortable, lounge clothes, despite it being his one day off. He looks ready to go out, actually, with his regular work changsan- considering the storm raging outside, and the fact that he has no need to leave their house? Unthinkable.

“Where are you going?” he asks the thirteen year old, raising a confused eyebrow. Bacchus grunts in confusion, turning to face them and also seeming surprised by the younger’s outfit.

“Luch is gonna be ready in fifteen”, he warns, wooden spoon raising threateningly.

Sun Fei smiles a little apologetically as he walks to the genkan, putting his shoes on while standing down, balance perfect.

“Ah, sorry, I’ll have to miss it. Yue-san is taking Navya to get some supplies for the compound and Tanaka-sensei is escorting them. He asked me to join them, and with the situation as it is…”

Ratka frowns, but he understands where Sun Fei is coming from. Things with the other Branches are… actually, they have been too quiet lately, which is worrying in itself. Sun Fei had ordered no one to leave the compound alone, and master had agreed, so whenever one of the girls or the young pupils had something to do outside, they put in a request for a Red Chanpuru member to escort them, and patrols must be done in teams of two at the lowest.

Bacchus sighs, reaching behind himself to turn down the stove. He crosses his arms, which have grown in size as proof of his increased strength training, over his chest. He leans over the kitchen island separating them.

“If it's only a few errands, it won’t take long, and I started on lunch too early anyways. We can wait for you. Just shoot me a text when you’re on your way back, and I’ll finish everything up.”

Sun Fei’s smile strains a bit, almost imperceptibly. “Ah, I wouldn’t want the meat to go bad…”

“It’s already cooked, I’m mostly working on the sauce and the vegetables, don’t worry”, Bacchus shoots back, mercilessly. Ratka nods into his tea, for once in accord with his dumber counterpart. Sun Fei’s tendency to avoid meals (already a concern) had grown worse lately, after a nasty stomach bug he’d contracted a few months ago.

(It wasn't a stomach bug, an angry, desperate part of himself resents. But master had seen the murder in his and Bacchus' eyes when the doctor brought up the toxicology results, and ordered them to secrecy.

‘I'll tell him to never eat something he hasn't seen prepared himself, and one of you will cook for him everyday, but no one can know. If they think they can hurt him like this… they will try again.’)

Sun Fei sighs, like they are tiring him needlessly, but there's an undercut of fondness in his beautiful eyes.

“Okay, then, let's have lunch together when I return. Please try to not burn the house down while I'm gone.”

“He's talkin’ to you”, snickers Bacchus, turning around to start putting things in the fridge.

Rakta resolutely ignores him. He carefully places the teacup in the table, looking at Sun Fei a little worried.

“Should I go as well?”

The younger boy shakes his head.

“It's just picking up some ingredients for a poultice Yue-san is teaching the girls, and we'll stop by Tanaka-sensei’s blacksmith on the way back to pick up his favorite knife set. I should be back in thirty minutes, maybe an hour if either of them decide to haggle or if Navya insists on hot chocolate.”

Rakta nods, still unsure but trusting the youngest boy’s judgement. He stares at his back until the door closes behind him, and he feels something churning in his stomach.

From the way Bacchus moves in the kitchen, stilted and more out of place than he's ever been while cooking, he feels it too.

“Must be separation anxiety,” he says aloud, for both their benefits. “We haven't spent much time apart ever since the ascension.”

“Probably, yeah…” Bacchus mumbles. Neither of them look convinced.

Time flies, and the rain falls even harder. Rakta hopes Yue-san had extra umbrellas, because he didn't see Sun Fei pick one up on his way out.

The tea grows cold. The kitchen stays silent.

“It’s been 40 minutes, now”, Bacchus points out. He's now seated across from Ratka, looking out the window as well.

“He did say it could be closer to an hour…”

“Yes, but-”

“HELP!! PLEASE, SOMEONE, HELP!!!!”

Muscle memory makes them move before any conscious thought is had, so they are already bursting out the door before they can even process the words. Rakta understands them immediately, spoken in Hindi, his mother language, but all both him and Bacchus can focus on is the voice.

Navya.

Already on their way out, it takes them less than 10 seconds to spot the little 11 year old girl, running down the street towards them. A few other recruits, members of the Red Chanpuru, come out of their residences, but none of them get to Navya faster than Rakta and Bacchus.

The little girl is hysterical, babbling in a mix of Hindi and Japanese. Her long chocolate hair is a mess (like someone had tried to drag her by it), there's a scratch on her check, and she's missing a shoe. She latches into Rakta's kurta, looking up at him with desperate, anguished obsidian eyes.

“There was an attack, Yue-san sprained her ankle and can't move- Sun Fei-nii said to come get you- someone named Rudra-”

Bacchus gasps on Navya’s other side- he doesn't need to understand Hindi to get the full message, especially not after the last word.

Ratka carefully gets Navya to let him go, passing her onto Kenshi, who is kneeling next to him now, with Kento holding an umbrella over them all.

“Where?” He asks the little girl on their tongue, clipped and furious, barely keeping it together to not scare her further.

She babbles out a direction, and both young men spring to their feet. By now, at least ten Red Chanpuru members have joined them on the streets, all getting themselves completely soaked an none of them giving a single fuck. They look at Ratka and Bacchus, waiting for orders; in master and Sun Fei's absences, they, as their brother's secondaries, get to call the shots.

“Zihan, go inform master that Sun Fei, Tanaka-sensei and Yue -san are under attack. Take Navya with you, she'll give him the directions. Kenshi, Kento and Veer, patrol the perimeter, make sure no one uses this as a chance to attack. The rest, follow us!”

They make an admirable effort of obeying, but to be true, they can barely keep up with both of them. Ratka doesn't think he's ever run so fast in his life, and he's sure Bacchus hasn't either. The distance to the shopping district’s outskirts is crossed in a quarter of the time it'll usually take.

They hear the fight before they can see it. Groans, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and glass breaking, just around the corner -

There.

It's always a sight to see Sun Fei going all out against an enemy- multiple enemies, in this case. There must be ten grown men unconscious on the ground already, and thirty more surrounding the boy. And still, he’s handling himself beautifully. He's usually all grace, cold control, measured from the biggest kick to the smallest twitch. He keeps his attention everywhere at once, and it seems impossible to lay a single finger on him. Whenever someone attacks, he's simply not there, already flipping someone on their back or kicking someone so hard on the chin they fall unconscious before their bodies even hit the ground. For someone so physically small, his presence on the battlefield is undeniable.

He catches the shine of some sort of metal bat from the corner of his eye, and stops admiring his brother's form to jump into the fray himself. Behind him, he can hear his sworn brothers doing the same, no one questioning why Gold had decided today is the day. There are no civilians around, with this heavy rain, so there is no danger of the fractures within Red Chanpuru becoming common knowledge, but it still seems too reckless from the usually calculating Branch.

“Oh, Bhai Sun Fei, your form is a thing of wonder. Your Master truly is an artisan of the greatest caliber, to be able to make you into this work of art.”

The voice has Rakta's head snapping to the said so fast he almost pulls a muscle in his neck. There is Rudra, on the edges of the chaos, one hand on his chest, like he's swooning, the other hand holding Tanaka-sensei by the neck.

So that's why Sun Fei seems to be fighting extra harshly, today.

Their teacher seems to be struggling, but… not as much as Rakta would expect, actually- he’s been trained by this man, and has stood on the other end of his hits. Tanaka-sensei is master’s agemate, they ascended together- surely he should be giving Rudra more of a hard time. Has he been drugged? Or is there an injury he just can't see, in this godsforsaken rain? Whatever the case, if he’s not operating at 100%, they need to finish this off quickly for Tanaka-sensei’s sake. And Yue-san’s, who looks terrified, huddled up against a brick wall behind Sun Fei. And Navya, who’s probably still scared out of her mind, back at the Compound. And Sun Fei himself, who looks to be getting tired- just for how long was he fighting all these men off? 

Still, with all the Crimson Red Chanpuru members that came to help, the fight is tied up quickly, and Sun Fei is free from the small fries and can go straight for Rudra’s throat. The young man lets go of Tanaka-sensei, who crumples into a heap on the ground, to duck and dodge out of the way. 

While he finishes taking down his last opponent, Rakta keeps half his attention on their fight.  The difference in levels is immediately noticeable; six years his junior, and yet Sun Fei is clearly the superior martial artist. Rudra can barely get out of dodge, but he has no time to even start to get into an offensive position. Sun Fei is relentless, throwing punch after kick, after flip, after uppercut, after-

He’s a small, unstoppable hurricane. The rain doesn’t slow him down in the slightest, doesn’t trip him. Rudra can’t keep up at all; Gold doesn’t focus on training their recruits nearly as much as Crimson does, apparently. Or maybe it’s just Sun Fei’s own skills that make his opponent seem pathetic in contrast.

Rakta and Bacchus finish their fights basically at the same time, and together they rush over, desperate to help their youngest end this entire thing. Whatever plan Gold had, whatever the reason that prompted them into this reckless maneuver, it’s clearly failed, so no need to drag this-

Something moves on the other side of Sun Fei and Rudra’s fight, opposite to where they are approaching from. A figure moves in the shadows- Sun Fei shoves Rudra away to get some space, and just slightly turns his head to see what’s happening.

Then he stops for half a moment, confused, muscles relaxing for barely a second- just, a single breath, guard lowered, because-

It’s Tanaka-sensei, and he is-

“SUN FEI! DODGE!”

Rakta screams himself hoarse, the voice a level he’s never gotten to before. He jumps with his entire momentum, catching Sun Fei around the waist and tackling him to the side-

And away from the perfectly sharpened, blood-stained knife in Tanaka-sensei’s hand, that was already halfway through its attack.

Bacchus is half a second behind him, and he uses his own impulse to crash into the man, hand brutally twisting his arm back, forcing him to drop the blade. There’s a crunch and Ta- the old bastard is screaming, too. But not as loud as-

There’s chaos all around them, as their brothers in arms try to understand what's happening. Yue-san is yelling at the top of her lungs, begging for a medic. Bacchus is roaring, cursing, maybe even crying-

-In Rakta’s arms, he can feel Sun Fei’s body twitch as he wails. Screams in agony. Cries his heart out at both the pain… and the betrayal.

In the background, Rudra laughs.

“I told you, Bhai Sun Fei. The tallest branches are always the first to break when the storms come. And you were getting a bit too tall for my taste, a bit too powerful- so here I am.”

Rakta forces his eyes away from the curled up boy in his arms to glare at the man, but Rudra is already gone, slipped away in a second like the fucking snake-

“Rakta-nii!” Sun Fei cries- and fuck, he hasn’t called him that in a while now, always acting like a mature young man, someone who can never cry for help, for his big brother, until right now-

“Let me see! Sun Fei, get your hands away from your face, I need to see the damage!”

But the boy is crying so hard, he’s writhing in agony, and doesn’t seem like he can hear him.

Rakta grabs him by the shoulders, shakes him as gently as he can while liquid nitrogen floods his veins and goes straight for his heart.

“HAYATO! LET ME SEE!”

The boy sobs, groans and lets his hands fall from-

Fuck, there’s so much blood all over his face, and his- his eye-

Bacchus drops down on the other side of Hayato, hands hovering over the boy like he’s not sure where to touch, that won’t cause more pain. His own bloody hands are being washed by the rain, cleaning his split knuckles.

Rakta doesn’t have to look up to know Tanaka, the bastard, is probably unrecognizable now.

“Sunwoo is making sure to tie up the fucking- bastard traitor, and take him to master to deal with. What do we do? What’s- what’s wrong with him, did the knife cut him too deep, or-?”

“He needs a hospital now”, Rakta croacks out, hoarse from the screaming, more terrified than he’s ever felt in his entire fucking life. His hands shake as he grabs Hayato’s, to keep them away from the open wound in his face.

Keep him from infecting his slashed eye.

“An ambulance-”

“There’s no time!” his voice comes out broken, almost a sob. He- he wants to cry for master. He’s sixteen, and wants to go beg the older man to somehow make this all better. Wants to hide under his blankets, pretend this nightmare isn’t happening-

But his little brother needs him now. He can break apart later.

“You have to carry him. You are stronger, I’m faster- I’ll run ahead, make sure your path is free, tell the medics to prepare for-” he swallows hard.

Bacchus nods, serious like the grave. His own arms tremble when he gathers Hayato up in them, curled up like a babe against his chest. He’s always looked small compared to them but- to Ratka, he’s never looked this frail. This… breakable.

This is what Gold was after, he realizes, and then dismisses the thought because he doesn’t fucking care at this second. Reasons and revenge can come later.

With Hayato as secure as he’ll be in Bacchus’ arms, they sprint the length of Bankoku-gai.

When they are about halfway there, he asks, "Are you tired? Do we switch?"

Bacchus shakes his head, pace not faltering for a moment.

"He's not heavy. Not at all."

It stops raining in the sky, but Rakta’s, Bacchus’ and Hayato’s faces remain wet the entire time.

__________________________________

Time moves differently after that. One minute they are bursting through the hospital doors, screaming for help. The following, they are sitting side by side, almost cuddled up together, in the waiting room. Then, suddenly, like a flash, master is there. He’s speaking to them, Ratka can see his mouth move, hands patting them all over as he checks for injuries, but it's like he’s underwater, or moving through molasses.

People come and go- he catches sight of someone carrying Yue-san inside a different room to the side. Veer offers him a towel at some point, while master is away and talking with someone in a white coat. Someone -Kenshi or Kento, he thinks- puts a hand on Rakta’s shoulder, and he’s so startled he flinches back, to which Bacchus responds with an instinctual, almost animalistic snarl as he pushes the offending limb away.

Then, like his ears finally popped, sound and life returned to his shocked mind when the words ‘he’s out of danger’ registered.

He jumps from his seat, almost tripping over his own two feet as he approaches master, and the doctor giving him the update.

"...The blade passed through the upper portion of the orbit, and severely damaged the globe. We were able to save the eye itself, but the injury to the cornea and internal structures is extensive.” He pauses, looking over at him and Bacchus. When master makes no move to usher them away, he continues, grimacing a little. "There was no need for extirpation, since that would bring its own set of complications, but… the eye cannot be restored. He will never recover vision on that side."

The floor vanishes from under Rakta. He sways in place, vaguely noticing someone holding him up by the arm.

Is this- is he in shock? He can’t really make his own body move the way he wants, he feels… adrift. Overwhelmed by the all-encompasing grief and rage raging a storm inside him.

He only comes back into himself when he feels a sharp slap against his cheek. Bacchus is looking at him, hand raised, grey eyes just as heartbroken as he feels. He doesn’t retaliate, because the message is clear. ‘We can freak out later. He needs us strong now’.

“He said we can see him now. He’s just woken up from surgery”, Bacchus mutters, while master seems to be discussing recovery plans with the doctor. Just how long had he dissociated for?

Hayato looks… like a small, sad thirteen year old boy. In the white hospital gown, with thick bandages all over his face, covering his right eye entirely, he looks like a strong gust of wind could blow him away. He is staring down at his hands, fingers picking at each other. He looks half away, probably high on sedatives, but still situationally aware enough to turn his head to the side when they enter. 

Because they entered from his right side- and he can’t see them there now, can he? Still, the confusion and fear in his eye dissipates a bit when he sees them… As if he’s safe, now, just by having them around. As if they could do anything in the first fucking place, as if they weren’t the most useless-

Fuck. He can’t cry, not now, not in front of the one who has the most rights to a breakdown.

“Bacchus-nii…” he whispers, voice a teether about to break. “I… I’m so sorry.”

There’s now a shred of guilt in his lone, teary eye. But what could he feel guilty about? He- he had done everything he could. He protected Yue-san and Navya, even the fucking traitor, and held the enemy down long enough for reinforcements. He only... He’s the only one who got hurt.

“What are you talking about?” Bacchus demands, gruff, approaching the bed and dropping down on the edge, careful to not jostle the boy nor the machines attached to him. His hand finds one of the smaller ones, stopping him from hurting himself further.

Ratka follows, feet unsteady. He takes the chair closest to Hayato’s head. And he is Hayato, still, because he can’t think of the heir of the Crimson Branch right now- only about his hurt little brother.

“I…” the boy looks down, swallows hard. Tears fell from his eye, soft and incomprehensibly tragic. Rakta raises a trembling hand to brush them away. “I didn’t mean to. I was just so startled when I saw Tanaka-sen… That man. I was so confused, and… and… I closed my eyes.”

Bacchus looks confused, for a second, and then absolutely crushed. He throws caution out of the window, and both his arms around the child, gathering him into his chest. His bigger, ragged body shudders with sobs.

“It’s not your fault, ‘Yato. It’s… it's never your fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to protect you.”

Rakta’s heart breaks in unison for the hundredth time today. He spares no mind for proprietary, and joins in the hug, resting his chin over Hayato’s head, arms around both his brothers as they all shake and break apart, together.

“We are so, so sorry, sweet child”, he whispers, tightening his grip like maybe he could absorb them into his ribcage, where he could keep them safe forever, alongside the heart they already own anyways. “But we are here now. He’ll always be here.”

Hayato falls asleep like that, in their arms, sobbing like the child he’d been forced to outgrow far too quickly. But Ratka and Bacchus remain there, sitting in the silent room for hours, guarding his sleep.

Visitors come and go. Master, after settling everything, remains with them, on a chair by the window, watching the day turn into the night, then day again. He keeps his phone on, and occasionally takes calls outside, but always returns inside.

When the boy wakes again, he sits up in bed and its immediately clear he’s Sun Fei, now.

Bacchus reaches out to help him, Ratka props the pillows behind his back, but his sharp eye focuses on master immediately.

“Is Yue-san okay? What about Navya?”

The Officer drops the phone back into his pocket and stands up, walking up to the bed. He stops by the younger’s feet, one hand reaching out to grasp one of them reassuringly.

“Safe. You did well.”

He swallows thickly. “And.. Tanaka…san?”

Master’s eyes go dark for a second. He looks both grief stricken and furious.

“Gold always finds the price for everything, it seems. His was the exact amount needed to pay for his wife’s hospital bills.”

It doesn’t make the betrayal any less painful, but Sun Fei nods anyway.

“What will happen to him now? And who is taking over his duties? He handles the northwest side of the territory-”

He just woke up after finding out he's forever lost the usage of one of his eyes, and his concern is for the Red Chanpuru, not himself. Ratka twists the blanket on the bed between his clenched fists.

“It’s handled”, master says, voice soothing. “Everything is taken care of. You only need to focus on your recovery… and your upcoming trip.”

All three brothers stop, looking up in confusion. Master looks sad, but determined.

“... Am I… going somewhere?”

The older man sighs, his years evident in the way his shoulders slump for a second. He almost looks like a regular man for a second, without his Officer coat and the earrings, that now rest in a wooden box along with Sun Fei’s clothes in a bag by the door.

“I’m afraid so, dear child. Both Iron and Gold have proven their determination to take you out entirely. They want my heir gone”, he says, like it wasn’t him who chose the young boy. The one who laid that weight on his shoulders. “They will try again, and again, and again. If they can eliminate you before the time comes for you to fully succeed me… they might finally break our Branch entirely, absorb us into themselves. And then, according to my informants, they can focus on eliminating one another”, he pauses. He lets go of Sun Fei’s foot, hand joining the other behind his back. “You can’t stay in the city, not until you are recovered and ready. But you also can’t leave Bankoku-gai entirely; for you to be able to become the Crimson Officer, the people of the community need to know, respect and love you. If they lose sight of you, or they forget… It’ll be hard to earn their trust back after your return.”

Bacchus’ fists clench, almost white. They exchange a charged look, both sitting on opposite side of the bed, with the younger boy in the middle, listening in silence as his future is once again laid bare at his feet, with no place for him to interject.

“Then what?” Rakta demands. “Does he go somewhere else to hide until it's safe, or does he stay and risk his life?”

He doesn’t ask ‘what more do you fucking want from him?!’, but it's a close thing.

Master closes his eyes and sighs. He doesn't look like he likes this decision, but he also doesn't stop laying it down.

“There’s a small city, two hours away from here- close enough you can go and return within the day, so the community here doesn’t forget you, but far enough to avoid enemy eyes for most of the day. The police -and to be honest, political- force there is minimal at best; just this year, a group of high schoolers have managed to wrestle crime into control, though barely. It's a rather unremarkable city, too small for the larger factions to care about. The students there are... spirited, from what I've heard. It’s the perfect place to regain your bearings, while keeping you safe.”

Ratka does not like where this is going. But he knows, just like he did at the ascension ceremony, that he’s helpless to stop it.

“Sun Fei, I have enrolled you into a middle school in Makochi.”

His hands jump across the bed, landing on Sun Fei’s lap at the same time Bacchus’ do. Their fingers intertwine, a desperate grasp, as if they could keep their brother safe, like they promised, between them and away from danger forever. To keep him from being torn apart in two, between Bankoku-gai and this new city. To keep him home, with them, with the family he grew up with.

But he knows, even before Sun Fei opens his mouth, that it’s to no avail. Because while outside, the city still belongs to Red Chanpuru, here, inside this hospital room, it's clearer than ever that Sun Fei doesn’t belong to them, or himself.

What more will this city take from him? How much can it take, before he just becomes a husk of the precious little boy he once was?

If it was Rakta’s choice, he’d demand he says no. He’d throw the master out of the room, bundle the boy up in blankets, lull him to sleep.

But there’s no choice at all in this situation. And even if there was, this is Sun Fei. A precious, sweet, kind child. 

So of course he says:

“Okay, Master. I’ll go.”

Rakta closes his eyes. It’s early morning, the sunlight filtering into the room, and around the time where he’ll usually do his prayers.

So he gathers himself and thinks-

‘Please, don’t let my brother empty himself just to fill other people. Please, let him find something in Makochi to fill his own heart. Please, oh please, let him be a child. 

Let him be happy.’

… So on we go

His welfare is of my concern

No burden is he to bear

We'll get there

… For I know

He would not encumber me

He ain't heavy, he's my brother