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Tensei skids around a large oak tree, clipping the bark as he coaxes his engines to burn a little hotter, to push a little faster. Behind him is the crackling of branches, the booming footsteps of a monster much bigger than Tensei, hell-bent on catching him. The daylight is breaking, and Tensei squints against the light as he bursts into a clearing. He curses under his breath, trying to pick a path. It’s too exposed here, too open. He’ll be caught, even if he can run, he can’t hide and eventually his engines will fail him. Eventually that beast, it’s red beady eyes, and thick claws will catch up to him and rip into his spine.
He spins, but the clearing is expanding, trees falling as if sawed down to the stump, and the further he turns, the more the forest clears. He’s breathing hard, so hard that he can’t tell if the thumping in his ears is his heartbeat or the footfalls of the monster. He can’t let himself find out, so he bolts in a random direction and tries not to pay attention to the smear of green all around him. At the lack of cover, those glorious trees and bushes swapped for flat plains.
The thumping is getting louder, and Tensei tries to tell himself it’s just his heart-rate picking up in the wake of all his racing. He knows he shouldn’t, that it will just slow him down, but he can’t resist peeking over his shoulder. The beast has gained on him, its eyes glowing eerily even in the sunlight. It’s mouth cracks open, a thin tongue snaking out to lick the air, as if it can already taste Tensei’s blood.
Tensei tries to turn back around, but his feet fall out from under him, and he only has moments to brace himself before he hits the ground. The rock is cold underneath him, and despite his scrabbling efforts, he finds he can’t get back up. The footfalls pick up speed, shaking the ground around Tensei. Tensei struggles harder, but his legs won’t cooperate and his arms aren’t strong enough to support him.
“H-help,” he coughs out, but his words are weak, and his tongue is growing numb. He can’t keep his head up any longer, his neck failing him as his forehead presses into the dirt. He breathes raggedly in the dust. The world has narrowed to a single, shadowed existence. He tries again to call out, but he can’t get anything other than a keen to emerge, and that turns into a full-bodied scream as the claws finally tear into him.
Tensei’s legs are twitching when he wakes up, a strangled gasp on his lips. He’s sweating, overburdened by his blankets, which don’t help the suffocating feeling of the dream, still lingering in the darkness. He rubs at his paralyzed legs with a hand, willing the twitching to stop. It’s not voluntary, a fact that solidifies the rock in Tensei’s throat as he tries to swallow down the panic. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling twin tears stream down his face. He bites his lip, forcing himself to inhale and exhale between even counts.
“You’re okay,” Tensei murmurs quietly. “It was just a dream.”
He moves the heavy blankets off of him, gripping the edge of the nightstand to pull himself up to sit. His wheelchair, new and oddly heavy, is within reaching distance, so he pulls the handles over, working to settle himself on the seat. He’s still clumsy with the chair, and it takes him far too long to swing over. His back pings with aftershocks of pain, either from the dream or his recent surgery. He palms at it ineffectively as he drops his head back to stare at the ceiling. His fan churns lazily, doing virtually nothing to move the air in here. He needs to get out.
The television is still on in the living room when he rolls into it. There’s an infomercial scrolling past, showing off some new gadget Tensei’s sure is better off in a dumpster than on somebody’s coffee table. He’s expecting to see his Dad, asleep upright and abandoned by his mother for her own bedroom. But instead, it’s Tenya in a pair of thread-bare pajamas. His glasses are off, and he’s barely paying attention to the TV.
Tensei pauses at the threshold of the room, tapping his wheels with the flats of his hands. Tenya’s been quieter since Tensei got injured—irascible and easily overwhelmed. He also won’t look Tensei in the eye most days. He idles at the edge of the living room, rocking his chair back and forth as he wonders if he’ll make the situation worse with his presence. But Tenya is his little brother, and Tensei can’t pretend he hasn’t seen this, that his heart doesn’t ache for the vacant expression on Tenya’s face.
So he wheels over to the couch, flicking the TV off with the remote. It breaks whatever spell Tenya’s been under, his eyes flicking up to Tensei’s face then off, searching for something else in the room to focus on. Tenya’s throat clicks as he swallows thickly.
“I apologize if I woke you.” The words are overly formal, and it just further reminds Tensei how little this version of Tenya resembles the younger brother he remembers. “I lost track of time. It was irresponsible of me, I hope you can return to slumber.”
Tensei shakes his head, the echoes of the dream still playing across the back of his eyes. “It wasn’t you,” he says. Tenya looks at him, and whatever he must see there—fear, weakness, guilt—Tensei isn’t sure but it shutters whatever is left of Tenya’s energy.
Tensei watches helplessly as Tenay slumps into himself, picking mindlessly at his worn pajama pants. He doesn’t know how to do this, how to pull his brother out of himself. How to drag him back into Tensei’s arms. It used to be so easy, back when Tenya still idolized him. Back when Tensei was someone to idolize.
But he can’t just leave him here, and Tensei doesn’t want to be alone. He can still feel the fall of the beasts’ footsteps, see the gleam of claws, smell the earth, damp with his own sweat.
“Do you want ramen?” Tensei asks.
Tenya snaps to attention. “Oh,” he looks at the clock above the mantelpiece. “It’s a bit late.”
“Humor me,” Tensei pleads, moving the kitchen before Tenya can protest. But Tenya doesn’t even try and, after a moment, his footsteps follow Tensei.
He can’t reach the ramen packs out of the cabinets, so he fills the kettle instead. Tenya moves robotically behind him, opening cabinets and pulling out two packages of SHIN before turning to the fridge to grab marinated eggs. Tensei sets the kettle on, then pulls out a cutting board and knife. Tenya stares at him, holding the eggs in one of his hands as if nervous to bestow them to his brother.
Tensei may be injured, may not ever run again, but he’ll be damned if he lets Stain take this away from him too. He’s the stable older brother. He can make ramen. He can chase Tenya down, even as he makes every attempt to slip out of Tensei’s orbit.
So he holds out a hand and waits for Tenya to trust him. The eggs are fridge-cold and slightly tacky, but Tensei doesn’t pay it any mind as he slices them both in half. Tenya’s grabbed two ramen bowls out of the dishwater, and Tensei gives them each an egg, bringing the cutting board to the sink to wash it off.
“What was your dream about?”
Tensei doesn’t pause in his ministrations, doesn’t want to show Tenya how startling this is—to see Tenya reaching out instead of shutting down. “I was being chased,” he says, scrubbing at a soy sauce stain instead of looking up. He keeps his voice measured. “I was in the woods and there was a monster after me. I think—” he sucks in a breath and considers Tenya. Wonders if he’s strong enough to hear this, to know that Tensei’s still afraid, even now, “I think it was supposed to be a version of Stain.”
Tenya makes a noise of dismay, and Tensei drops the cutting board to go to him. The kettle is beeping, steam billowing out of its spout. Tensei ignores it. That can wait, but this can’t. He throws his arms open, asking for a hug.
Tenya hesitates, face wan.
“Let me in, Tenya.” He’s not quite begging—he wants this to be Tenya’s choice—but he’s not going to pull away before Tenya gives him an indication of something.
“I don’t know how,” Tenya admits, and his voice is a broken thing. “I don’t know how to be strong for you.”
Tensei’s arms are starting to burn, but he refuses to drop them. Instead, he slowly reaches for Tenya’s shoulders. To steady his brother. “What makes you think you need to be strong for me?”
“You’re hurt,” Tenya says. “You’re hurt and I can’t make it better. I can’t be you, Tensei. I’m not you. I’ve already made so many mistakes as Ingenium.”
And isn’t that a kick in the chest? Tensei’s been so worried that Tenya thought him weak, he never considered that he’s left Tenya to flounder under the weight of his legacy. Tensei really doesn’t deserve to call himself a hero, if this is how Tenya’s been feeling without Tensei’s notice. “I don’t need you to be me! I never want you to feel like there’s something to live up to. Even if there was, I didn’t turn out to be much of a role model.”
Tenya’s face screws up, his fist clenching in the sleeves of his pajama top. “Don’t say that,” he snaps, and Tensei rides through the unexpected anger. “You’re all I’ve ever looked up to. Don’t tell me you believe Stain’s lies.”
“I’m not infallible,” Tensei admits, and it hurts to see the disappoint cloud Tenya’s eyes. But Tensei needs him to know. “I’m not going to tell you that Stain was right, because he wasn’t. But you can’t keep me on a pedestal. It’s not fair to you, if you’re going to take this—take Ingenium over.
“I haven’t been around much since I joined the agency, and I deeply regret that Tenya. I never meant to miss so much of you growing up. But it felt like I was moving so fast and by the time I remembered to look behind me, you’d grown up without my notice.
“You said you didn’t know how to be strong for me, but I don’t need that. Tenya, I’m still figuring out how to be strong for myself. But you know what helps?”
“W-what?” Tenya’s lip is quivering, his eyes shimmering. He fights the tears, pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes.
“Being there for you, in a way I couldn’t be before. You have to let me in, kid. I don’t want to be an unwelcome presence in your life. But I’d like to be there, if you’ll let me.”
“I-I-I do want you there. In my life.”
And this confession seems to push Tenya over the edge. Tenya pulls Tensei into him, crushing Tensei into his chest. Tensei runs a comforting hand over the back of Tenya’s trying not to cry himself as the kid finally, finally, hugs him.
“You don’t need to live up to my image, Tenya. I don’t need you to shoulder any of my hurt. I just want to see you be the hero you want to be. The kid I know so well.”
Tenya’s hands are tightly wound in the fabric of Tensei’s shirt. Tensei pets him, riding out the sobs. “I’ll try,” Tenya says, eventually. His voice raspy under the influence of tears. “I’m going to try my best.”
And that's all Tensei’s needs to hear. What Tensei needs to let Tenya go with the assurance that his brother will always return to him. That, whatever faults Tensei has, Tenya will see him through it.