Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He had been sitting here for nearly an hour. Patience was a skill he'd learned early - hunger taught it, survival demanded it. But this patience felt different. Sharper. Edged with something that made his fingers twitch against his knees.

The sound of a key in the lock. Footsteps. A whistle - some cheerful tune that grated against his nerves.

"Mama? Papa?" Tohru Ishido’s voice called out. "I'm back from the evening market -"

The whistling stopped.

Tohru pushed through the curtained doorway, flour still dusting his sleeves, and froze. His hand went to his chest - that instinctive, useless gesture of the startled.

"Who- ?“ The boy's voice cracked slightly. Then he blinked, recognition filling those dull brown eyes. "You’re him - Yoichi's brother."

All For One let his mouth curve into something adjacent to a smile. "How perceptive. Please, sit." He gestured to a stool across from him, the motion languid.

Tohru didn't move. "The shop's closed."

"I'm not here for pastries." All For One studied the boy - soft jaw, soft eyes, hands that had never shaped anything larger than dough. This was what had captured Yoichi's attention? This mundane creature? "Though I understand they're quite good. Yoichi speaks highly of them."

Color rose in Tohru's cheeks at his twin's name. Disgusting.

"What do you want?"

"I thought it was time we had a conversation."

The baker's son remained in the doorway, one hand still on the frame. Smart boy. His instincts were probably telling him to run, registering the apex predator he was speaking to.

"About what?" Tohru's voice held steady, though All For One could smell the first bitter notes of fear beginning to bloom.

"About my brother, of course." All For One gestured to a wooden stool across from him. "Please. Sit."

The pathetic boy still didn’t obey. Wretched creature. "Yoichi's not here."

"I know where Yoichi is." All For One’s smile never wavered. "He's at home, where he belongs. I’m here to discuss why he won't be visiting your ... establishment anymore."

Something flickered in Tohru's expression - a flash of protectiveness that made All For One's jaw clench. He forced his face to remain pleasant.

"Yoichi can make his own choices," Tohru said carefully.

"Can he?" All For One tilted his head. "My brother is ... fragile. Easily influenced. I'm sure you've noticed how trusting he can be. How eager to please." He paused, letting the words sink in. "It would be terrible if someone took advantage of that kindness."

Tohru's hands curled into fists at his sides. "I would never -"

"Of course not," All For One interrupted smoothly. "You seem like a decent young man. Which is why I'm confident we can resolve this matter without any ... unpleasantness. We both want what’s best for Yoichi, don’t we?"

All For One reached into his coat, producing a thick envelope. He set it on the table between them with deliberate care, letting the lip fall open to reveal neat stacks of bills. More money than a baker's son would earn in ten years.

"I want you to leave," he said simply. "Tonight. Take your parents if you like. Start fresh somewhere far from here."

Tohru stared at the money, then back at him. "You're trying to buy me off to stop me from seeing Yoichi?"

He said it as if it was ludicrous. As if this wasn’t a logical conclusion that benefited both parties. All For One was trying here.

"I'm offering you an opportunity." All For One kept his tone pleasant, reasonable, despite feeling the slight rise in temper. "You're young. There are other cities, other ... prospects. Yoichi will forget you soon enough."

"No."

The word hung between them like a blade.

All For One's fingers stilled against the table. "No? I'm offering you a solution that benefits everyone involved."

"Everyone except Yoichi."

The smile finally slipped. Just for a moment - a crack in the facade that revealed something far less pleasant underneath. All For One retrieved the envelope, tucking it back into his coat with deliberate care.

"You misunderstand the situation," he said quietly. "This isn't a negotiation."

Tohru straightened, chin lifting in a gesture that reminded All For One uncomfortably of Yoichi's rare moments of defiance. "And you misunderstand me if you think I'll abandon someone I care about because his brother doesn't like it. I care about him."
 Tohru's voice gained strength, though All For One could smell the fear-sweat beginning to bead on his skin. "And he deserves to have friends. To have a life beyond whatever hold you have on him."

"Hold?" All For One laughed softly. "Is that what he told you?"

"He didn't have to tell me anything. I see how he flinches when your name comes up. How he looks over his shoulder constantly, like he's afraid you'll appear." Tohru stepped forward, jaw set despite the tremor in his hands. "He deserves better than to live in fear of his own brother. I think he needs the freedom to choose his own life."

The pleasantness drained from All For One's face like water through a sieve.

"His life?" The laugh that escaped All For One's throat was sharp, lethal. "His life is mine, boy. Has been since the moment we drew breath. Yoichi doesn't need freedom - he needs guidance. Structure. Someone who understands what's best for him. We shared a womb, share blood, share everything. He is a piece of me weak and frail that piece may be - He is not some separate entity for you to claim pieces of. 

"He's a person, not a possession -"

All For One's hand shot out, fingers closing around Tohru's throat with just enough pressure to lift him onto his toes. The baker's son gasped, hands flying up to claw at All For One's wrist, but there was no quirk to enhance his strength. Just fear and desperation and the dawning realization that he was outmatched.

"You're mistaken, you useless wretch" All For One declared. "Yoichi belongs to me. He is mine - my twin, my other half, the piece of my soul that I chose to be born outside my body." His grip tightened, lifting Tohru higher until his feet left the ground entirely. "I will not share him. Not with you, not with anyone."

Tohru's mouth moved soundlessly, eyes wide and desperate. All For One watched with losing patience as the boy's face began to darken.

"You dare," All For One hissed, "to lecture me about my own twin? You, who've known him for what - months? I pulled him from our mother's corpse. I fed him from her cooling body. I've kept him alive through every fever, every winter, every moment of his pathetic life."

He squeezed harder, feeling the delicate structures of Tohru's throat compress. The boy's face was turning purple.

"He loves me," All For One continued, voice dropping to something intimate, terrible. "He just needs reminding sometimes. And you - you're a distraction. A temporary delusion he's entertaining."

Tohru's mouth worked soundlessly, tears streaming down his mottled face.

"But I'll fix that."

Black threads erupted from All For One's spine, razor-sharp and seeking. One punched through Tohru's back with surgical precision, severing the spine between the third and fourth vertebrae. The boy's body went instantly limp below the neck, arms dropping like dead weight.

All For One released him, letting him crumple to the floor. Tohru's eyes were still conscious, still aware, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

"There." All For One crouched beside him, studying his handiwork. "Now you understand what you are. Nothing. Less than nothing - just a useless lump of meat. Not even worth the effort of a proper death."

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. 

The lamp oil was easy to find - a large jar by the oven. He poured it methodically across the floor, over the wooden shelves, splashing it up the walls. The paralysed boy could only watch, eyes rolling wildly, throat making tiny, strangled sounds.

"Your parents are sleeping upstairs, aren't they?" All For One mused, striking a match. "They'll probably wake when the smoke gets thick enough. Though by then, the stairs will already be gone. How unfortunate for them- to have to pay for your sins."

He dropped the match.

The oil caught instantly, racing across the floor in orange tongues. All For One stepped through the back door as flames began to climb the walls, already consuming the curtains, the shelves, reaching toward the ceiling where two innocent people slept.

Behind him, he could hear the wretch trying to scream through paralysed vocal cords - thin, reedy sounds barely audible over the growing roar of fire.

All For One didn't look back. His mind was already on the future, on the morning's conversation to come. His twin would no doubt cry, would rage, would hurt in that weak, pathetic way of his that would need soothing with his older brother’s guiding hand.

But Yoichi would have no one else to turn to for comfort. And that was how it should be. How it would always be.

He would not suffer any interference to the most natural connection in this paltry universe.

Chapter Text

Cold steel. Cold hands. Cold eyes that looked at him like he was a puzzle to be solved.

"Don't struggle, Yoichi. You'll only make this harder on yourself."

The Vault walls pressed closer, the darkness thick as tar, and Yoichi couldn't breathe couldn't move couldn't -

"Your heart has always belonged to me. I'm simply putting it where it belongs."

Black threads writhed from his brother's fingertips, reaching, pressing against his chest. The pain was white-hot, searing, as they burrowed beneath skin and muscle and bone. He tried to scream but no sound came, tried to fight but his body wouldn't obey.

"Shh. This is love, Yoichi. This is how we become whole again."

The threads wrapped around his heart, squeezing, pulling, and he could feel it being torn away, ripped from where it belonged, leaving a gaping hollow that would never heal never stop bleeding never -

“Yoichi -”

“My Yoichi -”

"Yoichi!"

The voice cut through the nightmare like a blade through silk. Yoichi jolted upright, chest heaving, cold sweat slicking his skin. The world tilted dangerously for a moment - where was he? The Vault walls should be there, the suffocating darkness, the -

"Hey, hey, you're okay. You're safe."

Hands hovered near his shoulders, not touching, waiting. Yoichi's vision slowly focused on concerned brown eyes, on messy dark hair, on a face marked by worry and exhaustion.

Kudō.

Not his brother. Not the Vault. Not -

"Where -" Yoichi's voice came out as a rasp, throat raw as if he'd been screaming. He probably had been. "I'm not -"

"You're in our room. In the hideout. It's been a year, remember?" Kudō's voice was soft, careful. "You had another nightmare."

‘Our’ room. Their small space in the depths of the resistance base, with its single bed they'd started sharing three months ago and the stack of salvaged books in the corner and the photograph of the old rebellion that Kudō kept on the makeshift nightstand.

Safe. He was safe.

Yoichi's breathing gradually slowed, but his hands still shook as he pressed them against his chest. The phantom pain lingered there, that terrible sensation of something vital being torn away.

"Can I?" Kudō asked quietly, hands still hovering. "Would it help if I -?"

"Yes." The word tumbled out before Yoichi could stop it. "Please."

Kudō's hands settled gently on his shoulders, thumbs brushing against his collarbone. The touch was warm, real, grounding. So different from the cold manipulation of his dreams.

"You're shaking," Kudō murmured, shifting closer on the narrow bed. "Want to tell me about it?"

Yoichi shook his head, then immediately contradicted himself. "The Vault. It was - he was trying to -" 

Kudō's expression darkened for a moment, anger flickering across his features before it smoothed into something gentler. "That bastard," he said quietly. "But it was just a dream, Yoichi. He can't touch you here."

"I know. I know that." Yoichi's hands pressed harder against his chest, feeling for the steady rhythm beneath his ribs. "It just felt so real. Like I was back there, like he was -"

"Hey." Kudō's hands moved to cup his face, thumbs brushing away tears Yoichi hadn't realized were falling. "Know I’m not good at this stuff but - can I try something? It might help."

At Yoichi's nod, Kudō leaned forward slowly, giving him every chance to pull away. Their foreheads touched, and Yoichi felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"Breathe with me," Kudō said softly. "In for four. Hold for four. Out for four."

They breathed together in the dim light of their small room, Kudō's hands steady and warm against Yoichi's face. This was what Kudō did when the nightmares got bad - patient, gentle, asking permission before every touch. So different from the way his brother had simply taken what he wanted.

"Better?" Kudō asked after a few minutes.

"Yes, thank you." Yoichi's voice was steadier now. "I’m sorry I woke you  - I know it’s probably not the best, hearing me -"

"You never have to thank me for this, or apologise" Kudō said, but he was smiling slightly. "Though I do appreciate you not mentioning my habit of talking in my sleep during my own bad nights."

That surprised a small laugh out of Yoichi. "You mean your tendency to give tactical orders to imaginary squadmates?"

"They're not imaginary. They're just... currently elsewhere."

Kudō always knew how to do this - how to pull him back from the edge of panic with gentle humour and infinite patience.

"Can I kiss you?" Kudō asked softly. "Would that be okay?"

"Please."

The kiss was soft, careful, nothing like - no, not here, that had no place in this cocoon of safety. Kudō's lips were warm and slightly chapped, familiar in the best way. When they broke apart, Yoichi felt more like himself again.

"Kudō," he said suddenly, grabbing his the other man's hand. "Can you - I need you to check something."

"What?"

Yoichi pressed Kudō's palm flat against his chest, over his heart. "Can you feel it? Is it still there? Still mine?"

Kudō's expression grew impossibly gentle. He didn't question the request, didn't make Yoichi feel foolish for needing the reassurance. Instead, he spread his fingers wide, feeling for the steady rhythm beneath skin and bone.

"It's there," he said firmly.
“Yeah?”

 "Yeah - strong and steady. Definitely yours." He paused, then added quietly, "Can feel it when we're sleeping, and it's the most reassuring sound in the world. Promise"

Yoichi's eyes filled with tears again, but these felt different. Cleaner. "He used to say it belonged to him. That I was just ... carrying it for him."

"He was wrong." Kudō's voice held quiet fury. "Your heart is yours, Yoichi. Your choices are yours. Your life is yours. He never had the right to any of it."

"I know that now." Yoichi covered Kudō's hand with both of his own, keeping it pressed against his chest. "It's just ... sometimes the nightmares make me forget."

"Then I'll remind you as often as you need."

They stayed like that for a long time, Kudō's hand warm against Yoichi's chest, both of them listening to the steady proof of life beneath his ribs. Outside their small room, the hideout was quiet except for the distant hum of generators and the soft footsteps of whoever was on watch duty.

The warzone above them was quiet for once. Tranquil in a way Yoichi couldn’t trust,  but here, right now - he’d take it.

"Will you stay awake with me for a while?" Yoichi asked eventually. "I don't think I can sleep yet."

"Of course." Kudō shifted so he could lean back against the wall, pulling Yoichi with him. "Hey, want me to read to you? I found another one of those terrible romance novels you pretend not to like."

"They're not terrible," Yoichi protested, settling against Kudō's side. "They're just ... dramatically optimistic."

"Oh yeah, my mistake. Dramatically optimistic stories about love conquering all and people choosing each other freely."

The gentle teasing made Yoichi smile. "When you put it like that, it sounds like exactly what I need right now. But - do you mind if I … read to you?"

Kudō pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Sounds good. Cheesy romance always puts me to sleep."

As Kudō reached for the battered paperback on the nightstand, Yoichi closed his eyes and focused on the warmth surrounding him. Not the cold steel of the Vault, not the suffocating darkness of his nightmares, but this - safety, choice, love freely given and received.

He leant against the wall, wide awake with no sign of more sleep in sight, and let Kudō rest in close. The red of his hero’s hair caught the low lamp light and Yoichi couldn’t resist carding his fingers through the deceptively soft lock as Kudō settled his head onto Yoichi’s chest.

Yoichi cleared his throat and picked up on the chapter he’d earmarked. 

Bad memories dwelt in a lot of things in his life - reading aloud was a casualty of that as well. All those years being at the beck and call, nothing his own, note even his voice … it felt like taking something back when he did it for Kudō.

So he read and read until his mouth was dry and his throat aching, long past when Kudō drifted of. Yoichi didn’t mind. It was peaceful, sitting there with Kudō pressed against his side, Yoichi’s fingers playing with those red strands.

His heart beat steady and strong in his chest, where it belonged. Where it would always belong.

His.

Right beside Kudō.

Chapter Text

The flowers were already wilting.

Yoichi clutched them tighter as he climbed the rusted fire escape to their makeshift shelter, petals dropping like brittle tears onto the metal grating below. They weren't much - scrubby weeds he'd found growing through cracks in the pavement, a few half-dead daisies pilfered from an overgrown lot. But they were the best he could manage, and today ... today felt important enough to try.

Sixteen years. Had it really been sixteen years since they'd crawled from that rotting place by the water?

The abandoned high-rise stretched above him, its broken windows gaping like dead eyes. Most of the building was uninhabitable - floors collapsed, walls crumbling, the stench of decay seeping through every crack. But the top floor, their floor, was different. His brother had made it different. Clean. Secure. Safe.

Theirs.

Yoichi paused at the final landing, gathering his courage. Things had been ... strained between them since that night. Since the Glowing Person. Since his brother had come home with light dancing beneath his skin and blood on his clothes, smiling that terrible, satisfied smile that made Yoichi's stomach twist and horror close up his throat.

His brother wore their stolen luminescence like a trophy, and Yoichi couldn't look at that soft glow without remembering the broadcasts, the hope in people's faces, the gentle voice that had promised peace.

They still shared their space, still slept side by side on the salvaged mattresses his brother had procured from somewhere. But the easy warmth between them had cooled since that day, replaced by careful politeness and the weight of unspoken words. 

But today was different. Today was their birthday, and Yoichi had a plan.

He found his brother sitting by the window, reading one of the books he'd acquired through his growing network of ... associates. Debts and favours, his brother called them. Yoichi tried not to think too hard about what those favours might entail.

"Brother?" Yoichi's voice came out smaller than he'd intended.
 
All For One looked up, expression neutral. "What?"

"I ... I wanted to ask you something." Yoichi twisted the flower stems between his fingers. "There's somewhere I'd like to go today. If that's all right."

His brother's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in Yoichi's nervous posture, the flowers clutched in his hands. "Where?"

"It's ... it's a surprise. But I promise it's not far." Yoichi swallowed hard. "I just ... I don't want to fight today. Please. It's our birthday, and I thought maybe we could-"

"Fine." The word was clipped, final. His brother set aside the book and stood with fluid grace. "Lead the way."

The journey took them through the broken heart of the city, past collapsed buildings and empty lots where hope had long since withered. Yoichi led them down increasingly familiar paths. His brother followed silently, patient but watchful, like a predator indulging a strange whim.

When they finally reached the riverbank - or what remained of it - Yoichi heard his brother's sharp intake of breath.

The water was long gone, drained away by drought and civic neglect. Only cracked earth remained, scattered with rusted debris and the bones of abandoned shopping carts. A few scraggly trees clung to the banks, their roots reaching desperately toward moisture that would never come.

"Why here?" All For One's voice was carefully controlled.

Yoichi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the edge of what had once been flowing water, to a spot that felt ... right. The earth was different here, darker, as if something had soaked into the soil long ago and never quite washed away.

"This is where we began," he said quietly, kneeling to place the wilting flowers on the ground. "This is where she ... where our mother ..."

"That's what you brought me here for?" His brother's laugh was sharp, dismissive. "To honour some worthless whore who couldn't even manage to stay alive long enough to properly birth us?"

The words hit like a slap, but Yoichi had expected them. He'd learned enough about their origins over the years - fragments gathered from his brother's investigations, pieces of a story no one else cared to remember. A woman with no name, no family, no one to mourn her passing. Someone the world had thrown away long before she'd crawled to this riverbank to die.

"She wasn't worthless," Yoichi said softly, arranging the flowers with careful reverence. "She had enough  strength to give us life."

"Barely." All For One moved to stand beside him, staring down at the makeshift memorial with cold eyes. "She was weak. Diseased. Used up. If she'd had any real strength, any value, she wouldn't have ended up here in the first place."

Yoichi's hands stilled on the flower stems. "Maybe. Or maybe she was just ... unlucky. Maybe the world was cruel to her, like it's cruel to so many people." He looked up at his brother's profile, searching for some flicker of the warmth he remembered from their childhood. "Don't you ever wonder what she was like? What she dreamed about? What made her smile?"

"No." The answer was immediate, final. "She was nothing. A vessel that served its purpose and expired. There's no mystery there, no poetry. Just biology and failure."

The harshness of it made Yoichi flinch, but he pressed on. "I think... I think she must have loved us, even at the end. Otherwise, why would she have fought so hard to bring us into the world? She could have given up, but she didn't. She made sure we survived."

All For One made a small noise of derision.

"I don't want to fight today." The words tumbled out of Yoichi in a rush. "I know you think it's foolish, but ... she was our mother. And today is our birthday. I want to honor her."

"Honor her?" All For One's voice was flat, dangerous. "You want to honor the whore who couldn't even manage to stay alive long enough to -"

"Don't." Yoichi's voice cracked like a whip. His brother fell silent, surprised. Yoichi rarely interrupted him anymore, rarely pushed back. "Stop calling her that."

All For One's eyes narrowed. "That's what she was. A low-end nothing in the world, so useless she couldn't even properly give birth to us. She left us with nothing, Yoichi. Nothing but each other and a world that wanted us dead."

"She gave us life." Yoichi knelt by the dried riverbank, placing the flowers gently on the cracked earth. "She could have died during pregnancy. Could have lost us both. But she held on long enough - was strong enough - to bring us into the world."

"To abandon us the moment we arrived."

"To give us each other. You looked into who she was for a reason, brother. A part of you must have wanted to know who she was."

All For One was quiet for a long moment, staring out across the empty riverbed. When he spoke, his voice was softer than before.
"I researched her because I research everything that might be useful. Information is power, Yoichi. Even information about dead whores has its place." He paused, then added more quietly, "Though I will admit ... there was a certain satisfaction in putting a face to the weakness that created me."

"Created us." Yoichi repeated the words, tasting them. "Not just you, brother. Both of us. We came from the same place, the same moment. Doesn't that make her important?"

Yoichi reached out tentatively, fingers brushing against his brother's hand.

His brother's fingers twitched beneath Yoichi's touch, but he didn't pull away. "What makes her important is that she died so we could live. Her weakness became our strength. Her failure became our foundation." He turned to look at Yoichi directly, and for a moment, his expression was almost gentle. "Everything worthwhile is built on the bones of the unworthy."

The words should have disturbed him - would have, once. But Yoichi found himself nodding, accepting them with the same resignation he'd learned to accept so many of his brother's harsh truths. This was who his twin was, had always been. The boy who'd pulled him from their mother's cooling corpse and never looked back.

"Thank you," Yoichi said quietly. "For finding out about her. For bringing me here when I asked. For..." He gestured vaguely at the empty riverbed, the memorial flowers, the weight of sixteen years between them. "For surviving with me."

Something flickered across his brother's face that Yoichi couldn’t parse. His hand turned palm-up beneath Yoichi's, fingers interlacing with careful precision.

"We were meant to survive together," All For One said, and for once, his voice held no mockery. "Two halves of the same whole. What else would we do?"

They stood like that for a long time, hand in hand beside the makeshift grave of a woman neither of them remembered. The sun traced its arc across the empty sky, casting long shadows over the barren earth. Somewhere in the distance, the city hummed with life and noise and endless, grinding motion.

But here, in this forgotten place where everything began, there was only silence and the weight of shared memory.

"Happy birthday, brother," Yoichi whispered.

All For One squeezed his hand once. "Happy birthday, Yoichi."

The flowers wilted further in the afternoon heat, petals scattering like confetti across the cracked earth. But they stayed where Yoichi had placed them, a small marker of respect for the woman who'd given them everything she had - even if it wasn't enough to save her.

Even if it was barely enough to save them.

He turned toward the flowers, pressing his palms together in a gesture of respect. 
"Thank you," he whispered to the empty riverbank. "For my life. For my brother's life. For the strength to bring us into this world, even if you couldn't stay."

They stood there as the sun began to sink, two boys on a dried riverbank, hands linked over a makeshift grave. The city sprawled around them, full of the living and dying, but here there was just them and the ghost of their beginning.

"I won't thank her," All For One said eventually. "She doesn't deserve it."

Yoichi nodded. He hadn't expected otherwise. His brother held grudges like treasures, especially against those who couldn't defend themselves. Their mother had committed the unforgivable sin of weakness, of mortality, of leaving them to crawl from her corpse into a hostile world.

But she had given them each other. And despite everything - despite the blood on his brother's hands, despite the growing darkness between them - Yoichi was grateful for that.

When they finally turned to leave, Yoichi cast one last look back at the memorial. Something about the sight made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn't quite name - sadness, maybe, or gratitude, or the simple acknowledgement of how far they'd come from this desolate place.

His brother was already walking away, confident that Yoichi would follow. And he would, of course. He always did.

But for just a moment, standing at the edge of their beginning, Yoichi allowed himself to imagine what their mother might have thought if she could see them now. Two boys who'd clawed their way up from nothing, who'd survived against all odds, who'd found their own twisted version of family in each other.

Would she be proud? Horrified? Heartbroken by what they'd become?

Yoichi supposed he'd never know. But as he hurried to catch up with his brother, he found himself hoping that somewhere, somehow, she understood that her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

They'd survived. They'd grown strong.

And maybe, in its own terrible way, that was love enough.

Chapter Text

Freedom was supposed to feel different.

Yoichi had imagined it so many times during those endless hours in the Vault - sunlight on his face, the ability to walk without walls closing in around him, voices that weren't his brother's echoing through his days. He'd dreamed of choice, of movement, of belonging somewhere that didn't require his complete surrender.

But three weeks into his new life with the resistance, freedom mostly felt like drowning.

The hideout was a maze of converted classrooms and offices in what had once been a school. Children's artwork still clung to some walls, faded and peeling, cheerful animals and stick figures watching over a space now filled with refugees, rebels, and the constant hum of quiet desperation. It should have been comforting - all these people choosing to fight, choosing to hope. 

But in a way, it made Yoichi feel more lost than ever.

He found himself trailing after Kudō  throughout the day, always a few steps behind, careful not to get too close. Kudō  was busy - meetings with other cell leaders, training sessions, strategy discussions that Yoichi wasn't invited to join. But being near him felt safe in a way nothing else did. 

When Kudō  was in sight, the walls didn't press quite so close. The voices didn't sound quite so much like whispers of complaint about the brother of their greatest enemy.

'Stop following him around like a lost puppy,' Yoichi told himself as he lingered outside another closed-door meeting. 'He saved you. That doesn't mean he wants you clinging to him every moment.'

So he tried to make himself useful elsewhere.

The refugees were housed in the old gymnasium, families clustered together on salvaged mattresses and makeshift bedding. Children played quiet games between the adults, their laughter carefully muted. Everyone here had lost something - homes, loved ones, the simple certainty that tomorrow would come. 

Yoichi understood that kind of loss, even if his had worn a different face.

He'd volunteered to help with food distribution, though even that simple task felt clumsy with only one arm. The empty sleeve of his shirt hung loose at his side, a constant reminder of what his brother had taken. 'For safekeeping,' All For One had said, sealing the severed limb away like some grotesque trophy. 'So you won't hurt yourself again.'

The blankets were easier to manage than the canned goods. Yoichi tucked one under his arm and made his way between the families, offering what comfort he could. Most people accepted with quiet gratitude, though he caught the way some eyes lingered on his face - recognizing the resemblance, perhaps, or simply noting the careful distance the other resistance members kept from him.

"Thank you, dear."

The voice made him pause. An older woman sat beside a small boy, both of them thin but clean, their few possessions arranged with careful pride around their small space. She smiled as she accepted the blanket, and something in Yoichi's chest loosened slightly.

"You're very welcome," he said, then hesitated. When was the last time he'd tried to have a conversation? Really tried, not just answered questions or followed orders? "Is there... anything else you need? For you or your son?"

The woman's smile widened. "Just this is wonderful. Kenji here was complaining about being cold last night, weren't you, sweetheart?"

The boy - Kenji - looked up from his colouring. "Are you one of the heroes?"

"I ..." Yoichi blinked, taken aback. "I don't think so. I'm just... helping But ... I like heroes."

"I do to. Mama says the people here are heroes because they help families like us." Kenji's voice held the matter-of-fact certainty that only children possessed. "So if you're helping, you must be a hero too."

The simple logic of it made Yoichi's throat tight. "That's very kind of you to say."

"Kenji's always been good at seeing the best in people," the woman said fondly. "It's a gift, I think. In times like these -"

The empty can hit the side of Yoichi's face with a sharp, metallic clang.

He stumbled backward, hand flying to his cheek as shocked silence fell over the immediate area. The can clattered to the floor, rolling to a stop against his feet.

"Get away from them!"

Yoichi's gaze snapped up to find three men  and women standing a few feet away, their faces all hard with suspicion and barely contained anger. 

The one in front - middle-aged, with scars running down his left arm - pointed an accusing finger at Yoichi.

"We know who you are," the man continued, voice rising. "Brother to that monster. Think you can just waltz in here and play at being one of us? Think we're stupid enough to trust you around our families?"

"I..." Yoichi tried to form words, but they tangled in his throat. The familiar sensation was creeping in - that floating, distant feeling that meant his mind was trying to protect him by pulling away from his body. 

Don’t fight - fight - run - scream - someone - someone please- 

"I was just -"

"Just what? Gathering information for your brother? Counting how many children are here? Learning our weaknesses?" The man took a step closer, and Yoichi flinched back instinctively.

The motion seemed to enrage the man further. "Look at you. Pathetic. Can't even stand up straight. Bet that useless act is good for spying, huh? Bastard - you don’t deserve to be here!"

Pathetic. Useless. Weak.

The words weren't coming from the angry refugee anymore. They were in his brother's voice, smooth and patient and absolutely certain. 'You see, my Yoichi? This is what happens when you try to be something you're not. You embarrass yourself. Come home, Yoichi. Stop this foolishness and cower like you always do.'

Yoichi's remaining hand clutched the blanket draped over his arm, knuckles white with strain. 

The gymnasium felt impossibly large and impossibly small at the same time, faces staring at him from every direction. Some curious, some sympathetic, but most just... watching. All eyes on him. All of them - so many -

He … he didn’t belong here …

"I'm sorry," he whispered politely, bowing low. The words came automatically, a reflex carved deep by years of training. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'll go."

He straightened and walked away on wooden legs, the weight of dozens of stares pressing against his back. Behind him, he heard the woman with the kind smile trying to defend him, her voice raised in protest, but the angry man's responses drowned her out.

‘You can't even handle a few harsh words, my poor little Yoichi,’ his brother's voice whispered. ‘You think you can survive out there without me? You think these people will protect you when they realize what you really are? You’re safe here, with me.’

Yoichi found himself in a storage closet on the second floor, surrounded by cleaning supplies and forgotten textbooks. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, knees drawn up to his chest, struggling to breathe normally.

Stupid, stupid of him to think they would turn a blind eye to who he was. He and All For One carried the same genes, the same blood. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think he wasn’t like his brother. Yoichi sometimes worried about that too - if he hadn’t been born with such a weak body - would he have also turned out like All For One?

By the time someone knocked on the closet door, Yoichi had managed to pull himself back together. Mostly. 

His hands had stopped shaking, at least, and his breathing had evened out. He stood and straightened his clothes, making himself look busy by rummaging among the shelves.

The door opened and his hero stepped into the cramped space, concern creasing his features.

"There you are." Kudō 's eyes immediately went to Yoichi's cheek, where a red mark was probably blooming. "Bruce told me there was an incident among the refugees. You alright?"

"I'm fine," Yoichi said quickly, stepping out of the closet and closing the door behind him with his blankets still ready to be given out. Not that anyone would take them now. "Really. It was just a misunderstanding."

Kudō 's expression didn't change. "A misunderstanding that left you with a bruise on your face?"

"It was an accident." The lie came easily, practised. "Someone was gesturing while they were talking and accidentally knocked over a can. It just ... bounced and hit me. Nothing intentional."

"Yoichi ..." Kudō 's voice was soft but sceptical. Like trying not to spook a wounded animal. Was … was that how Kudō  saw him? "That's not what I’m hearing about it."

"Someone must have mistaken it then." Yoichi kept his voice steady, polite. The same tone he'd used for years to appease his brother’s suspicions. "Really, Kudō . No one did anything wrong. I know you have rules about violence, and I wouldn't want anyone to get in trouble and kicked out over a simple accident."

Kudō  studied his face for a long moment, and Yoichi fought the urge to look away. 

Finally, Kudō  sighed. "Yoichi - if someone is making you feel unwelcome here -"

"They're not." Yoichi managed a smile. "Everyone's been very kind. And … I understand that trust takes time to build. I don't expect them to accept me immediately."

"You have every right to be here," Kudō  said firmly. "You're not your brother."

The words hit harder than they should have. 'But I am to them,' Yoichi thought. 'I'm part of him, always have been. How can I expect them to see anything else?'

"Thank you," he said instead. "For your concern. But really, I'm fine. I should probably get back to helping with the supplies."

Kudō  looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Yoichi's expression must have convinced him to let it go. For now.

"All right. But Yoichi?" Kudō 's hand briefly touched his shoulder, warm and reassuring. "If you need anything - anything at all - you know where to find me."

Yoichi nodded, throat too tight to speak. He watched Kudō  walk away, then leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

He couldn’t keep leeching off of Kudō, it wasn’t right. Yoichi needed to to learn to stand on his own again. But … ‘again’ was rather redundant - he’d never really stood on his own had he? Always ‘protected’ and ‘looked after’ by his brother and then saved by a brave man who’d thought Yoichi was worth keeping alive. 

Always reliant on someone. 

Yoichi took a deep breath, then set about making coffee’s.

Coffee … he couldn’t mess up. Too much.

Chapter Text

Big Brother stared at him.

He always stared. Pale eyes that never blinked much, watching Yoichi eat the bread crusts they'd found behind the bakery. Watching him sleep curled up in the corner of their dumpster home. Watching him try to sound out the letters in the picture book the Nice Lady had given him before Big Brother made her go away.

Yoichi didn't mind the staring. Big Brother's eyes made him feel safe, like nothing bad could happen as long as those pale eyes were watching.

Big Brother didn't talk, though. He made sounds - grunts and huffs and sometimes a low growl when Strangers got too close. But no words other than "Yoichi" in his quiet voice, but that was the only one he ever used. 

Yoichi understood. Big Brother didn't need words because Big Brother was smart and strong and knew everything already.

Yoichi had learned words from lots of places. From the pictures in books that showed a cat and said "CAT" underneath. From Strangers who sometimes dropped coins in their little cup and said "poor children" or "so young" before Big Brother's stare made them hurry away. From the man at the vegetable stand who called out "Fresh! Fresh!" every morning until Big Brother took Yoichi's hand and led him somewhere else.

Yoichi liked Strangers. They had different voices saying different words and sometimes they smelled like flowers or soap instead of the garbage smell that lived in their dumpster. But Big Brother didn't like them. His hand would get tight around Yoichi's wrist whenever Strangers looked their way, and something dark would happen in his pale eyes that made the Strangers look away real quick.

But Yoichi wanted Big Brother to have words too. Words were nice. They made pictures in your head and let you tell someone what you were thinking. Maybe if Big Brother had words, he wouldn't have to stare so much. Maybe he could tell Yoichi what he was thinking about when he got that faraway look.

So one day, when the rain was pattering on the metal walls of their dumpster and they couldn't go outside, Yoichi crawled over to where Big Brother sat watching him. He had his picture book - the one with the bright colours that showed animals and simple words.

“Big Brother, I have new book,” he proudly announced, holding up the torn and crinkled pages. “Should I read to Big Brother?”

Big Brother's pale eyes flicked down to the book, then back to Yoichi's face. He didn't nod, but he didn't look away either, which meant yes in Big Brother language.

Yoichi opened to the first page. A big yellow circle with a happy face. "Sun," he said slowly, pointing to the word below the picture. "S-U-N. Sun."

Big Brother stared at the page, then at Yoichi.

Yoichi tried again. "Sun. Like the bright thing in the sky that makes it warm." He pointed up, even though they couldn't see sky from inside their dumpster. "Sun."

Big Brother's lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

"Try," Yoichi said gently. "Just try to say it. Sun."

Nothing.

Yoichi turned the page. A dog with floppy ears and a wagging tail. "Dog. D-O-G. Dog."

Still nothing, but Big Brother was looking at the pictures now instead of just staring at Yoichi. That felt like progress.

They went through the whole book like that - Yoichi reading each word out loud, pointing to the letters, explaining what the pictures meant. Big Brother never made a sound, but he watched everything. He always watched everything.

Big Brother was perfect and strong and never needed help with anything. Maybe words were just something Yoichi was good at because he was the weaker one. Maybe this was his job, like how Big Brother's job was to keep them safe and find food.

When they finished, Yoichi closed the book and looked up hopefully. "Want to try again tomorrow?"
Big Brother reached out and touched the book's cover with one finger. Then he looked at Yoichi and pointed to the book, then to Yoichi, then back to the book.

"You want me to read it again?" Yoichi asked.

Big Brother nodded. Just once, but it was definitely a nod.

So Yoichi read it again. And again the next day. And the day after that.

Slowly, very slowly, Big Brother started to move his lips along with the words. No sound, but his mouth would shape the letters Yoichi was saying. Like he was practising in secret.

Yoichi pretended not to notice. Big Brother didn't like being watched when he was learning something new - it made him get that dark look in his eyes, the one that made Strangers hurry away and Yoichi’s heart clench in a bad way. So Yoichi would look at the pictures while he read, letting Big Brother practice the mouth-shapes without feeling stared at.

More books came from different places. A Stranger dropped one while running away from Big Brother's stare. Another fell out of a garbage bag they were searching through. Yoichi collected them all, and every day they would sit together in their dumpster while he read and Big Brother listened and practised his silent mouth-words.

The books got bigger. More words. Longer stories. Yoichi got better at reading, stumbling less over the hard words, understanding more of what the pictures were trying to tell him. And Big Brother watched it all, those pale eyes taking in everything like he was storing it somewhere safe inside his head.

Weeks passed. Maybe months - Yoichi wasn't good at counting that high yet. The weather got warmer, then colder, then warmer again. They moved their dumpster twice when too many Strangers started coming around and Big Brother got in more fights. But every day, Yoichi read his books and Big Brother listened.

Then one morning, when Yoichi was sounding out a particularly hard word in a story about a brave knight, Big Brother's hand closed around his wrist.

Yoichi looked up, startled. Big Brother was staring at him with those pale, pale eyes. His mouth opened.

"Yoichi."

The word came out rusty, like it had been sitting in Big Brother's throat for a very long time waiting to be used. But it was clear. It was real. It was his name, the name Big Brother had chosen for him when they were even smaller, the name that meant he belonged to someone.

Big Brother's lips curved slightly - not quite a smile, but close. He reached behind him and pulled out something he'd been hiding. Another book, but this one was different. Newer. The cover showed a man in a bright costume with a cape flowing behind him.

"Read," Big Brother said, his voice still rusty but stronger now. He held out the book. "Read more."

Yoichi took the book with trembling hands. The title read ‘Captain Hero’ in big, bold letters. He looked up at Big Brother, who was watching him with that intense stare that made Yoichi feel like the most important thing in the whole world.

"You want me to read this one?"

"Read this." The words came easier this time. Big Brother settled beside him, close enough that Yoichi could feel his warmth. "Read, Yoichi."

So Yoichi opened the book and began to read about Captain Hero, who saved people and fought monsters and always knew the right thing to do. Big Brother listened to every word, and sometimes - when Yoichi stumbled over something difficult - he would repeat the word in his rusty voice, helping Yoichi sound it out.

Captain Hero reminded Yoichi of Big Brother - he kept people safe, just like Big Brother kept Yoichi safe and both had super cool powers.

They spent the whole day reading together, Big Brother's voice getting stronger and clearer with each page. By the time the sun was setting, Big Brother was reading whole sentences out loud, his pale eyes bright with something Yoichi had never seen before.

"Good?" Yoichi asked when they finished the book. "Did you like it?"

Big Brother looked at him for a long moment. Then he reached out and ruffled Yoichi's hair - hands rough as always, but comforting even as it pulled Yoichi’s tangled hair.

"Good," Big Brother said. "More tomorrow."

Yoichi beamed. Big Brother had words now. Real words, in his real voice. And he wanted to read more stories, wanted to learn more words, wanted to sit close to Yoichi while they discovered new pictures and new sounds together.

Yoichi couldn’t wait until Big Brother spoke more - they could talk about everything, learn so much together! Maybe when Big Brother spoke, those scary times when Big Brother did bad things wouldn’t be so bad - because then he could explain them to Yoichi and Yoichi would know Big Brother didn’t mean to do bad things.

"Tomorrow," Yoichi agreed, snuggling closer to Big Brother's side. "We'll read lots more tomorrow."

Big Brother stiffened at the contact, like that little cat that came round sometimes did, but soon a longer arm than Yoichi’s came around him, holding him safe and warm in their small, garbage - scented world. 

And for the first time since the Nice Lady had given him that first picture book, Yoichi felt like he'd given something back to the person who gave him everything.

Words. He'd given Big Brother words.

Chapter Text

The morning after the incident, Yoichi made himself as invisible as possible.

He found tasks in the furthest corners of the hideout - sorting medical supplies in a basement storage room, organizing dusty textbooks in abandoned classrooms, anywhere the other resistance members weren't likely to venture. The work was awkward with only one arm, but he managed. 

Look at you, struggling with simple tasks. Is this the independence you wanted so badly?

Yoichi gritted his teeth and continued counting bandages.

But solitude, it turned out, was its own kind of prison. Without distraction, without the possibility of connection, his mind turned inward, circling the same dark thoughts like water down a drain.

When Kudō found him the next afternoon, Yoichi was attempting to reorganize a supply closet one-handed, boxes scattered around him in a chaos that spoke to his mounting frustration.

"There you are." Kudō's voice was gentle, but Yoichi could hear the concern underneath. "I've been looking for you."

Yoichi didn't turn around, focusing instead on trying to lift a heavy box of canned goods with his remaining arm. "Just trying to make myself useful."

"Yoichi." Kudō stepped closer, and Yoichi could feel his presence like warmth at his back. "About yesterday - "

"Nothing happened yesterday." The words came out sharper than intended. Yoichi finally managed to hoist the box, though it immediately began to slip from his grip.

Kudō caught it easily, setting it aside with careful movements. "Listen to me. If staying close to me makes you feel safer, then that's what we'll do. I know this is all... a lot to adjust to."

The kindness in his voice made Yoichi's chest tight. He finally turned around, forcing his brightest smile - the one he'd perfected over years of pretending everything was fine when nothing was.

"That's very thoughtful, but I'm quite busy, actually." He gestured at the chaos around them. "I was thinking of handing out food cans again today. Maybe I could find some entertainment for the children - that's sure to lift everyone's spirits. I could even make coffee for everyone. People always appreciate coffee."

Kudō's expression grew more concerned. "Yoichi, you don't have to - "

"Don't have to what?" The smile felt like it might crack his face. "Help? Contribute?“

“You don't need to put so much pressure on yourself."

Something sharp and defensive flared in Yoichi's chest. "I'm not an invalid," he snapped.

The words hung in the air between them, harsh and bitter. Yoichi immediately wished he could take them back, horrified by his own tone. The familiar dread settled in his stomach - the automatic expectation of retaliation that came from years of learning that any show of defiance would be met with swift correction.

"I know you're not an invalid," Kudō said softly. "I never said you were."

"I'm sorry." Yoichi's face burned with shame. "I didn't mean - you've done so much for me, and I just -I should—the food distribution -"

But he couldn't finish the apology, couldn't bear to see whatever disappointment might be growing in Kudō's eyes. Instead, he fled, pushing past the other man and out of the supply closet, his brother's voice following him down the hallway.

You see? This is what happens when people try to be kind to you. You throw it back in their faces. This is why you need me, Yoichi.  You're impossible, Yoichi. Selfish and ungrateful.

For a moment, Yoichi seriously considered finding another closet to hide in, somewhere he could curl up and wait for his racing heart to slow. But that would only prove his brother right - that he was weak, that he couldn't handle even the simplest social interactions without falling apart.

So instead, he steeled his remaining nerve and walked back toward the gymnasium.

The refugee area was busy with the quiet bustle of afternoon activities. Children played between the bedrolls while adults tended to small tasks - mending clothes, organizing their few possessions, speaking in low voices about nothing and everything. 

Several people looked up when Yoichi entered, and he caught the familiar mixture of curiosity and wariness in their expressions.

But before the familiar spiral of panic could take hold, a gentle voice called out to him.

"Excuse me?"

It was the woman from yesterday - the one with the kind smile and the little boy named Kenji. She stood a few feet away, her expression cautiously hopeful.

"Yes?" Yoichi managed.

"I wanted to thank you for yesterday. For the blanket. And..." She glanced around, then lowered her voice. "I wanted to apologize for what happened. That man had no right to treat you that way."

Something loosened in Yoichi's chest. "You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong."

"Still." She smiled that same warm smile. "If the offer stands, Kenji and I would love some coffee. We haven't had any in weeks."

Yoichi felt his own smile become more genuine. "Of course. I'd be happy to share."

He unscrewed the thermos with his one hand, a process that required setting it down and bracing it between his knees - awkward, but manageable. The woman didn't comment on his missing arm or offer unwanted help, for which he was grateful.

"It's not the best," he said as he poured some into the thermos cap. "But it's hot and caffeinated."

"That sounds perfect," she said, accepting the makeshift cup with both hands. "I'm Nana, by the way. And this is Kenji."

The little boy peeked out from behind his mother's legs, offering Yoichi a shy wave.

"I'm Yoichi," he said, crouching down to Kenji's eye level. "Did you sleep better with the blanket last night?"

Kenji nodded solemnly. "Mama gave me hers as well so I was warm."

Yoichi looked to the woman and offered her another one, which she waved away. “There’s others here more needing of them and I run much hotter than most - thank you though, your most kind.”

"I … thank you -"

"Hey!"

The sharp voice cut across the gymnasium like a blade. Yoichi's blood turned to ice as he recognized the tone, the anger, the barely contained violence beneath the words.

He straightened slowly, still holding the thermos, as the same man from yesterday approached with only two companions flanking him this time. 

"I thought I told you to stay away from decent people," the man snarled.

Nana stepped slightly in front of a recoiling Kenji, but her voice remained steady. "Haruto, he's not doing anything wrong. He's just -"

"Just what? Poisoning the coffee? Gathering information for his monster of a brother?" Haruto's eyes never left Yoichi's face. "You think we're stupid? You think we don't know what you're really doing here?"

Yoichi's throat felt like sandpaper. "I'm not - I would never -"

"Prove it," Haruto spat. "Drink it. If it's so safe, drink your own coffee."

The challenge hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown. Yoichi could feel the attention of half the gymnasium on him, waiting to see what the brother of All For One would do when cornered.

With shaking hands, he raised the thermos to his lips and took a long sip. The coffee was bitter and acrid - he'd never been good at making it - but it was harmless if not blistering hot in his mouth. He swallowed despite the pain and lowered the thermos.

"There," he said quietly. "It's just coffee."

"Oh, so now we're supposed to be impressed?" Haruto stepped closer, his voice rising. "You think that little show proves anything? You must think we're complete idiots if you expect us to trust the brother of the Tyrant."
“For god’s sake Haruto, he just -”

"I'm not -"

"Not what? Not his brother? Not part of his empire?" Haruto's laugh was ugly, bitter. "Do you have any idea what we've lost because of him? What he's taken from us?"

The man's companions murmured agreement, their faces hard with old grief and fresh anger.

"My daughter," Haruto continued, his voice breaking slightly. "Eight years old. She had the most beautiful singing voice. Her meta-ability let her heal people with her songs. You know what your brother did to her? He ripped it right out of her throat. Left her mute and empty, in exchange for a bag of rice for our neighbours who sold her to him.'"

Yoichi felt the blood drain from his face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for your loss, but I never -"

"Sorry?" Haruto's voice cracked like a whip. "You're sorry? Living your high life in his shadow while children died, and now you're sorry? What happened, did daddy's money run out? Did the Tyrant finally get tired of supporting his useless little brother, so you came crying to us playing victim?"

Yoichi tried to speak, tried to explain about the Vault, about the years of isolation and control and the terrible day when his brother had tried to literally cut his heart from his chest. But the words wouldn't come. 

How could he make them understand? How could he explain to these people who had suffered far worse than him? What right did he have when he -

You can't, his brother's voice whispered. You were safe while they buried their children. I treated you right didn’t I, my Yoichi? you were warm, clothed, clean - everything you ever wanted so long as you gave me what I wanted. You have no right to their sympathy.

A shadow fell over him.

Yoichi looked up to see Kudō standing there, his expression thunderous. The resistance leader's presence seemed to fill the space, commanding and dangerous in a way that made Haruto and his friends take an involuntary step back.

"That's enough," Kudō said, his voice low and deadly calm. "Haruto, pack up your family. You're leaving."

“Wait, Kudō -”  Yoichi tried to protest.

"What?" Haruto's face flushed red. "You can't be serious. We've been here for months -"

"And in those months, you've been warned twice about causing trouble. This is strike three." Kudō's eyes were hard as flint. "You violated the rules. No violence, no harassment, no creating discord among the refugees. You've done all three."

"Violence?" Haruto sputtered. "I barely touched him! And harassment? I'm trying to protect my family from a spy!"

"He's not a spy," Kudō said firmly. "He's a refugee, just like you. And he has every right to be here."

"Right?" Haruto's voice rose to a shout. "The brother of the monster who mutilated my daughter has rights? Are you insane?"

"Lower your voice," Kudō warned.

But Haruto was beyond listening. "You want to know what's insane? Letting that piece of filth anywhere near innocent people. Letting him pretend to be some kind of victim when his brother is out there destroying lives." 

He jabbed a finger at Kudō. "If you allow the blood of the Tyrant to stay around these families, then you're no better than that bastard himself."

The words hung in the air like a poison cloud.

And something inside Yoichi snapped.

The coffee thermos hit the floor with a clatter as adrenaline surged through his system. Before he could think, before he could second-guess himself, he stepped out from behind Kudō and moved to stand in front of him, facing down Haruto with a fury that surprised them both.

"Don't you dare," Yoichi said, his voice shaking but clear. "Don't you dare speak to him like that."

Haruto blinked, taken aback by the sudden reversal.

"Kudō has been nothing but kind," Yoichi continued, his one hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Nothing but generous and giving and good. He's saved more lives than you can count, protected more families than you know, and he's done it all without asking for anything in return." His voice grew stronger, fuelled by righteous anger. "He is a hero to everyone in this room, and you have no right - no right - to insult him because he showed mercy to someone you don't like."

"Yoichi," Kudō said quietly from behind him, but Yoichi wasn't finished.

"I know you've lost people," he said to Haruto, his voice softening slightly. "I know you're angry and hurting and looking for someone to blame. But Kudō isn't your enemy. He's trying to help everyone, even you, even after you've been -"
He stopped himself before he could say 'cruel.' Even now, even defending Kudō, he couldn't bring himself to be harsh, not to this man who was grieving his own losses.

Instead, he turned to face Kudō, bowing as deeply as his trembling body would allow.

"Kudō," he said formally, "I know this man has violated your rules. I know he's caused trouble and discord. But..." He took a shaky breath. "His family needs shelter. His family, his children - they're innocent." He straightened, meeting Kudō's eyes. "Please, give leeway just this once and let him stay."

The gymnasium had gone completely silent. Yoichi could feel the weight of their stares.

Kudō looked down at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, with a heavy sigh, he nodded.

"One more chance," he said to Haruto, though his eyes never left Yoichi's face. "But if there's another incident you're gone."

Haruto stood there, mouth hanging open, before nodding curtly. His companions shifted uncomfortably, the righteous anger draining out of them much to Yoichi’s tentative relief.

"I..." Haruto started, then stopped. He looked at Yoichi with something that might have been confusion, or shame.

Yoichi picked up his fallen thermos with his one hand, his legs still shaky from adrenaline. "I should clean this up," he said quietly.

As he bent to retrieve the scattered coffee supplies, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me help," Nana said softly.

And then, to his amazement, others joined her. Kenji brought him napkins from their small stash. An elderly man offered his own cup to replace the coffee that had spilled. A teenage girl helped gather the scattered supplies.

Not everyone. Not most, even. But enough.

Enough to matter. Enough to make tears well in Yoichi’s eyes.

His brother's voice was notably silent.

Chapter Text

The concrete walls had no windows.

Yoichi had memorized every crack, every stain, every imperfection in the gray surface during the endless hours since his brother had sealed him away. The room was small - perhaps ten feet by twenty- with nothing but a thin mattress on the floor and a bucket in the corner that served purposes he tried not to think about because he’d had the audacity to protest this nightmare.

Seven days.

Seven days since he'd been dragged down here, since the heavy door had slammed shut with the finality of a coffin lid. Seven days of gray walls and artificial light that never dimmed, never changed, never gave him any sense of whether it was day or night in the world above.

Seven days of asking himself the same question over and over: How could his brother do this?

Yoichi pressed his back against the wall and drew his knees to his chest, the position he'd found himself in more and more often. It made him feel smaller, yes, but also somehow more solid. More real. The vault had a way of making him feel like he was dissolving, like he might fade away entirely if he didn't actively work to hold himself together.

His brother had been getting worse for months. The debts and favours had grown into something resembling an empire, built on the backs of people too desperate or too afraid to refuse him. Yoichi had watched his brother's network spread like a disease through the city, consuming everything it touched.

He'd tried to warn people. Tried to help them see what his brother really was before it was too late.

And this - this concrete tomb - was his reward for trying to talk sense into his twin.

The sound of the lock disengaging made his stomach clench. 

All For One entered with fluid grace, carrying a metal bowl that Yoichi recognized with growing dread. More of the thick, flavourless gruel that had been his only sustenance since Yoichi’s supposed ‘ungratefulness’ however long ago it was. Packed with nutrients but absolutely disgusting in its blandness.

His brother looked immaculate as always - expensive suit perfectly pressed, hair neat, not a single indication that he'd be concerned with imprisoning his own twin brother in a windowless cell.

"Good morning, little brother," All For One said pleasantly, as if they were meeting for tea rather than in a cage. "I trust you slept well?"

Yoichi didn't answer. He looked pointedly at the bare mattress that reminded him of their years on the street. The fact that he’d prefer being out there that in probably said something about him, but at least out there he could breath fresh air. At least there was a chance to run.

All For One set the bowl on the floor between them and stepped back, hands clasped behind his back. "Still refusing to eat properly, I see. How disappointing."

"I'm not hungry." The lie tasted bitter on Yoichi's tongue. He was always hungry now, but he'd rather starve than give his brother the satisfaction of watching him gratefully accept scraps.

"Of course you're not." All For One's tone held the patient condescension of an adult speaking to a particularly stubborn child. Always the same - even when they were children. "Still clinging to your stubborn misguided sense of righteousness. I did warn you there would be consequences."

The casual dismissal of his suffering lit a spark of rage in Yoichi's chest. "Misguided?" He pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady from days of poor nutrition and limited movement. "You locked me in a concrete box because I tried to warn people about what you're doing to them!"

"What I'm doing?" All For One's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "I'm offering them hope, Yoichi. Purpose. The chance to be part of something greater than their small, meaningless lives. Isn’t that part of all those heroic ideals you keep spouting?"

"You're enslaving them!" The words tore from Yoichi's throat, rough with emotion. "You're taking their abilities, their freedom, their choices, and calling it kindness!"

"I'm giving them exactly what they ask for." All For One's voice remained perfectly level, maddeningly calm. "I've never forced anyone to accept my gifts. They come to me willingly."

"Because they're desperate! Because you've created situations where they have no other choice!"

"Choice." All For One savored the word like fine wine. "Such a fascinating concept. Tell me, dear brother - what choice did you think you were offering those people when you filled their heads with doubt and fear?"

Yoichi stared at him, disbelief and fury warring in his chest. "I was trying to help them!“

"By betraying your own blood."

The accusation hit worse than a slap to the face. Yoichi felt something crack inside him, some last fragile hope that his brother might still be reachable, might still remember what it meant to be family.

"Blood?" he repeated, his voice breaking. "You want to talk about blood? Do you even hear yourself? You’ve locked me away - kidnapped your own brother, just because I didn’t want you hurting people!"

“Calm yourself -”

But Yoichi wasn’t listening. He lunged forward, hands fisting in the expensive fabric of his brother's lapels. All For One didn't resist, didn't even seem surprised by the sudden contact.

"Let me out," Yoichi demanded, shaking his brother as hard as his weakened state would allow. "Let me out of here right now!"

All For One sighed, the sound heavy with disappointed patience. "Oh, Yoichi. You still don't understand your place in all this, do you?"

"My place?" Yoichi's grip tightened on the suit jacket. "What place? We're supposed to - you can’t keep treating me as if I’m something to own. I’m not an object - I’m a person - I’m alive. Why can’ you see that -" 
The word came out as a sob. Yoichi's hands struck his brother's chest, weak and ineffectual but driven by pure anguish he could no longer hold back. "We're supposed to be family! We're brothers! Twins!" 

His fists beat against the solid wall of his brother's torso. Traitorous, frustrated and grieving tears streamed down his face, hot and shameful as All For One's hands closed around Yoichi's wrists, stopping the frantic beating. 

His grip was firm but not painful, which somehow made it worse.

"Why do you hate me?“ Yoichi cried in a voice so pitiful it made him want to throw up. ”What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

 All For One was silent and time stretched in this cold damp space. They stood there, the two of them, nothing to be heard but Yoichi’s ragged breaths coming through aching lungs. That was until All For One leaned down, the cool skin of his forehead meeting Yoichi’s own, 

Such a gesture used to be comforting, used to make Yoichi feel as if his brother truly cared despite his outward apathy. But now all Yoichi could see in those pale, inhuman eyes, was his own reflection. 

"Dear, foolish little brother. I could never hate you."

The softness of the tone was more terrifying than any threat.

"You're right," All For One continued, his breath warm against Yoichi's face. "We are twins. My cells allowed yours to split away from mine, creating a piece of me that could exist separately. Smaller, weaker, more fragile - but still fundamentally mine."

Yoichi tried to pull away, but the grip on his wrists held firm.

"You are my gift to myself, Yoichi. A piece of my heart and soul made manifest so that I could keep it forever." All For One's voice was hypnotic, certain, absolutely sincere. "I have every right to protect that piece of myself, even from its own misguided impulses. Yu’ve always been a wayward thing, my heart."

"This isn't -" Yoichi's voice broke. "I’m a person. This is sick. You're sick, and you need help -"

"Now that you're here, safe and protected, I've never felt better." All For One went on, as if he hadn’t heard Yoichi. Or more likely didn’t care to - as he never had. "We can be together properly now. No more distractions, no more outside influences trying to slither into that easily impressionable mind of yours. It’s just us down here, as we were always meant to be."

The horror of it washed over Yoichi like a tide of ice water. 

He wondered what reaction All For One had if he threw up in his twin’s face.

Probably the bucket would be removed.

"I'll never stop fighting you," Yoichi whispered, the words coming from someplace deeper than conscious thought. "I'll never accept this. Never."

All For One's smile never wavered. He pressed a kiss to Yoichi's forehead, the gesture so achingly familiar from their childhood that it made Yoichi's heart shatter, but felt far more sinister now than it ever had before.

"We have all the time in the world, my dear brother. All the time in the world for you to understand," All For One murmured against his skin. 

He released Yoichi's wrists and stepped back, much to Yoichi’s relief.

"I'll return tomorrow," he said, straightening his jacket with practised ease. "Perhaps by then you'll be more willing to apologise for your earlier lack of gratitude."

The door closed with a soft click, and the lock engaged with mechanical finality.

Yoichi sank to his knees on the cold concrete, staring at the bowl of gray slop that represented his only connection to the world outside this box. 

He picked up the bowl with shaking hands, let out a yell and hurled it against the wall.

The sound of ceramic shattering echoed through the vault like a scream, and then there was only silence.

Chapter Text

"Where are we going?" Yoichi asked, adjusting his grip on Kudō's arm as they navigated the narrow service tunnel.

"You'll see," Kudō replied, his voice carrying that particular note of barely contained anticipation that Yoichi had learned to associate with one of his plans. 

The crutch clicked rhythmically against the concrete as they walked, Kudō's missing leg making their progress slower but no less determined. There had been grumbles about the delay of his prosthetic but Kudō at least had mastered the use of his crutch.

The tunnels beneath the no-mans land of the war above them had become their world over the past few months - a maze of maintenance passages and forgotten infrastructure that kept them hidden from his brother's ever-expanding surveillance network. It wasn't much, but it was safe. Safer than anywhere above ground, anyway.

Though, sometimes, Yoichi just wished it didn’t remind him of all those years trapped underground.

They'd been walking for nearly fifteen minutes when Kudō stopped in front of what looked like any other maintenance door. 

"Here," he said, producing a key from his pocket.

"How did you - " Yoichi started.

"Bruce did some reconnaissance. Found this place abandoned but structurally sound." Kudō's grin was almost boyish as he unlocked the door. "After you."

The space beyond was small - clearly some kind of old storage room - but Kudō had transformed it. Battery-powered lanterns cast warm light over a blanket spread on the floor, and the air smelled of something that definitely wasn't tunnel dampness.

"Is that ...?" Yoichi stepped inside, blinking in amazement.

"Coffee. Real coffee." Kudō followed him in, closing the door behind them. "And bread. Well, bread-adjacent. Bruce helped with that too."

It wasn't traditionally romantic, Yoichi supposed. No flowers, no candles, no soft music. Just a blanket on a concrete floor and the simple luxury of hot coffee in a world where such things were increasingly rare. 

But as he took in the careful preparation, the thought that had clearly gone into this small gesture, his heart felt impossibly full.

"This is a date," he said softly, wonder coloring his voice.

Kudō's confidence faltered slightly. "I mean, I hoped ... is that okay? I know we haven't really talked about -"

"It's perfect." The words came out more emotional than Yoichi had intended. "I jus t... we've been ..." He gestured vaguely between them, trying to find words for the sleeping beside each other, the touches that had grown increasingly intimate, the way Kudō had asked to stay by his side. "I wasn't sure what we were calling this."

They settled on the blanket, and Kudō poured coffee from a thermos that had definitely seen better days. "What would you like to call it?"

The question made heat rise in Yoichi's cheeks. "I don't know. I haven't had much practice with ... relationships." He accepted the cup gratefully, wrapping both hands around its warmth. "I only went on a few dates before the vault, and then I  -" He stopped, realizing what he'd just said. "Sorry. I shouldn't mention -"

"Why not?" Kudō's tone was curious rather than jealous. "You're allowed to have had a life before this, Yoichi."

The lack of possessiveness in his voice still surprised Yoichi sometimes. After so many years of his brother's suffocating jealousy, Kudō's easy acceptance felt almost too good to be true.

"There was someone," Yoichi said carefully. "Before. Tohru."

"The baker," Kudō said gently. "You told me about him."

"Right." Yoichi had shared pieces of that story during one of their late-night conversations, when the darkness made confessions easier. "He was ... Just someone living his life. His ridiculous aprons had these terrible puns on them, and he'd always sneak me extra pastries when his parents weren't looking." The memory brought a small smile to his face. "We only knew each other for a couple of months, but he made me laugh. Made me feel like I was a person - someone separate, with his own hopes and dreams."

"He sounds like he was good to you."

"He was." Yoichi's voice grew quiet. "Too good. That's why my brother ..." He trailed off, not wanting to darken the mood with thoughts of Tohru's death.

Kudō reached out, fingers brushing against Yoichi's hand where it rested on his knee. "I'm glad you had that. Even briefly. You deserve to be happy, Yoichi."

The simple acceptance in his voice made Yoichi's throat tight. "I worry sometimes that I don't know how to do this properly. Be with someone without ... without making a mess of it."

"We're both figuring it out as we go," Kudō said. "There's no manual for any of this. Hell, I’m not really versed in the whole … relationship thing. Only had a couple casual flings in my life, so I’m flying blind aswell."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sharing the bread and coffee. The distant rumble of conflict above them was muffled by layers of concrete and steel, reduced to a barely perceptible vibration through the floor.

"So," Yoichi said eventually, "if we're calling this dating, what does that make us?"

Kudō considered this. "Boyfriends feels a bit ... juvenile. Given everything we've been through."

"Lovers sounds overly dramatic," Yoichi added, and was rewarded with one of Kudō's rare, genuine laughs.

"We could just be us," Kudō suggested. "Whatever that means."

"I like that." Yoichi hesitated, then took a breath. "Although, would you object to … being mine?"

The word hung between them, weighted with more significance than Yoichi had intended. He watched Kudō's expression carefully, looking for any sign of discomfort.

Instead, Kudō's face broke into a grin. "I'd be just fine with that."

The relief that flooded through Yoichi was immediately followed by something else - a flutter of nervousness that made him fidget with the edge of the blanket.

"I should probably warn you," he said quietly, "I might be a little ... possessive. Sometimes."

The admission felt dangerous, loaded with the weight of his brother's twisted example. But Kudō's expression didn't change, didn't show any of the alarm Yoichi had feared.

"How possessive we talking?" Kudō asked mildly.

"I don't know. I've never had the chance to find out." Yoichi's voice was barely above a whisper. "What if I'm more like him than I want to be?"

"Hey." Kudō's hand found his chin, gently tilting his face up until their eyes met. "You want to know the difference between you and your brother?"

Yoichi nodded, not trusting his voice.

"You're worried about it. You're sitting here asking permission to care about me instead of just taking what you want." Kudō's thumb brushed across his cheek. "You have too good a heart for it to be dangerous, Yoichi. You're not him."

The certainty in his voice was like a balm against old wounds. Yoichi leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I want to be yours," Kudō said softly. "If that's okay?"

Yoichi’s sigh sounded too much like relief. "More than okay."

When Yoichi opened his eyes, Kudō was looking at him with an expression so tender it made his breath catch. There were no grand declarations, no promises of forever that neither of them could guarantee in their uncertain world. Just this quiet understanding between them, this choice to belong to each other in whatever way they could.

"So," Kudō said, his voice lighter now, "how's our first official date going?"

Yoichi looked around their humble surroundings - the concrete walls, the battery-powered lanterns, the simple meal shared on a utility room floor. 

Six months ago, he couldn't have imagined this. Couldn't have pictured himself sitting here with someone who wanted nothing from him but his company, his affection freely given.

"Perfect," he said, and meant it completely. "Absolutely perfect."

Outside, the war continued. Above them, his brother's empire grew stronger while they huddled in the tunnels like refugees from their own lives. 

But here, in this stolen moment of peace, Yoichi allowed himself to believe that maybe they could have this. Maybe they could be this - two people choosing each other, protecting each other, building something worth fighting for in the spaces between the chaos.

It was more than he'd ever dared to hope for.

Chapter Text

"Pack your things. We're leaving."

Yoichi looked up from the tattered book he'd been reading, confusion creasing his features. His brother stood in the doorway of their abandoned high-rise they'd called home - wearing an expression Yoichi had learned to associate with significant change.

"Leaving?" Yoichi set the book aside and pushed himself to his feet. "Where are we going?"

All For One's smile held that particular edge of satisfaction that always made Yoichi's stomach tighten with unease. "Our time living like rats is over, little brother. Pack whatever you want to keep."

The dismissive way he said it 'rats' stung more than it should have. This place wasn't much, but it had been theirs. Safe. Hidden from the chaos of the streets below, from the ever-present threat of meta enhanced gangs and the desperate people who might see two teenage boys as easy targets.

But Yoichi had learned not to argue when his brother used that tone. He gathered his meager belongings: a few salvaged books, some clothes that were more patches than original fabric, the small sketchpad his brother had gifted him. Everything he owned fit into a single worn backpack.

"Ready?" All For One asked, already turning toward the stairwell.

Yoichi shouldered his bag and followed, casting one last look around the space that had sheltered them. Three years. It felt like a lifetime, and also like no time at all.

The descent down twenty-three flights of stairs was familiar, but today it felt different. Final. Yoichi's legs, still recovering from a growth spurt that had left him perpetually hungry and awkward, protested the long climb down. His brother moved with his usual fluid grace, never seeming to tire, never showing any signs of the physical strain that plagued normal people.

'Normal people.' As if either of them had ever been that.

When they reached the street level, Yoichi blinked in surprise. A car waited at the curb - sleek, black, expensive-looking. Not the kind of vehicle that usually frequented their neighborhood of broken windows and abandoned dreams.

"What's going on?" Yoichi asked, lingering on the sidewalk as his brother approached the car without hesitation.

"I'm taking the first steps toward claiming my rightful place in this world," All For One replied, pulling open the rear door. The interior was all polished leather and gleaming chrome. "Get in."

'Rightful place.' The phrase made Yoichi's chest tighten, but he climbed into the car anyway.

The seats were so soft he almost sank into them completely, and the sudden silence as the door closed felt oppressive after years of the city's constant noise filtering through broken windows and cracked walls.

All For One settled beside him with characteristic ease, as if he'd been riding in luxury vehicles his entire life rather than scavenging for scraps just that morning.

"Brother," Yoichi tried again, keeping his voice low so the driver wouldn't hear. "What's really happening here?"

His twin's pale eyes glinted with amusement. "I've acquired a benefactor. A wealthy businessman who was so eager to earn my favor that he's provided us with... accommodations."

The way he said 'accommodations' made it sound like much more than just a place to sleep.

"A benefactor," Yoichi repeated slowly. "And what does this person want in return?"

"To use me, of course." All For One's tone was conversational, as if discussing the weather. "He believes he's found a powerful young man he can manipulate for his own ends. It's almost common with his kind really."

The casual admission sent ice through Yoichi's veins. His brother's deals - what he'd taken to calling his 'business arrangements' -never ended well for the other party. But this sounded bigger than the usual favor-trading and debt collection that had been escalating over the past few years.

"And you're just ... letting him think that?"

"For now." All For One's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Everyone serves a purpose, Yoichi. Even those who think they're the ones being served."

Yoichi wanted to argue, wanted to point out that using people always led to someone getting hurt. But they were trapped in a car with a stranger driving, heading toward an unknown destination, and starting a fight now would accomplish nothing except earning his brother's cold disappointment.

Instead, he pressed his face to the window and watched the city change around them.

The further they drove from their old neighborhood, the cleaner the streets became. Buildings stood intact, their windows unbroken. The devastation from the quirk upheaval of twenty plus years ago- the riots, the infrastructure collapse, the social chaos that had defined their entire seventeen years of life - seemed to fade into something manageable rather than apocalyptic.

And the houses ...

"Welcome to how the other half lives," All For One said dryly. "The half that's been thriving while we picked through garbage."

The car slowed and turned through ornate gates, following a curved driveway lined with carefully tended gardens. The house that came into view was stunning - white walls and traditional Japanese architecture, the kind of place Yoichi had only seen in magazines left behind in dustbins.

Servants stood at attention near the entrance, their postures perfectly straight, their uniforms immaculate. Yoichi felt suddenly, acutely aware of his patched clothes and worn shoes.

"Breathe," All For One murmured, but there was no kindness in it. Just the faint mockery he always used when pointing out Yoichi's inadequacies. "Try not to embarrass us."

The car door opened, and a uniformed man bowed slightly. "Welcome home, young lord Shigaraki."

Shigaraki?

Yoichi shot his brother a confused look, but All For One was already stepping out of the car with practiced confidence, as if he'd been accepting such deference his entire life.

"Thank you," All For One replied, his voice warmer and friendlier than Yoichi had ever heard it. The transformation was jarring- gone was the cold calculation, replaced by something that almost resembled genuine gratitude.

Yoichi climbed out more hesitantly, hyperaware of the servants' eyes on him. One of them reached for his backpack, but he clutched it closer to his chest instinctively.

"It's fine," he managed. "I can carry it."

The interior of the house was even more overwhelming than the exterior. Polished floors reflected the light from crystal chandeliers, and every surface seemed to gleam with expensive care. Yoichi had never seen so much space that wasn't broken or abandoned.

"Ah, there you are!"

A man emerged from what might have been a sitting room - middle-aged, well-dressed, with the soft look of someone who'd never missed a meal or wondered where his next one would come from.

His smile was wide and practiced.

"Zen," the man continued, approaching with outstretched arms. "Welcome to your new home."

Yoichi shot his brother another question8ng look but All For One - 'Zen' - stepped forward to accept what looked like it might become an embrace, but managed to turn it into a formal handshake instead.

"Yamamoto. Your generosity is ... overwhelming, to aay the least."

"Not at all, not at all!" The man's eyes were bright with something Yoichi couldn't quite identify. Excitement? Greed? "And this must be your brother."

Those calculating eyes turned to Yoichi, and he fought the urge to take a step backward. There was something in the man's gaze that Yoichi really, really didn't like.

"Yoichi," he introduced, offering a small bow. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Such good manners!" Yamamoto clapped his hands together. "You'll both fit in perfectly here. The house is yours - every room, every comfort. I do hope we'll forge a long and prosperous relationship together."

"I'm sure we will," All For One replied smoothly. "I look forward to discussing the details of our partnership."

After what felt like an eternity of pleasantries and veiled negotiations, Yamamoto finally excused himself, leaving the brothers alone in the cavernous foyer.

"Come on," All For One said, his friendly mask falling away the moment they were alone, returning to that usual cold apathy. "I'll show you to your room."

They climbed a staircase that probably cost more than most people made in a year. The hallway upstairs was lined with doors, each one leading to spaces larger than their entire previous shelter.

All For One stopped in front of one and pushed it open. "This is yours."

Yoichi stepped inside and felt his breath catch. The room was enormous - easily four times the size of the space they'd shared in the high-rise. A real bed dominated one wall, covered in what looked like silk sheets. There was a desk, a wardrobe, even a small sitting area with chairs that looked like they'd never been used.

And through another doorway, he could see gleaming white tile that had to be a private bathroom.

"It's ..." He struggled for words. After seventeen years of sleeping on salvaged mattresses and shared floors, the luxury felt surreal. "It's incredible."

"I thought you might appreciate having your own space," All For One said, though his tone suggested this was more calculation than consideration. "Since you've been so dedicated to this whole 'separate beds' thing lately."

The resentment over that boundary was evident but Yoichi ignored it in favour of walking further into the room, running his fingers along the smooth wood of the desk.

Everything was perfect, pristine, and somehow completely impersonal. Like a hotel room designed to look like a home.

A door on the left wall caught his attention, and he moved toward it curiously. When he pushed it open, he found himself looking into an identical room - same layout, same furniture, same sterile perfection.

"That's mine," All For One said from behind him. "Convenient, don't you think? We won't be too far apart."

Yoichi's hand moved instinctively to the door handle, looking for a lock.

There wasn't one.

Yoichi shouldn't have been surprised. His brother had always had ... issues with privacy and boundaries, and apparently wealth hadn't changed that.

At least he had his own room at all, trying to find something positive in the situation.

It was more than he'd expected, honestly.

"Come," All For One said, already moving toward the hallway. "We should celebrate the day. This is the start of my - our - new status."

He led Yoichi back downstairs and out into the garden, where late afternoon sunlight painted everything in gold.

One of the servants materialized with a camera - an expensive-looking thing that probably cost more than they'd spent on food in the past year.

"Stand here," All For One positioned himself in front of the house, gesturing for Yoichi to join him.

Yoichi moved to his brother's side, suddenly acutely aware of how out of place he looked. His patched clothes, his worn shoes, his uncertain posture - everything about him screamed 'charity case' against the backdrop of pristine wealth.

His brother, dressed in a three piece suit and freshly shaven, looked well suited for this.

Yoichi didn't.

He tried to straighten his shirt, to smooth down his perpetually unruly hair, but it felt hopeless.

Beside him, All For One looked perfectly at ease, his smile warm and confident in a way that was somehow more unsettling than his usual cold calculation.

"Smile, little brother," All For One murmured. "This is the first day of our new life."

Yoichi tried. He really did. But as the camera clicked and the flash briefly blinded him, all he could think about was the price this new life would inevitably exact - from him, from the servants, from the foolish benefactor who thought he was using them.

From everyone except his brother.

Chapter Text

The courtyard had become Yoichi's refuge over the past few weeks.

He sat beneath the cherry blossom tree with his sketchpad balanced on his knees, trying to capture the way afternoon light filtered through the delicate pink petals. 

Drawing here felt safer than being inside the mansion, where every room seemed to echo with emptiness.

"More tea, Master Yoichi?"

He looked up to find one of the younger servants - Mika, he'd learned her name was - holding a fresh pot. 

The honorific still made him uncomfortable, the formality a constant reminder of how out of place he felt here.

"Please, just Yoichi," he said for what felt like the hundredth time. "And yes, thank you. Would you like to join me? There are extra cups, and these rice cakes are too much for just me."

Mika glanced nervously toward the house, then smiled. "Master Zen isn't home right now, so ... perhaps for a few minutes."

Yoichi cherished these brief connections, even as he understood the risk the staff took in accepting them.

They talked quietly while Yoichi sketched, Mika sharing gossip about the other households in the neighborhood while he showed her his drawings.

"That's beautiful work."

The voice made both of them jump. 

Mika was on her feet in an instant, bowing deeply as Yamamoto approached across the manicured lawn. 

Yoichi set his sketchpad aside and stood more slowly, fighting the instinct to step backward.

"Mr. Yamamoto," he said politely. "I didn't know you were visiting today."

"Just Yamamoto, please, my dear boy. I'm here to discuss some business matters with your brother." Yamamoto's smile was pleasant, practiced, but his eyes held that reptilian quality that always made Yoichi's skin crawl. "But what a pleasant surprise to find you out here. May I?"

It wasn't really a question. Mika had already retreated, leaving Yoichi alone with their benefactor.

"You're quite talented," Yamamoto continued, gesturing to the sketchpad. "Such delicate work. You have an artist's hands."

"Thank you," Yoichi managed. "I've been practicing."

He sat back down, mostly because his legs felt unsteady, and Yamamoto settled beside him without invitation.

"It shows." Yamamoto's gaze lingered on Yoichi's face, his hands, the curve of his neck. "You know, when Zen first told me about you, I wasn't sure what to expect. But you're quite ... striking. In your own way."

Yoichi's fingers tightened on his pencil. "My brother mentioned you have him working on some projects. If you don't mind my asking, what exactly does that work entail?"

The deflection was clumsy, but he needed to redirect the conversation away from whatever this was.

Yamamoto's smile didn't waver. "Oh, various things. Political matters, mostly. Your brother has a remarkable talent for ... persuasion. For helping people see things from a more favorable perspective. His powers have become most invaluable in that regard."

The vague answer only confirmed what Yoichi had suspected - that his brother's work involved the same manipulation and coercion he'd been perfecting on the streets, just dressed up in nicer words and expensive suits.

Same old All For One.

"I see," Yoichi said quietly.

"Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about." Yamamoto patted his knee in a gesture that was supposed to be paternal but felt invasive. "You just focus on your art and let the older men handle business."

Yoichi wanted to argue, wanted to point out that he was the exact age of his brother and perfectly capable of understanding complex matters. But the reminder of how much this man had provided - however many strings were attached - made him swallow hid words.

"I should get back inside," he said instead, gathering his sketchpad. "It was nice speaking with you, Mr. Yamamoto."

He fled before the man could protest, his heart hammering against his ribs.

X

Sleep wouldn't come that night.

Yoichi lay in his spacious bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the mansion settling around him. 

After weeks here, he still couldn't get used to the silence - no city noise, no other people breathing in shared spaces, just the hollow quiet of too much empty room.

It was odd, that he missed his brother the most in these moments.

Around midnight, he gave up and decided to get some warm milk from the kitchen. Maybe that would help settle his nerves.

He was halfway down the grand staircase when he heard voices from one of the sitting rooms - low and conversational, but distinct enough to recognize. 

His brother and Yamamoto, still awake and talking.

Yoichi knew he should keep walking, should give them privacy for whatever business they were discussing for things Yoichi didnt want any part of. 

His disapproval always fell on deaf ears anyway.

But something made him pause, made him move closer to the partially open door.

"- your seat on the city council is quite secure now," All For One was saying, his voice carrying that warm, friendly performance. "Several of your former opponents have ... reconsidered their positions."

"Thanks to your remarkable talents." Yamamoto's voice held genuine satisfaction. "You've been worth every yen I've invested in you, Zen."

"You've been most generous." There was a pause, the sound of ice clinking in glasses. "The mansion alone is a substantial gift. I understand it's your wife's favorite property."

"It was. But I believe in investing in promising ventures." Another pause, heavier this time. "Which brings me to a proposal I'd like to discuss."

"I'm listening," All For One said.

"I'd like to increase your stipend. Substantially. In exchange for... let's call it expanded access to your household."

The words were carefully chosen, deliberately vague. 

 "Perhaps you should be more specific about what you're requesting." All For One's voice had developed a cold edge.

"Your brother is quite charming," Yamamoto said, and Yoichi felt ice flood his veins. "And so ... innocently naive. I think we could come to an arrangement that would be beneficial for everyone involved. Some time with him, private time, in exchange for significantly increased support for your ambitions."

The silence that followed felt like falling.

Yoichi's mind reeled, trying to reject what he'd just heard, trying to believe he'd misunderstood. But the implication was crystal clear, made worse by how casually it had been delivered.

"Let me be certain I understand," All For One said slowly. "You want me to whore my own brother - my twin - out to you."

The crude bluntness of it made Yoichi's disgust rise. He pressed his hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to be sick right there in the hallway.

"That's such an ugly way to phrase it." Yamamoto's tone remained pleasant, reasonable. "I'm simply suggesting that Yoichi might enjoy the opportunity to... contribute to your success. And he would be well cared for, I assure you. I'm not without consideration for my partners."

'Partners.' The word made Yoichi want to scream.

His brother had always been possessive - pathologically so.

 Yoichi had watched him cut off a woman's hands when they were children simply because she'd offered Yoichi sweets. He couldn't go an hour without his brother checking on his location, his activities, his thoughts. The possessiveness had been suffocating but perhaps also, in its own twisted way, a way for All for One to attempt to show his care.

So when All For One finally spoke, Yoichi expected immediate refusal. Expected rage, violence, the protective fury his brother always displayed when anyone else tried to touch what he considered his.

Ready for the bloody violence, the end of this strange experience of being rich.

"I may have to think on it."

The words hit like a physical blow. Yoichi's knees nearly gave out, his hand braced against the wall the only thing keeping him upright.

"Excellent," Yamamoto said, clearly pleased. "Take your time. We can discuss the specifics once you've - "

Yoichi didn't hear the rest. He was already moving, his feet carrying him back up the stairs in blind panic. Tears streamed down his face as he stumbled into his room, his breath coming in ragged gasps that his weak lungs couldn't quite manage.

The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound. 

After everything - after seventeen years of survival together, of his brother's constant insistence that they belonged to each other, that no one else could ever understand their bond - this. 

This casual negotiation of Yoichi's body like he was some bartered object to be passed around and sold.

His hands shook as he pulled out his old backpack and started throwing things into it. Clothes, his sketchpad, the few possessions he actually cared about. 

He had to leave. Had to get out before - 

The sound of footsteps in the hallway froze him mid-motion.

His brother's bedroom door opening and closing. The soft tread of footsteps moving toward the connecting door between their rooms.

Yoichi's heart hammered against his ribs as he shoved the backpack under his bed and dove beneath the covers. He forced his breathing to slow, to deepen, trying to mimic the rhythm of sleep while his pulse raced with terror.

The connecting door opened.

Through his barely-closed eyelids, Yoichi couldn't see his brother's face, but he could feel those pale eyes on him. Watching. Always watching.

'Please leave. Please, just leave me alone tonight.'

But All For One didn't leave.

Footsteps crossed the room, slow and deliberate. The mattress dipped as weight settled on the bed behind him, and Yoichi had to fight to keep his breathing steady, to not give away that he was awake.

His brother's presence radiated cold fury- not the explosive rage Yoichi had sometimes witnessed, but something deeper. More controlled. More dangerous.

Then an arm settled over Yoichi's waist, heavy and possessive, pulling him back against his brother's chest.

Yoichi's breath caught despite his best efforts. 

This wasn't the first time, Yoichi knew that. Ever since he'd insisted on separate beds at fifteen, he'd sometimes woken to find their mattresses pushed together, his brother's arms wrapped around him like he was preventing escape.

Yoichi lived with it because he considered them to be growing pains - his brother struggled with normal boundaries and Yoichi thought All For One would eventually grow out of what seemed like a comfort blanket of sorts for his twin.

Yoichi didn't mind it too much - he found separation anxiety almost human of his brother .

But this felt different. The fury rolling off All For One was almost tangible, the possessive grip tighter than usual. 

It didn't make sense.

How could his brother be so angry and hold onto Yoichi as if seeking comfort, when he'd just told Yamamoto he would 'think about it'? How could these be the same hands that might pass Yoichi off without a second thought -?

He lay there in the darkness, tears seeping from his closed eyes, feeling his brother's chest rise and fall against his back, smoothing out even in sleep. 

Yoichi's lungs strained with suppressed panic, his heart racing so fast he was sure the whole house could hear it.

 He didn't sleep thar night.

He doubted he'd ever sleep again.

X

Three days had passed and each one had been an exercise in carefully controlled panic.

Yoichi moved through the mansion like as inconspicuous as possible, keeping his expression neutral, his movements predictable. 

Inside, his mind raced with plans and possibilities. 

He could leave Japan entirely- catch a boat to the mainland, maybe travel west where his brother's influence wouldn't reach. See what the world looked like beyond the borders of their broken city.

The thought terrified him. Being alone, truly alone, with no one to rely on but himself. His weak lungs, his poor health, lack of combat skills, his complete inexperience with the world outside the streets they'd grown up on and this gilded cage they now inhabited.

But the thought also thrilled him in a way nothing had in years.

 'Freedom.' 

The word tasted strange in his mind, foreign and dangerous and impossibly appealing.

Yet somehow, strangely lonely 

He would need to be patient. Pack slowly, one item at a time, so nothing looked amiss. Save what money he could from the allowance his brother provided. Plan his route, his timing, every detail that might mean the difference between escape and recapture.

The worst part was pretending everything was normal. Sitting across from his brother at dinner, making polite conversation, all while knowing what had been discussed. What might still be planned.

All For One seemed pleased with Yoichi's recent tendency to stay in his room. "Finally taking some time for yourself," he'd commented approvingly. "I'm glad to see you settling in."

Yoichi had smiled and nodded and wanted to scream.

Tonight, he'd finally worked up the courage to do something he'd done since he'd found out.

 Yoichi quietly wedged a chair beneath the handle of the connecting door. His hands shaking as he positioned it, testing the angle to ensure it would hold.

It was a small act of defiance. Pathetic, really. But it was something. It brought a sense of security, false as it was.

As he did each nigh now, yoichi stayed up past his usual bedtime, sitting on his bed with a book he wasn't really reading, watching the door with anxious anticipation.

It hadnt happened since. Evidently his brother could sleep alone some nights.

But tonight, just past midnight, the handle turned.

The door didn't open. Yoichi heard the handle jiggle again, more forcefully this time, then stop.

Silence stretched for several heartbeats.

"Yoichi." His brother's voice came through the door, calm and pleasant. "What have you done to the door?"

Yoichi's grip tightened on his book. "I'm reading. I wanted some privacy."

"You have your own room for privacy. I gave it to you." A hint of impatience crept into All For One's tone. "Open the door."

"I'd rather not." Yoichi was surprised by how steady his own voice sounded. "I'm going to sleep soon anyway."

"Yoichi." The pleasant veneer was cracking now. "This is ridiculous. You're acting like a child. Let me in."

"No."

The single word hung in the air like a thrown gauntlet. Yoichi's heart hammered against his ribs as he waited for the response.

The door exploded inward.

 The wooden frame splintered as the door flew across the room, propelled by a force that sent it crashing into the opposite wall with a deafening bang. The chair clattered uselessly to the floor.

All For One stepped through the empty doorframe, his expression cold and controlled in a way that was somehow more terrifying than the rage would have been.

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately with all these new rules of yours," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "But this ends now. We're twins, Yoichi. We're not meant to be apart."

Maybe it was the casual destruction of the door, the complete dismissal of Yoichi's boundaries - but something inside him snapped.

"It didn't seem to bother you when you were bartering me away to that bastard."

The words tumbled out before Yoichi could stop them, sharp with hurt and anger and three days of suppressed terror.

All For One's expression didn't change. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't." Yoichi stood from the bed, his whole body trembling. "Don't lie to me. Not about this. I heard you. I heard everything he said, everything he wanted, and I heard you tell him you'd 'think about it.'"

"Ah." All For One's tone was maddeningly neutral. "You were eavesdropping."

"I was getting milk! You were discussing selling me like - like some -" His voice broke. "How could you? After everything, how could you even 'consider' it?"

"You're being dramatic." All For One moved further into the room, and Yoichi took an instinctive step back. "You heard a business conversation you weren't meant to hear and jumped to conclusions."

"He basically wanted you to - in your own words - 'whore' me out to him. Sell me as some soet of prostitute in exchange for money." Yoichi's voice rose despite himself. "What conclusion was I supposed to draw?"

"That I'm handling a delicate political situation in the way I see fit." All For One's condescension was palpable. "You don't understand the complexities of these negotiations, Yoichi. You never have."

"Then explain it to me!" The plea escaped before Yoichi could stop it. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you would never -"

"I don't owe you explanations for my decisions." All For One cut him off cleanly. "What I owe you is this roof over your head, the food you eat, the protection that keeps you safe from a world that would destroy you in an instant. You should be grateful, not questioning my judgment."

The words hit like a slap. Yoichi felt his eyes burn with tears he refused to let fall.

"Grateful," he repeated hollowly. "You want me to be grateful that you might sell my body to advance your ambitions? To be a whore just so you can do even more terrible things!"

"Such crude language." All For One tsked disapprovingly. "You're letting your emotions cloud your reason. As usual."

"Answer me!" Yoichi's voice cracked. "Just answer me honestly for once in your life. Are you going to give me to him?"

All For One studied him with those pale, calculating eyes. "You should do as you're told, little brother. I've provided you with everything you could possibly need. The least you can do is trust that I know what's best."

It wasn't an answer. It was never an answer with him - just deflection and manipulation and the constant implication that Yoichi was too stupid, too weak, too emotional to understand the grand designs of his superior twin.

"I won't do it." The words came out steadier than Yoichi felt. "I won't be bartered and sold like property. I'd rather die starving on the streets than pay whatever price this house demands. I won't lay down like a dog and let you use me like this."

The silence that followed was deafening. All For One's expression remained unreadable, but something shifted in the air between them - something unsettling and final.

"There's a party tomorrow evening," All For One said suddenly, his tone conversational. "I expect you to attend."

The abrupt change of subject made Yoichi's stomach drop. The implication was immediate, unavoidable. 

Tomorrow. 

It would happen tomorrow.

"No," he whispered.

"It wasn't a request."

Tears finally spilled over, hot and shameful against Yoichi's cheeks as he stared at the person who was supposed to love him more than anything else. Who Ypichi adored despite All For One's many faults.

Because this was his brother - the person who had protected him, fed him, kept him alive through circumstances that should have killed them both. The person he'd adored and defended and made excuses for, even when everyone else called him a monster

Why didn't he love Yoichi just as equally. 

"Did I ever matter to you?" The question tore from his throat, raw and desperate. "Did you ever love me at all, or was I always just ... just a thing you owned?"

All For One's expression evened slightly- almost softened, which somehow made everything worse.

"You're my Yoichi," he said, softly. "My twin. My gift."

Yet he hadn't refused selling that 'gift'.

"I don't understand," Yoichi choked out. "This doesn't make sense. You couldn't stand anyone else even looking at me, and now you're just -"

"I'm doing what needs to be done. And so do you." All For One's voice took on that patient, condescending tone he used when explaining obvious things to idiots. "You need to trust that I know best. I'm the stronger one, Yoichi. The better one. Your judgment has always been clouded by sentiment and weakness."

He moved toward the door - or rather, the empty doorframe where the door used to be - then paused.

"I'll have clorges brought to your room tomorrow," he said casually. "Something appropriate for the occasion. Something ... traditional, to commemorate the occassion. So wear it."

"Brother, please -"

"And whatever youre planning - wherever you go," All For One interrupted, his voice taking on an edge that made Yoichi's blood run cold, "I will find you. You understand that, don't you? There is no corner of this world where you could hide from me. No distance far enough to keep you beyond my reach."

It wasn't a threat. It was a simple statement of fact. A promise.

All For One left through the destroyed doorway, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Yoichi stood frozen in the middle of his room, staring at the splintered wood and broken chair, tears streaming unchecked down his face. His packed bag sat hidden under the bed, suddenly feeling pathetically inadequate against the reality of what he was facing.

Chapter Text

The shower had been Yoichi's l last moment of luxury before he fled into the unknown. 

He stood under the spray longer than necessary, trying to let the hot water wash away the barely contained panic, steeling himself for what came next.

When he finally emerged, wrapped in a towel and leaving wet footprints across the tile, he found a servant waiting in his bedroom. 

Mika wouldn't meet Yoichi's eyes as he held out an elaborate bundle of fabric.

"Mika ...?" 

"For this evening, Master Yoichi," the woman murmured, a shake noticable in her hands.

Traditional robes. Formal, expensive, the kind worn for significant occasions. The deep blue silk was embroidered with intricate patterns that probably cost more than Yoichi had spent on food in his entire life.

"Are you alright?" He tried to ask her.

Mika swallowed. "Of course Master Yoichi. I just ... I need to leave very quickly. Master Zen has asked that you wear this for the ... the celebration."

"I won't be attending," Yoichi said firmly. "Thank you, but you can take those back. Ill take the consequence, Mika, I promise. So dont -"

Mika set them on the bed and fled before Yoichi could stop her, still refusing to make eye contact. 

It certainly didn't help that pit of dread in Yoichi's stomach ease any.

He moved to his wardrobe, intent on dressing in his own clothes before making his escape. 

He pulled open the doors and froze.

Empty.

Every piece of clothing he owned - gone. 

The worn pants, the simple shirts, even the patched jacket he'd had since he was fourteen. 

All of it, vanished.

Yoichi spun toward his bed, dropping to his knees to check underneath.

The backpack he'd so carefully packed was missing too.

"No, no, no..." His hands scrambled uselessly across the floor, as if the bag might materialize if he just looked hard enough. 

But there was nothing. 

His escape supplies, his spare clothes, the money he'd saved- all gone.

He stood slowly, staring at the elaborate robes on his bed. 

The only clothing left to him.

For a wild moment, he considered leaving in just the towel. But the mansion was enormous, the gates were far, and the idea of trying to escape through the streets in nothing but a towel made the plan seem even more impossible than it already was.

So, with shaking hands, Yoichi dressed. 

The silk felt wrong against his skin - too fine, too formal, too much like a costume for a role he didn't want to play. But once the layers were in place, secured with an elaborate obi that took three attempts to tie correctly, he had to admit they fit perfectly.

When he finally emerged from his room, his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. 

He would find another exit, sneak through the servant's quarters, and just get out.

But something was wrong.

The hallway stretched before him, empty and silent. No servants bustling about, no distant sounds of party preparations, no murmur of arriving guests. 

Just ... nothing.

Yoichi's footsteps echoed too loudly on the polished floors as he moved through the mansion. Every room he passed was dark, vacant. No music, no conversation, no signs of life at all.

The wrongness of it pressed against his skin like a physical thing.

Where was everyone?

"Hello?" His voice echoed down the empty corridor.

No response. No footsteps, no distant conversation, no sounds of servants going about their duties. Nothing.

Yoichi moved down the hallway, his heart rate climbing with each step. 

The 'party' was supposed to be tonight - shouldn't the mansion be full of guests by now? 

He descended the grand staircase, his footsteps abnormally loud in the oppressive quiet. 

The main hall stretched before him, empty and dimly lit. No decorations, no guests, no signs that anyone had prepared for a gathering of any kind.

"Hello?" he called again, louder this time.

The silence swallowed his voice.

Panic clawed at his chest as he moved through the mansion, checking room after room. 

The sitting room - empty. 

The library - empty. 

The kitchen - empty, with no signs of food preparation or staff.

It was as if everyone had simply vanished.

Yoichi found himself back in the main hall, breathing too fast, his weak lungs protesting the surge of adrenaline. Something was very, very wrong.

Light spilled from under the dining room doors.

Every instinct screamed at him to run the other direction, to find an exit and get out while he still could. But his feet carried him forward anyway, drawn by morbid curiosity and the terrible certainty that whatever was happening, he was meant to see it.

Yoichi pushed open the doors.

His brother sat at the head of the long dining table, casually examining several pieces of paper spread before him.

 He wore traditional robes identical to Yoichi's - the same deep blue silk, the same intricate embroidery.

 He looked up as Yoichi entered, and smiled.

At the opposite end of the table sat Yamamoto.

And something was profoundly wrong with him. 

He sat rigidly upright, his posture perfect but somehow inhuman in its stillness. His face stretched wide in a skin splitting grin that showed too many teeth. 

And tears -steady streams that rolled down the man's cheeks, dripping onto the expensive fabric of his own formal attire.

The contradiction between the manic smile and the weeping eyes was obscene.

"Ah, Yoichi," All For One said pleasantly. "Perfect timing. I was just finishing tonight's negotiations."

Yoichi couldn't move. Couldn't speak. His eyes were fixed on Yamamoto's wrong, broken expression.

"Did you know," All For One continued conversationally, "that our benefactor wanted both of us? The complete set, as he so charmingly put it. Apparently we're a bit older than his usual preference, but he was willing to make an exception for twins."

The thought that they were considered older for this man's sick desires was enough fo Yoichi to want to throw up all over that terrifying smile.

"For the past few days, I've been carefully... encouraging his desires, making him believe I was seriously considering his offer," All For One gestured to the papers before him. "I built up his anticipation so much that when I finally 'agreed', he was more than eager to sign over the deed to this mansion and write a rather generous cheque. All in exchange for permenantly owning us."

"What -" Yoichi's voice came out as a croak. "What did you do to him?"

All For One's smile widened. He stood and moved toward Yamamoto with predatory grace. The man's eyes tracked the movement, wide and terrified behind his frozen smile.

"Ive named it Marionette - for seventeen minutes, so long as I remain within ten meters of someone I've touched, I can control their body completely." 

All For One placed a hand on Yamamoto's shoulder. 

"It was his own meta ability, actually. One he planned to use on us tonight. I had to have from the moment he demonstated it when we first met - and now i have it."

Yamamoto's body jerked to life like a puppet on strings.

 His movements were rigid, mechanical, as his arms raised and lowered in a grotesque pantomime of dance. 

Then his hands moved to his face, fingers pressing into his own cheeks, pulling his mouth wider, wider, until Yoichi thought his jaw might dislocate.

"Stop," Yoichi whispered.

All For One tilted his head curiously. "Would you like to hear what he had planned for us? For you in particular? I think he was more partial to you -"

"Stop." The word came out more forceful this time but no more useful.

"Oh, but it's such an educational tale." All For One goaded. "The restraints he'd prepared. This special room he's got constructed down in the basement. The detailed schedule he'd drawn up for -"

"Stop!" Yoichi's voice finally cracked. "Please, just stop."

All For One released whatever control he'd been exerting, and Yamamoto slumped back into his chair, still grinning, still weeping.

"You didn't really think I'd let this washed-up pervert lay a hand on either of us, did you?" His brother's tone carried genuine confusion, as if the idea were absurd.

"Come. Sit."

Yoichi's numb legs moved for him, carrying him to a chair several seats down from his brother. He sank into it, his hands gripping the armrests to keep from shaking visibly.

"Don't tell me you're sympathetic to him," All For One said, studying Yoichi's expression. "This man who planned to cage you, drug you, use you until you broke. Surely you're not going to lecture me about morality now?"

Yoichi stared at Yamamoto's broken form, at the wrongness of that smile and those tears, and felt something twist inside him. 

He'd never wanted to condone his brother's actions. Had spent years trying to teach him compassion, restraint, basic human decency.

But this man - this predator who'd looked at him like meat, who'd negotiated for the privilege of owning him -

Who'd evidently done some very bad things to poor innocent children ...

Maybe this mam- this predator - didn't deserve sympathy.

So maybe this sensation in Yoichi wasn't just the horror that came with his brothers actions, but also a sense of relief. 

So overwhelmingly, desperately relieved that his brother hadn't actually been planning to sell him. That the past three days of terror had been - what? A test? A game?

It was awful in itself that that was the better alternative. 

Yet Yoichi stood on unsteady legs and walked to where his brother had re-sat himself. 

All For One looked up at him with something that might have been surprise as Yoichi wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing his face against his brother's neck.

There was the usual tensing in All For One's body before it released a sigh.

"There now." All For One's hand came up to pet Yoichi's hair with a familiar fondness. "Was that so difficult?"

"I still won't thank you," Yoichi said, the words muffled against fabric. "Not for the any of it. Not for scaring me, or manipulating me, or making me think for days now that you -"

"Always so ungrateful," All For One tutted without the usual effort. If anything it sounded slightly affectionate. "After all my careful planning."

Yoichi pulled back, frowning. "Planning?"

"Do you know what today is?" His brother turned in his chair to face him properly, pale eyes gleaming with something that might have been amusement.

"I -" Yoichi's mind raced through dates, trying to place the significance. Or even the week of the month... "No. What?"

"I'm not surprised. I worked very hard to keep it a secret." All For One stood, smoothing his robes. "I wanted this evening to be memorable."

At the far end of the table, Yamamoto's arm began to move. His hand reached across the table, found a knife that had been placed there, and wrapped his fingers around the handle.

"The traditional robes should have been a hint," All For One continued, watching Yamamoto with clinical interest. "Though perhaps you were too preoccupied to notice the significance of deep blue silk with coming-of-age embroidery."

Yamamoto's hand pressed the knife to his wrist.

"Brother -" Yoichi started.

"We're eighteen today," All For One said, his voice warm with genuine pleasure. "I thought we should mark the occasion properly."

The knife bit into flesh. Yamamoto's grin never wavered, but his tears flowed faster as blood began to well around the blade.

 Yoichi gasped, automatically taking a step forward, but his brother's hand caught his wrist.

"Watch," All For One commanded softly. "This is my gift to us. To you, really. He won't be able to hurt anyone ever again. Isnt that a good thing in your moral sense of justice? Am i not playing by your rules of right and wrong? I hurt someone who hurt others - isn't that how it works? Isnt that heroic?"

The knife moved with methodical precision, severing tendons, cutting deeper. 

Yamamoto's other hand remained perfectly still on the table, as if he were calmly waiting for the first course of dinner to arrive. Only his eyes showed anything - wide, terrified, trapped in a body he could no longer control.

The hand came free with a wet sound that Yoichi would never forget. It fell to the table with a dull thud, fingers still twitching.

He felt the press of his brother's forhead rest against the side of his temple. 

"I chose him from the very beginning, knowing what he was, the ability he had," All For One all but purred. "It was as I told you - you need only listen to me. Trust in me."

Yamamoto's grin stretched wider, if that were even possible, and fresh tears streamed down his face as blood pooled around his remaining arm.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, my Yoichi," All For One said, squeezing his wrist affectionately. 

"May we have many more together."

Chapter Text

It started the way it always did.

The coughing. The shivering. The heat that came from inside the weaker twin even when the cold bit at everything else.

The Firstborn had seen this before. Many times. Ever since they'd been small - smaller than now - Yoichi got sick. His body didn't work right, didn't fight things off the way normal bodies did. The Firstborn's body was strong, could handle cold and hunger and things that would kill lesser creatures.

But Yoichi was different. Weaker. Imperfect.

His.

The Firstborn stole medicine when he could find it. Broke into places and got rid of the ones in his way, took bottles with pictures on them that looked like the ones that had helped before. He brought them back to their upturned dumpster and made Yoichi swallow the bitter liquids.

It didn't help this time.

Days passed. The coughing got worse, turning into something wet and rattling that made Yoichi's whole body shake. His skin went from hot to cold to hot again, sweat soaking through their stolen blankets.

The Firstborn brought more blankets. Bigger ones, thicker ones, taken from clotheslines and unguarded stoops. He wrapped Yoichi in them until only his face showed, pale and pinched.

"Cold," Yoichi whispered through chattering teeth. "So cold."

The Firstborn pressed closer, sharing body heat the way they always had. His warmth was good warmth, strong warmth. It would make Yoichi better.

It always made Yoichi better.

But the next day, Yoichi was worse. The wheezing turned into gasping, like he couldn't get enough air. His eyes stayed closed most of the time now, and when they opened, they looked wrong. Unfocused. Not seeing properly.

"Yoichi," the Firstborn said, his voice flat. A command, not a question. "Look at me."

The weaker twin's eyes moved toward him but didn't quite find him. Like looking through instead of at.

Wrong. This was wrong.

The Firstborn went out again, despite the cold, despite the white stuff falling from the sky and piling up on the ground. Snow, he'd heard someone call it once. It made everything harder - harder to walk, harder to find food, harder to steal what they needed.

The Older twin went into three different places looking for medicine. The last one had people inside, but he made them stop moving with his power. Made them quiet. Their screaming would bring more people, and he didn't have time for more people.

He took everything that looked like it might help and left them there, not caring if they got up again or not. They were nothing - no, less than nothing. Just obstacles between him and what Yoichi needed.

Back at their shelter, he forced the new medicine down Yoichi's throat. His other half barely swallowed, most of it dribbling down his chin. The Firstborn wiped it away and tried again, holding Yoichi's mouth closed until he had to swallow.

"Get better," he said. An order. Yoichi always listened to his orders. "Get better now."

But Yoichi didn't get better.

The Firstborn felt it starting in himself the next day - the scratchy throat, the heaviness in his head. His own body trying to betray him the same way it betrayed his other half.

No. He was stronger than this. His body would obey.

He forced himself to stay awake, to keep watch over Yoichi. Sleep was dangerous. Sleep meant not knowing if something changed, if Yoichi needed something, if someone tried to come near what was his.

But his body was heavy. So heavy. And the cold made everything slow and thick.

Just for a moment, he told himself. Just close his eyes for a moment.

X

Wrong.

Everything was wrong the moment awareness returned.

The Firstborn's eyes snapped open, his body jerking upright despite the lingering heaviness. How long had he been asleep? Minutes? Hours? The light looked different, grayer, darker but that could mean anything in winter.

He turned to where Yoichi should be, wrapped in the pile of blankets he'd stolen -

Yoichi wasn't moving.

Not the normal not-moving of sleep. Yoichi always moved. Alway annoying with his shuffles and mutterings even in sleep. 
This was something else, something that made ice flood the Older twin's veins despite the fever heat in his own body.

Yoichi's face was wrong. 

Too pale. Lips blue-ish. And the chest that should move up and down with breathing - was still.

Completely still.

"Yoichi."

Nothing.

The Firstborn crawled closer, his movements clumsy from sickness and sleep. 

He put his hand on Yoichi's face.

 Cold. Too cold. Not the fever-heat or even the regular warmth of living things.

Cold like the dead rats they sometimes found. Cold like things that stopped.

"Yoichi," he said again, louder - sharper. A command that had to be obeyed. "Wake up."

Nothing.

He shook Yoichi's shoulder gently at first, then harder. The weaker twin's head lolled to the side, limp in a way that living things shouldn't be.

"No." The word came out flat, wrong. The Firstborn shook harder. "No. Wake up. I'm telling you to wake up."

Still nothing. No response. No movement except what the Firstborn's shaking caused.

Something  made his chest feel tight, hands shaking as he grabbed Yoichi's arms.

"Look at me!" His voice rose, sharp and commanding. "You have to look at me! I'm telling you to look!"

Yoichi's eyes stayed closed. His mouth stayed slack, his chest still.

The Firstborn hit him with an open palm against Yoichi's cheek, hard enough to snap his head to the side. 

Living things responded to pain. Yoichi always responded when hurt.

Nothing.

"Why won't you look at me!?" 

The Older twin hit his Weaker half again. Harder. Then again and again, each blow making a sharp sound in the silent shelter. Yoichi's head moved with each impact but nothing else did. No flinch, no cry, no response at all.

"No!" The Firstborn's hands moved to Yoichi's chest, pressing down hard. He'd seen someone do this once, to a person who'd stopped moving. Press and press until they started again. "You don't get to stop! You're mine! You don't stop!"

He pressed down with all his weight, over and over, feeling ribs bend under his palms, feeling nothing move inside that should move. 

No heartbeat. No breath. Nothing.

"Breathe!" He was yelling now, his voice cracking. "I'm telling you to breathe! You have to listen! You always listen to me!"

But Yoichi didn't listen. For the first time ever, Yoichi didn't obey.

Because Yoichi couldn't.

Because Yoichi was -

.....

...

.

No. That wasn't possible ...
That couldn't be right. 

Yoichi was his. His first thing, his other half, his gift. Things that belonged to the Firstborn didn't stop unless he chose they stopped.

He hadn't chosen this.

He would never choose this.

"Come back." His hands were still on Yoichi's chest, still pressing, but slower now. Weaker. "You have to come back. I'm - I'm telling you. I'm the strong one. You have to listen to the strong one."

The silence pressed in around them. No wheezing. No coughing. No breathing.

Just. .. nothing.

There was nothing.

The Older twin stared at his other half's face. At the slack features, the blue-ish lips, the closed eyes.

 At the thing that looked like Yoichi but wasn't anymore.

He looked ... empty. Like the empty buildings they sheltered in. Like the empty trash bins when there was no food. 

Like the empty spaces inside the Firstborn that he never thought about because Yoichi filled them.

And now he was nothing.

The eldest felt something drift away inside him. Not physically, nothing so simple as bones or flesh. Something else, something he didn't have words for because he'd never needed words for it before.

What had filled him since his birth was just ... Gone.

He pulled Yoichi closer, this empty thing that used to be his lesser self, and something came out of his throat. A sound he'd never made before. High and strange and wrong.

Everything was wrong.

The world was wrong without the Weak Thing in it. Nothing worked right. Nothing made sense. He'd spent every moment since the riverbank keeping Yoichi alive, keeping him safe, keeping him.

 And now -

What was the point? What was the point of being strong if the Lesser wasnt hear to watch and cheer and look at him? What was the point of taking and taking and taking if the only thing worth having was far away in that place where all the dead things went?

With cild, numg fingers, the Firstborn pulled off his shirt before he pulled Yoichi against his bare chest, wrapped arms around the cooling body, and pressed his face against Yoichi's hair.

He curled them both beneath his old black cloth he'd worn since birth and grew up in, like he always did when the cold came
 Both twins huddled beneath, sharing warmth and life as they always should.

There was no warmth now. 

No life.

If Yoichi was gone, the Older twin would follow the Weaker. 

Simple. Logical. 

They were meant to be together - they'd come into the world together. And they'd leave it together.

He closed his eyes and waited for the cold to take him too.

Time did strange things after that. Moved in ways that didn't make sense. The Firstborn drifted in and out of awareness, fever dreams mixing with waking thoughts until he couldn't tell which was which.

Sometimes he thought he felt Yoichi move. But that was just his own shaking, his own fever-addled mind playing tricks. And sometimes he thought he heard breathing, but that was just his own lungs, his own body refusing to obey his decision to stop.

The world went gray, then dark, then gray again. And still the Okder Twin kept living. Cold seeped deeper, but the he held on to the tiny body in his arms. If he let go, Yoichi might drift away, might disappear completely. 

As long as he held on, some part of Yoichi was still his.

Even if that part was just empty flesh.

He didn't know how much time passed. Minutes? Hours? It all blurred together into one long moment of grayness and cold and the weight of his Weaker half against his chest.

Something strange - an odd feeling of fluttering not his own...

There -

A sensation against his chest. Not his own heartbeat. Not his own breathing.

Something else.

A flutter. Weak. Barely there.

Then again.

His eyes snapped open, unfocused, staring at nothing. Was this death? Was this what happened when bodies stopped?

Again. Stronger this time. A definite feeling against his ribs.

And then - quiet, so quiet he almost missed it - a sound. Wet. Crackling. The kind of sound bad lungs made when they weren't working right.

The kind of sound Weak living things made.

The Firstborn's arms tightened convulsively around Yoichi's body. He pressed his ear closer to his other half's chest, barely breathing himself, listening with every particle of his being.

Thump.

Faint. Irregular. But there.

A heartbeat.

Thump-thump.

Pause.

Thump.

And breathing. Horrible, rattling, wrong breathing. But breathing.

Yoichi was breathing! No much but there!

The Firstborn held perfectly still, not daring to move, not daring to do anything that might make this stop. His own heart hammered against his ribs so hard it hurt.

His Yoichi ...

The breathing continued, getting slightly stronger. The heartbeat became more regular. And finally- finally - the body in his arms made a small sound. A weak cough, barely more than an exhale.

But living.

Alive.

The Older twin pulled back just enough to see Yoichi's face. 

The blue tint handt left his lips. His skin was still too pale, hadn't lost that terrible gray quality.

But still, Yoichi's eyelids fluttered.

They opened slowly, unfocused and confused, blinking against the weak light filtering through gaps in their shelter.

"Br...other?" The word was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken.

Everything inside the Firstborn exploded.

"You stopped!" The words came out in a roar, all those strange, too much emotions all tangled together. He shook Yoichi, probably too hard, but he couldn't stop. "You stopped moving! You stopped breathing! You were gone! Bad Yoichi! Bad!"

Yoichi's eyes widened, filling with tears at the harsh treatment, but the Firstborn couldn't make himself gentle. Couldn't make himself stop.

"You don't get to do that!" His voice cracked, wild and raw. "You're mine! You don't get to stop without me! You don't get to leave!"

"Sorry," Yoichi wheezed, his voice tiny and scared. "I'm sorry -"

"You're not allowed!" The Firstborn pulled him closer again, too rough, too tight, but needing to feel the breathing, the heartbeat, the proof that Yoichi was actually there. "You stay! If you leave, I'll kill you like the rats and the bigger people! I'll kill you if you die on me!"

Yoichi coughed weakly, his whole body shaking with it, but he nodded. "Won't ... won't go..."

The Firstborn held him for a long time after that, feeling each breath, each heartbeat, making sure they didn't stop again. His own fever made everything hazy and strange, but this was real. This was solid.

Yoichi was alive.

His other half was alive.

The Firstborn had gotten him back.

And he kill them both before losing him again.