RP log; Ryoma and Ryoga; Barging in <3
Nov. 13th, 2005 06:01 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tenipuri_xpDate: Today, afternoon
Rating: PG
Summary: The Echizen brothers reunited! Ryoga is tactfully non-specific! And leaves lots of Ponta and Pocky for his little brother and that nameless guy. <3 Ryoga-mun's sidenote: I about died when this song came up on my playlist.
Barge in… was it?
It had been easy enough to stop a student in the halls of the dorm building of Ryuhana to get directions up to the third floor where Ryoga could supposedly find Niou… though that student had looked at him curiously, as though he should have already known that information. Whatever. He climbed four sets of identical stairs separated by two identical landings with identical windows looking out on the “view” that was hardly anything special, wondering how a guy like no name managed to entertain himself in a boring place like this… though the demolished building was sort of interesting – it could be seen from the other side of this building.
His footfalls were light on the first set of stairs – his movements like a cat… but on the landing between the second and third floor, they became tedious. Between the twelve-pack of Ponta he carried in one hand and the bag of assorted flavors of Pocky in the other (granted, much lighter) he was getting sick of hauling crap up the stairs. No name’s sugar-fix was quickly turning into a deep annoyance.
A familiar presence brushed at the edge of his powers – disturbing lightly the field of energy that surrounded the elder Echizen sibling… though he could not quite place what it was. His head turned down the hall in the direction it had come from… the direction of the nameless guy’s room. What the hell – this wasn’t Niou, but… Could it be the old man? What would that stupid old pervert be doing in no name’s room? Then again, that was not what the old man’s power felt like, if his memories of his childhood served him correctly. But, the feeling…
…It was that weird feeling that brought him all the way to Japan in the first place. The weird “something-is-special-about-Ryoma” feeling.
“Interesting,” said the boy in English, a tingle running over his skin – this was almost too easy. His goal was just down the hall… Masaharu had invited him right to the doorstep. Very interesting, indeed. A smirk came to his lips as he raised a hand to lightly knock on the door – it seemed his brother was in the room alone. Too easy. This was all too easy.
Ryoma was not particularly interested in doing the day’s homework right now – he’d just finished helping Momo move another load of rubble (and subsequently demolish half the kitchen again) and had opted for going back to his room to read that new book of his until Niou got back. He’d just gotten decently settled on the bed, Karupin curled up next to him, and finally begun reading when he felt someone start coming up the stairs. On this side of the building.
He sighed, turning another page – he didn’t recognize them, though that didn’t mean much, but he was not expecting anyone and not about to get up and preemptively answer the door if he didn’t even know who it was. Maybe it was someone for Bunta, anyway. Or that new guy, Yukimura. So there was no reason he should have to get up –
Someone knocked on his door. Karupin glanced up, and Ryoma put the book down, sighing again as he slid off the bed, sliding the bucket that was in front of the door aside so that he could open it. It was probably for Niou, then. “F’you want Niou, he’s not here right –”
He stopped. Blinked. “Huh?”
The smirk quickly became a grin as Ryoga responded in English, “Well, I did come with the intention of seeing Masaharu… but, then, by this odd coincidence…” His younger brother’s eyes held not even a shred of recognition… or, the sort that they did was reserved for the mirror in the morning when he was taming wild bed-head. Of course, Ryoma looked exactly the same as he always had – and exactly the same as Ryoga with a few years shaved off. And both had the same distinct eye shape as their father. The elder Echizen had his father’s skin tone, while Ryoma was slightly lighter… Ryoga also had naturally darker eyes, but most of the differences (aside from the height difference) would go unnoticed by the casual observer.
“It’s been a while, Chibisuke.” The nickname was not anything special – common, even – but it was what he called Ryoma and Ryoma alone. If anything could help to jog the boy’s memory, it would be that. Or perhaps that the voice was the same, only deeper… the face the same, only older – features sharper. Still grinning as though he was not quite on his hinges, he asked, “Mind if I come in? I brought Ponta and Pocky for that nameless guy.” He indicated to the bags and twelve pack he carried.
What. The. Hell. The stranger on the other side of the door… didn’t look like a stranger. He… well, he looked pretty much like what Ryoma saw when he looked in the mirror. Only older. And taller. And a little darker.
And he didn’t sound like a stranger either. It’s been a while? Chibisuke? Something… turned and clicked in his mind, but… this wasn’t making sense. This wasn’t making sense at all. What the hell was going on?
Ryoma had stepped aside enough to let the other pass before he even realized he’d done so. Blinking again, feeling strangely like his world was about to be turned upside-down, he grabbed at the one thing that he could make heads or tails of: this guy knew Niou. Well. He could start there. “What d’you want with Niou?” he asked, responding in English by default. But he couldn’t really help the, “Who are you?” that slipped out a moment later.
The oldest of the pair left the Ponta and Pocky by a desk in the room, spotting the large, very fluffy cat curled on the bed. He approached carefully, extending a hand to the creature, palm flat, and letting it investigate him before gently running his fingers over its head. Cute. Reminded him of the sort of pet his old man would have – probably a moody thing; or at the least, strong-willed. The sort of cat that would not hesitate to bite; that was the sort of pet his father would like.
He had just opened his mouth to answer the first question when the second came… as he had expected, Ryoma did not remember him. It was no surprise, after all… it had been years. “Echizen Ryoga,” responded the older boy. “Echizen Nanjiroh’s first son.” He tilted his head to look at his younger brother, a dark look in his eyes. “Masaharu came by campus last week – we had a lovely chat in the courtyard. Charming guy, that no name.”
Ryoma watched warily as the newcomer went over to the bed, but Karupin didn’t put up a fuss so he figured the guy must be all right… The answers to his questions came in reverse-order, so that he was too busy thinking about the first reply to really process or care much about the second.
“Ryoga?” He wasn’t sure if the name sounded familiar or not – it wasn’t one he would have been able to give offhand, but now that this person was standing here in front of him with that name… “What d’you mean?” he asked skeptically, not sure if he wanted to remember or not, but something was working its way to the surface. “I don’t have a… brother…”
Ch. Figured. Boy was probably shocked – Ryoga himself continued to have the strange tingles; familiarity was being overwhelmed by all the emotions that came from waiting years for just this moment crashing down upon him… his brother was just as he imagined. Still very cute – and just about to bubble over with the power the elder sibling had recognized so many years ago. “The old pervert probably did try to pretend like I don’t exist – I’m surprised at Mom, though.” He continued to speak in English – it seemed as though Ryoma knew the language well enough. “That bastard thought it would be best if I stayed in Florida with our aunt and uncle – Mom’s sister and brother-in-law.”
Surely their parents would not choose to conveniently forget to mention their own siblings? “Last time I saw you, you were this tall,” he made a motion of indication, as the cat continued to passively allow him to pet her. “And Dad was trying to make you take up tennis. You used to wear this hat…” He then motioned to his head, making a cupping motion over his hair. “You wouldn’t go anywhere without it.”
Ryoma was staring – he knew he was staring, but it wasn’t like he cared. Was this guy seriously his brother? “… Well if you count never mentioning you pretending you didn’t exist… then yeah.” Though it seemed that Ryoga had the same opinion of his – their? What the hell – father, at least. That was a start. He knew his aunt and uncle, and yeah, he’d been there once or twice…
He could vaguely remember his mother and father taking him on a trip to see them, a long time ago, only this time when he tried to think back, he could hear his mother’s voice saying the words brother, Ryoga – but what the hell, why couldn’t he really remember – why the hell hadn’t the stupid old man said anything? “He’s still trying to make me play tennis,” he said flatly; already he couldn’t wait to ask his stupid father what the hell this was all about. Not that he particularly expected an answer.
He blinked, then went over to his backpack, unzipping it. “… My hat. You mean this?” He held the faded white Fila cap up by its brim. It was at least ten years old by now.
Open, honest, surprise passed over Ryoga’s face, his fingers stilling over the cat’s fur. That hat… he had stolen it once or twice when they were kids, taunting Ryoma with it – it had to be re-adjusted when he put it on his own head, since he was older and bigger than Ryoma… and then when he would tire of teasing the younger boy, he would settle the hat back on Ryoma’s head, grinning crookedly as the hat would fall at a slant on Ryoma’s head, and glare at his brother with those huge, dark eyes – those exact same eyes that face him down, now – a shade or two lighter than both Nanjiroh’s and Ryoga’s.
Ryoga stood, moving forward to take the hat from his brother’s hands, readjusting the size and sitting it crookedly over his own head – it really was the same hat, though considerably faded from memory. He frowned. “Th’stupid geezer hasn’t given up yet?”
The surprise – and recognition – that passed across the other’s face was unmistakable. And a little unnerving, as it only underscored some kind of truth behind all of this. Even if Ryoma wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. He eyed the taller boy warily as he took the hat and put it on his head, adjusting it first. Damn. Something about that really was familiar. Only… he couldn’t really remember… “No, like he ever would? Don’t wanna play stupid tennis.”
But that really wasn’t the point here. Actually… Ryoma had no freaking clue what was, but… “How old are you, then?” he asked, frowning. “How long have you been in Japan?”
His brother had a point – Nanjiroh would not give up on tennis so easily. The only reason Ryoga was not playing tennis was because he had been raised under a different roof with baseball… though, when it all came down, he was still hitting a small ball with a stick… Before he could really answer, there were more questions to answer. “I’m eighteen. I’ve been here a little over a week.” He leaned forward, poking Ryoma in the middle of his forehead. “Any other questions Chi~bi~suke~?”
Eighteen, huh? Ryoma studied the other, wondering idly if, given all of this was true, he’d look like that in three years. It really was strange – he’d never even contemplated what having a brother would be like before, and now here this guy had come, knocking on his door to see Niou of all people, and claimed to be his older brother.
But he’d only been in Japan a little over a week? Where had Ryoga been before that? Still in Florida? And why had he come here now? There were definitely more questions, but one seemed more important than the others right now.
“Yeah,” he said, making a face as the other poked him. “What d’you do? Since you’re a mutant, too.” He was beginning to wonder if his mother did anything she just hadn’t told him about yet.
Interesting Ryoma had asked that – Ryoga had come all this way to ask exactly the same question… of course, the nameless guy had already basically laid it out for him. “I mimic people and their powers,” he waved a hand carelessly as he spoke. “It’s a long, complicated explanation, so I don’t really bother understanding it.” This was, of course, a lie – Ryoga was not the type to let something pass by without knowing it happened… and if he could figure it out, knowing how it worked. “Interesting, huh? Sorta like what you do – so Masaharu tells me. Makes me wonder what our old man does – probably something really annoying.” That was another small lie – Ryoga had some idea as to what his father was capable of, but Ryoma did not need to know that.
He plucked the hat from his head, letting it settle at an odd angle on Ryoma’s head, now a size too big, slipping forward so the bill obscured one of his eyes. A genuine smile touched Ryoga’s lips and eyes. “You look exactly the same.” The moment passed and Ryoga laced his fingers behind his own head. “Still short.”
“… Yeah.” Ryoga could mimic people’s powers too? That was… really weird. Ryoma wondered if it was exactly like his, or different somehow – it wouldn’t be exactly the same, he thought, but it really did sound similar. “You don’t know how it works? Well, like…” He blinked. “D’you feel people? Like, can you tell they’re mutants? Seems like you’re okay with not mimicking them,” he observed – if Ryoga’d had his problem, he wouldn’tve made it up to the third floor.
Ryoma started as the other put the hat back on his head – too big, now, so he pulled it off to fix it before putting it back on with a mild glare. “Yeah, well, can’t say exactly the same for you. An’ I’m not short – I’m growing.” Because he was. Finally.
He paused then as the rest of Ryoga’s previous comment processed. “What’d Niou tell you about what I do? An’ I kinda know what the old man does, but it’s not much like what I do.”
Tilting his head, Ryoga nodded. “Yeah, I ‘feel’ people. I can sniff you from a kilometer away, Chibisuke. There’s some guy here, too, that’s like a sunspot. Didn’t seem like a real ray of sunshine to talk to, though.” Flashing a grin, he responded, “I’ve got this field thing around me – that’s really what does the mimicking, as I understand it. When it’s really strong, my skin can’t be touched. But I have to make a conscious effort to mimic another person – and my control over physical features needs a lotta work.” He tapped the side of his head with one thin finger. “But it’s all up here – I have to see it to do it, yanno.”
He dug into the plastic bag to get a box of men’s Pocky, pulling out one of the sleeves that held six of the sticks. “No name didn’t tell me much – I just guessed, really. You are able to use other mutant’s powers, right?”
“Huh. So you feel everyone in here too?” That was really odd – and Ryoma was very thankful his range wasn’t an entire kilometer. “An’ at least you have to think about it to do it. I gotta think not to.” In a manner of speaking anyway, considering he had to think to keep the telepathic shields up. Left to his own devices right now, thinking or not thinking seemed to have nothing to do with synching – he’d do it all the same, whether he wanted to or not.
“Yeah,” he added, to answer the other’s question. “The whole deal. Even if they can’t do it yet.” Which meant he was a teaching aide more than anything. “S’a big pain. But if there’s no one around, I don’t do anything.”
Blinking at his brother, Ryoga had to wonder if Ryoma understood the concept of sarcasm. Well, whatever. “Sounds like that’d be a pain in the ass.” After a moment, he added, “I can hold on to anythin’ I’ve seen at least once.” Which reminded him, rather forcibly, of blondie – the annoying kid that was all blushy around him and seemed a bit obsessed with his brother. He had blondie’s take on things, it was very tempting to ask Ryoma the same. “Speaking of that,” he drawled out, “I met this annoying blonde kid who says he was a friend of yours, or something like that. Seems like a bit of a stalker. You know who that guy is?”
A bit of a stalker. The thought was laughable – the words coming from Ryoga were like Attila the Hun calling King Kong a brute.
“It is. F’I didn’t have shields I’d grab onto everyone in the whole damned building,” Ryoma muttered unhappily – he was still on his own as far as learning to turn his power off, and he hadn’t had any time to himself to work on it. Hanamura had seemed to think she’d taught him most of what he could learn (or maybe she was just jealous he was as good with her power as she was) and had shunted him off to work with Momo doing manual labor until further notice. While it was better than training with her, it wasn’t getting him any closer to better control.
Blonde? Stalker? “Kevin.” Who else could Ryoga mean – there weren’t exactly that many blondes around here that claimed to be Ryoma’s friend. “Yeah, I know him. How’d you run into him?” Of course, as soon as he asked it, the most logical answer was right there to be seen – Ryoga must be hanging around the Brotherhood. Ryoma narrowed his eyes – he didn’t know much about what the Brotherhood was up to, but he didn’t like what he did know.
“Ch. He’s at that Brotherhood place. What a bunch of clowns.” Honestly speaking, the radical types in either direction annoyed him. People were just people either way – as long as they left him alone, he did not bother with them, either. Kevin, au contraire to what the boy probably thought by now, was not in the category of those that he would leave alone. He was something that was between Ryoga and Ryoma – and something that would not have a favorable reaction to Ryoga’s plans. No name was another – though, Ryoga had taken rather a shining to the silver-haired mutant. “Among which he is one – I think you got some sort of complex imprinted in his tiny, fucked up brain. He’s also some sort of time Nazi – don’t know what his deal is.”
Now to pry – and look natural about it. “What’s he to you, anyway? I don’t listen to a word he says – not seriously, anyway.”
Ryoma sighed. “Yeah, figured he was there, what with the way he tried to threaten me.” He didn’t understand Kevin at all – he didn’t know what he really wanted, except to make Ryoma pay for something that was clearly not his fault. Kevin had suddenly shown up out of the blue and decided they were enemies, and expected Ryoma to just agree? Well, fine, obviously they weren’t friends anymore, but it wasn’t like he was out to get the blonde or anything. If Kevin left him alone, he’d do the same.
He glanced over at Ryoga. “What d’you mean, what’s he to me? I guess he was my friend before, only I think he thought we were better friends than I did. Hadn’t seen him since I was twelve, then he showed up last month and threw a fit at me.” He shrugged. “Pretty powerful though, I think. Didn’t synch him though, couldn’t tell you if it was all for show or not.” He had the feeling, though, that it wasn’t.
Immediately, Ryoga’s eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you?” Something akin to possessiveness – something that Ryoga refused to identify as protectiveness – flared up in the older sibling at the thought, alone, of someone harming his younger brother… someone that was not him, he corrected himself. I’ll kill that stupid brat. Maybe if he hurt Kevin with his own power… But, now was not the time.
“Eh? No – s’fine.” What the hell? Why would Ryoga care about something like that? Besides, his arm was absolutely fine now – the burn had healed, even if the skin was slightly scarred. “I c’n handle myself,” he said, giving the other a wary glance. “He can’t really control it, anyway.” He would neglect to mention that that was really more dangerous in a fight than being able to control things.
Ryoga stilled – the anger was still there, but none of the other emotions to fuel the fire. After all, his brother did seem fine… but if it had been a month, that stupid bastard could have done anything. “He’s an idiot. Can’t control his mouth, either.” The package of Pocky disappeared as once again sat on the edge of the bed – noting it was only one bed and not really meant for two people that did not mind being very close. He had suspected as much. Interesting. If no name had been hiding it deliberately, he was stupid to invite Ryoga here… or perhaps he did not expect this outcome?
Or maybe one of them really liked sleeping on the floor.
Almost looking pouty, Ryoga asked, “You really don’t remember me, do you?”
Ryoma watched the other boy carefully, shrugging and leaning against the edge of his desk. “Not… really,” he said slowly, not quite sure how to say in words what was going on in his mind. This whole time, it felt like his memory had been working overtime – no, he didn’t really remember Ryoga, but he remembered the things Ryoga talked about – he remembered having his hat stolen, remembered being introduced to someone only a few years older than him, somehow he could recall the word brother, and every time the older boy called him “Chibisuke” it felt… right. But the person in all of the memories was faceless, vague, and he couldn’t say for 100% sure that it was the person now sitting on his bed. But… Ryoga looked like him, and hell, if his powers really were what he claimed they were, his mutation was even like his.
Ryoma wouldn’t put it past his stupid father to hide something like this if he’d thought there was a good reason. Or any at all, really.
But then that begged the question, “But if you are my brother, why’re you here now, then?”
Carefully, Ryoga considered how to answer that – though the outward pause was almost unnoticeable – he had been prepared for this question. “I came to find you.” He could say this unblinkingly – though he turned a moment when he felt the cat curl up against his back just to confirm it was, in fact, just the cat. “When you were really little… I was already starting to be able to sense people. And you’re pretty noisy, Chibisuke. Once I started to understand better what was going on… then I wanted to find you. But Mom and Dad were pretty intent upon raising us separately.” The explanation had never been laid out to Ryoga, himself – just that one day he had a brother; someone he cared for and could tease in a brotherly way – and then one day he was told he never got to see his brother again. Sort of traumatizing to a kid Ryoga’s age.
“I ended up here – s’where I figured our old man would take you, if anywhere.” Actually, there had been more deductive process than that, but Ryoma did not need to hear the gory details.
“… Oh.” Ryoga had come all this way to find him? That was… well, it was a lot of things, really. Unnerving, for one – because this person had known about Ryoma his entire life, and Ryoma didn’t have that knowledge in return. All he had were vague memories that had just now been dredged to the surface, and whatever Ryoga was saying now. It was far from a level playing field, and that was not someplace Ryoma liked to be. At all.
“Noisy.” He eyed the other. “Guess we both started early,” he said, still thinking, wondering how long his own power had been active. There was no way to know, really – just because he hadn’t realized until he was twelve that something strange might be going on didn’t mean he couldn’t remember having headaches for years before that. And once he got to where he hadn’t been in school yet… well, he could barely remember much at all, save the few things Ryoga had mentioned.
“Well. Neither of ‘em ever mentioned you, that I c’n remember,” he said finally. “So I guess they must’ve had some reason.” Though he had no idea what it could be. Or whether actually asking would get him any answers.
“You could try asking our old man – donno how much you’ll get outta him though; wonder if he even has pictures of me, anymore.” There was just a hint of disgust in Ryoga’s voice – it was childhood confusion that had turned into adolescent anger, and now disgust – at a father that supposedly loved him and abandoned him there. Of course, the real facination began and ended with Ryoma. If his parents were really trying to keep them apart, as he suspected, this was a damn odd way of going about it; it was Sleeping Beauty logic – burn all the spindles in the kingdom, and she will not prick her fingers. Ch. Parents.
He turned over his right wrist, examining his watch – he wore the face over the inside of his wrist, a habit he had picked up long ago. “Looks like I have to cut this a bit short.” He had another test thing back at school he had to get back for – pointless. He would skip it, but he wanted to see if maybe his cousin would be there and he could finally meet her. He stood, “Enjoy the Ponta and the Pocky – Masaharu asked me to bring some, so it’s for you guys. Didn’t know what flavor you’d want, so I just bought everything they had at the store.” No exaggeration there.
He gave the cat one last rub under her chin, and clapped Ryoma on the shoulder. “Don’ be a stranger, Chibisuke,” said the elder sibling – echoing the words he always spoke when they parted as children. Words that, apparently, were not heeded. With that, he excused himself from the room. A smile tugging on his lips – already a grin by the time he got to the ground level of the building.
“Dunno about that either,” Ryoma muttered, but Ryoga was already getting up to leave. That was good, actually – Ryoma had had about as much confusion as he could take, and he could do with some time by himself to… think. And try and figure out what the hell all of this meant. And then maybe go track down his father and see what the idiot had to say for himself. If he’d say anything at all.
“… Yeah,” he said hollowly as Ryoga told him ‘not to be a stranger’ (really, wasn’t it the other way around? Ryoga seemed to know everything about him already) and watched as the door opened and closed behind his… brother.
His brother.
Shit. Why didn’t any of this make sense? Ryoma pulled the hat off his head, staring at it a moment before tossing it back on top of his bookbag.
He flopped back down onto the bed, glancing at Karupin as she meowed plaintively, complaining that he’d unsettled her. He reached down, grabbing a can of Ponta (might as well, Ryoga’d said it was for him too) and leaned against the wall, staring out the window and watching the dusk sky blankly. There was a lot to figure out here. And he wasn’t even really sure where to start.
Rating: PG
Summary: The Echizen brothers reunited! Ryoga is tactfully non-specific! And leaves lots of Ponta and Pocky for his little brother and that nameless guy. <3 Ryoga-mun's sidenote: I about died when this song came up on my playlist.
Barge in… was it?
It had been easy enough to stop a student in the halls of the dorm building of Ryuhana to get directions up to the third floor where Ryoga could supposedly find Niou… though that student had looked at him curiously, as though he should have already known that information. Whatever. He climbed four sets of identical stairs separated by two identical landings with identical windows looking out on the “view” that was hardly anything special, wondering how a guy like no name managed to entertain himself in a boring place like this… though the demolished building was sort of interesting – it could be seen from the other side of this building.
His footfalls were light on the first set of stairs – his movements like a cat… but on the landing between the second and third floor, they became tedious. Between the twelve-pack of Ponta he carried in one hand and the bag of assorted flavors of Pocky in the other (granted, much lighter) he was getting sick of hauling crap up the stairs. No name’s sugar-fix was quickly turning into a deep annoyance.
A familiar presence brushed at the edge of his powers – disturbing lightly the field of energy that surrounded the elder Echizen sibling… though he could not quite place what it was. His head turned down the hall in the direction it had come from… the direction of the nameless guy’s room. What the hell – this wasn’t Niou, but… Could it be the old man? What would that stupid old pervert be doing in no name’s room? Then again, that was not what the old man’s power felt like, if his memories of his childhood served him correctly. But, the feeling…
…It was that weird feeling that brought him all the way to Japan in the first place. The weird “something-is-special-about-Ryoma” feeling.
“Interesting,” said the boy in English, a tingle running over his skin – this was almost too easy. His goal was just down the hall… Masaharu had invited him right to the doorstep. Very interesting, indeed. A smirk came to his lips as he raised a hand to lightly knock on the door – it seemed his brother was in the room alone. Too easy. This was all too easy.
Ryoma was not particularly interested in doing the day’s homework right now – he’d just finished helping Momo move another load of rubble (and subsequently demolish half the kitchen again) and had opted for going back to his room to read that new book of his until Niou got back. He’d just gotten decently settled on the bed, Karupin curled up next to him, and finally begun reading when he felt someone start coming up the stairs. On this side of the building.
He sighed, turning another page – he didn’t recognize them, though that didn’t mean much, but he was not expecting anyone and not about to get up and preemptively answer the door if he didn’t even know who it was. Maybe it was someone for Bunta, anyway. Or that new guy, Yukimura. So there was no reason he should have to get up –
Someone knocked on his door. Karupin glanced up, and Ryoma put the book down, sighing again as he slid off the bed, sliding the bucket that was in front of the door aside so that he could open it. It was probably for Niou, then. “F’you want Niou, he’s not here right –”
He stopped. Blinked. “Huh?”
The smirk quickly became a grin as Ryoga responded in English, “Well, I did come with the intention of seeing Masaharu… but, then, by this odd coincidence…” His younger brother’s eyes held not even a shred of recognition… or, the sort that they did was reserved for the mirror in the morning when he was taming wild bed-head. Of course, Ryoma looked exactly the same as he always had – and exactly the same as Ryoga with a few years shaved off. And both had the same distinct eye shape as their father. The elder Echizen had his father’s skin tone, while Ryoma was slightly lighter… Ryoga also had naturally darker eyes, but most of the differences (aside from the height difference) would go unnoticed by the casual observer.
“It’s been a while, Chibisuke.” The nickname was not anything special – common, even – but it was what he called Ryoma and Ryoma alone. If anything could help to jog the boy’s memory, it would be that. Or perhaps that the voice was the same, only deeper… the face the same, only older – features sharper. Still grinning as though he was not quite on his hinges, he asked, “Mind if I come in? I brought Ponta and Pocky for that nameless guy.” He indicated to the bags and twelve pack he carried.
What. The. Hell. The stranger on the other side of the door… didn’t look like a stranger. He… well, he looked pretty much like what Ryoma saw when he looked in the mirror. Only older. And taller. And a little darker.
And he didn’t sound like a stranger either. It’s been a while? Chibisuke? Something… turned and clicked in his mind, but… this wasn’t making sense. This wasn’t making sense at all. What the hell was going on?
Ryoma had stepped aside enough to let the other pass before he even realized he’d done so. Blinking again, feeling strangely like his world was about to be turned upside-down, he grabbed at the one thing that he could make heads or tails of: this guy knew Niou. Well. He could start there. “What d’you want with Niou?” he asked, responding in English by default. But he couldn’t really help the, “Who are you?” that slipped out a moment later.
The oldest of the pair left the Ponta and Pocky by a desk in the room, spotting the large, very fluffy cat curled on the bed. He approached carefully, extending a hand to the creature, palm flat, and letting it investigate him before gently running his fingers over its head. Cute. Reminded him of the sort of pet his old man would have – probably a moody thing; or at the least, strong-willed. The sort of cat that would not hesitate to bite; that was the sort of pet his father would like.
He had just opened his mouth to answer the first question when the second came… as he had expected, Ryoma did not remember him. It was no surprise, after all… it had been years. “Echizen Ryoga,” responded the older boy. “Echizen Nanjiroh’s first son.” He tilted his head to look at his younger brother, a dark look in his eyes. “Masaharu came by campus last week – we had a lovely chat in the courtyard. Charming guy, that no name.”
Ryoma watched warily as the newcomer went over to the bed, but Karupin didn’t put up a fuss so he figured the guy must be all right… The answers to his questions came in reverse-order, so that he was too busy thinking about the first reply to really process or care much about the second.
“Ryoga?” He wasn’t sure if the name sounded familiar or not – it wasn’t one he would have been able to give offhand, but now that this person was standing here in front of him with that name… “What d’you mean?” he asked skeptically, not sure if he wanted to remember or not, but something was working its way to the surface. “I don’t have a… brother…”
Ch. Figured. Boy was probably shocked – Ryoga himself continued to have the strange tingles; familiarity was being overwhelmed by all the emotions that came from waiting years for just this moment crashing down upon him… his brother was just as he imagined. Still very cute – and just about to bubble over with the power the elder sibling had recognized so many years ago. “The old pervert probably did try to pretend like I don’t exist – I’m surprised at Mom, though.” He continued to speak in English – it seemed as though Ryoma knew the language well enough. “That bastard thought it would be best if I stayed in Florida with our aunt and uncle – Mom’s sister and brother-in-law.”
Surely their parents would not choose to conveniently forget to mention their own siblings? “Last time I saw you, you were this tall,” he made a motion of indication, as the cat continued to passively allow him to pet her. “And Dad was trying to make you take up tennis. You used to wear this hat…” He then motioned to his head, making a cupping motion over his hair. “You wouldn’t go anywhere without it.”
Ryoma was staring – he knew he was staring, but it wasn’t like he cared. Was this guy seriously his brother? “… Well if you count never mentioning you pretending you didn’t exist… then yeah.” Though it seemed that Ryoga had the same opinion of his – their? What the hell – father, at least. That was a start. He knew his aunt and uncle, and yeah, he’d been there once or twice…
He could vaguely remember his mother and father taking him on a trip to see them, a long time ago, only this time when he tried to think back, he could hear his mother’s voice saying the words brother, Ryoga – but what the hell, why couldn’t he really remember – why the hell hadn’t the stupid old man said anything? “He’s still trying to make me play tennis,” he said flatly; already he couldn’t wait to ask his stupid father what the hell this was all about. Not that he particularly expected an answer.
He blinked, then went over to his backpack, unzipping it. “… My hat. You mean this?” He held the faded white Fila cap up by its brim. It was at least ten years old by now.
Open, honest, surprise passed over Ryoga’s face, his fingers stilling over the cat’s fur. That hat… he had stolen it once or twice when they were kids, taunting Ryoma with it – it had to be re-adjusted when he put it on his own head, since he was older and bigger than Ryoma… and then when he would tire of teasing the younger boy, he would settle the hat back on Ryoma’s head, grinning crookedly as the hat would fall at a slant on Ryoma’s head, and glare at his brother with those huge, dark eyes – those exact same eyes that face him down, now – a shade or two lighter than both Nanjiroh’s and Ryoga’s.
Ryoga stood, moving forward to take the hat from his brother’s hands, readjusting the size and sitting it crookedly over his own head – it really was the same hat, though considerably faded from memory. He frowned. “Th’stupid geezer hasn’t given up yet?”
The surprise – and recognition – that passed across the other’s face was unmistakable. And a little unnerving, as it only underscored some kind of truth behind all of this. Even if Ryoma wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. He eyed the taller boy warily as he took the hat and put it on his head, adjusting it first. Damn. Something about that really was familiar. Only… he couldn’t really remember… “No, like he ever would? Don’t wanna play stupid tennis.”
But that really wasn’t the point here. Actually… Ryoma had no freaking clue what was, but… “How old are you, then?” he asked, frowning. “How long have you been in Japan?”
His brother had a point – Nanjiroh would not give up on tennis so easily. The only reason Ryoga was not playing tennis was because he had been raised under a different roof with baseball… though, when it all came down, he was still hitting a small ball with a stick… Before he could really answer, there were more questions to answer. “I’m eighteen. I’ve been here a little over a week.” He leaned forward, poking Ryoma in the middle of his forehead. “Any other questions Chi~bi~suke~?”
Eighteen, huh? Ryoma studied the other, wondering idly if, given all of this was true, he’d look like that in three years. It really was strange – he’d never even contemplated what having a brother would be like before, and now here this guy had come, knocking on his door to see Niou of all people, and claimed to be his older brother.
But he’d only been in Japan a little over a week? Where had Ryoga been before that? Still in Florida? And why had he come here now? There were definitely more questions, but one seemed more important than the others right now.
“Yeah,” he said, making a face as the other poked him. “What d’you do? Since you’re a mutant, too.” He was beginning to wonder if his mother did anything she just hadn’t told him about yet.
Interesting Ryoma had asked that – Ryoga had come all this way to ask exactly the same question… of course, the nameless guy had already basically laid it out for him. “I mimic people and their powers,” he waved a hand carelessly as he spoke. “It’s a long, complicated explanation, so I don’t really bother understanding it.” This was, of course, a lie – Ryoga was not the type to let something pass by without knowing it happened… and if he could figure it out, knowing how it worked. “Interesting, huh? Sorta like what you do – so Masaharu tells me. Makes me wonder what our old man does – probably something really annoying.” That was another small lie – Ryoga had some idea as to what his father was capable of, but Ryoma did not need to know that.
He plucked the hat from his head, letting it settle at an odd angle on Ryoma’s head, now a size too big, slipping forward so the bill obscured one of his eyes. A genuine smile touched Ryoga’s lips and eyes. “You look exactly the same.” The moment passed and Ryoga laced his fingers behind his own head. “Still short.”
“… Yeah.” Ryoga could mimic people’s powers too? That was… really weird. Ryoma wondered if it was exactly like his, or different somehow – it wouldn’t be exactly the same, he thought, but it really did sound similar. “You don’t know how it works? Well, like…” He blinked. “D’you feel people? Like, can you tell they’re mutants? Seems like you’re okay with not mimicking them,” he observed – if Ryoga’d had his problem, he wouldn’tve made it up to the third floor.
Ryoma started as the other put the hat back on his head – too big, now, so he pulled it off to fix it before putting it back on with a mild glare. “Yeah, well, can’t say exactly the same for you. An’ I’m not short – I’m growing.” Because he was. Finally.
He paused then as the rest of Ryoga’s previous comment processed. “What’d Niou tell you about what I do? An’ I kinda know what the old man does, but it’s not much like what I do.”
Tilting his head, Ryoga nodded. “Yeah, I ‘feel’ people. I can sniff you from a kilometer away, Chibisuke. There’s some guy here, too, that’s like a sunspot. Didn’t seem like a real ray of sunshine to talk to, though.” Flashing a grin, he responded, “I’ve got this field thing around me – that’s really what does the mimicking, as I understand it. When it’s really strong, my skin can’t be touched. But I have to make a conscious effort to mimic another person – and my control over physical features needs a lotta work.” He tapped the side of his head with one thin finger. “But it’s all up here – I have to see it to do it, yanno.”
He dug into the plastic bag to get a box of men’s Pocky, pulling out one of the sleeves that held six of the sticks. “No name didn’t tell me much – I just guessed, really. You are able to use other mutant’s powers, right?”
“Huh. So you feel everyone in here too?” That was really odd – and Ryoma was very thankful his range wasn’t an entire kilometer. “An’ at least you have to think about it to do it. I gotta think not to.” In a manner of speaking anyway, considering he had to think to keep the telepathic shields up. Left to his own devices right now, thinking or not thinking seemed to have nothing to do with synching – he’d do it all the same, whether he wanted to or not.
“Yeah,” he added, to answer the other’s question. “The whole deal. Even if they can’t do it yet.” Which meant he was a teaching aide more than anything. “S’a big pain. But if there’s no one around, I don’t do anything.”
Blinking at his brother, Ryoga had to wonder if Ryoma understood the concept of sarcasm. Well, whatever. “Sounds like that’d be a pain in the ass.” After a moment, he added, “I can hold on to anythin’ I’ve seen at least once.” Which reminded him, rather forcibly, of blondie – the annoying kid that was all blushy around him and seemed a bit obsessed with his brother. He had blondie’s take on things, it was very tempting to ask Ryoma the same. “Speaking of that,” he drawled out, “I met this annoying blonde kid who says he was a friend of yours, or something like that. Seems like a bit of a stalker. You know who that guy is?”
A bit of a stalker. The thought was laughable – the words coming from Ryoga were like Attila the Hun calling King Kong a brute.
“It is. F’I didn’t have shields I’d grab onto everyone in the whole damned building,” Ryoma muttered unhappily – he was still on his own as far as learning to turn his power off, and he hadn’t had any time to himself to work on it. Hanamura had seemed to think she’d taught him most of what he could learn (or maybe she was just jealous he was as good with her power as she was) and had shunted him off to work with Momo doing manual labor until further notice. While it was better than training with her, it wasn’t getting him any closer to better control.
Blonde? Stalker? “Kevin.” Who else could Ryoga mean – there weren’t exactly that many blondes around here that claimed to be Ryoma’s friend. “Yeah, I know him. How’d you run into him?” Of course, as soon as he asked it, the most logical answer was right there to be seen – Ryoga must be hanging around the Brotherhood. Ryoma narrowed his eyes – he didn’t know much about what the Brotherhood was up to, but he didn’t like what he did know.
“Ch. He’s at that Brotherhood place. What a bunch of clowns.” Honestly speaking, the radical types in either direction annoyed him. People were just people either way – as long as they left him alone, he did not bother with them, either. Kevin, au contraire to what the boy probably thought by now, was not in the category of those that he would leave alone. He was something that was between Ryoga and Ryoma – and something that would not have a favorable reaction to Ryoga’s plans. No name was another – though, Ryoga had taken rather a shining to the silver-haired mutant. “Among which he is one – I think you got some sort of complex imprinted in his tiny, fucked up brain. He’s also some sort of time Nazi – don’t know what his deal is.”
Now to pry – and look natural about it. “What’s he to you, anyway? I don’t listen to a word he says – not seriously, anyway.”
Ryoma sighed. “Yeah, figured he was there, what with the way he tried to threaten me.” He didn’t understand Kevin at all – he didn’t know what he really wanted, except to make Ryoma pay for something that was clearly not his fault. Kevin had suddenly shown up out of the blue and decided they were enemies, and expected Ryoma to just agree? Well, fine, obviously they weren’t friends anymore, but it wasn’t like he was out to get the blonde or anything. If Kevin left him alone, he’d do the same.
He glanced over at Ryoga. “What d’you mean, what’s he to me? I guess he was my friend before, only I think he thought we were better friends than I did. Hadn’t seen him since I was twelve, then he showed up last month and threw a fit at me.” He shrugged. “Pretty powerful though, I think. Didn’t synch him though, couldn’t tell you if it was all for show or not.” He had the feeling, though, that it wasn’t.
Immediately, Ryoga’s eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you?” Something akin to possessiveness – something that Ryoga refused to identify as protectiveness – flared up in the older sibling at the thought, alone, of someone harming his younger brother… someone that was not him, he corrected himself. I’ll kill that stupid brat. Maybe if he hurt Kevin with his own power… But, now was not the time.
“Eh? No – s’fine.” What the hell? Why would Ryoga care about something like that? Besides, his arm was absolutely fine now – the burn had healed, even if the skin was slightly scarred. “I c’n handle myself,” he said, giving the other a wary glance. “He can’t really control it, anyway.” He would neglect to mention that that was really more dangerous in a fight than being able to control things.
Ryoga stilled – the anger was still there, but none of the other emotions to fuel the fire. After all, his brother did seem fine… but if it had been a month, that stupid bastard could have done anything. “He’s an idiot. Can’t control his mouth, either.” The package of Pocky disappeared as once again sat on the edge of the bed – noting it was only one bed and not really meant for two people that did not mind being very close. He had suspected as much. Interesting. If no name had been hiding it deliberately, he was stupid to invite Ryoga here… or perhaps he did not expect this outcome?
Or maybe one of them really liked sleeping on the floor.
Almost looking pouty, Ryoga asked, “You really don’t remember me, do you?”
Ryoma watched the other boy carefully, shrugging and leaning against the edge of his desk. “Not… really,” he said slowly, not quite sure how to say in words what was going on in his mind. This whole time, it felt like his memory had been working overtime – no, he didn’t really remember Ryoga, but he remembered the things Ryoga talked about – he remembered having his hat stolen, remembered being introduced to someone only a few years older than him, somehow he could recall the word brother, and every time the older boy called him “Chibisuke” it felt… right. But the person in all of the memories was faceless, vague, and he couldn’t say for 100% sure that it was the person now sitting on his bed. But… Ryoga looked like him, and hell, if his powers really were what he claimed they were, his mutation was even like his.
Ryoma wouldn’t put it past his stupid father to hide something like this if he’d thought there was a good reason. Or any at all, really.
But then that begged the question, “But if you are my brother, why’re you here now, then?”
Carefully, Ryoga considered how to answer that – though the outward pause was almost unnoticeable – he had been prepared for this question. “I came to find you.” He could say this unblinkingly – though he turned a moment when he felt the cat curl up against his back just to confirm it was, in fact, just the cat. “When you were really little… I was already starting to be able to sense people. And you’re pretty noisy, Chibisuke. Once I started to understand better what was going on… then I wanted to find you. But Mom and Dad were pretty intent upon raising us separately.” The explanation had never been laid out to Ryoga, himself – just that one day he had a brother; someone he cared for and could tease in a brotherly way – and then one day he was told he never got to see his brother again. Sort of traumatizing to a kid Ryoga’s age.
“I ended up here – s’where I figured our old man would take you, if anywhere.” Actually, there had been more deductive process than that, but Ryoma did not need to hear the gory details.
“… Oh.” Ryoga had come all this way to find him? That was… well, it was a lot of things, really. Unnerving, for one – because this person had known about Ryoma his entire life, and Ryoma didn’t have that knowledge in return. All he had were vague memories that had just now been dredged to the surface, and whatever Ryoga was saying now. It was far from a level playing field, and that was not someplace Ryoma liked to be. At all.
“Noisy.” He eyed the other. “Guess we both started early,” he said, still thinking, wondering how long his own power had been active. There was no way to know, really – just because he hadn’t realized until he was twelve that something strange might be going on didn’t mean he couldn’t remember having headaches for years before that. And once he got to where he hadn’t been in school yet… well, he could barely remember much at all, save the few things Ryoga had mentioned.
“Well. Neither of ‘em ever mentioned you, that I c’n remember,” he said finally. “So I guess they must’ve had some reason.” Though he had no idea what it could be. Or whether actually asking would get him any answers.
“You could try asking our old man – donno how much you’ll get outta him though; wonder if he even has pictures of me, anymore.” There was just a hint of disgust in Ryoga’s voice – it was childhood confusion that had turned into adolescent anger, and now disgust – at a father that supposedly loved him and abandoned him there. Of course, the real facination began and ended with Ryoma. If his parents were really trying to keep them apart, as he suspected, this was a damn odd way of going about it; it was Sleeping Beauty logic – burn all the spindles in the kingdom, and she will not prick her fingers. Ch. Parents.
He turned over his right wrist, examining his watch – he wore the face over the inside of his wrist, a habit he had picked up long ago. “Looks like I have to cut this a bit short.” He had another test thing back at school he had to get back for – pointless. He would skip it, but he wanted to see if maybe his cousin would be there and he could finally meet her. He stood, “Enjoy the Ponta and the Pocky – Masaharu asked me to bring some, so it’s for you guys. Didn’t know what flavor you’d want, so I just bought everything they had at the store.” No exaggeration there.
He gave the cat one last rub under her chin, and clapped Ryoma on the shoulder. “Don’ be a stranger, Chibisuke,” said the elder sibling – echoing the words he always spoke when they parted as children. Words that, apparently, were not heeded. With that, he excused himself from the room. A smile tugging on his lips – already a grin by the time he got to the ground level of the building.
“Dunno about that either,” Ryoma muttered, but Ryoga was already getting up to leave. That was good, actually – Ryoma had had about as much confusion as he could take, and he could do with some time by himself to… think. And try and figure out what the hell all of this meant. And then maybe go track down his father and see what the idiot had to say for himself. If he’d say anything at all.
“… Yeah,” he said hollowly as Ryoga told him ‘not to be a stranger’ (really, wasn’t it the other way around? Ryoga seemed to know everything about him already) and watched as the door opened and closed behind his… brother.
His brother.
Shit. Why didn’t any of this make sense? Ryoma pulled the hat off his head, staring at it a moment before tossing it back on top of his bookbag.
He flopped back down onto the bed, glancing at Karupin as she meowed plaintively, complaining that he’d unsettled her. He reached down, grabbing a can of Ponta (might as well, Ryoga’d said it was for him too) and leaned against the wall, staring out the window and watching the dusk sky blankly. There was a lot to figure out here. And he wasn’t even really sure where to start.
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Date: 2005-11-14 08:53 am (UTC)And...that is Jiroh's theme song as of...right now. *flees~!*
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Date: 2005-11-14 03:39 pm (UTC)*dies*
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Date: 2005-11-14 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 03:35 pm (UTC)And yes, they are alarmingly similar. I think that's where the "I don't know if they get along too well or hate each other" bit comes in.
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Date: 2005-11-14 03:40 pm (UTC)Heheh, yes... 8D Though for the foreseeable future, they'd probably be too guarded/vague to get along any more than superficially. XD; And it'd probably take a fair bit to get proper hate out of Niou.
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Date: 2005-11-14 04:00 pm (UTC)Oh, yeah. Agreed there. I think... I think Ryoga's sort of the same way and possibly for the same reason. The list of people he gives a crap about totals so few in both directions...
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Date: 2005-11-14 04:04 pm (UTC)*nodnod* 8D Same with this muse. Idiots aren't worth the trouble unless they deserve to die (eg. blackguard, over dan XD;).. or something like that.
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Date: 2005-11-14 04:23 pm (UTC)*laughs* Well, that's something Ryoga agrees with. His philosophy is more that no one is worth his time unless they're a) facinating (like Niou) b) related to Ryoma somehow (Also Niou, incidently) c) useful (sort of Niou) or d) in his way (in which case he only deals with them long enough to get them out of his way). This is why he gives a crap about Niou at all. XD;
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Date: 2005-11-14 04:40 pm (UTC)Heheh~ cute! :D ...the muse is strangely amused/flattered again. XD; *pokes him* His own criteria is pretty much an expansion of Ryoga's a), since he... isn't a stalker. XD; People whose presence he likes - eg. Ryoma; people who are interesting to poke at/try predict - eg. Yagyuu ^^'; and people who are a challenge worth the time to read/figure more deeply - Yagyuu again, to a lesser extent Ryoga and Bunta. He doesn't know Gacchan well enough yet, but I suspect when he does, he'll fall more into the second category... XD;
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Date: 2005-11-14 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 05:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 06:30 pm (UTC)