Family (P)

In the mostly-empty bleachers of a huge, icy arena, a boy with orange hair, meticulously combed, sat, waiting. His black suit seemed almost out of place when placed beside his vibrant orange hair. His glasses sat upon a pair of curious green eyes that watched the arena dutifully. He had not seen his sisters in some time, now? Could there be a problem? Ah, no, there was Kuroko’s hair, peeking out from behind the doorway. They were just talking to their trainer. He sat back down, at ease once more, and returned to what he had been doing.  

Yori Shimura lazed about in the bleachers of the ice rink that his sisters often practiced in. Well, not really “Lazed,” seeing as he was shadow boxing, practicing forms and motions of taijutsu techniques. Two in particular, today; The Sucker Punch, a technique used to catch your opponent by surprise and leave them dazed, and the Intersection Method, a technique used to stop just such an attack while simultaneously dealing immense damage to an unprepared opponent. He flipped pages in a book and occasionally tried the motions himself, rehearsing them like an actor about to perform, looking unusually laid back about it in his slick silk suit. Of course, his demeanor changed completely when the two reasons he was here at all stepped out onto the rink.

His sisters, the ice skating duo of Kuroko and Kotami Shimura. The two were the offspring of Genzo and another famed athlete. He reaped the rewards of their prosperous career, and in return, provided them with every tool or resource they might need, same as Yori. And maybe, deep down, he actually cared for his daughters. Genzo was a mysterious man and while perhaps a lackluster parent, not an awful one. He treated Yori well enough. And he spoiled these two with rewards for their displays of skill. Still, they were left rather wanting for their father’s love, as he had quite an interesting way of showing it.

He was leaning against the rail when they entered the rink, watching them as he always did. Genzo normally sent bodyguards, but he had been sending Yori more and more on missions as of late, and, well, they paid, so who was he to refuse? He watched them loop through the air gracefully, catching along the ice and sliding on one foot, crossing paths and meeting, sleek and fluid, like a dancer. They were really something to watch. On another day, Yori could watch for hours. He was no skater himself, but he did love to spend time at the rink.

”Yori! Yori!” Came the voice of Kuroko. He looked up, distracted from his hand seals.
”Yori! Watch!” Kotami chimed in. Yori looked up.
”I’m watching!” He shouted back, his expression warm. He watched them now. They twirled and spun, leapt and glided, with the grace of a swan and the speed of a cheetah. It was something to behold. He couldn’t help the smile that crept up his face as he watched his sisters go. He caught sight of Kuroko’s blue eyes, watching for him, making sure he was there, watching them. He smiled back reassuringly, resting against the railing, his leather gloves pressing against the bar.

He didn’t hate these two kids. He didn’t hate them for being spawn of Genzo. He didn’t hate them for being annoying. He didn’t hate them at all, as hard as he tried to. They were alright. They cared about him in a way not many people in his life did. Like a brother.

It was strange, to think about them that way. When he had first arrived at this place, he had hated them both. He had not cared even an inkling for either. They were flesh and blood of Genzo, born to a charmed life. Everything was easy and free to them, or so Yori had thought. Now he had realized that they were just like him, trapped in this spider’s web of debts to their father. They were equals, that way, though the twins didn’t know it. Or at least, they didn’t acknowledge it. Yori suspected they were much wiser to it than they let on, and merely pushed it away, out of their thoughts, preferring not to dwell on it. Perhaps they were right to do so. Perhaps he was the fool for always worrying so much for himself, and now for them. Genzo had effectively solicited free labor from Yori for how much he cared for them now, he was practically a father to them. No, not a father… A brother. He smiled. It was nice to have some small semblance of family in these lonely times.

The day was quiet, in terms of missions, and for the first time in forever Mayuri Otonari was blessed with a few free hours. Training had taken the majority of her morning, and her single E-Rank was something she accomplished in less than an hour. No other assignments were awaiting her... No other obligations at all. She'd briefly considered another round of training, but her muscles ached from excersize, and her knuckles still stung from being split against a tree. Reading, though, didn't seem appealing either. Mayuri wanted to think about something, do something, and her novels were too mind-numbing for that. Even her textbooks seemed tedious.

Mm... But hadn't she heard of an ice skating rink in town?

An skating rink in the summer... Mayuri had never considered something like that. Of course, it sort of made sense. Hoshigakure was full of technology that her hometown was still yet to employ, and skating was such a fun sport. Mayuri had always loved to skate. Her spot was the lake not far from her old home, the one that froze over in the coldest months of winter. Between Daiko and her responsibilities, however, Mayuri hadn't been able to go over the winter. Perhaps, she thought, she'd do that. It definitely seemed like fun.

That was how, less than an hour later, Mayuri found herself perched at the top of some bleachers within the indoor rink. Apparently, much to her disdain, the rink was a reserved one, and the next free skating period wouldn't be for a few hours yet. How inconvenient. Luckily, at least, she'd brought along a few pencils and her sketch pad. Choosing to wait it out, Mayuri decided to sketch the area a bit. She needed to practice buildings anyway.

As the skaters were about to shift, Mayuri waited to sketch the people in the rink until the next turn. It paid off anyhow, as a trio of clumsy novices became an incredibly skilled duo. Ah, wow, they were better than Mayuri was. The two girls were incredible, both graceful and aggressive in their style, and... Wow. Twins, huh? At least, they appeared to be, having the same features and all.

Unless they were like, genetically modified clones, literally designed to be champion skaters. That'd be pretty cool. But, it was probably unrealistic... Probably. Right?

It was with care that Mayuri began to draw them into her scene, picking one of the more intricate phases of their routine to copy. Their poses were mirrored in each other, both fully in the air, both wearing expressions of determined joy as they soared. It really was a lovely image. Maybe Mayuri could sell it to them for a quick buck? Judging by their fancy costumes, their caretaker was probably some richy-rich guy. He could spare a few ryo, right?

So, it was with a calculating gaze that Mayuri searched for the one responsible for the girls. Considering the small number of people in the rink, it didn't take long to find him, and... actually, he was in the same section of bleachers as she was, just a bit more towards the front. At least, Mayuri figured he was the right man. She vaguely remembered seeing him arrive at the same time as they did, and that suit looked just scratchy enough to be of some value. Bingo!

Mayuri was just about to rise to meet him when the man turned his face just an inch, and she caught sight of his features. Now that she thought about it, that mop of orange hair was... strangely familiar... Oh, no way... No way! That couldn't be Yori... And in that suit? In that fucking suit? Mayuri sniggered, watching as he practiced some sort of Taijutsu with that stupid blank face. What a tool.

Should... Should she talk to him? Mayuri had always known her twin was in this city. She'd been subtly keeping an eye out for him since she arrived, having an idea of what he looked like these days through the progress pictures he'd sent to their mother. A few weeks in, though, and she hadn't seen him once. What were the odd of meeting Yori here, of all places, as opposed to a training ground or cafe?

Then the two girls called out, screaming, "Yori! Watch!" and that's when it hit her.

Yori was responsible for these girls? There was... no way he was their father. He'd have mentioned it in the letters... And he was too old to be their friend.

...Brother? Was he their brother?

Quietly, Mayuri sniggered again, but this time it was bitter. She shut her notebook softly, her picture forgotten as she slid her supplies into her bag. There was no question of whether to speak to Yori now or not. Only distaste. Only... hurt. Upon learning the true reason for his departure, Mayuri had finally forgiven Yori for leaving she and her mother alone. She had. But an inner motive and some checks in the mail didn't just erase four years of being gone... Four years of absolute hell without him.

And he was in a suit?

Mayuri slung her backpack over her shoulders and descended down the bleachers, slinking along like a cat approaching its prey. She arrived next to Yori smoothly, avoiding his eyes and sitting down close beside him as though she belonged there. And she did, damn it, a hell of a lot more than those kids did.

Even after years of being away, Mayuri recognized her twin face anywhere. But she needed to play it cool.

"Na... Those girls are yours, right? They're pretty talented. Cute, too. And twins? They're even identical," she said, looking nonchalantly towards the rink. "I'm impressed."

A wry smile slipped onto Mayuri's lips, the teen unable to stop it. She shut her dark emerald eyes for but a moment, before turning them to search out Yori's spectacular chartreuse.


"Really," she continued, her bitterness now lacing her voice, "I'm really impressed with you. Even their hair color isn't that far from mine... You did an impeccable job replacing me."

Kuroko spun, catching the hand of Kotami and spinning together in a hypnotic dance as they worked in perfect harmony. It was beautiful, really. The way every move looked smooth and calculated, effortless and graceful, despite the immense strain it was putting on both their bodies and their minds. It was a difficult sport, not for the faint of heart, despite the reputation it garnered with many commoners as something of a softer sport, made for the pampered and the prudish. Yori had learned quite a bit about the world of ice skating during his time here in Hoshigakure. He was damn near an expert, or so he liked to think, from the time he spent with these two. He’d gained much respect for it upon seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned the skin of Kuroko after a hard fall, and her attempt to hide it from her coach when she was cut off for a week to heal. She was tough. Both of them were.

Sitting back down, he watched his sisters, applauding happily when they finished their routine once more and prepared to start again, each of them taking the chance to get a drink and a break. They sat with their mother, who pointed out to the rink and was no doubt filling their heads with sage advice. Their mother loved them more than anything else in this world. They were her world. The sentiment might have choked Yori up a bit, had it meant anything to him. He had sent his mother money for years. She had not sent him a single letter in return. He knew that her address had not changed, and the postmaster had informed him that she was still indeed living at that house, but still, no answer. He supposed he should be bitter, but a part of him still felt guilty. Would it have been more human to let her die? To let Mayuri and himself starve when their mother could no longer care for her? No. What right had she to be upset with him?

Yori caught himself becoming frustrated. His knuckles were turning a slate shade of gray, and he knew that his eyes would begin to turn yellow soon enough. He felt rage. Oh yes, he felt rage. But all his years of meditation and counseling had trained him well in managing his own feelings. He pushed the thought back down, letting it fester in the swamp of his psyche like a predator lurking, waiting for a chance to strike. He was beyond anger, now. Yori Shimura had grown up. He need not be upset. Even if she would respond, there’d be nothing to say. The thought bubbled back down and left him. He concentrated on his duty. His sisters needed a bodyguard for a reason, after all. He checked the entrances. Good, nothing. He checked the rink itself. No threats. He checked the bleachers...

That was when the girl beside him made her presence known and spoke. She asked if the girls were his. He glanced at her, confused. Did this woman think that the two girls were his? He opened his mouth to correct her as he turned, then caught sight of her. She was thin, tanned from the sun, with a heart-shaped face framed with a mass of voluminous brunette hair. She was very pretty. Yori scanned her features in fractions of seconds, confused. He felt he knew this person, but he did not know how. She spoke as if they knew one another, yet he could not recall her face. There was something… Familiar about her. Was this a past lover of his? He practically shuddered at the thought. Wait, why did he shudder?

He scanned her face for something familiar, running along her freckled cheeks and strong cheekbones, passing nervously over her… Her eyes. Green, like his, but darker. He saw his reflection in those eyes. He saw a part of his soul, ripped away and forced into another life, away from its whole. He saw a life of pain and of abandonment, a parallel and yet a foil to his own. Who was this person?

Bitterness crept into the girl’s voice as she continued to speak. Yori stared on, transfixed and confused, until her final words were spoken, Then, he knew without a doubt who he was speaking to. Though she’d grown over the years, her eyes could not hide her identity from Yori for long.
”Mayuri.” He uttered. He was taken aback. He had longed to see her for years, and yet, he hadn’t expected to. He thought he was dead to them. He was fine with that, so long as they lived. And yet, here she was, that same stupid smile on her face that she always had when she was angry. He sat there in silence for a few moments. The seconds felt like hours as he tried to find the words, something, anything, to say.

”I didn’t replace you. You always knew where to find me. I made sure of that.” Was all he could manage. Feelings were festering, and that old rage that felt like his father’s voice, a devil on his shoulder, was creeping closer. Years of abandonment hit Yori like a runaway train, and his knuckles began to become grey as the energy he so desperately wished he could control rushed through him. He felt it growing upon his left side and turned his head away, not wanting her to see. He caught a glimpse of Kuroko doing a single, a double, a triple flip. He might have felt proud, even smiled, if the circumstances were different. ”...What made you finally show up?” He asked, caught between his rage and his curiosity. His voice was flat and emotionless, for it was all he could do to not go berserk. It took every ounce of self control he had to keep himself calm and collected, but he had no choice. There was no other way.

Years of separation and Mayuri still knew what each of Yori's gestures meant. He turned his head because he either didn't want to see her, or he didn't want to be seen. Or both. But he watched those stupid little girls, when he should have been facing her like a man.

What a coward.

"Oh, you know..." she began, responding to his question. She continued to stare at Yori pointedly, challenging him to look at her, to see her and not to turn away. Her smile lingered, infecting her voice like a poison. "I felt like taking a vacation. Seeing you. That old town was so stuffy anyway, and I figured you'd missed me. Maybe not?"

At her side, Mayuri's fingers drummed against her thigh. She wouldn't tell Yori about Daiko, or their mother, or anything that had happened. It was private. A sob story. Yori didn't need to know that, after he left, she invited a missing nin into her home so she could continue her training. He didn't need to know that the man lied his way into her family, into her mother's heart, and then proceeded to steal Mayuri's instead. Her brother simply didn't need to know that she'd fallen for this man, bruises and bitemarks and all, and killed shinobi for him in the most brutal ways. No, in the end, Yori didn't need to know about the Yuumei, or the money, or that very last night in the woods when she didn't hold anything back. He didn't need to know it. He didn't.

For all Yori needed to know, they'd done just fine without him.

Fine, at least to a point.

"I can't believe you trusted Kaa-san with those letters when she didn't write you once, Yori-nii. You never stopped by, you never checked in. We could have been dead...!" Mayuri stopped herself. She was growing heated. If there was anything she'd learned in the last few years, it was to control her impulses in delicate situations, no matter how whimsical she was when they were casual. Emotions were a shinobi's weakness. She'd learned that the hard way. "Kaa-san got your letters. She never told me a thing, so don't you dare assume."

As she awaited his words, Mayuri's eyes flickered for a moment to his hands, her own fingers still drumming against her thigh. Grey knuckles, like that night. He was agitated, but Mayuri didn't need the bloodline to tell her that. She'd known already.

They were just close like that.

Really, really close.

Yori’s eyes stayed transfixed on the empty space before him. He gazed down to his sisters, whose graceful movements had a calming effect on Yori. It did not help much, given the circumstances, but it was still a boon on his self-control. The remark she made about taking a vacation was obviously a joke, just another jab at him and another attempt to get under his skin. She was quite good at that, even after all these years. The grey spot on his knuckles crawled farther, coating his palm and the tips of his fingers. He needed to fight it, but he could hardly just walk away from this. He had waited too long for this moment, even if Mayuri had chosen the absolute worst time to appear. Even if she was, as he feared, completely ungrateful for his sacrifice. The grey skin covered his hand like a virus, spreading through his blood and through his very soul. Her words rained down on him like a flurry of blows that he could not protest. He could hardly speak for fear of what he might say, so he remained quiet until she finished speaking, and he felt he had finally had enough abuse.
”I think you need to take your own advice, May.” He muttered, venom in his words, speaking in a way that he rarely ever had to his sister. ”You are so naïve. You think Genzo Shimura, the man that threatened to beat our mother to death for not paying her debts, would just let me walk out and go visit whenever I wanted?” He challenged. ”I told you where I was. I asked you both to come stay with me. I don’t know why on earth mother wouldn’t tell you that, but what right do you think you have to take it out on me?” He snapped, the hurt in his voice clear.
His hand was completely grey now, hardened with the nature chakra that coursed through his body. He was sure that his entire face had transformed as well. He would not turn his face towards Mayuri now. He just stared outwards. He did not want her to see the rage in his eyes. It felt alien, not of his own violation, and yet… It made him feel guilty. Guilty that every fiber of his being wanted to hurl Mayuri out into the ice and watch her body break against the hard, glass-like floor.
”Why… Why didn’t she tell you? Why didn’t she ever send anything back?” He asked, his voice rising in volume along as his agitation increased. Was his mother truly so ungrateful as to shut him out completely, to deny him his family out of spite? ”I gave up everything so that you two could live. That is why I am here. That is why I toil. Are you telling me that she didn’t care?” He shouted, enraged. His voice carried now, filling the bleachers with echoes. Thankfully, the twins had gone back inside the locker room, and there was nobody around to hear them. It was just the two of them.

He was on his feet now, though he did not remember how he got there. He’d stood up at some point, and was now walking towards the railing. The better not to allow Mayuri to see his hand or his face. He stared out into the open ice, trying desperately to regain control, and losing more and more with each passing second. This could not continue for long.

Mayuri was patient with Yori as he spoke, doing her very best to consider his point of view as she had for weeks prior. She knew she gist of his side of the story and, bitter or not, she was prepared to accept it. She always was, until those little girls threw her off. That's what Mayuri got for being so damn impulsive. It always got thrown in her face. Daiko taught her that much.

But then he turned his back, and in that moment Mayuri didn't care why. You don't turn your back to someone you respect. You don't turn your back on family, ever. How dare he? How dare he?

In a fluid movement punctuated with rage, Mayuri flew from her seat, descending those last few bleachers with the same haste she had tearing apart Daiko's room those months ago. Fuming, and subconciously recognizing their new height difference, Mayuri grabbed Yori's shoulder and whirled him around. She met his eyes, completely unflinching at the striking yellow they now we're colored, and held her ground. He could not run.

"Don't you turn your back on me!" she spat. Mayuri stepped closer, cornering her brother against the railings. She didn't care how grey his skin turned, how primal his rage became. Mayuri wasn't afraid of him. She never had been. "I have the right to see your face, no matter what it looks like! You might be tall, you might be tough, but you're my little brother, damn you! You don't get to shut me out anymore! Especially not for them!"

With a burst of impulsivity, Mayuri shoved his shoulder. It would have been playful, nostalgic even, if the tension wasn't so strong. The girl searched her twin's eyes for a moment, as though she may find her words there, before shaking her head.

"Of course Kaa-san cared, baaaka. But she was sick, Yori! She was dying with every breath she breathed, and with Tou-san in jail and you jumping ship, she got sick inside too. Kaa-san hid the money and she hid the notes, even when our lives were on the line, and she never wrote back because--"

Mayuri stopped herself, eyes wider -and voice louder than she meant to allow. She was heaving, and she nearly spilled a secret that was just nothing Yori needed to know. Mayuri briefly closed her eyes and got ahold of herself. When she opened them only a moment later, she was calmer, but rage still shined in her eyes.

"...Because she wanted me to fucking hate you, Yori," Mayuri continued in a nasty tone, "so I could get stronger and match that thing inside you. And I get it. I do. I get why you left, and I get why she didn't tell me why, but that doesn't change the fact that you weren't there.l" Mayuri was prodding his chest, now. When did she raise her arm? When did she raise her voice? When had she gotten so close to her brother that their faces were only inches away? "We couldn't leave, Yori! We were stuck! Mother and I watched each other die a little more every day for years because we were alone, and she was sick, and I was sick, and we had to resort to..."

Once again, Mayuri cut herself off. She'd already said too much. She wouldn't go that far.

"It doesn't matter. I just... You weren't the only one that had to give things up. So don't give me the sob story about the little shinobi prodigy who saved his mommy, got adopted by a rich son of a bitch and got to go to big boy training school." It was harsh, and it was idealistic, but Mayuri didn't care. Yeah, he'd given up his home, but what a shit home it was. Yeah, he'd given up his family, but he found replacements didn't he? And Mayuri didn't want to hear about how scary Genzo was, threatening all those beatings when Mayuri loved them every day. Yori had it bad, and when everything was cooled down, Mayuri knew she'd be more sympathetic. Especially because Yori had no idea about anything that happened at home, and if Mayuri had her way, he never would. At least, not for a while. But that didn't change the fact that she was still pissed.

"Don't act like you're the only one who went through hell to get here, because you just aren't," Mayuri continued, voice loud despite their close proximity. "I practically slept with the devil to get where I am now, not that it's any of your business. All that matters is that I..."

Mayuri stopped. Something snapped inside her, and her eyes were suddenly cloudy, stinging. Why? What was this pain in her eyes? Was she... Oh, hell no! But she couldn't stop it. No tears fell, but she couldn't stop the wetness from brimming in her eyes. Angry at everything, she smacked his chest with her fists, but it wasn't as hard as she could. She wasn't wanting to hurt him, and that much was made clear when her arms wrapped around him of their own accord. Before Mayuri knew what she was doing, her cheek was pressed into Yori's chest, and she was hugging him like her life depended upon keeping him close.

She fought against the lump in her throat, determined not to let it affect her voice, as she ended, "I fucking hate you, Yori, for making me miss you so much." Despite her best efforts, Mayuri's voice cracked at the end, and she continued to cling to him like a lifeline.
I fucking hate you, Yori, for making me miss you so much.

Yori, stepping forwards to avoid showing his sister his face, gripped the railing tightly, his face becoming grey as his rage increased. If she were perceptive enough, Mayuri might notice that half of his face was becoming encrusted with the mutated grey flesh, fueled by his sage chakra. That, unfortunately, would be a realization that came too late to change her actions. Yori was spun around to face Mayuri, and his face was revealed, split down the middle, one half grey and jagged, filled with rage, a yellow beam of light piercing through the darkness of his skull and into Mayuri’s eyes, a single green eye and a small patch of being all that was recognizable of Yori, save for his bright orange hair.

She met his gaze, not flinching, but Yori was lost to her at this point. The moment she laid hands on him, Yori, turned towards her, shoved his hands towards his sister, attempting to force her back and away from him. Any attempt to draw closer to Yori would result in Yori repeating this motion, only serving to increase his rage. However tough she liked to present herself as, Yori hit quite hard, and harder still when augmented by his sage chakra.

”Get away from me!” He shouted, his voice warped and distorted by his own mutated body. It was all he could do to just keep still, but any attempt made by Mayuri to enter range of him would be met with another shove. Assuming she still attempted to shove him on the shoulder, Yori would catch her hand by the wrist with his more powerful left hand before striking her in the stomach, forcing her back once more. He didn’t want to hurt her… Not yet, anyways. But coming towards him in this volatile state was less than safe. He tried to listen to his sister speak as she gave her piece, but it was hard for Yori to process her rage without feeling himself becoming enraged just the same.

She insulted him. That was rich, and a more coherent Yori might have had a sly remark, but all that the boy could do to keep himself still was to grip the bars tighter, rending them under his immense strength and bending them upwards without realizing it.
”You’re an ungrateful little shit, Mayuri.” He grumbled, his his voice distorted. ”After all I’ve done for you, you still only think about yourself…” He growled, his voice rising with anger. ”If I was there, if I hadn’t left, we’d all have been dead! Why are you so dense that you can’t comprehend that?”

If she continued to speak despite the blows he sent her way, Yori would simply grit his teeth and try not to lash out. When she began to talk about what their mother had done, he found that he had a bit more self control as he listened. The rage was still there, the beast still called him and commanded him, but now it grew silent and urged him to wait and listen. His mother hated him for his sacrifice, too?  She was just as ungrateful? She’d… She’d hidden his letters from Mayuri? The rage grew stronger. Yori would not be able to speak for much longer…

”"I fucking hate you, Yori-

And that was when Yori snapped. He was no longer a man. There was nothing left of him save for the monster that lurked within. In mere moments, he would be upon his sister, aiming a low strike with his powerful, augmented left hand towards her gut, which would likely knock the wind out of her and send her flying back. Running after his now airborne sister, this enraged beating would not cease until the beast was satisfied and his anger sated.

(Mid thread claiming)
(TWC: 3000)

+15 Stats
+ Sucker Punch

Approved for mid thread claim