Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The explosion happened more quickly than Kotetsu’s brain could process.

A sudden eruption of white.

Then a sound much like speakers being overloaded, before everything turned black and silent – save for a faint ringing from no discernable source.

“Bunny?”

His own voice sounded as if from underwater. He knew this should be a cause for concern eventually. As should the way his breath felt hollow in his chest, each gasping attempt to draw air inciting a blossom of pain.

None of this was a priority, however – not when his partner’s cracked faceplate stared blankly from where he lay, pinned to the ground by a chunk of smoldering rebar like a cartoon squashed bug.

Barnaby’s vitals flashed in an urgent orange display in the peripheral of Kotetsu’s vision. He could faintly hear the insistent buzzing alarm that accompanied it – begging him to do something, anything, to help.

But try as he might, his powers would not activate. They only flickered impotently, like a gas stove unable to take flame.

Down in the smoking remains of this warehouse, he was a fleshly bag of broken glass, forced to watch the digital display of his partner’s pulse slow until the numbers turned from orange to red and then—

“Kotetsu!” Barnaby hissed, shaking his shoulder hard enough to jostle him awake.

“Wh—huh?” Kotetsu blubbered, panic seizing his body.

Barnaby peered at him huffily from his own pillow. “You were mumbling in your sleep again. It was getting quite loud.”

“Oh.” Kotetsu wiped at his still-unfocused eyes, his hands coming away damp. He sniffed loudly, clearing his throat. “Sorry, Bunny - just had a bad dream. I can go down and sleep on the couch.” He moved to pull the duvet from himself.

Cold guilt seeped into the absence Barnaby’s now faded irritation had left. He snatched the older man’s wrist with an abruptness that caused Kotetsu’s eyes to flick downwards in surprise. “No—it’s fine. I was just - concerned.”  Barnaby forced himself to lie back down, hoping that Kotetsu would follow suit.

Kotetsu did so, albeit tentatively.

The ambient noise of the darkened loft stretched between them as both men waited for the other to speak. As was usual, Kotetsu broke the silence first.

“Hey Bunny,” he ventured, his voice uncertain.

“Hmm?”

“Can I, uh…” Kotetsu cleared his throat again. “Mind if I hold you?”

Barnaby’s breath hitched silently in his chest. “You may,” he answered quietly.

Beside him, he could feel Kotetsu’s weight shifting, the covers rustling as his partner’s warmth spread across his bare back.

Beneath the cotton of his undershirt, Barnaby was acutely aware of the burn scar that covered a large part of Kotetsu’s torso, the skin puckered and pink from skin grafts. He forced his mind to focus on the comforting pressure of his partner’s strong, defined arms around him instead.

“Was it about the flour mill incident?” Barnaby asked once Kotetsu had settled in against him.

Kotetsu inhaled with a pensive noise, nestling his face so that his beard prickled the soft skin at the nape of Barnaby’s neck. “Yeah,” he admitted. He fell quiet once again, and Barnaby wasn’t sure if he was imagining the sensation of moisture beneath the tickle of his partner’s eyelashes.

 “I just keep thinking how bad it coulda been, y’know?” Kotetsu continued. “If I’d’ve had my full five minutes, then—”

“-Then you would have already used them up long before that explosion happened, thus resulting in exactly the same outcome as before,” Barnaby cut in.

Kotetsu replied with a soft chuckle. “I guess that’s true, yeah.” His hand wandered down to absentmindedly stroke the scar on Barnaby’s thigh. “Still, though…”

Barnaby tsked loudly, adjusting himself against his pillow fitfully. “’Still’ nothing. Your powers or lack thereof had nothing to do with how things turned out back there,” he snapped. “Now either let me sleep or take responsibility for the way you’re working me up right now.”

Kotetsu stiffened in surprise as his hand brushed against hardening flesh. “W-well,” he conceded, working an exploratory thumb underneath the waistband of Barnaby’s elastic briefs, “I guess I am feeling kinda restless, myself—Dah!”

With dizzying swiftness and strength, Barnaby flipped himself on top of his startled partner, pinning him to the firm mattress. His rosebud lips curled into a catlike smile, green eyes twinkling in the dim streetlights that filtered in through closed blinds.

“I’ll be happy to assist with that.”

CLINICAL TRIAL FOR DEGENERATIVE DISEASES – VOLUNTEERS NEEDED

Clinical trials are available for individuals suffering from any manner of degenerative diseases, including but not limited to cancer, Huntington’s Disease, Alzheimer’s, and more. Both NEXT and non-NEXT are encouraged to participate. Call now!

Kotetsu flipped his phone over and over in his palm, staring at the computer screen as he chewed the inside of his cheek. His eyes shifted to Barnaby, who pored busily over organized stacks of documents and various samples of cosmetics.

“Yo Bunny! I’m uh, I’m gonna step out real quick and make a phone call.”

Barnaby looked up from his work to fix his partner with narrowed eyes. “And you need to inform me of this because…?”

Baring his teeth in a nervous grin, Kotetsu scrambled over his answer. “I-I just don’t want you to think I’m weaseling my way out of work or anything!”

After a beat of annoyed stillness, Barnaby replied, “You do realize that’s especially what I’ll be suspecting, now?” Sighing, he turned his attention back towards his desk. “Anyway, if you’re not going to work, then I ask that you at least not distract me from doing so.”

“Sorry!” Kotetsu sing-songed as he ducked out the door, leaving Barnaby and the receptionist to exchange brief, exasperated glances.

++++

Setting up the appointment took less than ten minutes. A woman with a warm, chipper voice answered on the third ring and guided him through a series of screening questions such as his age, ethnicity, and overall medical history.

“We’ve actually got an opening today at 5:30pm, if that works for you?” the woman offered.

“Oh wow, that soon, huh?” Kotetsu tittered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I guess I could make that work. But uh, are there any…I don’t know, side effects… I should know about?  Y’see I’ve got my daughter coming in this weekend, and—"

“I’m sorry sir, but we’re unable to discuss the nature of the treatment until you’ve come in and signed an NDA,” she interrupted, the honeyed quality of her voice sharpening. “If today at 5:30 doesn’t work for you, I can try and slot you in for some time in May, but I can’t guarantee you a spot – especially as your condition isn’t life-threatening. Due to the nature of the study, we operate on a first come, first serve basis, so—"

“F-Five thirty today is fine!” Kotetsu cut in appeasingly. “No problem at all!”

“Wonderful!” the woman replied, her frosty demeanor completely thawed. Kotetsu could hear the clacking of a keyboard from her end of the line. “Do you have a pen on you? Let me give you the address.”

++++

By the time four o’clock came around, Kotetsu had run through a countless number of excuses as to how he’d leave work early while garnering the least amount of suspicion. In his vast experience of evading the truth, he found that the most effective approach hinged on two points – one: don’t give unnecessary details, and two: make sure it’s something someone would rather not hear about.

I ran out of beard stencils, I’ve got the runs, and I got sued by the Department of Transportation again were all tried and true excuses that usually earned him a groan and had people practically shooing him out of the door to freedom. 

Unfortunately, however, he’d used all three much too recently for them to have the intended effect on Barnaby.

“Leaving already?” Barnaby asked sardonically as Kotetsu awkwardly began to gather his things.

Kotetsu blinked at him like a startled deer. “Y-yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

Barnaby’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?”

“Well, see—” Kotetsu wracked his brain to remember one of the less absurd explanations he’d thought up earlier. “Antonio asked me to meet him for emergency drinks. The dumbass got catfished on Tinder again so he’s feeling pretty down.”

“At four in the afternoon?” Barnaby asked flatly, his eyebrows knitting together.

“At five, technically, but traffic’s kinda crazy, so—”

“But you left your car back at your place this morning, so how exactly do you plan on getting there?”

Shit, Kotetsu forgot that Barnaby had driven them to work that morning. The original plan had been for them to leave work together as well, though they hadn’t discussed if they’d do anything afterwards. Even so, a small tinge of guilt prickled at his chest.

“That’s exactly why I need to leave so early!” he said, snapping his fingers. “I’m taking a cab.”  Glancing down at his watch, he began to prance in an impatient circle. “Shit, I’m gonna be late – sorry, Bunny, but I’ll text you later, yeah?”

Before Barnaby could say anything further, Kotetsu spun away in a chaotic flurry.

For once, Kotetsu was early.

An entire forty-five minutes early.

The cab had dropped him off in front of a non-descript, windowless building. It was exactly the type of building he could imagine organized crime lords dissolving bodies in. Or super-secret evil scientists doing super-secret evil experiments on people.

Crap, he was starting to have second thoughts on this entire thing.

He stared at the large iron doors and gulped.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he considered calling another cab to take him back home. Maybe he’d text Barnaby, offer him dinner – assuming the younger man was up for spending yet another evening in a row with him.

But thoughts of an intimate night in with his partner began to shift – the warm light of his living room intensifying into a blinding orange; Barnaby’s once striking green eyes blown wide and blank—

Kotetsu doubled over, digging his fingers into his scalp to stop the wave of images as he fought the urge to retch.

“Get a hold of yourself, Kotetsu,” he gritted as he forced his shaking breath through his nose. The explosion had been a terrifying reminder that he couldn’t protect his loved ones the way he used to. He’d been fortunate enough to be given a second chance – he’d be damned if he wasted it.

Besides – even if the building was full of murderous crime lords or evil scientists, he was still a Power-type NEXT. And even without his powers, he could kick some serious ass if he had to. He was a tiger, dammit! Not a meek little housecat!

Squaring up his shoulders, Kotetsu pushed boldly through the surprisingly heavy doors. Cold white light flooded his vision.

“May I help you, sir?”

A woman in her late-20’s with mouse-brown hair and heavy makeup addressed him from behind a hastily-constructed reception desk.

The confidence Kotetsu had drummed up moments before was immediately siphoned away. Carrying himself on wobbling legs, he slinked to the plastic laminate counter. “Hi, ma’am! My name’s Kotetsu Kaburagi? I have an appointment for five-thirty but, uh… I’m a bit early.” He chuckled bashfully.

The woman stared at him, her disconcertingly bright blue eyes lined with a thick ring of black kohl and mascara-flaked eyelashes. “Ah, yes, Mr. Kaburagi- we spoke on the phone.” Reaching somewhere underneath her desk, she pulled out a clipboard loaded with an inch-thick stack of papers. “Please take a seat over there and fill out these documents. Dr. Ramani will be with you shortly.”

“Roger,” Kotetsu said, his tone forcibly upbeat. He took a seat at one of the handful of metal foldable chairs, which creaked threateningly beneath his weight.  Huh, he thought to himself. She sounded a hell of a lot friendlier on the phone.

Thumbing through the papers – half of which were littered with countless paragraphs of legal and medical jargon, the other half asking for enough personal information to set off several personal fraud investigations (Why the hell do they need my childhood cat’s name?)– Kotetsu’s attention wandered to his surroundings.

The building was as unremarkable inside as it was out; the interior hastily furnished with laminate partitions for rooms and flimsy metal chairs, its polished concrete floor marked with yellow electrical tape to direct the flow of traffic.

Traffic – speaking of which, Kotetsu realized he was the only one here. Even the weirdly robotic receptionist was nowhere to be found. His stomach churned in alarm, but he distracted himself by absentmindedly signing a few of the forms. This was his chance to restore himself! He’d be able to keep up with Barnaby! And protect him!

He’d be an awesome hero again – not just one people felt sorry for.

“Mr. Kaburagi?”

Jolted to attention, Kotetsu scrambled to rush through filling out the last of the papers, organizing them haphazardly back on the clipboard. “Yes? Yes, that’s me!”

“I’m Dr. Ramani.” A dark-haired woman around his age extended him an olive-toned hand before taking the clipboard. “Please come with me,” she said, guiding him into one of the partitioned examination rooms.

 “If you could please undress and place all of your personal belongings in that blue bin. Then have a seat on the table,” she invited as she leafed through the papers.

Kotetsu blinked. “S-sure thing.” He tentatively began to loosen his tie, his eyes shifting nervously to Dr. Ramani, who continued to read through his paperwork.

Noticing his hesitation, she looked up at him. “Is something the matter, Mr. Kaburagi?”

Caught off-guard, he scratched nervously at the stubble on his cheek. “Oh, well I just…I think I’m missing the hospital gown.” And are you gonna sit here while I strip ass-naked?

Dr. Ramani fixed him with an unreadable stare. “There shouldn’t be one.”

“Oh.” Ignoring the way his face burned, he finished removing his tie, then unhooked his suspenders, waiting for the doctor to leave the room – or, hell, turn around – and offer him even a smidgen of privacy.

Instead, however, she continued to flip through his paperwork, unbothered.

Jesus Christ, this was awkward.

“So you uh, do this often, Doctor?” Kotetsu asked, pulling off his socks. He was down to his undershirt and slacks now, and keen to delay the removal of any more articles of clothing as best he could.

“Do I do what often, Mr. Kaburagi?”

Fumbling with his belt buckle, Kotetsu stuttered, “Oh, you know.” His initial idea had been to turn this into some sort of bawdry joke, but he’d immediately reconsidered upon meeting the doctor’s stony eyes.  “These - trial things,” he coughed.

She took a moment before responding, and Kotetsu wondered if a part of her wasn’t reveling in making this as punishing as possible for him. “Please finish removing your clothes, Mr. Kaburagi.”

“Right! Right – sorry, Doc.”

He removed the rest of his clothes as hastily as possible, not allowing himself to process the moment any more than he had to, and took a seat on the paper-lined exam table. The chill of the plastic cushion on his bare ass had him stiffen in discomfort.

Dr. Ramani circled him as her eyes scanned a particular page. “So it says here your powers have been in decline for quite a number of years now – are you sure the date you wrote here is accurate?”

Quite a number of years? Kotetsu counted them in his head. Well…it was coming up on three or four, so he supposed that could be considered ‘quite a number’…

“Uh, well I’m not one-hundred percent sure on the exact month or day or anything,” Kotetsu answered slowly, “But I’m pretty confident on the year, yes.”

“And…you said the decline has stabilized within the past year or so?”

“Thereabouts, yeah.”

The doctor gave a small hum, her face tensing skeptically at the papers. “Well, alright.” she said, relaxing into a neutral expression of acceptance. Pulling out a stethoscope, she pressed the cold metal to his chest and instructed him to breathe. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar,” she commented, referring to his burn wound. “Bet you won’t mind not having that any longer.”

Kotetsu gave a small polite laugh, mildly surprised at the doctor’s attempt at conversation. “Ah, yeah, well – I personally don’t pay it much mind, but I think it makes my partner kinda uncomfortable, so. Can’t say it’ll be missed.”

“Oh? And here I thought women loved a man with scars,” she said with a sardonic smile.

“That so?” he asked, his cheeks flushing. The turn of this conversation was confusing him, and he wasn’t super interested in revealing anything more about his romantic life than he had to – especially not sitting stark naked while a strange woman in a lab coat poked and prodded him with cold hands.

“So how exactly will this treatment work? You said it’d get rid of my scars too?” He asked, steering the subject back to a more comfortable place.  

Dr. Ramani returned her stethoscope to its rightful place on her shoulders and wheeled her seat back, all cold professionalism again. “I am a NEXT with the capabilities to revert both living beings and objects back to an earlier state of existence,” she explained. “Normally, with say, a cancer patient, I’d localize my powers to only affect the malignant tumors – reversing metastasis enough to where chemotherapy and other treatments have a chance to completely kill off the cancerous cells.”

Kotetsu nodded, his throat bobbing against a painful lump of emotion. If only this woman had been in practice back when Tomoe was still with them.

Maybe she would have had a fighting chance.

“However,” the doctor continued, “Reversing the decline of NEXT powers alone would require me to be able to target the specific irregular structures within your DNA responsible for them – something both incredibly risky, and quite frankly, beyond my abilities. So. The solution would be for me to essentially set the clock backwards for you – to a time just before your powers began to decline.”

She gave him a significant look. “I’m going to be honest, Mr. Kaburagi. I don’t usually do this for a timeframe earlier than six or seven months in the past. The results will have extreme consequences for both you and your loved ones. Are you certain you want to go through with this?”

Out of habit, Kotetsu’s hand went to his left ring finger, only to find it bare – he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t wearing any of his clothes or accessories. The way the lady was talking, she was making it seem like she was about to turn him into a purple polka-dotted monster or something – it freaked him out.

But he’d gotten this far. The solution to his nightmares was within reach, and like hell was he about to pussy out now. So what? He’d be a couple of years younger, have fewer gray hairs. And he was always forgetting things, anyway – Barnaby would get him up to speed in no time.

Setting his jaw, he gave her a steely-eyed glare. “I’m certain.”              

Dr. Ramani inhaled silently, her mouth a thin line. “Alright,” she said with quiet finality. She removed the first few pages from the clipboard and set them aside, stapling together the remaining ones. “These are for your own records,” she explained, placing them in the bin on top of his belongings.

“Oh. Okay.”  I knew I didn’t have to bother finishing filling em out!

“I can call the person you put as your emergency contact to come pick you up?” She asked, adjusting her latex gloves one finger at a time.

Kotetsu cringed at the thought of having to apologize to Barnaby for a lie he wouldn’t even remember. “I think I’ll be fine just taking a cab, thanks.”

Dr. Ramani turned to look at him, alarmed. “Are you sure? Things have changed quite a bit, you’re going to be extremely disoriented—”

“Cabs have existed since before I was born, Doc,” he growled, his patience near a breaking point. “I’ll be fine.”

The doctor blinked before her eyes softened in defeat. “As you wish. Please lie back, Mr. Kaburagi. This will only take a moment.”

Barnaby stared at the run-of-show for the commercial he was scheduled to appear in the following week – a filmed ad selling ‘gender-neutral makeup’. Personally, he thought the concept was quite silly. The myriad of existing makeup brands he could find at SephUlta suited his needs just fine. From what he knew, Fire Emblem also had no issue finding what they needed there, but, well. Who was he to turn down a job offer?

He hovered over the page with a red pen, intending to edit in a few changes that better reflected the “BBJ” brand, but he was finding it unnervingly difficult to focus.

Kotetsu had been lying to him – that much he knew.

It stung that despite everything, his partner still felt the need to hide things from him.  He had been looking forward to leaving work together and trying the fancy new sushi place that had opened up in Gold. From Barnaby’s research, they had a large selection of Far Eastern liquors – one of the largest outside of Oriental Town. It’d be a good opportunity to network with the owner. Maybe he could get him to consider adding Kaburagi Liquors as one of his vendors…

His eyes wandered to Kotetsu’s empty desk, which he’d left in more of a disarray than usual. He hadn’t even bothered to shut down his computer.

What could he be up to that had him leaving in such a tizzy? Barnaby considered calling Rock Bison to ask if Kotetsu was actually with him, but frowned to himself. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d spoken to Rock Bison unprompted, and he feared coming off as any more clingy than the other heroes undoubtedly already saw him.

Perhaps Kotetsu had simply needed a break from him? They had been spending nearly every night together for the past month since the incident.

The idea made him feel worse.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the clock on the far side of the office wall. 4:36pm.  

Dropping his pen, he wheeled himself over to Kotetsu’s side of the desk and shook the mouse to awaken the computer.

If Kotetsu didn’t want him to snoop, then he should have put a password on his workstation like Lloyds had been asking him to do since the beginning.

CLINICAL TRIAL FOR DEGENERATIVE DISEASES – VOLUNTEERS NEEDED

“Oh, Kotetsu, you—” Barnaby bit off the rest of his insult. “What have you done?”

Grabbing his keys off his desk, he punched the number into his phone as he strode out.

++++

Rush hour traffic should have made Barnaby’s commute much longer than it ended up being, had he not weaved his little red Honda through several illegal right-lane passes and last-minute exits.

The receptionist had sounded relieved to hear from him and hastily gave him the address, which Barnaby took as a very bad sign.

Pulling up the parking brake, Barnaby marched through the doors.

“M-Mr. Brooks?” The woman behind the desk immediately stood up, her heavily-made eyes wide with hope.

“Where is he?” Barnaby demanded.

The woman nodded to acknowledge his question. “Let me page Dr. Ramani.“

Almost immediately, another woman who Barnaby assumed to be Dr. Ramani walked out to greet him. “Mr. Barnaby Brooks Jr.? You’re listed as his emergency contact, correct?”

“Apparently so.” he responded. “Is something wrong with him? Is he okay?”  This entire situation had his stomach knotting in dread. All he wanted was to see his partner – to confirm he was safe.

Dr. Ramani dipped her gaze. “He’s…unharmed and in good health. May I ask what your relation is to the patient?”

Barnaby narrowed his eyes, taken off-guard by the question. “I’m his—I’m his partner.”

“You’re his—?” Surprise, then understanding registered in her eyes. “Okay. And how long have you two known each other?”

He shifted his weight impatiently. “About five years. Now if it’s all the same to you, Doctor, I’d like to—”

“Does he have no immediate family who can accompany him? Perhaps his mother or older brother? An old familiar face would really be ideal—”

“I beg your pardon?” Barnaby’s voice grew tight. “Do you realize how incredibly dismissive and-and disrespectful you’re being about the nature of our relationship?”

The doctor shot out a placating hand. “Mr. Brooks, I think you’ve got the wrong idea—”

“Would you be interrogating a different type of couple in this manner? Or ask that his blood relatives be present instead?”

“Mr. Brooks, listen—”

 “No, Doctor, you listen—”

The slam of a fist on hollow wood reverberated through the building. “Yo what the fuck is taking so long?”

Both Dr. Ramani and Barnaby froze and turned towards the source of the outburst.

A young man clad in ripped black clothing and various leather accessories lorded over the doorway, his long limbs bent in aggressive angles. His black-smeared amber eyes shifted to Barnaby, who he gave a scathing once-over. “The hell is this?”

“Mr. Kaburagi, this is Mr. Brooks. He’ll be taking you home,” Dr. Ramani said with the patient detachedness of an elementary school teacher.

Barnaby spun to face the doctor. “What is—? Is this some sort of prank?”

Dr. Ramani regarded him with hooded eyes. “He’s very confused and upset right now, so I suggest you be as sensitive as possible in what information you choose to provide to him and when. For all intents and purposes, he’s just time-travelled twenty years into the future.”

“Why twenty years?” Barnaby asked, his voice beginning to fray. “His powers have only been in decline for the past three and a half!”

This gave the doctor pause, her mouth slackening before she schooled it back into a professional frown. “Well, that’s not what he wrote here,” she said, handing him a messily scrolled on document. “It’s technically a HIPAA violation for me to give this to you, but considering the circumstances…”

Barnaby accepted the paper, squinting to decipher Kotetsu’s hastily written cursive. His eyes shot wide open once he fell upon the offending line. “The idiot wrote his high school graduation date here!” He hissed, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. 

Dr. Ramani fell very still, the realization a weight between them. “Well, that explains quite a bit,” she murmured.

“Dr. Ramani, is there any possible way that you can reverse the effects of your powers?” Barnaby asked, doing his best to reign in control of his panic. “If you’re able to essentially set back the clock on subjects, then there has to be a point of singularity upon which it becomes cyclical, surely?”

The doctor shook her head as he spoke, her face drawn. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks, but I’m not confident that’s how it works, nor am I comfortable attempting it.”

His face falling, Barnaby opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted.

“’Scuse me, I get this must be some kind of personal crisis or something, but if y’all are gonna keep this going for much longer I’m just gonna find my own way back home,” the young man growled, turning to return to the partitioned room.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Kaburagi – thank you for your patience,” the doctor said hurriedly. “Please don’t forget any of your personal affects in the blue bin.”

She turned back to Barnaby, genuine sympathy in her dark eyes. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Brooks. I’ll reach out to my network and see what can be done. The farther back I’ve had to reverse an object, the less stable the effect is, and since this is the first time I’ve sent a living subject this far back, it’s possible that he’ll return to his default state on his own.” She handed him a card. “If you notice anything unusual, feel free to call me.”

Barnaby stared at the card in his hand, dazed. “Thank you.”

Dr. Ramani looked as if she wanted to say something more when her attention was pulled back to the boy, who stood impatiently with Kotetsu’s folded clothes pressed to his chest. “Have everything?” she asked him. He nodded. “Good,” she said. Then, to Barnaby, she said, “Best of luck.”

“This is fancy,” the boy muttered as he ducked into the passenger side of Barnaby’s car.

Because he wasn’t sure how to respond, Barnaby declined to say anything at all. The car roared to life, its turbo-charged engine growling aggressively as Barnaby shifted into gear.

“So what’s your name?” the young man asked once they’d reached a comfortable flow on the highway.

“Barnaby,” he answered tersely.

“Bumblebee?” his passenger asked, one pierced brow cocked incredulously.

“I said Bar-na-by. Not Bumblebee.” Barnaby snapped, his temper already boiling.

“Oh.” He leaned back in his seat, mildly disappointed. “I like Bumblebee better, but okay.” He drummed his fingers, adorned with clunky silver rings, on the windowsill. “I’m Kotetsu, but most people call me Kota. Or Kabuki, but only if they wanna get hit.”

“I know your name.” Barnaby replied. Still, it helped to refer to the young man beside him with a slightly different moniker. That way, he could still believe that his partner was still somewhere out there, and not—

Gone.

Kota began to go through the different accessories in the pile of clothes on his lap, trying the bracelets on experimentally before stopping at the wedding ring. “I got married?” He asked, watching the city lights glint off it as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

Barnaby shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You did, yes.”

“To who?” Kota asked, his mouth slanted in a sly grin. “You?”

Stiffening, Barnaby opened his mouth to protest when Kota cackled loudly.  “Just screwing with ya. You seem so uptight I can’t resist.” He thumbed the ring thoughtfully. “I know it’s with Tomoe. There’s no way it could be anyone else.”

Kota seemed to ponder this as he fiddled with the ring. His eyes brightening, he addressed Barnaby. “I’ll bet she’s hella MILF now. What’s she like? Is she still a huge HeroTV nerd?”

“She’s…” Barnaby took a breath, his mind buzzing. “From what you’ve told me, she was indeed. A HeroTV fan, I mean. She was an especially big fan of Wild Tiger – meaning yourself. You were even King of Heroes for a season once, by the way,” he added, hoping to distract the young man from the bittersweet implication of his words.

A murky pall fell over Kota’s features. He stared sightlessly at the ring in his hand.

“What happened?”

His voice was soft – barely audible above the ambient noise of traffic.

Barnaby swallowed, his eyes straining to focus on the strobing city lights that zipped past them. “She passed away nearly ten years ago, now. Ovarian cancer. You had a daughter together – Kaede. She’s thirteen now.”

“Oh.”

Kota turned away to gaze out the window. Shadows veiled his face, but Barnaby could see the tautness of his bottom lip when illuminated by the flash of streetlights streaming through the car interior.     

Neither of them said anything further for the remainder of the car ride.

++++

Barnaby used his spare key to unlock Kotetsu’s apartment, not wanting to bother having Kota search through the pile of personal items bundled in his hands.

Stepping into the empty apartment, a powerful twinge of something like grief seized Barnaby’s chest. His Kotetsu – the one whose presence was in every corner of this abode, didn’t exist. Not anymore.

The young man taking his place barely looked like him at first glance. His clean-shaven face was leaner; more angular. His razor-styled brows arched in sharp opposition from his drooping almond shaped eyes, who’s structure he’d accentuated into an almost cat-like form with aggressive swipes of smudgy black makeup.

Of course, this was without even mentioning the bolder, more surface-level changes which spun Barnaby’s mind into a confusing state of dissonance. For example: the various, mismatched piercings adorning his ears and face; the clunky metal and leather accessories he wore around his neck and wrists; his coarse, shoulder-length hair, half of which he’d drawn into a tight ponytail that fanned upwards like a pineapple frond.

Kota frowned at Barnaby from the doorstep, and Barnaby realized he must have been blocking him. Barnaby stepped aside, pretending to busy himself by cleaning his glasses as Kota took tentative steps into the apartment.

Setting down his affairs on the back of the sofa, Kota wandered to the dresser upon which several framed photos were lovingly positioned. He took his time to study each one with a blank expression, pausing to run his fingers gingerly over his wedding photo. The line of his lips softened as if he was about to say something, but his eyes shuttered and he moved on to the next one.

Furrowing his brows, he picked up a picture of Kaede, squinting at it as he brought it closer to his face. “This my kid?” he asked, turning the frame towards Barnaby.

“That’s Kaede, yes.”

Kota hummed, returning the frame in place. “So little…” Loosening a breath, he turned bodily towards Barnaby. “Did you have someplace you need to be?”

Barnaby’s shoulders jumped at the directness of the question. “Well, not particularly, but I suppose I should be heading back and leave you to your privacy.” He reached for his car keys, grateful that the glare of his glasses hid the way his eyes shined.

“No, wait—”

The desperation in Kota’s voice made Barnaby freeze.

Kota regarded him with pleading eyes before forcing his gaze to the floor, his hand shooting up to self-consciously rub the back of his neck. “I meant…if you didn’t, I’d really rather not have to be alone right now.” He forced a weak laugh, a sad crooked grin creasing his cheek. “Shit’s kinda weird, you know?”

Pushing up his glasses to hide his reaction, Barnaby nodded with forced nonchalance. “Of course. Are you hungry at all? Or do you feel like doing anything in particular?”

He tapped the tip of his nose contemplatively, and Barnaby did his best not to stare at the silver barbell ring dangling from his septum. Kota made an indecisive sound. “I dunno, what sorta stuff do we usually do when we hang out?”

Barnaby shrugged. “We talk. Drink. Though seeing as you’re a few years shy from being of age, that won’t be an option—”

“Aww, hey!” Kota protested. “My ID says I’m thirty-nine!”

“Absolutely not,” Barnaby sniffed. “At least, not while I’m present. I have no interest in enabling your bad habits any more than I already do.”

Kota pursed his lips in an exaggerated pout. “You’re no fun, Bumblebee.”

Sputtering, Barnaby protested, “Bumble--! I said it’s Barnaby. Please refrain from giving me any more strange nicknames – it’s difficult enough to keep track of them as-is.”

“I give you nicknames?” Kota asked, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “Like what?”

Barnaby puckered his mouth, internally debating whether he wanted to arm Kota with this knowledge. Relenting, he answered, “The default one is ‘Bunny’.”

“Bunny!” Kota crowed, clapping his hands in delight. “You do kinda remind me of a bunny rabbit, what with how your nose wiggles all cute-like.”

Nearly choking on his own spit, Barnaby planted his hands on his hips in defiance. “What on earth are you talking about? My nose does not ‘wiggle’!”

Kota crossed his arms, a self-assured smirk across his face. “It totally does, bro. But it’s cool! Like I said-” He gave him a wink. “It’s cute.”

Once Barnaby had recovered enough to speak again, they settled on ordering pizza and watching a movie in the living room. Barnaby was grateful for once that the film was schlocky action fare whose plot was of little importance, as Kota talked through the entire thing, squawking loudly at the realism of the special effects (“You sure this shit’s fake, Bunny? How the fuck did they do that, then?!”).

“I should be getting back,” Barnaby announced as the credits rolled. “We have work tomorrow, and I need to figure out how I’m going to explain the situation to our boss.”

Still seated on the couch with his legs folded like a pretzel, Kota looked up at him with no attempt to mask his disappointment. “You can’t stay here?” he asked in a tone dangerously close to a whine.

Well. Technically Barnaby could, but that would mean revealing the stash of clothes he kept in Kotetsu’s drawers, and the electric toothbrush he stored in his medicine cabinet, and all his hair and skin products mixed in with Kotetsu’s aftershave and colognes—

And Barnaby wasn’t sure either of them were equipped to deal with the revelation that they weren’t the most platonic of buddies. Also was the fact that Kota was very young – still a teenager.

Although, he was technically an adult…

He snapped himself from this line of thought, mentally chastising himself for the morally questionable gutter his mind had fallen in. There were so many other fires to put out right now!

“I’ll come and pick you up first thing in the morning,” Barnaby said to assuage the young man’s despondency. “And I might be able to bring some of my things by to stay over for a few days - but no promises.” he amended, to which Kota perked up. “Be ready by 8 a.m. tomorrow. And do your best to dress a little bit more…” Barnaby pursed his lips, allowing his silence to speak for him.

Kota waved him off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah - hah, you sound like my older bro. I got’chu.”

Locking the door behind Barnaby, Kota sunk to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He felt like he was in some strange form of purgatory – spirited away into an alternate dimension where his dreams had been fulfilled with a Monkey’s Paw-esque twist.

None of this life felt like his. His mind roiled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t begin to parse as he stared at the melancholy face of the middle-aged man he would become.

Was supposed to be.

And Tomoe –

Was she really nowhere to be found in this world? The idea struck him as absurd. He felt as if he’d just seen her that same day. It defied logic to think of her as gone – vanished into thin air.

Feeling as if he’d burst, he scrambled to an armoire, behind the glass case of which he could see an impressive collection of various bottles of liquor.

He grabbed a whiskey glass and poured himself a generous thumb of expensive looking cognac, draining the entire thing in one gulp. Suppressing a cough, he snickered inwardly at the irony of his earlier encounter with Barnaby. He was the son of a barman – he’d been drinking since he was twelve.

The thought of anyone policing him at nineteen was fucking ludicrous.

He downed another glass with similar speed, and then yet another, until his brain felt full of cotton and the floor undulated like jello.

Curling to his side, he pressed his wrists between his knees, biting back a sob. The room felt too big, the ceiling too high. He needed—he needed to hear a familiar voice. To be held.

He crawled on his hands and knees to the phone on the coffee table, swaying dangerously as he nearly toppled over a few times. Pressing the receiver to his ear, he fumbled through the digital rolodex until he landed on the contact he was looking for.

The line opened with a soft electric pop on the second ring.

“Kotetsu?”

“Masa…Big bro…” Kota whimpered, the dam on his emotions breaking. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I—why—I can’t—” he was blubbering now, slurring nearly incomprehensibly from the alcohol.

Muramasa hesitated in alarm. “Kotetsu? Kotetsu – calm down. Who’s gone?”

Hyperventilating, Kota fought to answer. “T-Tomm—Tomo—”

On the other line, he could hear muffled voices speaking in urgent tones. “Okay, Kotetsu? Did anything happen? Are you—did you…take anything? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No! No amb-lance!”

“Okay,” Muramasa said mollifyingly. “Okay. No ambulance. Did you take anything?”

“Haah?”

“Are you on anything?”

“Jusss—jus’ a lil’ bit drunk.”

Muramasa made a doubtful sound but didn’t press the issue. Sighing, he said, “Tomoe is gone, yeah. She’s been gone for about eight years, now.”

“B-but it feels like she was just here,” Kota choked. “It doesn’t feel real. It—it—” His voice cracked. “I want her back so badly.”

“I know, little bro.”

Kota dissolved into shuddering cries while his older brother murmured placating affirmations into the earpiece, until his tears eventually subsided into fitful sniffling.

“Kaede’s coming in tomorrow to spend the weekend with you,” Muramasa prompted gently. “Maybe it will be good for you two to have a long overdue heart-to-heart about it, huh?”

“Kaede?” Kota repeated, his voice a squeak.

“Yes,” Muramasa confirmed, concern creeping back into his voice.

Kota wiped at his nose. “Why only the weekend? Why can’t she stay here?”

The line went silent for a beat. “Kotetsu, you’re honestly worrying me right now. Look, I’m going to call Antonio just to check in on you, okay?”

“No!” Kota hollered, his voice now stable and clear. “I’m good, I’m good – forget I said anything. I was just having a moment, it’s cool. I’m gonna go take a bath and hit the sack now. Good night, Masa – sorry for cryin’ your ear off.”

He hung up before he could hear Muramasa’s reply and shakily got to his feet, wiping the remainder of his tears away. Inhaling deeply, he made his way up the stairs, where he rifled through his clothing drawers in search of something more comfortable to change into after his bath. He settled on a goofy-looking pair of purple heart-patterned boxers and a white tank top.

Removing his choker and bracelets, he searched for a place to put them, his eyes falling on the small nightstand next to his bed. He pulled open the drawer to find an open box of condoms and a small tube of lubrication – but different from the kind he typically used with Tomoe.

Guess I must use these pretty often, he thought derisively, unsure of how to feel about it. Closing the drawer, he settled for placing his accessories in a precarious pile on top of his alarm clock.

His bathroom held even more intriguing clues about his middle-aged self’s life. Single bladed razors, expensive shaving foam and aftershave and beard oil, and a bottle of cologne filled the medicine cabinets. On another shelf, various bottles of luxury skin care tonics and hair products were organized like an old-timey apothecary.

Damn, I really turned high-maintenance in my old age, huh?

He felt almost a little guilty – like he was snooping on some stranger’s private life.

Taking one of the fancy-looking shampoo bottles, he drew himself a bath, turning the hot water faucet until the entire room was hazy with steam. The scalding water was a shock against his skin, filling his mind with nothing but the stinging heat that plucked at his nerves.

Opening the shampoo bottle, he realized there was something slightly familiar about its scent – a blend of rosemary and something that made him think of forest berries (wood strawberries, maybe?).

Well, if he used it regularly, then he supposed it was normal that it’d be subtly present in any place he spent a lot of time.

By the time he emerged from the bath (having brushed his teeth with the plain green toothbrush he’d found with the beard stuff; he assumed the pink one must’ve been Kaede’s, and he chalked up the complicated-looking electric one nestled with the skin and hair products as an impulse buy), his bones felt as if they were made of concrete.

He flopped heavily onto the bed, burrowing himself underneath the covers like a mole. He could smell a slight whiff of rosemary and berries in the linen, mixed in with more familiar Eastern spices – cardamom, sandalwood, yuzu.

It was…soothing.

Cradling the second pillow, he drifted off to a heavy sleep, the faint image of gold strands the last thing he saw before his consciousness blinked out.

Hey--

A vaguely familiar voice cut through his sleep.

--been calling—

Kota groaned, muffling his ears with his elbows.

--Wake up!

A sharp -smack- ripped him from his sleep.

“Ho!” He shot up, throwing a punch towards his aggressor on instinct. His fist hit a solid palm. The jolt of the blocked attack gave his shoulder a painful shock.

“What the hell?” Kota lamented, rubbing his sore shoulder. “Why would you do that?”

Towering above him, Barnaby planted a hand on his hip, his chin raised challengingly. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to simply allow myself to be punched?”

Kota glowered up at him. “You hit me first!”

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Barnaby replied simply.

Spitting out various noises of protest, Kota fisted his bedsheets in frustration. “Phone? I didn’t hear a phone!”

Barnaby gave him a skeptical look, until he realized that Kotetsu’s cellphone wasn’t in its usual place atop his nightstand. “You probably would have if you’d brought it up with you,” Barnaby said dryly.

Kota looked at him like he was stupid. “Why the hell would I bring a whole-ass phone up here?”

Narrowing his eyes, Barnaby opened his mouth to respond, until a realization struck him.

“You…aren’t familiar with mobile phones, are you?”

“Mobile phones? Like phones for cars, ya mean?” Kota asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

Barnaby felt a small pang in his gut. It was only natural that Kota wouldn’t know what a cellphone was. It was easy to forget how much the world had changed in twenty years – technology that had probably seemed like it could only exist within a Sci-Fi novel was now commonplace. Barnaby himself had been a mere child back then. Kota might as well have been transported to a different dimension.

Pulling his cellphone from his back pocket, he held it in front of Kota. “Like this.”

The one visible eye that wasn’t curtained by his chaotic fringe blinked owlishly at the device. “Ohh! That little black glass thing is a phone? But where’s the talky-thingy? And there’s no buttons on mine!”

“The ‘talky-thingy’ is down at the bottom. And there are no buttons because it has a touchscreen.”

“Oh,” Kota cooed, his gaze drifting down. “Huh.”

“Anyway,” Barnaby said, pocketing the device, “I told you to be up at eight a.m., did I not? We’re already going to be running late, so I suggest you make haste. We can grab breakfast on the way.”

“Right! Right,” Kota leaped out of bed to make a fevered beeline towards the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a jiffy!” He called before slamming the door behind him.

Barnaby waited in his car for Kota to emerge – which he eventually did after an agonizing fifteen minutes.

“Listen,” Kota said defensively in response to Barnaby’s sour expression, “You told me to dress more professionally, so it took time!”

“And this was the best you could come up with?” Barnaby scoffed, his eyes roving disapprovingly over the bandana and chains he wore around his neck and wrists (though he supposed it was a step up from the black dog collar he’d been wearing yesterday), and the thrifted combat boots that fell below his rolled-up slacks.

The kid hadn’t even bothered to wear a dress shirt properly – layering it unbuttoned over a white tank top. There was no necktie to be seen.

Kota shot him an obstinate look. Barnaby inhaled through his nose, deciding that this wasn’t a battle he was going to waste any more time on.

“Do you have your phone?” Barnaby asked tiredly.

With a triumphant grin, Kota presented the smartphone like it was a long-lost artifact he’d just unearthed. A small blue light blinked imperatively, signaling missed calls and texts. Somehow, Barnaby had a feeling his weren’t the only messages that had gone unanswered.

Barnaby nodded curtly. “Good. Did you lock your front door?”

“Yeah,” Kota lied.

“No, you didn’t – I saw you come out.” Barnaby snapped. “Go back and lock it. Now.”

Rolling his eyes, Kota begrudgingly slid out of the passenger seat to do so.

“Finally happy, ya fuckin’ prince?” He grumbled upon his return, clicking his seatbelt in place.

“My standards are not that low,” Barnaby said haughtily. He turned the engine with a roar, jiggling the gearshift, then froze. “You smell…” he searched for his words carefully. “Different.”

“Huh?” Recoiling, Kota began to pull at his clothes and sniffed experimentally underneath his armpits. “I took a bath last night!” He protested. “Washed my hair and everything!”

“I said different, not bad.”

“Oh,” Kota said, calming down. “I mean there were a lotta fuckin’ shampoos and soaps in there, so maybe I just chose one I don’t usually use as often, I dunno.”

Barnaby pursed his lips, then shifted into first. “Perhaps that’s it, yes.”

++++

They arrived at Apollon HQ forty-five minutes later than Barnaby had intended, having taken an inordinate amount of time at the drive-thru due to Kota’s confusion and excitement at finally trying a fast-food breakfast sandwich (“Nah, you don’t understand, Bumblebee! They don’t have this shit in Oriental Town! At least…not in my time, anyway…”).

Kota was immediately cowed by the opulence of the building, his mouth slack as his amber eyes ticked distractedly to various points of interest. Barnaby prompted him several times to not drift off into the crowd.

Convincing the security guard to let Kota pass through with him took another full five minutes, and was only resolved when Barnaby threatened to call Lloyds directly. Even so, this did not stop the guard from glowering at the young man in unveiled suspicion, which Kota returned with a puckish flash of a pierced tongue.

Florence, the receptionist, stared openly in a similar expression of suspicion, albeit one with a good measure of confusion mixed in. Kota gave her a cheery little wave before he was herded to his desk by Barnaby.

“Stay here. I already informed Lloyds about the situation last night, but out of courtesy I’d like to…further enlighten him on what to expect before I introduce you.”

Kota slunk into his chair, rotating it in meandering circles with one foot. “Okaaay,” he droned – his tone a little bit too congenial to inspire Barnaby with much confidence.

“Don’t touch anything,” Barnaby commanded as he walked towards Lloyds’ office.

“I’m not a fuckin’ cat, dude. Chill.” Kota growled, crossing his arms petulantly.

Barnaby twisted his mouth doubtfully, but forced himself away after sharing a quick glance with Florence.

++++

“So this is Kotetsu,” Lloyds repeated slowly, staring at Kota with a flat expression.

“Yes sir,” Barnaby confirmed.

“And he’ll be like this for how long?”

Barnaby pushed up his glasses. “I’m not sure sir, but I was told to accept the possibility that this could be p-permanent.”

Lloyds gave an impossibly long exhale through his nose. “I see.” He sat down at his chair and massaged his brow with the backs of his thumbs. “Check in with Doctor Saito. See what adjustments need to be made to his suit.”

Barnaby moved to protest, while Kota gasped in excitement.

“In the meantime,” Lloyds continued, ignoring them, “We’ll have the PR department come up with a statement if it comes to that. I’ll let Agnes know that in case you two are dispatched, under no circumstances can Wild Tiger show his face for the time being.”

“Lloyds, sir—” Barnaby cut in to avoid being dismissed. “Are you sure it’d be wise to dispatch him in this state? Don’t you think we should maybe—”

“That we should maybe what, Barnaby?” Lloyds asked, his voice growing heated. “Hmm? What do you propose? Firing him? Because I don’t really see many options right now from where I’m sitting.”

Barnaby winced. “No, I—of course not, sir. We’ll go see the Doctor. Come, Kota.”

++++

Doctor Saito was practically giddy upon learning of Kotetsu’s age-reversed state, insisting on conducting a full physical examination complete with blood tests before Barnaby could even broach the subject of the suit.

“Amazing!” Screeched his amplified voice, which immediately had Kota nearly leaping out of his skin in alarm. “His plasma shows drastic changes in the levels of various proteins compared to those we recorded from last year’s sample! He truly is a nineteen-year-old man, down to the cellular level.” He adjusted his glasses as he read through the incomprehensible numbers written on the health report.

Barnaby tapped his foot impatiently. “Yes, well, I’d say that’s evident enough just looking at him.

Ben, who had since recovered from nearly fainting at the revelation, rubbed his chin. “What I find most interesting are these shoes.” He tapped one of Kota’s boots with his foot. “They stopped making these almost twenty-five years ago – you can’t even find them in thrift stores! And even if you could, no way in hell would they be in as good condition as they are here.”

“The doctor responsible for this situation mentioned that her NEXT ability involved reverting people and objects back to a previous state,” Barnaby explained, his gaze locked on a somewhat dazed-looking Kota. “She had him remove all of his personal affects before treating him. I imagine if she hadn’t, anything he’d had on his person would have been lost to time.”

“Like creating a custom-sized rift in space-time,” Saito mused.

Ben clapped a hand on Kota’s shoulder. “So what do you think, Doc? Are we all gonna have to get used to Wild Tiger-cub here?” Despite his good-natured tone, however, Barnaby didn’t think he was imagining the unease in the way his eyes crinkled.

Doctor Saito studied his computer screen, his stubby arms crossed pensively. “I’d like to have him come in for another round of blood tests next week to monitor if there is any change in the protein levels. Anything that messes with the laws of physics in this way is bound to have instabilities somewhere.”

This didn’t answer Barnaby’s question, but at this point he was beginning to feel sorry for Kota, who’d been silently observing the brouhaha his presence created with an opaque expression.

“That’s fine,” he said dismissively, his eyes shifting to Kota for any sign of dissent. “Now, about his suit?”

 It turned out that Doctor Saito’s suit design was already built to account for changes in body mass and height, even outside of what he described as “standard deviation”.

Kota had appeared both baffled and impressed by their suits, rapping his knuckles against the chest plate of his own while Doctor Saito rambled at him about its various features.

Barnaby quelled a wave of annoyance at the realization that they hadn’t needed to come here at all by justifying that it was at least useful for Kota to familiarize himself with his hero suit in case they were dispatched anytime soon.

He briefly debated whether to head over to the gym, but didn’t feel he had it in him to explain the situation to anybody else in the likely event they ran into the other heroes.

And so they returned to their desks, Barnaby eager to immerse himself in the paperwork for brand deals and shot lists – things he could edit and control and predict.

“Umm, Bumblebee,” Kota leaned over the table dividing them so that one lanky arm dangled into Barnaby’s space. “When are we gonna start doing hero stuff?”

“We are doing hero stuff,” Barnaby shot back without looking up.

Kota regarded him with his bottom lip puffed out petulantly then rolled over on his back, staring testily at the ceiling. The desert-brush shape of his half-ponytail fanned over some of Barnaby’s paperwork; enveloping the tip of his pen and scrubbing against the back of his hand as he attempted to write.

On impulse, Barnaby gave the ponytail a vicious yank, drawing a startled yelp from its owner.

“What the hell, Bumblebee?” he wailed, clasping the top of his head. He scowled at him with a wounded look full of betrayal. “You’re not soft or cute at all!”

Barnaby nearly dropped his pen. “Who -- who said I’m supposed to be cute?”

“I’unno.” Kota bent over his own desk, planting his chin in the crook of his crossed arms like a pillow. “You just look like you should be,” he grumbled bitterly.

 His chest tightening and his mind buzzing with static, Barnaby attempted to open his mouth, only to realize he had no clue what to say.

Florence cleared her throat loudly, shooting them a pointed look that very clearly said, Quit being idiots and get back to work.

The next few hours passed by relatively quietly, with Kota having busied himself with several activities including coloring his nails with permanent marker, going on a pastry run for Florence, and doodling pictures on the backs of court summons.  

Things were so quiet, in fact, that Barnaby had even been able to reach a sort of artistic flow with his work – numbing his mind and settling his mood.

And then, Kotetsu’s phone rang.

Kota’s eyes widened when he saw the name that popped up on the glass screen.

“Ba--Bumblebee, help!” He shoved the device desperately towards Barnaby. “How do I answer it?”

Barnaby’s eyes shot wide open in panic. “Shit!” he hissed, surprising himself with his language. He snatched the phone from Kota’s hands and swiped to answer it, his face morphing into a poised showman’s smile. “Hello, Kaede.”

Kaede’s startled face appeared in the video screen. “Barnaby?” she cried. In the background, Barnaby could hear the clamor of trains.

“I apologize for startling you. Your father’s—” Barnaby pushed Kota’s curious face away before it could drift into the frame. “—currently unavailable. Is there a specific message you’d like me to pass onto him?”

“Um, well –“ Kaede’s eyes shifted self-consciously. “It’s just that my train arrived kinda early, but if he’s busy I can make my way home by myself—”

“I’ll pick you up.” Barnaby exclaimed a bit too vehemently.

Kaede looked mortified. “Y-you don’t have to! I know how to get back by myself, honest—”

Forcing his smile to deepen, Barnaby insisted, “I want to. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Talk to you soon.” He clicked the line closed, then turned to face Kota.

“I’m going to drop you home and go pick Kaede up.” He stated, sounding a lot more settled than his impending migraine told him he felt. “Apparently she’s visiting this weekend.”

“Oh yeah,” Kota mused, tapping his finger on his lip. “Masa mentioned that, didn’t he?”

Barnaby felt like his eyes would bug out of his skull. “You spoke to your brother?”

Kota peered at him like he’d just been scolded. “I mean, just for like…two minutes…”

He decided he wouldn’t process that. His bandwidth for chaos was full. He grabbed his keys from his desk and stood up. “Let’s go.”

“Why can’t I come with you to pick her up?” Kota griped as Barnaby sped him home.

“I don’t know, Kota, you don’t think she might need a little bit of mental preparation to deal with the fact that her forty-year-old father is now a teenaged delinquent?” Barnaby blustered, nearly grinding his car’s gears in an attempt to downshift.

Kota drooped in his seat, his shoulders falling. “I’m not a delinquent,” he objected softly.

They both fell quiet. Barnaby was struck by the urge to touch the boy’s elbow apologetically, but gripped his gearshift more tightly instead, breathing through the guilty pressure in his chest.

He watched Kota slip through the front door before flooring his car to the train station, reciting the script he’d present to Kaede in his head.

The girl greeted him timidly, confusion and a little bit of excitement in her eyes as she stepped into his car.

“So what’s got Dad so busy?” she asked once she’d settled in.

Barnaby rolled his shoulders, mentally drawing upon his PR and media training. “Your father is—” he faltered, his mouth gaping with the aborted words. “He—he, uh…”

Kaede watched him struggle, her face tightening with fear. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice growing small. “Barnaby, what happened to my dad? Is he—is he hurt?”

“No!” He said sharply, halting her impending hysteria. “No. He’s…he’s safe and unharmed.” His careful words subconsciously echoed those of Dr. Ramani.

Wetting his lips, Barnaby tried again. “Your father sought out an…alternative solution for his declining powers. This apparently involved some sort of—time-reversal NEXT ability, and. Well.”

Apprehension creased her brow.

Barnaby sighed, any further energy for decorum completely depleted. “Let’s just say that he’s nineteen now.”

++++

The Kaburagis gaped at each other, wearing twin expressions of wide-eyed stupor.

“Uh, s-so—” Kota jerkily lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. “You’re my kid, huh?”

Instead of answering, Kaede turned a beseeching look to Barnaby, who offered her an apologetic smile. “The changes go beyond aesthetics, I’m afraid,” he confirmed ruefully.

Her mouth began to tremble. “I…I think I need to be alone for a while,” she said in a quivering voice. Ducking her head to hide her face, she stalked into the back room, shutting the door behind her.

Kota moved to go after her.

“Kota,” Barnaby warned with a firm shake of his head.

Looking as if he wanted to protest, Kota turned his gaze wistfully in the direction of Kaede’s room, his body slackening. “I need a nap,” he declared resignedly, his eyes downcast. “See you tomorrow, I guess?”

Barnaby’s mind sifted through ways to respond – something to say to make everything better. He’d never been particularly skilled at reading people, or navigating sticky situations involving emotions and feelings; that had always been Kotetsu’s specialty.

It was ironic, really; A situation in which he’d depend on Kotetsu to help guide him through was actually a situation he needed to help guide Kotetsu through.

Like an emotional ouroboros.

The thought gave him the inexplicable impulse to giggle. He suppressed it.

“…See you tomorrow.”

++++

The next morning, Barnaby woke up with a plan.

Kotetsu most certainly would have been proud of him for it, were he in a state of mind and body to appreciate it.

He strolled into Kotetsu’s apartment around 10 a.m., having called the home phone to warn Kota of his impending arrival thirty minutes prior.

Kota was sprawled sulkily on the couch, dressed in a dark green sleeveless shirt and the same distressed black jeans he’d been transmigrated (Barnaby couldn’t think of a better word) with. The black choker and chunky bracelets were back, though he was noticeably sans eye-makeup today (probably more a result of not having any than a specific decision to abstain). Several open beer cans littered the coffee table.

He glanced away from the old Mr. Legend reruns on his TV console to acknowledge Barnaby’s arrival.

“Are you ready?” Barnaby asked, an impatient hand on his hip.

Kota answered with an acerbic sweep of his hand over his dressed state.

Ignoring the attitude, Barnaby pressed, “Where’s Kaede?”

“Said she didn’t wanna come,” Kota grunted, continuing to stare at the black-and-white TV screen with hooded eyes.

With a tsk, Barnaby marched to Kaede’s room and gave her door a series of sharp but polite knocks. “Kaede, it’s Barnaby. May I come in?”

On the other side of the door, Barnaby could hear distressed rustling. “Please?” he urged.

The doorknob turned and the door clicked ajar, which Barnaby took as an invitation to enter.

Kaede stood awkwardly next to her bed, fidgeting with her painted nails.

Glowing with a smile he usually reserved for cameras and fans, he lowered himself to one knee, gently taking Kaede’s free wrist in his hand. “I’d really like for you to come and spend the day with us,” he cooed, his voice a smooth dulcet. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

The girl went completely still and slack-jawed, her face igniting into a bright red color. “Um—” she squeaked, unbreathing, “Okay.”

++++

Barnaby strode out triumphantly, trailed by a shuffling Kaede. “We’re taking your car,” Barnaby announced, grabbing Kotetsu’s keys from where they hung in the foyer.

“What kind of hocus-pocus did you pull on her?” Kota muttered, his face twisted mistrustfully as he plopped into the passenger seat.

With a prideful little huff, Barnaby tossed his hair back from his face. “It’s quite amazing what you can get people to do with just a little bit of charm, you know. Maybe you’ll figure it out one day.”

Kota curled his lip and turned away with a roll of his eyes.

The rest of the car ride was mostly taken in awkward silence, with Barnaby cutting in occasionally to pester Kota about the state of his car (“The gas tank is on empty! Why do you always insist on waiting until the last minute to fill it up?” “Your clutch is nearly burnt out! How do you drive like this?”).

Kota, for his part, was uncharacteristically taciturn; fielding Barnaby’s quips with unaffected grunts as he stared out the window with his chin planted in his palm. Occasionally, Barnaby would catch him stealing furtive glances at a stone-faced Kaede from the rear-view mirror before going back to brooding.

By the time they arrived at their destination – Victoria Gardens Park, an amusement park in the Silver Medaille area – Barnaby felt like he could happily drink a bathtub’s worth of sparkling rose.

“We’ve got fastpass tickets, so you’ll be able to skip most lines,” he explained as they passed through the turnstiles.

Kaede faltered as they entered the park, her eyes dangerously gooey.

“I-Is this—do you not enjoy theme parks, Kaede?” Barnaby asked, alarmed. “You used to come here quite often with your father, no? I was under the impression that you were quite fond of this one.”

“Bumblebee you idiot!” Kota hissed, jerking Barnaby by his lapels. “What the hell were you thinking?” He demanded in a harsh whisper. “She’s been acting like I fuckin’ died – you might as well be twisting the knife, bringing her to a place like this!”

Barnaby gawped blankly at Kota. It had seemed perfectly logical to bring them both to a place that held emotional significance to their relationship – even if one of them wouldn’t have experienced it quite yet. He hadn’t anticipated it further traumatizing Kaede.

“Um--”

Both Kota and Barnaby looked down at Kaede, who rolled a littered cup anxiously underneath the sole of her shoe. “I’m okay. I actually think this will be kind of fun.” She directed a small smile at both men. “I’m kinda excited to try the rollercoasters since I’m big enough now.”

After a beat of hesitation, Kota let go of Barnaby’s jacket and whooped loudly. “Alright! What d’ya say we start with that crazy-lookin’ one over there?” he asked with a devilish grin, one painted finger jabbed in the direction of the tallest rollercoaster in the park.

Kaede’s eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “Okay,” she agreed with a nervous laugh.

“Hell yeah!” He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her into a jog. “C’mon, Bumblebee!”

“Wait—” Barnaby trotted after them, objection plain on his face. “Should we not perhaps…work up to that one? A theme park visit should be paced like any other source of adrenaline – if you go straight to the climax of the experience then—”

“That’s a whole lotta words to say ‘I’m a scaredy-cat’,” Kota taunted, flashing their passes to move up the line.

Barnaby straightened his back. “That is untrue.”

“Okay, cool.” Kota extended him a hand from inside the coaster car. “Then hop in, your highness.”

It wasn’t that Barnaby was a ‘scaredy-cat’ - He did high-octane feats for a living, after all – ones with an element of real danger. It was that he simply didn’t see the point of simulating such a visceral physiological response in the name of “fun”.

What was “fun” about sitting in uncomfortable plastic seats while a rickety jalopy slowly climbed up several stories high on tracks of questionable integrity?

What was “fun” about staring down an impossibly steep incline, dangling on the precipice at a supremely unpleasant angle?

What was “fun” about being dropped at highway speeds, careening through loops and sharp falls while being subjected to enough G-force to rival those experienced by fighter pilots?

Not to mention, he’d just gotten his hair set that Wednesday – the high wind velocity would certainly ruin the curl pattern.

Of course, none of these points would be considered valid by Kota, who would surely continue accusing him of being ‘scared’. And so, despite every fiber of his logic and instincts screaming at him to refuse, he somehow found himself sardined next to him, his hands wrapped around the safety bar in a white knuckled grip.

“Need me to give you CPR there, Bumblebee?” Kota cackled once the ride finally barreled to a halt and Barnaby was free to stagger his way to steady ground.

“Not unless you’re keen on having someone else’s vomit in your mouth,” Barnaby ground out as he breathed shallowly through his nose.

++++

Mercifully, the next ride they selected was a calm “love boat” type experience, where all three could pile into their own personal watercraft and drift through various set-pieces of mood-lighting, orchestrated music, and singing animatronics.

The ride would have been a fifteen-minute reprieve for Barnaby, had his companions not begun to misbehave the moment they entered the first area.

It started when he felt Kaede get shoved into his side.

He ignored it, doing his best to focus on the sweeping string instrumentals of Rachmaninov while Kaede spat insults at a snickering Kota.

He continued to ignore it when the boat stopped in front of an animatronic skit of the prince placing a waking kiss on Sleeping Beauty and Kota jeered, mumbling something in a low voice that had her screech in protest.

Barnaby even ignored it when he felt Kaede pressed into his side again, the poor girl sandwiched like a panini as Kota leaned his weight against her, braying with laughter as she fought to free herself from being nearly flattened into Barnaby’s lap.

The squabbles escalated in the third room, themed with inter-special animal couples. Kota had called for Barnaby’s attention, seemingly intent on telling him something when Kaede howled for him to shut up and shoved him hard enough that he nearly fell overboard. This naturally incited Kota to retaliate with another attempt to box her in against Barnaby, setting off a back-and-forth altercation with enough force to slosh the boat perilously.

“Enough!”

Barnaby wedged himself in between them, pinning them back against their seats with outstretched arms.

He could hear the other ride-goers’ passive-aggressive whispers, fed up with the disturbance their group had caused.

Kaede melted submissively in her seat, looking very ashamed of herself. Kota scowled at Barnaby like he’d just broken up a house party.

“Quit antagonizing your daughter!” Barnaby commanded in a brusque whisper.

By some miracle, no one had lodged a formal complaint against them. Still, Barnaby herded them away as soon as the ride ended, not keen on tempting fate.

Feeling spiteful, Barnaby insisted for the next attraction to be the Haunted Mansion ride.

Kota gaped at the fake wrought-iron gate, his face pallid.

ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE arched in dramatic gothic lettering above the entrance, beyond which a surprisingly convincing cemetery stretched towards an imposing, Romanesque Revival manor.

“Is something the matter?” Barnaby asked, barely suppressing a smug grin.

“N-No,” Kota huffed, his eyes flitting distractedly back to the Haunted Manor as a simulated demonic roar thundered through its walls. “I’m just not huge into like, demons and shit.”

“Really?” Barnaby said, giving an impish flick to the Petrine Cross dangling from Kota’s ear. “Because you could have fooled me.”

Kota jerked his head away with an annoyed tch. “Look, I’m just sayin’ this seems too intense for a kid! What if this crap gives her nightmares?” He crossed his arms, schooling his face into a pensive frown that he hoped looked very dad-like. “I’m actually being a responsible adult here, unlike you.”

This earned him an amused scoff from Barnaby.

“That’s a whole lotta words to say ‘I’m a scaredy-cat’”, Kaede mimicked, her arms flippantly akimbo.

“I said I’m not ff--!” Kota’s nostrils flared as he turned a recalcitrant look on Kaede. “Okay, you know what? Fine. Since y’all are so int--instant on this, let’s go.” He marched through the gates, then spun on his heel to thrust an accusatory finger at them both. “But when lil’ miss can’t sleep ‘cuz she keeps thinkin’ there’s a monster waiting to eat her, don’t count on me to be there with a glass of milk and a lullaby!”

++++

Any expectations Barnaby had regarding payback for the Love Boat fiasco were far exceeded.

He’d already been well aware of Kotetsu’s aversion to anything “horror”. Usually, his partner would evade any invitation to Halloween activities not geared towards small children with a bashful laugh and a gentle declaration of “Ah, I don’t think that’d be good for my blood pressure.”

This was the first time he got to witness the extent of that disinclination first-hand. Were he a kinder man, Barnaby might have felt guilty. Or at least attempted to convince himself that this wasn’t one of the best experiences he’d had since he saw Blue Rose trip live on stage last year.

But, well, who was he kidding? Self-delusion was Kotetsu’s foible, not his.

Barnaby knew things would be good from the way Kota’s bravado was immediately drained during the dramatic introduction of the attraction rules. As soon as the booming music began, Kota yelped, ducking to cower behind Kaede like a trembling kitten.

“Responsible adult, huh?” Barnaby teased, to which Kota responded with a timorous “Shut up!”

Kota dragged his feet as they were herded along ornate rooms layered with various arcane-looking props, torn between having to brave the unknown horrors that awaited him, or being left behind in an already terrifying environment.

In the following room, Kota punched a hole through a wraith.

Or at least, he would have, had the creature been made of solid material and not a holographical projection. Still, Barnaby took this as a sign to angle his body defensively in front of him as they proceeded. Even if there weren’t any human actors to his knowledge, he couldn’t risk having Kota destroy any props.

By the time the theme of the manor shifted – its Victorian-era rooms descending into pseudo-Abrahamic depictions of Hell – Kota had practically clawed his way into Barnaby’s arms.

Barnaby’s fragile hold on his own composure was shattered as he staggered through a burning interpretation of Tartarus, Kota tangled around his torso in an awkward princess carry as he brayed “Bumblebee!” in repeated supplications.

Even once they emerged, suddenly surrounded by cheerful music and colorful stands, it required Kaede insistently pulling at the back of his shirt, promising him it was over to finally coax Kota down from Barnaby’s hold.

Liberated from the extra weight, Barnaby’s knees buckled and he was free to crumble into hysterical laughter, bending at the waist as he buried his hands beneath his glasses.

Both Kaburagis beheld the display with differing reactions – Kaede with a stunned, uncertain smile, and Kota with his cheeks puffed in indignation, a slight blush across his face.

“I apologize.” Barnaby pulled off his glasses as his laughter subsided, wiping away tears of amusement. “That was unkind of me.” He cleared his throat as he adjusted the spectacles back on his face, his dignified persona firmly in place.

“…You owe me a hotdog,” Kota huffed.

The trio scoped out a covered picnic table in a relatively quiet corner of the park, all three eager for a moment of reprieve. Barnaby returned with hotdogs for all of them – even adding an extra one for Kota as tacit reparation. 

They ate in amiable silence, watching various park-goers drift by. A man carrying a starry-eyed little boy on his shoulders passed them – the father laughing good-naturedly at the child’s wonderment.

“This kinda reminds me of when I was little,” Kaede offered unexpectedly. Kota perked up, regarding her from the corner of his eyes with a careful expression.

“Dad—I-I mean you—used to take me here a lot when Mom was in the hospital.”

She chewed on her straw, pensive. “I was too little to go on any of the big rides or anything, but we’d do like, the more simple ones. We actually would do the Love Boat one a whole lot – I think that was one of my favorites,” she said with a sad giggle.

Shame ignited Kota’s face. “Hey, I—”

“No, it’s—” Kaede shook her head, quieting him. “It’s okay.” She took a breath. “One thing I’ll always remember is how hard you worked to seem cheerful. Like, no matter how sad you were – o-or tired, you always did your best to make it look like you were having the best moment of your life, right there with me. And even if you could be super embarrassing and annoying, it always somehow made me feel like…I dunno,” she looked down at her cup, her mouth twisting as she wrestled with her words. “…Like everything was gonna be okay.”

Kaede met Kota’s eyes, a tentative smile at her lips. “So, um. Thank you.”

Kota’s swallowed, the line of his mouth wobbling.

He looked like he was about to say something when several screams cut through the moment, compelling both he and Barnaby to jump to their feet, their eyes snapping to the direction of the noise.

“The Drop Tower!” Kota gasped. Igniting in a blue glow, he rocketed off, disappearing in a neon blur.

“Kota!” Barnaby called, an arm extending helplessly after him. “Kaede, wait here,” He commanded before taking off in the direction Kota had disappeared in.

++++

Fighting through the panicked crowd, Barnaby craned his neck to see the top of the Drop Tower ride billowing smoke.

“Are there people stuck up there?” He demanded the operator, who gaped helplessly at the scene.

“Y-yes, but the hydraulics are shot!” The carny warbled, plucking helplessly at the controls to demonstrate. “I’ve called the Fire Department, but I-I don’t see how they can make it in time. It’s a full ride!”

Someone from the front of the crowd piped up, “Yo, I swear I saw Wild Tiger climb up there just a minute ago!”

“You crazy?” Argued another person. “No way was that Wild Tiger – that looked like a kid!”

“Well, some type of NEXT that moves like Wild Tiger went up there!”

Activating his powers, Barnaby shot upwards to the top of the tower.

“Bumblebee! Give me a hand, will ya? I’m kinda in a situation here!”

Kota had his legs wrapped around a support beam, using one of his free arms to keep the burning gondola from falling while the other cradled a woman who he’d liberated from a now flaming seat.

“I’m going to hold the gondola up from the bottom while you evacuate the passengers,” Barnaby explained hurriedly. “Rescue everyone up to four seats away from the source of the flames. Then we’ll let the ride drop five stories at a time, you got that?”

“Roger!”

Letting go of the gondola to adjust the woman securely against his chest, Kota pushed off the tower in a summersault, his body curled protectively over her.

One minute and two seconds later, all eight passengers in immediate danger of the fire had been catapulted to safety in Kota’s binding arms, unharmed if not a little motion sick.

Combined with the time taken to arrive on the scene, this left them approximately three minutes and ten seconds of combined Hundred Power.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been plenty of time to enact Barnaby’s plan – four rounds of drops and they’d be on solid ground.

What Barnaby had failed to account for that was the sudden reduction in inertia risked inflicting enough whiplash to seriously injure the passengers – a detail thankfully caught by Kota, who’d quickly reclaimed his grip on the gondola after being alarmed by the speed and distance with which it was falling.

The problem was – Barnaby had calculated the plan with their time limit in mind. They neither had the time to reduce the height of the staggered drops, nor to rescue the remaining passengers.

“Bumblebee!” Kota called from above. “I’m gonna try and jam this thing!”

“Kota, no!” Barnaby shouted back. “We don’t know how that will affect the structural integrity of the tower! Not to mention the damage fees that would incur!”

Kota’s eyes flashed in rage. “Damage—who gives a shit about damage fees? We supposed to let these people die?” Setting his gaze on the rollercoaster they’d ridden earlier, he geared himself to leap. “The struchrul-whatever will be fine – as long as it buys time for the rescue crew to get here!”

Barnaby fixed him a look of horror. “Kotetsu!”

The sound of a helicopter suddenly drew Kota’s attention to the skies above him.

At the same time, Barnaby narrowly dodged a plume of ice that spiraled up from somewhere below, firmly encasing the gondola.

“My ice may be a little cold…”

Barnaby pressed his forehead against the metal beam, feeling both relieved that the ride-goers were no longer in immediate danger, and also very, very fucked.

“We all scream for our Ice Queen! Blue Rose comes in clutch to help a desperately dangling BBJ!”

Mario’s excitable announcer voice shouted from the film helicopter, piquing Barnaby’s augmented ears.

Taking the opportunity to pull another stranded person from their seat, Barnaby dropped to the bottom of the tower to leave the man in the paramedics’ care.

“Wow, Handsome, didn’t think you were the type to spend your time on Merry-Go-Rounds. You here on a date or something?” Taunted Blue Rose, tapping her ice gun playfully to her cheek.

Barnaby smiled tightly. “Something like that.”

Dragon Kid and Sky High appeared shortly afterwards, the latter jetting off to assist in the rescue efforts while the former helped the first responders with crowd control.

“Yo, Bumblebee, what’s all this hullaballoo about?”

Kota landed beside Barnaby, two children slung over his shoulders. He lowered them down gently before casting a curious once over at Blue Rose. “You got thorns coming out your ass,” he pointed out.

“You’ve got metal coming out your nose,” she shot back. She turned to address Barnaby. “Who the heck is this clown?”

“Haaah? Clown?!”

Barnaby massaged the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses as he carefully prepared his answer. He opened his mouth to respond.

“--Yo, no freakin’ way – Kotetsu?! Is that you, man?”

Rock Bison trudged up to join them, having arrived on the scene too late to even posture being of help.

Kota blinked in astonishment. “Holy shit, Antonio? What are you doing in that dumb-lookin’ hunk of metal, bro?”

Blue Rose balked, volleying a gob-smacked stare between Kota and Rock Bison. “T-Tiger?!”

“What’s got everyone so hot and bothered?” Fire Emblem purred, strutting up to join the commotion. Their attention fell to Kota. “Ooh Bison, honey!” They said with a coquettish smack on one of Antonio’s horns. “What are you doing fraternizing with a pretty young thang like this?”

“That’s Tiger,” Blue Rose explained, sounding as if she still couldn’t quite believe it herself.

Fire Emblem’s hand shot up to their face as they gave Kota a proper look-over. “What do you mean, that’s Tiger?” They demanded, their voice dropping a few octaves.

“Everyone please, can we maybe—” Barnaby attempted to interject, but he was soon cut off by Sky High, who had descended to congratulate the “promising young hero” who helped save the day.

Blue Rose placed an impelling hand on Sky High’s shoulder to grab his attention. “That’s Tiger,” she told him with a scandalized expression.

“Blue Rose—” Barnaby cautioned.

“This young man is Mr. Wild?” Sky High asked, his voice full of awe. He still held Kota’s hand in a suspended handshake.

“Wait, who’s Mr. Tiger?” Dragon Kid asked curiously. Origami Cyclone materialized behind her.

“Everyone, please!” Barnaby bellowed, momentarily stunning the heroes. He exhaled to re-collect himself. “Can we table this discussion until Monday? And ideally when we’re somewhere in relative privacy?”

The heroes exchanged glances of various expressions, ranging from shell-shocked to disappointed to accepting.

“Fine, but you owe us the whole story, Barnaby,” Blue Rose huffed. “Don’t even think about leaving out any details.”

Coming to this agreement, the heroes eventually dispersed, drifting off with varying levels of reticence.

“I’ll talk to you later man,” Bison said with a coltish smack on Kota’s spine before taking his leave as well.

Thankfully, Kaede was still at the table where they’d left her, though she confessed that she’d been just about to try and find them when she saw all the heroes exit the scene.

Rubbing a bicep, Kota spoke up. “So uh, that was fun and all but…what do you guys say we head back and watch a movie or somethin’?”

They didn’t actually end up watching a movie.

Kota and Kaede had begun to squabble over the film choices – Kaede suggesting a saccharine teen romance and Kota insisting on “Jackass 3” – so Barnaby vetoed both in favor of a critically acclaimed French character drama.

Exchanging sour looks with Kota, Kaede dug out a colorful boardgame called Candy Land, suggesting they play that instead.

Barnaby tried not to be too bitter about the fact that he lost to Kaede in a children’s game. It did, however, bring him some measure of comfort to know that he had at least beaten Kota, who kept getting stuck in “Molasses Swamp”.

After a dinner of surprisingly delicious ground beef tacos, which Kota had whipped up from the contents of his fridge, Kaede disappeared upstairs to take her bath, then announced that she would be going to bed.

“Goodnight Barnaby,” she said, timidly allowing herself to be pulled into a hug. “Thank you again for today. Sorry I was being kinda rude this morning.”

“You’re very welcome, Kaede,” he answered warmly. “I’m just glad that you ended up having a good time, despite a few…well, you know.”

She giggled, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “Ohmygosh, no! It was so fun. I hope we can do it again one day.”

Barnaby smiled. “We definitely will.”

She turned to Kota, twisting the fabric of her pajama sleeve so that it enveloped her hand like a candy wrapper. “Um, goodnight.”

“What, I don’t get a hug too?” he squawked.

Kaede crinkled her nose in an exaggerated expression of disgust. “Gross. No.”

Barnaby snickered softly.

Kota flailed his limbs petulantly. “What? No fair! Then why does he get one?”

“Because he’s actually cool,” she responded matter-of-factly.

“But wasn’t I cool today?” He whined. “Just a little bit?”

Kaede hummed in consideration, a pink fingernail pressed thoughtfully to her chin. “Maybe a little,” she conceded. “But only a bit!”

Accepting defeat with a sigh, Kota shrugged, his mouth quirked in a resigned smile. “Alright well, I’ll take ‘a little bit’ cool.” He placed a hand atop her head. “Sleep tight, Kaede.”

Kaede blinked up at him from underneath his hand. “Um, thanks,” she squeaked. “You too.”

Kota watched her shuffle into her room, drawing her pajama sleeve across her nose before she disappeared behind the door.

With a silent exhale, he went to rummage through some hidden compartment underneath his kitchen bar. “Think she would’ve hugged me if I were an old man?” he asked, uncorking a bottle of rosé he dredged up.

“No,” Barnaby answered truthfully.

Kota gave a noncommittal grunt and handed Barnaby a glass before plopping down on the couch next to him. “Ahh,” he groaned in satisfaction after taking a sip from his own. “Gotta say, these old man pleasures really suit me.”

A soft snort escaped from Barnaby, who quickly stifled it with the back of his hand.

“Bro, what is with you today?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” Barnaby dipped his chin as he fought to still the smile that threatened the line of his lips. “It really is quite funny; you speak like an old man, but have a face like that.”

“I sound like an old man?” Kota challenged, his forehead creasing cynically. “You’re the one who talks like a freakin’ egghead all the time.”

“I do not speak like an ‘egghead’ – what is that even supposed to mean?!”

Kota jumped to perch on the couch cushion like a treefrog, his hand thrust illustratively at Barnaby. “See?! ‘What is that even supposed to mean?’ That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

Barnaby puckered his lips, unamused. “That’s literally a regular sentence.”

“’That’s literally a regular sentence!’” Kota mimicked in the same nasally sing-song voice as before.

Exasperated, Barnaby shook his head. “Okay, you know what—” he paused to take a sip of wine, making a negative noise into his glass. “You’re not going to draw me into this.”

“Draw you into what, Bumblebee?” Kota asked with faux innocence, his eyebrow arched roguishly.

Refusing to answer, Barnaby rolled his eyes upwards, draining his wineglass to hide the blush staining his cheeks.

“Okay, but seriously though.” Kota refilled both of their glasses, his expression sobering. “It was really cool of you to go out of your way for us like that today.”

Barnaby pretended to study the color of his rosé. “I didn’t do anything particularly difficult. I called in a favor for the theme park tickets, so it was honestly more of a convenience than anything—”

Kota clicked his tongue, flapping his hand in dissent. “Sure man, whatever. But still.” His amber eyes softened. “There aren’t a lot of people who would even think of it, ya know? And just like, everything you’ve been doing for me until now? I’d be so lost if it wasn’t for you. Probably bent over a dumpster in some dark alley—”

“Kota!”

“Kidding, bro! Kid-ding!” He snickered, rubbing a forefinger underneath his septum ring. “Anyway – what I mean to say is – I dunno what Old Man ‘me’ did to deserve a friend like you, but you’re a real one, BB. And, uh—” He met Barnaby’s regard, uncertainty flickering behind his eyes. “I hope that the ‘me’ that I am now can earn that, too.”

Barnaby dropped his wineglass; no doubt due to the alcohol hitting his already exhausted body. “Oh-!” he gasped, tearing his eyes away from Kota to reach down and clean up the mess.

“Ah-ah! I got it man, don’t worry about it!”

Vaulting over the back of his couch, Kota sniped a roll of paper towels from the kitchen counter. “Us young-ins gave you a run for your money today, huh?” He cracked as he picked up the pieces of broken glass at Barnaby’s feet. “You gotta rest your circuit boards.”

“I-I suppose I should be heading back, yes,” Barnaby stammered, choosing to ignore Kota’s implied quip.

Kota looked up at him with wide eyes. “You tryna drive in that state?” He asked. “Just spend the night here, dude.”

Barnaby scrubbed a hand under his glasses, his mind racing. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said unconvincingly. “Besides, I didn’t bring a change of clothes or any of my toiletries…”

“There’s a whole damn beauty store up there!” Kota exclaimed. “Even a prissy-lookin’ guy like yourself is bound to find something to use. ‘Sides, you can always up and go home after you’ve at least rested your head a bit.”

“Y-yes, that…that could work,” Barnaby replied weakly, too flustered and exhausted to put up much more pretense. Kota had unwittingly given him a reasonable justification to use his stash of hygiene products and night clothes. And were he being honest, he didn’t feel particularly up for the challenge of braving the forty-five-minute drive back to his flat in Gold.

“Awesome!” Kota chirped with a beatific grin. “You’re welcome to go ahead and use the bath – I gotta finish cleaning up down here since Kaede did kind of a half-assed job.” He turned to head to the kitchen, then paused mid-step. “Oh, and feel free to use my bed. I dunno when I last washed the sheets, though.”

A startled sound escaped Barnaby’s throat. “A-are you—But isn’t that--?”

Kota gave him a strange look. “I mean, you’re welcome to the couch too if you prefer that. I’m just sayin’, I don’t mind either way. Doesn’t have to be weird unless you make it weird.”

“Right, o-of course,” Barnaby agreed with a jerky nod. Rising stiffly to his feet, he dismissed himself to shamble upstairs.

Practically stumbling into the bathroom, Barnaby braced himself against the sink, pressing his eyes closed against his shaken reflection in the mirror.

He forced his breath into a meditative rhythm.

In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

Guiding himself through this mantra, he repeated the exercise in cycles until his thoughts blurred and the insides of his eyelids shimmered.

When he opened his eyes again, he watched his own face crumble into tears.

His shampoo bottle was out of place – nestled precariously on the lip of the bathtub, its lid popped open. Some of the gel-like liquid had dribbled partially down its lavishly designed label, drying in a tacky streak. He squeezed the bottle and inhaled the delicate aroma of woodland berries and herbs – his own signature scent of the past few months. The same scent that certainly drenched the bedsheets Kota slept on; the scent he’d detected in Kota’s hair.

Barnaby’s shower was quick and efficient as usual – the temperature of the water too cold to generate any steam. He shut off the showerhead and returned his shampoo bottle to its rightful place out of habit, having thoroughly rinsed its now grease-stained label.

He froze; one hand hovering over the medicine cabinet.

Driven by impulse, he pulled out another shampoo bottle – this one an opaque dark brown – and set it down on the bathtub instead.

By the time he finished the rest of his bedtime toiletries – guiding his electric toothbrush methodologically over the entire surface area of his teeth; taking the time to allow his nighttime serum to properly soak in before applying his retinol and then eventually his night cream – Barnaby had stopped crying.

Taking one last look at his glassy eyes in the mirror, he forced himself out, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Kota was lying atop the sheets on his back, his forearm draped over his eyes.

Hearing Barnaby emerge he bucked in surprise, flipping onto his side to hastily place whatever had been in his hand in the nightstand drawer. He rubbed the back of his fist over his face before sitting up to offer him a tottering smile.

 “Damn, I thought you’d died in there,” Kota said with a feeble laugh, sniffling as he wiped at his nose. “Was about to call the fire department.”

“It took me a while to find suitable products to replace my usual routine,” Barnaby explained, his voice slightly husky. “It’s all yours.”

It took Kota a relatively brisk twenty minutes to finish his bath, enough steam surging out of the door in his wake to rival one of the Haunted Mansion set pieces from earlier.

“I hope you don’t mind – I helped myself to some of the clothes in that drawer,” Barnaby said, squinting nearsightedly at Kota from behind his phone.

“Huh?” Kota stopped vigorously drying his hair to blink at Barnaby from underneath the towel he’d draped over his head like a nun’s veil. “Oh. Yeah, that’s cool.” Making his way over to the bedside dresser, he began pulling open random drawers until he settled on one. Barnaby put back on his glasses, anxious that the clothes Kota selected were his—

And tried not to gape.

Kota was completely and unabashedly naked, having dropped his towel to shimmy a pair of Kotetsu’s boxers up his long legs.

Barnaby ripped his eyes away from the flash of the young man’s crotch, only for his gaze to snag on his chest.

Momentarily puzzled, Kota followed Barnaby’s line of sight down to himself.

“Oh, yeah!” Kota laughed, gesturing to the straight barbell impaling his right nipple. “It hurt like a bitch so I pussied out of getting the other one done. Tonio used to give me shit about it all the time.” He pulled a faded TopMag t-shirt over his head and flung himself onto the bed beside Barnaby.

“I can imagine.” Barnaby responded distractedly.

“Oh and uh, fair warning,” Kota said, now cocooned up to his chin in the duvet, “I’m known to be kind of a sleep cuddler. So if I make you uncomfortable or something just kick me.”

“…Noted.”

“’Night, Bumblebee!” Kota said with a grin before flicking off the light switch next to his side.

“Goodnight, Kota.”

Barnaby listened as the young man’s breathing gradually slowed and deepened, the lean silhouette of his back rising and falling in a gentle metronome.

Wafts of sandalwood and cedar caressed his senses, and when he eventually closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that his partner was still here; slumbering at the bottom of some mysterious sea, waiting to be awoken.