#msjasu

Yuki couldn’t stand katsudon. Something about having egg over fried pork bothered him, making his stomach squirm with rejection the first time he took a bite. It was so unnatural, so . . . it felt so dirty to eat it and not in a good way.

Food had become one of the more interesting differences between the twins. They always had different interests when it came to skating and music, they liked different colors, and argued over which video game series was different. But even with those things, they still enjoyed the others preference. That didn’t work when it came to food. Yuki wouldn’t go near katsudon, scrunched his nose every time, slinking away from his brothers side to sit away from the horrifying combination. Birthdays were shared with two different meals completely at the dining table, sitting across each other instead of their standard sit by sit.

Yuuri liked ramen, he did, though not in the way that Yuki enjoyed the noodle dish. The boy was dubbed ramen king, able to eat an entire bowl in half the time that Yuuri could inhale katsudon, quite the achievement. There were very few different flavors of ramen that Yuki didn’t love, and dozens more that he tried and fall for with his heart on full display. He had even started to keep a small notebook with him at all times, writing down the different kinds that he tried when they went anywhere.

Ramen also made it easier to become the messiest eater there every was, slurping noodles and broth. They gained weight easily, but ramen was empty calories for the most part, easier to keep slim with it. Yuuri may be the one referred to a ‘piggy’ for gaining weight more after a light binge of porn cutlet bowls, but Yuki ate like an actual pig.

The day that Yuuri started to travel outside Hasetsu to competitions for skating, one in a rare blue moon for ballet, Yuki took his small habit into being his second biggest dream. To try every type of ramen the world has out there, to devour, to enjoy, to conquer as the true ramen lover. He took advantage of his brothers travelling to widen his grasp on flavor. Yuuri didn’t mind, he thought it was funny and enjoyed seeing his twin so happy over something that Yuuri thought was mediocre in taste most of the time. Besides, Yuki never missed his programs, no matter what ramen craze he had going that moment. He would leave behind his blessed food to hold Yuuri’s hand before each skate, calm his nerves that only Yuki knew how to do.

They grew up finding more differences between them, what made them individuals and not just stuck at the hip. Yuuri found deep love with skating and all forms of dance, his body graceful as it swipes into every step with a natural beauty. Yuki’s idea of dancing was the funky chicken, the running man, the robot and that one dance move craze where you grip the back of your neck, your shin and then threaten to give yourself a black eye with your kneecap. Any other kind of dancing he faulted at, having two left feet when it came to coordination. The younger twin had ease flying his fingers across a piano and keyboard, easily singing to every song with the perfect pitch. The older of the two, however, well, Yuuri had an easier time scaring away wild animals with the cracked screech that was his attempt at singing ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’.

Together, with their powers combined, they either made a talented, wonderful pair that could sweep people off their feet in dance and song, or they were the nightmare that came after you down the hall at night, badly off tune child songs with pelvic thrust dance moves that have long been outdated for good reason. Either way, they were a force through the artistic and athletic world, a whirlwind when side by side, and just as strong on their own two feet.

Even as the two got older, they would find themselves slipping into the childhood language they created, a set of gibberish. It was a common thing between twins, almost every set had one. It was more natural than their first proper language, slipping off the tongue with an ease Japanese didn’t fully have. English was easier with each other to split the work of learning, Yuuri with the vocal words and Yuki the written version of the language. By the time Yuuri left for Detroit to follow his dream of skating under his coach Celestino and Yuki to Tokyo with a music scholarship, they were able to slip between the three languages. Their language though, it was always a favorite.

Yuki’s quest wasn’t held only in Japan, though Tokyo gave the younger sibling far more options, every time that Yuki came to America to stay in Yuuri and Phichit’s impossibly small dorm and then apartment, he always found something. Yuuri learned to regret it the day Yuki found ‘cheeseburger ramen’. It smelled of death, looked to be created by some satanic son-of-a-bitch reject from culinary school, and from the reluctant bite taken, Yuuri and Phichit agreed that the campus cafeteria’s mystery meat sloppy joes mexican fried rice combo tasted better. And they swore to this day that they saw the blob that was once rice moved across their plates.

From that day on, Yuki started his own concoctions of ramen. It started simple. Hot sauces across the world he collected from different countries he visited with Yuuri, but then it branched into broken hell. Exotic meats, fruits, liquids that should never touch noodles replacing the water that should go into the cheap, college microwave ramen. It got to the point Yuuri attempted an intervention when he he decided mayo was the perfect topping, his second favorite being cheap ketchup and hotdogs.

The intervention was ignored. Yuki had always been stubborn, though so was Yuuri.

To be fair to his younger brother, Yuuri had his own guilty pleasure food outside of katsudon that terrified Phichit every time he either ate it or asked his roommate slash best friend to pick the ingredients up at the grocery store.

Pickles in marshmallow fluff was a god send for the professional skater.

The day that Victor Nikiforov entered both of their lives in Hasetsu after Sochi, the Russian insisted they ate like two pregnant women going through cravings, promptly after he ran into the bathroom to expel his horror into the porcelain god. Their mother and Yuko agreed. The traitors.

And yet, Yuki seethed and hissed ‘traitor’ at Victor when he fell in love with katsudon(the dish, not his brother, he shipped it so fucking hard after all). He sneered they had no taste buds as he poured an energy drink and crushed up Cheetos into his ramen.

Yurio he was not surprised had shitty taste, the boy loved in leopard print long after it went out of style and in all honestly, he was ready to simply beat the shit out of a fifteen year old child for what he said to Yuuri. The feeling was mutual after Yurio tried to accept his challenge after Yuki screamed ‘Fight me, you punk ass bitch’ in Hasetsu Ice Castle.

There was one thing that he thought that both of Victor and Yuuri had amazing taste in. Each other. They were perfect together, their strengths and weaknesses completing the other, the other half of their heart. He witnessed their first kiss on the Hasetsu beach, a snuck photo of it still on the Yuuri’s, Victor’s, and Yuki’s phones. Also Phichit, because Yuki was a great friend. He was there in person at the public confession and kiss in China, the way they laced their fingers ever since. Their meeting at the airport after the Russian cup he stayed out of, waiting at home. He was use to being away from Yuuri once in awhile for competitions, but he had seen the way it destroyed Victor to be separated from the love of his life.

Even worse than katsudon was the first time he actually heard his brother and to be brother-in-law having sex. It haunted his every thought. It had been a proud moment when Yuuri told him he lost his virginity, overly happy for his twin. But hearing it, the moans, the hitches to breath and the way they were whimper out each others names and soft commands, he’d rather eat katsudon for a week straight.

Victor thought he was being overly dramatic when he found Yuki googling mind bleach one evening. Victor didn’t have to know how his very own twin, the person he shared fingerprints and exact genetic coding with sounded when he came.

Excluding the terrible hot pink convertible the two left in to go to the airport for their honeymoon, the wedding was gorgeous. It was everything his brother deserved, to know that Victor, his once idol turned so very human of a man he loved, at his side every day. The doves were overly dramatic, but it was Victor’s one true request so it couldn’t be ignored. Phichit and Yuki fought over who had the more embarrassing stories about Yuuri in their speeches, over who cried more during the kiss(it was their Hiroko of course who won), and who looked better in the suit they had to wear for the wedding.

Instead of the katsudon that their mother made for all at the wedding, Yuuri and Victor had both insisted on Yuki having his beloved ramen. To show their love, even on their special day to the brother that played match-maker, properly introduced them while Yuuri was sober, and encouraged them to go after their happiness together.

Yuuri wasn’t skating, he wasn’t flying or even dancing across the ice, none of those typical ways to describe someone as they moved. No, Yuuri was swimming, as natural as a fish to water, breathing in the ice. His spins were a little sloppy the faster he went, his jumps small, just a bunny hop, but Yuki could see his future through it. He could see how his older brother would make headlines, turn heads, make everyone's breath hitch from his beauty on the ice.

While Victor may be the driving force behind Yuuri deciding his dreams, a goal to skate besides the beautiful, famous teen, Yuki knew that Yuuri would blow him out of the water one day. Sure, Victor was tall, graceful, had beautiful blue eyes and silky looking hair. His skates were gold, his smile a mega-watt beam and. . . what was his point again? Oh right. No matter all that, Yuuri was going to surpass him some day.

Yuki would always be Yuuri’s biggest fan, he decided it that second even as Yuuri fell, wincing for his brother. They were only ten though, they had time, Yuuri had time to improve, to take advantage of his ballet training to push forward to his dream. Yuki would find a way to show even more support beyond being the loudest voice cheering for him. He would find a way to show that even though they didn’t have the same interest and loves in their young lives, they were intertwined and worked together.

It was watching Yuuri float his way in slow figure eights that Yuki decided on his own dream, holding onto his brothers glasses for him. He wanted to make music. For himself. For Yuuri. For them. He would make a difference in his own way, his own path in life.

He wanted to create the music that would get his brother that gold medal he deserved some day. Take him to the top with his love and support.

Their future was now determined.

“Wanna skate with me?” Yuuri called out, snapping Yuki from the near vision he was having. He gave a snort, sticking his tongue out as he knew the older twin was teasing and taunting. Jerk.

“Ha ha, you just wanna see me fall on my face!”

“You’re never any fun, Yuki.”

“Fun? I know something way more fun.

The moment of graceful skating and tranquility disappeared, replaced by two twin brothers who had boyish grins, promising only bad choices and stupid ideas. So very stupid of ideas.

----

“Captain captain, krrrkt, can you read me captain?”

“Loud and clear, krrrrrrkt. Ready for take off?”

Yuki grinned wickedly, rocking them lightly in the plastic laundry basket they has swiped from the laundry room. It was short but long and wide, perfect for the two boys to sit. They had taken precautions by finding all the pillows and cushions they could, duct taping them along their bodies. They had knee pads and elbow pads strapped on, helmets held snug. They lined the basket in more pillows and blankets to cushion them as well as make it a snug fit. No way could they ignore safety!

“We’re ready for take off captain!” Yuki confirmed

The basket tipped dangerously along the edge of the top stair, looking down the steep ride. Yuki had volunteered to ride in front first,

“Let’s go!” Yuki shouted, Yuuri pushing behind the basket with his hands to tip them over the edge fully, Yuki leaning forward to help with some of his weight.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump!

Squeals of delight, fear, and amusement ran through the corridor, the basket threatening to tip over but neither paid it any attention. This wasn’t the first time they had done this game. Though they had been banned from playing it last time. Well, what mom doesn’t know, right?

They were halfway down the staircase when the thin plastic along one of the sides ripped open completely. They flipped, rolling down the stairs with a screech, smacking against the walls and over each other in muffled thuds.

The pain came first.

It started from Yuuri, then Yuki.

A hot flash of pain, wrapped around Yuuri’s wrist and around Yuki’s ankle, a throb that felt like hot needles being shoved through the bones. Yuuri was known to cry easily, always had been the cry baby of the two, but Yuki couldn’t stop his own fat tears and sobs of pain, joining in the cries for their parents, for Mari. This wasn’t just some small sprain or twist, the two roughhoused each other enough as brothers often did to know what those felt like.

This was new, this was living hell for the children.

----

A fractured wrist and a fractured ankle. Yuuri wasn’t allowed to use his hand at all, the cast though making that impossible as is, but Yuki had to figure out crutches. They argued for a good five minutes over who had a harder time.

Mari told them to shut up before she makes them have matching sets on the drive back home from the hospital.

They felt guilty over worrying their parents, for scaring the hell of out their family, for destroying their mothers laundry basket. They didn’t plan on that happening, it didn’t even factor in what could happen. While Toshiya and Hiroko reassured them both that they weren’t in trouble, the fact the two had to suffer in the casts being enough, the twins knew they were disappointed in both their sons.

In their room, they both laid down on Yuki’s bed, his foot raised on a pillow. Mari had moved a small television into the room, setting it at the desk at the foot of Yuki’s bed since he would be forced to stay in bed more, watching a cartoon movie together.

“Think they’re still mad?” Yuuri whispered, laying his head in his younger brothers lap, cast resting on his knees carefully.

“Maybe. They don’t stay mad long though.”

“True.”

“Do you think we were extra stupid?”

“Completely.”

“Do you regret it, Yuuri?”

“Not at all.”

Yuki grinned, in a small fit of snickers and giggles after, agreeing completely. It was dumb, it was stupid, it was fun and worth the memory. They were brothers, they would survive, and with the injuries they had, Yuuri could still skate, and Yuri could continue learning to play the keyboard and piano. Yuuri could dance, could skate his way to his dreams and Yuki could could create the melody to his own. Nothing would hold the Katsuki twins back.

“Yuki, I’m gonna, get the markers! I wanna sign your cast!”

“Okay! Me first!”

“No way, oldest first.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Nuh-uh!”