#norbori

“Maybe you can go home early, Emmet. I will finish this one battle and join you later.” Emphatically, Emmet pulled at his clothes until they stretched and shook his head so fast his face blurred. He signed Ingo’s name and pressed it against his chest, right above where his heart was hurting. Just once. Emmet could go home once! They didn’t have to play together all the time! “Yes, Emmet! Just today.” Again, he shook his head, this time grabbing Ingo. He didn’t like that. Didn’t want that. Didn't like when his clothes got all stretched out and stopped fitting right.

“C’mon Ingo.”

Pushing and grabbing and pawing.

He just wanted to play.

Emmet, Emmet, Emmet. Always Emmet. Watch out for your brother, Ingo, keep him safe, Ingo, help him make friends, Ingo. Emmet, always Emmet! What about Ingo?

“NO! I want to play!” And he shoved him. Put his hands on his little brother so he would stop touching him. “Go home!” The tears pooled in Emmet’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks. “I want to play and I will be home soon! Leave me alone!” Ingo turned and ran, unable to stand looking at his brother while his face was like that. So sad. Upset. Betrayed.

By him.

The game wasn’t really any fun after that. Ingo was sad and just wanted to go home and apologize. He’d make it up to Emmet. He would watch his favorite shows for a whole week and not complain even once! And give up his dessert! He could do that even though he really, really, really liked sweets. Emmet was worth it because he was his best friend.

These thoughts and more ran through his mind as Ingo ran home, excited to see his brother and apologize so everything could go back to normal.

Mom and Dad were waiting for him outside the house.

They looked worried.

“Ingo, oh thank Arceus. Where’s Emmet?”

“Wh’what do you mean? Did he not arrive home?”

“Wasn’t he with you?” Guilt welled up in him like bitter medicine and Ingo looked down at the floor in shame. “What happened?”

“I.” Tears blurred his vision. “I wanted to play, and Emmet. He–”

“Ingo!” The raw disappointment in the way she said his name was worse than her anger and it cut him to the core. “You need to watch out for him!” His father laid a hand on her shoulder as she stifled her panic with both hands.

“Tell us what happened.”

The sun was going down. It was going to be dark soon and his little brother was still missing, out there somewhere all alone!

Ingo couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t see for the tears flooding his eyes.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

Deep belly breath. Ingo put a shaking hand over his stomach and inhaled, focusing on the movement of his palm. This was his fault. His fault. Emmet was gone because of him. He’d run away because he thought Ingo didn’t love him anymore. Tears streamed down his face. The breathing wasn’t working. There was no one he could ask for help. Mom and Dad and–they were looking and they were mad. Out looking because Ingo was a mean, mean, mean older brother.

He could hear their voices in his ears saying the same things they’ve always said. Reminding him of his responsibilities, that Emmet needed support sometimes and when their parents couldn’t be there it was Ingo’s job to watch out for him.

He’d failed.

He’d failed.

He was a failure and Emmet was going to be lost forever or something worse.

Ingo had to fix this. He knew Emmet best. Knew where he would hide or go or something. More than the grownups would at any rate. With a goal in place Ingo could breathe again. He scrubbed his face dry and stood to his full, diminutive, height before running out of the house as fast as his legs could take him.

Beyond the porchlight it was nearly pitch dark. Ingo could just see the path ahead lit by the waxing moon above and before long he’d made it back to where they’d been playing earlier that day, an eternity ago. In the distance Ingo could hear the multitudinous voices calling out his brother’s name. The forest rang with them, scaring Pokemon of all types and sizes into their homes.

Ingo set off in the opposite direction.

Deeper and deeper, past the new growth of young trees to where the trunks grew so large even the both of them together weren’t able to span them. Resolutely he stared ahead, keeping his eyes away from the pinpricks of false lights between stems and stalks trying to lure him into the clutches of hunting Pokemon.

Had Emmet been snared by their pretty, pale, purple lights? Following them off into the black in hopes of being led home? Only to have his soul devoured? Ingo shivered. Emmet would never fall for a trick like that. He was far too smart and they knew too many spooky stories about different Pokemon preying upon children. They knew to be careful.

And they were small for their age, having yet to hit another growth spurt like their peers.

The adult’s voices were gone. He’d wandered far enough away that signs of human habitation were completely gone.

“Emmet?” Ingo recognized this place, where the tree trunks crossed just so as they fell, becoming nurse logs to baby seedlings. They called it the nursery and measured their own growth to the saplings who were quickly outpacing them. “Emmet? Are you here? Knock if you can hear me!” Tiny feet skittered in the underbrush, displacing crunchy and decaying leaves before silence fell again. “Mm.” Ingo whimpered. The nursery looked so scary at night. “Emmet! I am sorry! Please knock if you are here! Please!” He’d always been loud, like he was making up for his brother not speaking at all, and now his voice cut through the clearing like a train whistle.

He pushed on. Listening intently for dangerous sounds, eyes almost sore from being so wide and straining to see. Be brave. Be brave and fix this.

“Emmet!” The cry of a Pokemon he didn’t recognize sounded above him as if in answer and Ingo looked up just in time to see a dark shadow dropping from the canopy. He yelped, diving to the side and scrambled back to his feet just in time to dodge again.

He ran with the heavy footfalls of something bigger than him hot on his heels. Ingo tore through foliage, the sharp edges of leaves leaving nicks and cuts on his cheeks and arms. He stopped suddenly short, foot hooked in a gnarled root and fell hard enough to knock the wind out of himself, face colliding with the loamy soil. The scent of mud and earth filled his nose, his pulse hammered hard enough that he couldn’t hear whatever was almost upon him. Hot, wet breath ghosted along the nape of his neck as a heavy shadow fell over him like a pall.

He was going to die here.

Because of him, his parents would lose them both.

Ingo braced himself for the inevitable.

Curled into a ball when it cried out in pain above him and tentatively looked up when he felt the ground shake with its retreating steps.

A rock sailed over him, landing innocently a few yards beyond where he lay in the dirt.

Emmet.

Standing in a patch of moonlight with muck all over his clothes and another stone fisted in one hand. He was breathing heavy, eyes frightened and fixed on Ingo.

He gestured towards him with his name sign in a question.

“Emmet!” Ingo latched onto him in a tight hug before pulling back to examine every inch of him for injuries. His eyes were red rimmed from crying and his clothes were torn, but otherwise he looked okay. “Emmet, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Ingo didn’t wait for his reply, merely crushed him again. “I am sorry, Emmet, so, so sorry that I was so mean to you. Please will you come home?” Hesitant, Emmet’s arms came up around him with none of his usual vigor and Ingo only embraced him harder. “Please?” A single nod. It would have to be enough.

Hand firm in hand, Ingo tugged him back through the trees with little resistance and a lot of haste until they were back in familiar territory when suddenly Emmet stopped and wouldn’t budge no matter how hard Ingo pulled.

“Emmet?” Tears were beading along Emmet’s lashes. “I am going to make it up to you, I promise! I will play with you every day! You can have my desserts and I will, I will do your chores! Whatever you want, I promise!” His frown deepened and that was all wrong; his little brother was supposed to smile. “What can I do?” Now Ingo was crying and Emmet was shaking his head and he didn’t understand what he was trying to tell him and that was wrong too, because he always knew. Always! Emmet’s hands began to move, small and shy. Like he didn’t really want to ask for fear of what the answer might be.

Love me?

Something in Ingo’s chest broke open. A physical pain that made his knees wobble.

Did he, did Emmet really think?

“I was just mad. I did not mean to hurt your feelings, I swear. I love you, Emmet. Being sad or mad does not change that, it will never change that!” By now, Ingo was sobbing so hard he couldn’t see or talk, he just had to hope Emmet understood as he clung miserably to his best friend in the world.

And it was there they were found by one of the search parties. Bundled up and carted home and yelled at and cried over.

Scolded.

Grounded.

Exhausted.

Ingo scratched at the itchy bandage over his nose, still sniffling in his top bunk when a head of silver hair popped over the side wearing a pale imitation of a smile, but one nonetheless. Ingo tried to mimic it, knowing by the rolling of Emmet’s eyes that he’d failed again.

“Are you okay?” Ingo shoved over to make room and Emmet made himself comfortable before pointing back at him. “I am fine. I am just glad I found you.” His little brother laughed at that, pointing at himself now. “Yes, yes. You helped.” He sniffed and hugged him tighter, vowing to never make this mistake again.

Emmet folded his index and middle fingers down against his palm before thumping Ingo’s chest and settling down to sleep with a contented hum.

The platform edge doors slid open.

Where was his brother?

“This line is closed.” Without waiting for confirmation from the attendant, he hurried off. Ingo was never late. Never. Which meant something was wrong.

Why wouldn’t Ingo tell him?

“Brother?!” Emmet burst into the office. Already thinking the worst.

“Wha’Emmet?” When he lifted his head from the desk, the stray ticket stub stuck to his face and ink smeared across his cheek did little to calm Emmet. To him, this was yet more evidence that something was horribly wrong. Ingo was never anything less than tidy and neat and here he was, clothes rumpled, hair damp with sweat. A faint flush high in his face set off the unnatural pallor of his skin. How had he missed this? “Emm–!” The palm of his hand colliding with Ingo’s forehead sounded off with a faint smack!

“We are going home.” Stunned silence, a beat. Two. Emmet couldn’t blame him. Not when Ingo’s brain was obviously melting from the heat of a verrry impressive fever.

“I do not. I. No.” His meek (and when was he ever??) attempts at protest fell on deaf ears. “Th’the station…”

“Will be here Monday.”

“Monday!?” Ah. There was his volume. Neither one of them enjoyed taking time off. Or slowing down for that matter and nothing stopped their trains as fast as a sick day. Perish the thought. Emmet’s ears were ringing.

“I know you do not like it.” Did Ingo even realize how much of his weight Emmet had hold of? Or which way was up? With the way he swayed, he didn’t think so. “I will stay with you.” Because Ingo would not rest otherwise. He’d be up and about doing all manner of paperwork and strategy.

“I do not like it…but…” Now the hand not gripping Emmet’s shoulder for dear life rose to his temple as he closed his eyes against the no doubt spinning office. “Now that I am standing…it is disagreeable.” Worried, Emmet steadied him further with an arm around his waist, eyeing fluttering lashes with concern.

“Ingo?”

“All is, well, not well, but I will be fine after some rest.” The words faded in and out as though echoing down one of the longer tunnels.

“We will take a taxi.” Ingo didn’t argue.

Ingo was panting harshly by the time Emmet helped him kick his shoes off, swallowing hard and navigating by touch to his bedroom with his help. Headache. Nausea. Emmet had the sneaking suspicion he’d come down with the flu sweeping like a runaway train through the depot.

“Sit here, Ingo.” Gentle, quiet. His brother nodded miserably against his neck as he sat on the bed, shivering with chills once Emmet withdrew his body heat. “Change, I will be back with some medicine. Should help.”

“Hm.” Uncharacteristically quiet. Emmet did not like it.

Nor did he like that Ingo was in the same spot and still dressed in his uniform. He set the bottles of medications and glass of water aside, kneeling to get a better look at his face. Carefully, Emmet lifted the hat away, running ungloved fingers through tangled, sweaty silver-gray locks, grinning at the way Ingo leaned into his hand. He was very, very warm though very, very cold at the same time judging by his trembling and he whined when Emmet pulled away to loosen his tie and guide his arms out of the long coat trapping all the heat in.

“S’cold…”

“I am Emmet and I will tuck you in soon.” Pausing in getting Ingo comfortable for bed, he had him take some fever reducers with a few sips of water. “Slow, brother, too fast and you will be sick.” Next, his stiff uniform trousers, socks and button down, leaving him in his sweat-soaked undershirt and briefs. “This will not do.” Keeping a hand on his knee to steady him as Ingo’s fingers were already digging into the mattress for balance, Emmet fumbled in the bedside drawer for a comfortable sleep shirt.

“‘M’met.”

“What do you need, Ingo?” He wrestled his arms out and then in, cupping his too-warm cheek to glance into glassy, fever-bright eyes.

“I do not…not feel well.” He made a soft, sad sound that tore at Emmet’s heart. “Need’a. Lay down.”

“Okay. We can do that.” Emmet held the glass for one more shaky swallow, not admitting he was feeling shaky himself, before helping Ingo under the quilts. It had been a long time since either of them were this sick.

“Sorry…” exhaled on a shuddering breath, Ingo melted under the cold cloth Emmet folded over his eyes.

“None of that. You get some sleep and I will check on you later.”

Emmet kept the door cracked so he could hear his brother if he called out, peeking in now and then to make certain he slept peacefully. Despite the slight wheeze on his breath, Ingo rested deep and well, weighted down by the proper combination of medications. Right on schedule he woke an exhausted Ingo for another dose and some water, swiping down his much cooler face with a refreshed cloth before turning in himself just across the hall.

Not long after midnight Emmet jolted awake to a figure wavering in the dimly lit doorway.

“Ingo?” As the younger brother (even by just shy of ten minutes, it counts, Ingo) Emmet was the more likely of the two to crawl into the other’s bed after a nightmare or hard time sleeping. He’d already drawn back the covers before his sleep-rough voice drifted over the shadows.

“I cannot sleep.” He was wrapped in his own comforter and flopped into the space Emmet made for him. “I have been having trouble sleeping for longer than I would like to admit.” Ingo spoke to the ceiling and the tree limbs in their shady lattice. He didn’t flinch when Emmet tested his temperature with the back of his fingers. Much improved but he would need another round in the morning. And sleep. As many naps as Emmet could get him to take. Bouts of insomnia weren’t uncommon for Ingo. It was no wonder he was knocked down so hard. “I thought I could get through the day but it appears as though I was wrong.” He sighed and it was full of sorrow. “I let Chandelure become hurt because of it.” Emmet thought his eyes were suspiciously bright in the reflected light filtering in from the window.

“We will do better next time.” He tugged his burritoed brother into his arms, tucking his forehead into the space between his shoulder and neck. “Next time you will tell me when it is hard to sleep and I, Emmet, will make you that tea you like.” Moisture slipped down his collarbone. He ran his hand up and down the shallow seam of Ingo’s spine.

“I can make it for myself.” Emmet laughed and held his brother tighter.