Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yuto stared up at the stars that night, in the Jungle Area of the Wonder Quartet, comparing the navy, nigh black, expanse dotted with the white specks he'd learned long ago were stars to the card background of Dark Rebellion Xyz Dragon. It had the same night sky-like background as all Xyz Monster cards, but something about Dark Rebellion had always been different. Sometimes, when dueling, he swore he could hear a voice calling to him, whenever he had the opportunity to summon his ace. It always called like that; a gurgling roar that sounded both like, of course, a gurgling roar, but a low and guttural voice. It was always some variant of "You can summon me now!" or "Victory is in your grasp!". But more recently, it had become things like "You can do it, Yuto-sama." Or, in some rare instances when he felt hope was lost, he was distressed, and his mind flickered back to thoughts of those panicked moments after he heard his brothers' screams cut short, it was a reassuring croon uttering the words "Don't give up. Fight for them." It was as if the spirit, the mind, inside the card had picked up on his returning grief and reassured him, supported him, helped him win. Perhaps it was the dragon itself. He didn't know, and he didn't think it would make much of a difference, but it was certainly reassuring to know that he always had support, from someone who was always by his side. And so he kept the card of Dark Rebellion Xyz Dragon in his shirt pocket, near his heart at all times. It gave him hope. He returned the card to where it would remain until it was time to call the beast forth in his next Duel, and stood, stretching out; the sun was beginning to rise, after all, and getting up earlier meant more duels they could win.

Yugo groaned as his purple-and-black-haired twin prodded him with a not-quite-leather boot, blinking awake and giving a half-lidded glower to the Phantom, as he and his parents teasingly called the night-preferring teen. Yugo was just as bad about it, but at least he wasn't a stinking Goth, or whatever. As the boot made soft but firm contact with his shoulder a second, third, fourth time, Yugo stopped resisting altogether, mumbling "I'm up," and sitting up like Yuto wanted him to.

"Yugo, you know getting up earlier means more duels we can win, right?"

"Maybe I'd feel like getting up if you weren't so damn persistent on staring at the stars at the most ungodly hour, over a cliffside, no less."

"It had a good view of the ocean- wait, you were watching me?"

"Correction: I was making sure you didn't get into trouble or anythin'!"

"Suuuure you were," Yuto muttered, rolling his eyes at his brother's obvious lie and childish antics, "but really, Yugo, you don't have to sit behind me and stay back. I'd rather us sit together."

"But you know what happens, we get into debates all the damn time, and-" The rest of his sentence falls flat, splatting against the ground with an unpleasant noise in the boys' heads, as someone very familiar approaches: Shun. Kurosaki Shun. Yuto's best friend.

Kurosaki- "Shun," Yuto had insisted, to no avail- glowered down at the shorter eggplant and the just as tall, though sitting, banana. "Come on, stop your witty banter. There's something we need to see, apparently, or else Akaba wouldn't send a helicopter of all things to pick us up."

Any protests fell silent at the silencing glare Kurosaki threw their way.

Chapter Text

Yuto doesn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't.... this. It was the Sakaki family's second, younger set of twin brothers; Yuya and Yuri. Upon hearing their names, one would think of two smiling children, one with green and red hair, and one with violet. Both dressed in shirts that matched their favorite color. But the two boys tangled around each other and ensnared in the bedsheets were not those children. They had horns, for Horakhty's sake! And tails, and wings, and... features that matched every bit their ace, those dragons whose very names carried the legacy of their summoning method. It was certainly... a sight to behold. One that made Yugo vomit in the trashcan strategically placed next to the door. One that left Yuto with a persistent sense of uneasiness, of anxiousness, of concern. Those feelings were obvious, that's what one should feel after seeing... this, right? He didn't know and he didn't care. He didn't even bother to stop himself from pulling the two confused and afraid boys into a gentle embrace, whispering reassurances and entirely truthful promises of sanctuary, of protection... but could he keep them? Not without his brother....s. They were a family, even separated, united in both blood and spirit, whatever form it may take. They were always together, no matter the distance between them...

The first thing Yuya felt when he woke up was arms around him. Larger arms, tan arms with a complexion that made him relax, somehow. They were unfamiliar yet calming... he remembered these arms, and glanced up to indeed discover a body attached. It was Yuto, Yoot, Eggplant, Aniki, Onii-san, whatever the hell you wanted to call him. But he was there, and they were back, and- Yuri was next to him, there was Yugo flashing them a quick smile before clambering over like he usually does with that oddly lanky frame of his, considering his height, joining the hug. It was calming, it was peaceful, it was... home. But not truly. He barely remembered the scents of apple pie in the oven, but once he did, it was like a whole new world was opened up with the key that was remembrance. He didn't know why it was locked, all he cared about is that it wasn't now. He couldn't help himself as the tears flowed. But it didn't hurt. Tears of reunion are often many things, and explicable is not one of them.

Shun watched with fascination, then contentment, and, slowly but surely, satisfaction. He knew he had done good... no, that Akaba had done right by sending for the older Yu's straightaway. Who cares if they missed out on the rest of the Maiami Championships? They could participate next year. They found their brothers. They're reunited. Still, he couldn't help but feel a longing for something he felt was missing. He could help his expression, keep it mostly neutral, maintain that satisfied smile, but there was nothing stopping the wistfulness from seeping into his irises. Fortunately for him, the four brothers' hug session lasted to the point where he had to silently exit and relieve himself, a couple of times actually. But soon enough they had all fallen asleep on each other, and he could leave them there; there'd be a surprise waiting for them in the morning, for both parents and brothers. "And championship participants," he mused.

Chapter Text

Their hugging had to come to an end soon enough, as their sole parent, Yoko, was left worried sick about her boys, even more so after receiving an ominous phone call that told not lick of their fates. But what truly broke her heart that dreary morning on one April 7th, as the darkened clouds relieved their burdens, with weeping eyes and heart her tears had fallen just as the downpour surrounding her on that concrete step, was the return of all four brothers of the Sakaki household, different in size and hair and even, somewhat, species as they may be. But it was not this ending that was achieved without turmoil, without horror, without longing and wistfulness and hardship belied by their sorrowful, mourning gazes; countless souls were lost that evening. Perhaps not countless, but was so the grief that rang off them in waves, immeasurable in all but morose atmosphere.

Thus began our intricately woven tale, when a mother awaited her sons' return, both physically and figuratively, as she stared at the screen that flashed across with the message, "We are having technical difficulties, please stand by." Her utterance of a curse was released on her soft exhale, her sigh of resignation, as she withdrew a pocket cookbook and began flipping through, seemingly pondering what the family reduced to three would be dining on the next night. However, this was not the case, though it could be ascertained as such to the naked eye, the passersby; Hiiragi Shuuzou was neither. He was a close friend of the family, there to comfort the grieving widow- she'd always insisted she wasn't, that Yusho was still alive- and before that both mother and father when the two boys were dragged into the night, when all trace faded away into the dark. He was there to watch over the remaining children, to ease them along, to help both his daughters and their best friends' brothers deal with their struggles in regards to grief. As a family friend, and perhaps the only one who really, truly knew these people, this broken and torn family, he was by far the most qualified to comfort Yoko now, when she stared into the faded pages of this old book and reminisced about times long past, memories of yesteryear when no wounds had been raked in their tapestry of fate, with the thick knife of circumstance.

Hiiragi Shuuzou was not a fool. He was a father and had taken up that role willingly.

"Yoko-san..." He muttered, more so to himself than anything, knowing the other parent wouldn't hear him. Such was all too often the case when the pocketbook was withdrawn. And as always, no response was earned for his compassion, his concern, his worrying. But deep down, in his core, he knew she would be alright; she was just remembering, after all. Happy memories didn't hurt.