Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Osaka, Japan, 12 years ago...

That evening, a storm sweeps over Osaka. Thunder rumbles in the distance and the rain claps almost horizontally against the windows, and for quite a while that is the only sound in the small, teenage-style room.

The light from the desk lamp is not enough to illuminate the gray twilight, let alone the suddenly heavy mood here.

“What are you doing, little brother?”

The person addressed, a teenager of fourteen in the dark uniform of the nearby middle school, literally flinches at this unusually sharp form of address. But he is not prepared to be intimidated by it. He knows that the other person has only chosen this word to remind him of the moral reprehensibility of his actions.

He raises his head defiantly and stares into those brown, gentle eyes in which only he can ever see the tiredness. His big brother has just come back from training and smells of salt water, earth and rain. Saki didn't have time to shower - and that's probably Kazuo's fault, because he had to catch him immediately.

“I have to practise this with someone,” the fourteen-year-old justifies himself. “I don't want to embarrass myself if a girl wants to go with me.”

Don't lie, those eyes scream at him.

Kazuo hates it, but he knows exactly what will happen if he speaks the truth out loud. However, if he persists with his little lie, it might not just be this kiss.

After all, he has thought it through carefully.

The gaze of those familiar, dark eyes is still on him, appraising, dissecting, as if he is really posing a great riddle here. Yet it is so simple.

Kazuo gathers all his courage and swings himself back onto Saki's lap, wraps his arms around his neck as he did two minutes ago and kisses him right on the mouth.

At first, Saki clenches his jaw resolutely, but Kazuo has no intention of giving up. He slyly shifts his weight until he is sitting on a particularly sensitive spot and then presses his abdomen firmly against his brother so that he can feel exactly that Kazuo is definitely no longer a small child. And when Saki gasps in surprise, a “Kazuo” on his lips, he has already uncompromisingly stuck his tongue down his throat.

He's not very good at it because, if you count the one just now, it's only his second real kiss, but it's enough. He achieves his goal. He knows this when he feels Saki put his arms around him and then slowly lets himself sink backwards onto the bed with him.

“Just for practice,” Saki murmurs against his lips before initiating the next kiss this time.

Kazuo just hums in agreement, savoring the feel of the tongue and the taste of the person in his mouth who has always been the most precious and important thing in the world to him.

Saki is sixteen and has his first steady girlfriend and Kazuo hates her with every fiber of his heart.

His big brother belongs only to him.

Chapter Text

“Open the portal, Krang!”

“Nanana:” Shredder can see on the screen of his communicator how the disembodied brain from DimensionX reproachfully raises a tentacle. “What's the magic word?”

“Now!!!”

“Boss, the Turtles are coming!” urge Bebop and Rocksteady behind him. The crate they are carrying sways menacingly.

Shredder turns around and holds the communicator in front of him with an outstretched arm so that the built-in camera can capture the intersection into which the Turtlevan is just turning with screeching tires. They're still a hundred and twenty meters away and certainly haven't seen them yet; the park's bushes give them some protection, but it won't stay that way once the telltale glow of an opening portal shines through the night.

“Do you see that, Krang? Open the portal or it was all for nothing!”

But Krang's tentacles are already flying over the console. But then he suddenly stops.

“Uh-uh.”

“What do you mean, uh-uh?” Shredder wants to know, suspecting the worst.

“There's not enough power yet. Give me ten seconds.”

“We don't have that!”

“Boss!” urge the mutants in chorus.

Shredder doesn't hesitate for long.

“Okay, all right. I'll distract them. And you get out as soon as the portal is open, okay?” he instructs his mutants sternly. “Don't wait for me. That's an order!”

“But -”

“Shredder!” Krang also points out. “If the connection breaks, you're on your own. You know that you can only get back if you ... but even that's not certain. This is the first field test and theoretically you could also -”

“I know!” Shredder interrupts him impatiently. He knows the risks, but what choice does he have?

“I can try to open another portal. Here, in an hour. But that's really all I can do for now.”

“I'll catch up!” Shredder promises. He's really tired of these discussions and the Turtles are getting closer and closer.

“Keep the dinner warm for me!” With these words, he leaves the relative cover of Thomas Jefferson Park and runs towards the Turtlevan.

***

“Watch out!”

The Turtles almost get a heart attack when Shredder suddenly appears in the light of the Turtlevan headlights. Raphael immediately slams on the brakes. The car skids to a halt.

They can just see their nemesis disappear in the direction of FDR Drive, his cape billowing.

While Raphael is still trying to get his pulse under control, his brothers Michelangelo and Leonardo are already tearing open the sliding door and storming after Shredder with loud cries of “Cowabunga”.

Donatello in the passenger seat takes a deep breath, shakes his head in some bewilderment, grabs his Bo firmly with both hands and then follows them.

Raphael parks the van neatly at the side of the road - parking tickets are the last thing they need - and then hurries to join his brothers.

***

Shredder doesn't really have a plan, but he just wants to lure them away from his mutants. And that's why he makes no effort to escape from the Turtles. He wants them to follow him. They should catch up with him.

Oh yes. His lips twist into a grin under his mask and he clenches his hands into fists in great anticipation. Oh yes. He's already looking forward to it!

The footbridge appears in front of him and underneath it - a relatively large, open area. Perfect for a little fight.

“Stop right there, Shredder! Turn yourself in, you coward!”

Really? Do they really think that's going to impress him?

He only stops directly under the footbridge, whirls around to face them so that his cloak billows theatrically behind him and assumes a fighting stance.

***

It's a good fight.

The kind that sends adrenaline coursing through Shredder's veins and makes him feel truly alive. He involuntarily begins to smile under his mask, because - oh, how he has missed it!

He's long since moved on from just distracting the Turtles.

It's a really good fight that he simply enjoys. Once or twice he even almost got the upper hand.

A third time he's close again, but then comes this double combination of leverage and throwing technique and he slams full force into that steel pillar...

Klonk!

When Shredder's head hits the steel pillar of the pedestrian bridge, the Turtles think nothing of it. That happens quite often.

Besides, he's wearing a helmet.

Even when he has to use his hands to push himself off the pillar, it still doesn't seem strange to them.

What makes them falter at first is his clear confusion.

And he is visibly wavering.

Since they are fighting fair, they hold back - after all, he could have a concussion. So they wait for his reaction, as they always do in such cases.

And then the ever-attentive Donatello notices the rusty iron sticking out of the steel. Some joker with too much free time on his hands must have found it amusing to file away at it until it had a sharp point. Now this tip is shining suspiciously moist.

“Holy salami pizza!”

With a few spacey steps, Donatello is at Shredder's side. Disregarding any danger, he puts his hands on his helmet on the left and right and holds his head firmly. He squints very briefly at the right side of the helmet and draws in a sharp breath at the sight of the obvious hole. But his voice sounds completely composed.

“Shredder. Stay calm. Stay completely calm and listen to me carefully.” He looks him in the eye urgently. They look disturbingly dull and cloudy. It's not clear how many more of his words reach Shredder, but he tries anyway.

“Listen to me. There was an iron in the wall. You rammed it into your head. You have a head-injury.”

He emphasizes it as if he's talking to an imbecile.

Donatello takes a deep breath and tries to remain calm, despite the blood slowly running down Shredder's neck and seeping into the fabric of his cloak.

“I need to take a look at this. I'm going to take your helmet off now, okay?”

Shredder blinks once and Donatello simply interprets this as consent. He also takes it as a good sign that Shredder's left hand is resting on his right upper arm. His grip is anything but firm, but it is not weak either.

“I'll help you,” Leonardo suddenly stands next to him and together they carefully free Shredder from his helmet.

“Well done,” praises Donatello, placing his hands on Shredder's cheeks and scrutinizing him again. He is pale and his skin is cool, but above all the gleam in his eyes is becoming increasingly dull.

“How does it look, Leonardo?” he whispers to his brother.

Leonardo first examined the hole in the helmet and then Shredder's head more closely.

“Not good,” he says quietly and shows Donatello his bloodstained fingers. His face reflects pure horror. “That thing went right through.”

Donatello swallows hard, but tries not to let it show. He hopes to continue radiating optimism and seeks Shredder's gaze again. It's not easy, because his eyes have started to move wildly back and forth. It's irritating.

“Shredder,” Donatello begins, pauses and then begins again, more forcefully: ”Oroku Saki.” He hopes that his words will get through to him when he uses his real name. He will definitely understand it, right? “Listen to me. You need to see a doctor, do you understand me? We're taking you to the hospital.”

Behind him, he hears movement and footsteps hurrying away, and he knows it's Raphael and Michelangelo, who are now fetching the Turtlevan, which is standing at the top of the road.

“Maybe he doesn't understand you at all,”

Leonardo muses. He is still holding Shredder's helmet in his hand. With the other, he has a grip on Shredder's upper right arm, as he is still swaying menacingly.

“Dark,” Shredder mumbles indistinctly. His left hand feels its way uncertainly over Donatello's shoulder and catches hold of the edge of his shell, where he almost desperately clutches it. “I can't see anything.”

“It'll be all right,” Donatello assures him. But he doesn't believe it himself.

The screeching of tires and the rapidly approaching sound of the engine tell him that his brothers are approaching in the Turtlevan.

And at that moment, Shredder rolls his eyes and slumps down.

***

With screeching tires, the Turtlevan skids around the bend, briefly veers into the opposite lane and almost hits a parked car. But then Raphael gets the car back under control.

“Raph, don't drive so fast,” comes Leonardo's reprimanding voice from behind. “There's no point in having an accident now.”

Raphael just nods and obediently takes his foot off the gas. But only a little. He keeps his eyes stubbornly straight ahead, not even daring to look in the rear-view mirror. He is afraid of what he might see.

What he hears is enough for him.

And he's not the only one.

Michelangelo next to him is huddled in his seat, nervously kneading his hands in his lap and staring just as intently through the windshield as he is. Except that his gaze goes nowhere.

“He's still breathing,” Donatello explains from the back to nobody and everybody.

His right hand is on Shredder's chest, the other on his carotid artery. For lack of any other alternative, they have taken off Shredder's cloak, folded it up and pushed it under his head. The speed with which the fabric soaks up blood is worrying.

The fact that there is nothing they can do to help the man weighs heavily on Donatello, but he forces himself to remain cool and matter-of-fact.

“Help me take off his armor,” he finally says to Leonardo, who is crouching on Shredder's other side and feels just as helpless as he does.

“What?” he startles. “Why?”

“The less they have to undress him in hospital, the quicker they can treat him.”

Leonardo just stares at him for a moment and then nods. Yes, that makes sense. Together, they set about carefully removing the armor from their seriously injured nemesis piece by piece.

They work in deep, silent earnestness and try never to think further ahead than their next move. Time and again, Donatello pauses to check Shredder's pulse and silently prays to all existing and non-existing gods, spirits or whoever feels responsible in such a case, that all may end well.

They find his wallet in the back pocket of his pants, but don't dare open it. A strange shyness has taken possession of them, because now, without armor, helmet and cape, they are just looking at a normal human being.

This is no longer Shredder.

This is Oroku Saki.

When they finally turn onto the driveway to the emergency room, they are so relieved that they almost forget their disguises.

***

Four bald men in trench coats, behind which are in reality four frightened and perplexed Turtles, stare numbly at the doors of the emergency room, behind which their nemesis has just disappeared on a stretcher, pushed by an orderly and accompanied by three doctors. Now that they have handed over responsibility to more experienced and competent hands, they should feel better.

Instead, they feel downright miserable.

“Excuse me,” the pretty nurse from reception approaches them and snaps them out of their gloomy thoughts. “Do you know if Mr.,” she looks briefly at her clipboard, ”Oroku has any relatives we need to contact?”

The four Turtles give each other shocked looks.

“Is it... that serious?” croaks Michelangelo.

“Geez Mikey, he had an iron nail in his head,” Raphael reminds him ungraciously.

Their other two brothers make a great effort to ignore this little battle of words.

“He has a brother in Tokyo,” Leonardo replies to the nurse.

“And his mother,” adds Donatello, but then raises his shoulders regretfully: ”But we don't know her number. Only Kazuo's.”

The nurse just nods and wordlessly hands him a clipboard and pen.

***

Despite the air conditioning, the air in the large meeting room is so stuffy that Oroku Kazuo, a lieutenant in the Tokyo Police Organized Crime Division, has to hold back a yawn more than once. He wisely sits in one of the back rows.

He has a headache, is tired and hungry and deadly bored. While his superiors at the front present the current case and the projector dutifully throws images of networks, crime scenes and surveillance photos onto the wall at the touch of a button, he wishes he was far, far away. But not home, oh no, definitely not that. His girlfriend only talks about getting engaged and married and quite honestly - he can't hear it anymore. He can't remember proposing to her either, although he can't completely rule it out with his increasing sake consumption. He should really start cutting back on going for a drink with his colleagues after work, no matter how much it helps the social cohesion within the squad.

“.... Have the investigations of our colleagues from Special Crimes revealed that...”

Uh, he seems to have missed something. Guiltily, the young man straightens his shoulders and tries to concentrate on the lecture.

At that moment, the door opens and his colleague, who shares the office with him, comes in, apologizes for the interruption with a deep bow and the usual polite phrases and then turns to the audience.

“I apologize, but Oroku-san has received a call from the United States of America,” she explains again with a bow, and it is clear in her voice how uncomfortable she is. “A hospital in New York City. An emergency, I was told.”

The United States? Hospital? An emergency? Suspecting the worst, Lieutenant Oroku Kazuo apologizes profusely to his colleagues and superiors and leaves the briefing. He hurries to his desk, and it's a damn long walk, during which a thousand and one bad thoughts run through his mind - he knows who this emergency is about, it can only be about him - picks up the phone and answers in a voice that betrays nothing of his inner turmoil.

Five minutes later, he puts the phone back on the hook.

His hands are shaking and he is as pale as death.

He has only one thought: Nii-chan.

***

“You really want to go to New York? Now? Did you get a vacation so soon?” A little breathless, Hikari stands on the doorstep and watches her fiancé pack his travel bag. She works in the flower store around the corner and ran here as soon as she got his call.

“Yes,” Kazuo replies curtly. If that's what you can call signing a blank form and then handing it to a colleague with a request to fill it in for you and then hand it in... Yes, then he has submitted leave.

From the doubtful look on her face, she doesn't seem to believe him.

“You're so irrational when it comes to your brother. He's a criminal. I don't understand how you can still stand by him after everything. You risk getting fired - just because of him.”

Kazuo says nothing in response. He just grabs a change of underwear from a chest of drawers and throws it into his bag with his jeans and T-shirts. All that's missing now is his toothbrush, his passport and his wallet with all his credit cards. If anything is missing, he will have to buy it there.

“Kazuo. Assuming you get a flight straight away, even that will take at least twelve hours. By the time you get there, it might already be too late. So let's talk about it calmly and sensibly first. You can't help anyway.”

Her words hit him right in the heart.

“That's exactly why I want to go there right away,” he mumbles as he pushes past her, travel bag in hand, and goes into the bathroom to get his toothbrush.

“Kazuo! We're invited to my parents' house tomorrow!”

“I'm sure they'll understand.”

“You're so irrational when it comes to your brother!”

“I know. And I'm sorry.” He's really sorry that she just doesn't understand him when it comes to his brother. But few people do.

He grabs his passport, slips on his jacket and shoes, kisses her goodbye, throws his bag over his shoulder and runs off.

Chapter Text

Leonardo hesitantly replaces the old coffee mug on the bedside table with a new one. But he doubts that Kazuo will touch this cup - after all, that wasn't the case with the last four cups either. Actually, he only ever exchanges one cup of cold coffee for a hot one.

But he doesn't know how else to help him.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles for what feels like the thousandth time and briefly puts his hand on Kazuo's shoulder.

He barely reacts. He hasn't moved for hours, just sitting on this cheap plastic chair and holding his brother's hand.

Leonardo tries not to look too closely. The sight of the big, bad shredder lying there pale and lifeless in the hospital bed, oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, his head thickly bandaged and connected to all these devices - it's just oppressive.

The heart monitor is the worst: it shows curves that tell him nothing and sometimes beeps piercingly.

“Do you need anything else, Kazuo? I'm about to go.” He is dead tired. His brothers have long since gone home and it's time for him to go too. He can't do anything more here anyway.

“Or do you want me to stay?”

“No,” comes back absent-mindedly. “You can go. Thank you.”

Leonardo swallows hard and nods.

“If there's anything - you have our number?”

Kazuo just nods wordlessly.

Before he leaves, Leonardo touches him on the shoulder one last time, comforting him.

It's certainly wrong to feel this way, but the Turtle is really relieved to finally be able to leave this place after the longest twenty-four hours of his life.

***

The doctor is nice, they have brought someone in especially for him who speaks his language and translates every word so that he doesn't misunderstand anything. They talk about things like “declining brain activity”, “coma” and “incipient multi-organ failure”, but Kazuo doesn't want to hear any of that.

Saki has a pulse, he's breathing and he's a tough bastard - he just has to sit here and wait for him to wake up. That's what Kazuo wants to believe.

If his big brother only feels that he is with him when he hears his voice, then he will definitely come back. Because his big brother is strong.

“Please, Nii-chan. Fight. Don't give up. Come back to me.”

He gently runs his fingertips over those parts of Saki's face that are not covered by the oxygen mask: the high cheekbones, so similar to his own, the straight bridge of his nose and the finely arched eyebrows ... the touch awakens old memories that he had previously kept well locked away. Memories of a time full of youthful rebellion, when this us-against-the-rest-of-the-world feeling prevailed as soon as he was with his brother.

Saki had been his great hero for as long as he could remember. First he admired him, then worshipped him and finally downright idolized him. First he wanted to emulate him, then impress him and finally protect him from everything and everyone, just as he had protected him from everything and everyone.

“Oh Nii-chan...” A trembling sigh escapes Kazuo.

Powerlessly, he lets himself sink forward and finally rests his head on Saki's chest, careful not to dislodge any of the electrodes.

He feels Saki's chest rise and fall and when he closes his eyes and blocks out the beeping of the machine, it is almost like it used to be. He almost expects to feel a strong hand stroking his hair at any moment and a soft voice whispering words of comfort above him.

“I'm here, Nii-chan,” Kazuo gropes for Saki's hand, clutching it tightly as he buries his face desperately against Saki's chest. “I'm waiting for you.”

***

He does not sleep, no matter how heavy his eyelids become or how much his head pounds as if it wants to burst. The irrational fear gnaws at him that Saki could give up the fight for his life as soon as he even dares to close his eyes. As if it were up to Kazuo alone whether Saki wakes up or not.

He can't just abandon him! After all, Saki was always there for him.

So he continues to concentrate: on his heartbeat, on his breathing, on the warmth of his body, as if he could force him to continue living with his will alone.

He involuntarily adapts his own breathing to Sakis and feels transported back to a time when this had already become second nature to him.

There were many dark moments in his life, sometimes only hours, but then again days and nights, and every time Saki was there, his rock in the surf. He could come to him with any problem and be sure that his brother would solve it. And then, one day, it was enough for him if Saki simply took him in his arms. From then on, it happened more and more often that they lay together on his bed and he cuddled up to him, his head on Saki's chest like now, and when Saki took him tightly in his arms and stroked his head, Kazuo's world was all right again. Everything that made the life of a teenager so difficult disappeared in those moments. Two and a half years separate them, but Saki always treated him as if it were only two and a half hours.

He never talked down to him and always took him seriously. He always felt safe and secure with him. They grew up without a father and with a mother who demanded a lot from them - obedience and hard work and success - but couldn't give them much emotionally. But with Saki, he found all of that. And much more.

Nothing and no one came between them, not even their respective girlfriends when they had them.

It was, Kazuo realizes with frightening clarity, the happiest time in his life.

“Saki, come back to me.”

***

He jolts awake because he feels a terrible pressure pain on his hand. At first he thinks it's happened, his brother has woken up and is almost crushing his hand because of it, but then the panicked beeping pierces his brainfog.

He jumps up so violently that the chair tips over with a thump.

But Saki is still holding his hand.

The beeping becomes more frantic, the curves on the monitor tighter and sharper. And then his brother's body rears up and suddenly his eyes are wide open and their gazes meet. And for a moment his brother is here, with him, but then the beeping becomes a single, drawn-out and terribly final sound.

Kazuo sees the light in Saki's eyes go out and then, suddenly, his hand is free.

The door is pushed open and a nurse storms in with a defibrillator trolley, accompanied by a doctor. They shout orders to each other, but Kazuo only perceives all this as if through a fog.

Something very, very important, he senses - is gone.

***

Although it lies in the depths of the sewers, the atmosphere in the dwelling of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and their Sensei Splinter has never been as gloomy and depressed as it is today.

The place, which is usually bursting with life, where exuberance and cheerfulness reign and often - much to Splinter's chagrin - a distinct sense of chaos, has now become gloomy and gray. The TV is on in the background and there's a pizza on the table that they've just started, but none of them care.

Since Leonardo has also returned from hospital, a heavy blanket of paralyzing apathy seems to have settled over them all. Their lack of sleep only exacerbates the problem and they all have a dull headache - some more, some less. They are tired and exhausted and yet sleeping is out of the question for anyone.

Not even for April, who sits on the couch with them and has been keeping them company since she got off work. She makes sure that they at least have something to drink if they don't feel hungry. And her moral support is also very important to them in other ways. For all of them. And that includes Splinter.

Their sensei is calm and collected, and he too is very focused on the well-being of his Turtles, but this is clearly just a distraction. Most of the time he just sits there like them, unconsciously turning Shredder's helmet back and forth between his hands.

The rest of Shredder's equipment lies more or less neatly and unnoticed next to the couch on the floor, where the four boys put it after returning from the hospital.

Only the helmet has made the rounds again and again and the hole in the side has aroused particular, almost morbid interest among them all. The bloody inside, on the other hand, meant that nobody picked up the helmet for more than a minute. Except Splinter. He even spent an hour cleaning the helmet. He even managed to get most of it out and sure the helmet has never shone as beautifully as it does now.

“Am I a bad Turtle for wishing this whole thing would go away? One way or another?” Raphael suddenly says as he listlessly drills his sai forks into the back of the sofa again and again. Normally this would make Splinter furious, but today he doesn't even seem to notice.

Donatello, on the other hand, who is sitting right next to Raphael, gives him a reproving elbow jab in the side.

“No, Raphael,” Leonardo replies gently to Raphael's words. “We're all like that.”

“Really?” comes back bitterly, while a sai disappears into the cushion up to the handle. “Because I'm beginning to think that it would have been much better if I'd hit him harder. If he'd hit the pillar harder. More against the corner. Break his neck. Quick and clean. This one is just ... cruel.”

Donatello shakes his head and points meaningfully at the helmet in Splinter's hands, especially the rigid neck guard.

“It's not possible to break his neck with a helmet like that. But if the piece of iron had gone straight into his eye, all the way into his brain, it would probably have resulted in a quick death.”

Normally he would be horrified by his callous words, and so would everyone else here, and rightly so, but today...

Today it helps. Taking the whole thing to the sober-scientific level somehow makes it more bearable.

“It's not your fault,” April explains - not for the first time in the last few hours. “This sort of thing can happen in a fight.”

“April,” Splinter suggests quietly - and not for the first time either, ”you should go home.”

She shakes her head with a thin smile - as she has done so often before.

“No, that's all right. I'm happy to stay.”

Even her words are almost always the same.

The atmosphere here is strange, but she doesn't yet feel ready for the world outside, for her daily routine. And going to the hospital, like the Turtles did, just isn't something she can bring herself to do.

So she stays here and gives them moral support as best she can.

For the next few seconds, they all sink back into their gloomy thoughts.

“Kazuo wasn't even angry with us,” Michelangelo suddenly says into the silence. His voice sounds dull and hollow, a sign of great tiredness and mental exhaustion. “I thought he was going to snap at us or something. I would have done it,” he adds with his head down.

April reaches over to him and gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

“He also knows it was an accident.”

Michelangelo gives her a small smile in response.

“I wish we could do something for him. Maybe,” he suggests cautiously, ”we should go back later?”

He looks almost shyly from one brother to the other, and when they nod hesitantly, Michelangelo breathes a sigh of relief.

A small, proud smile twitches at the corner of Splinter's mouth. They are decent boys, his Turtles, brave and courageous, and not just in battle.

“You need to rest, my children. Then you can go back to the hospital.”

“Shredder won't last that long,” Leonardo points out. “I've heard what the nurses are saying. They say he won't survive this day.”

His words are followed by an oppressive silence.

“Can you imagine that?” whispers Donatello, concerned. “A world without Shredder?”

“Yes.” Raphael contorts his face into a cynical grimace and follows up with a tired “Yay.”

His brothers muster a weak smile. After all, shouldn't they be happy and relieved to be rid of their arch-enemy soon? And yet they feel nothing of it.

On the contrary: this limbo of hope and anxiety is draining them. They feel paralyzed, almost numb.

Leonardo lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Poor Kazuo.”

“Poor Rocksteady,” adds Raphael thoughtfully. “Poor Bebop. Poor ... Krang...?”

Leonardo nods seriously. “Them too. But they don't have to watch him die.”

There is another short, heavy silence between them until Michelangelo sighs softly.

“I would never have thought it, but ... it was clear, wasn't it? Kazuo is very attached to his big brother. He looked really upset.”

“I heard him,” Leonardo runs his left hand over his face, distressed. “My Japanese isn't that good, but as far as I understood, he begged him to come back to him and not die. He sounded really desperate.”

“The two brothers are very close,” Splinter nods with a strange undertone that no one here notices.

“Kazuo doesn't have anyone here, does he? We should help him when this ... is over,” Donatello suggests quietly.

The others nod immediately.

Yes, that's what they're for.

At least they can do that.

And it's much easier to think about something like that than about Shredder fighting for his life in hospital.

Suddenly, Splinter draws in his breath with a soft hiss and clutches his chest.

“Sensei?” Startled, the Turtles and April gather around him, but he raises his hand defensively and wordlessly asks them for some distance, which they hesitantly grant him.

For the duration of a heartbeat, he simply listens deep inside himself with his eyes closed.

Then he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again. They shimmer darker than ever before. He hesitates imperceptibly as he looks into the worried, exhausted faces of his wards, but he cannot protect them from the truth. Nor can he protect himself, as he realizes from the sudden feeling of pressure in his heart.

“It's over.” His voice sounds strangely flat and monotonous. “I sense that Oroku Saki has just died.”

Chapter Text

The silence that falls over them after Splinter's fateful words is deep and absolute. It cannot be said to have come unexpectedly, and they have had hours to prepare for it, but now that it has arrived, it sends them into a kind of paralyzing shock.

None of them move.

None of them say a word.

They just sit there, each of them trying to figure it out somehow.

After two or three minutes of dull brooding, they all gradually turn their tired, burned-out eyes to the rat in their midst.

"Sensei..." Leonardo begins cautiously, "how are you?"

He slowly awakens from the meditative stupor he has fallen into.

He blinks once and forces a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, thank you, Leonardo." He hesitates for a moment, then continues, more quietly: "He leaves a gap. You know, in spite of everything, our Sensei-Deshi bond was very strong. He wasn't always bad. And I had always hoped..." his voice fades into a silent sigh.

At his words, there is silence again for a moment.

"I'll miss his threats," Raphael finally clears his throat.

Michelangelo nods and adds with a sigh:

"And me, his creative rants."

They fall back into a deep silence.

Suddenly, Splinter's ears twitch, and then he lifts his head and stands bolt upright. His vibrissae tremble, as if picking up the scent.

"Sensei?"

But he raises his hand as if to ask her to be quiet. Irritated and tense at the same time, the four turtles and April hold their breath and watch him closely.

"I can feel something," Splinter says finally, stretching and then furrowing his eyebrows in irritation. "But... no, that's impossible..."

***

Kazuo moves as if in a dream.

A nightmare.

His heart refuses to understand what his mind is telling him.

How can his brother be dead?

That's not even possible.

He wouldn't leave him.

Never.

He sits alone in the room again, in that uncomfortable chair, and the doctors are gone. They said something to him, but their words were like dark static.

They turned off the machines.

Why?

And the oxygen mask - where is it? He looks around, but can't find it anywhere... He leans forward a little, looks at this silent, pale face - will he wake up soon? - and then takes his hand again and holds it.

He will wait.

He has much patience.

It takes a while for the realization to fight its way through his shock, but finally he takes a deep breath, and then another, and it is nothing more than a trembling sob.

Saki...

No! This can't be true! This can only be a nightmare! He will wake up in his bed back home in Tokyo and realize that it was all a bad dream.

Yes, that's right.

That's how it has to be.

Suddenly, a hand is placed on his shoulder from behind.

"Kazuo..."

This voice is...

As if in a trance, he turns around and looks up at a face he knows only too well.

He gets dizzy and for a moment, everything is distorted, then he blinks once and the world becomes clear again, while he feels wetness on his cheeks.

Warm fingers wipe the tears from his face, and then he feels his wrist grabbed and pulled up. Irritated, his eyes dart between the visitor and his dead brother in the hospital bed.

A furrow forms between his eyebrows.

"Nii-chan?" his voice is only a dying whisper and stops halfway.

"Yes." Two strong hands grab his shoulders, as if their owner is afraid that Kazuo might fall at any moment. And he is not wrong.

"Yes, it's me."

"But..." unbelievingly, Kazuo's eyes wander to his brother's body and back again. For the first time, he notices the hastily put on doctor's coat, gray and black underneath, and the flashing gun at his hip.

"I am the real one, that was just a duplicate, a body to which my consciousness was transferred."

Kazuo tilts his head to the side and blinks.

"Damn," Shredder whispers, "we really don't have time for this right now."

He thinks for a moment, then sighs, wraps both hands around Kazuo's cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss. When their lips touch, everything in Kazuo freezes. He allows Shredder's tongue to slide between his lips and plunder his mouth without resistance. But when the taste explodes on his tongue, it's as if his brain starts working again.

His arms automatically wrap around Shredder's neck and he desperately falls into the kiss.

Shredder lets him go for a few precious seconds, then pushes him half an arm's length away and examines him.

"Saki," Kazuo whispers reverently, raising his hand and removing some hairs from his eyes. "It really is you, isn't it?"

Shredder hates to be called that, but today he makes an exception.

"Yes, Kaz-chan, it is me."

"But you were in there?" Kazuo makes an undefined gesture towards the bed and desperately avoids looking at it "... for how long...?"

"Until fifteen minutes ago, until the end."

"You died...?"

Shredder suppresses an impatient sigh.

"Yes, little dummy. I could not return to my body until this one died, and believe me, it was not a pleasant experience. I got here as fast as I could, and we really should go now."

With these words he pulls his brother back to him with one arm, while with the other hand he pulls out the gun, points it at the corpse and pulls the trigger. There is a soft "poff" and the bed is empty, leaving only the hospital gown and blanket.

Hurriedly, Shredder looks around. He discovers Kazuo's travel bag, above it, sloppily folded, his jacket, and on top of it all a plastic bag marked "Patient Property".

He grabs everything, including Kazuo's hand, and pulls his younger brother out of the room and into the hallway.

"Come with me."

Shredder hurries down the corridor as if he belongs here, his head held high and his gaze stubbornly straight. The doctor's coat helps maintain the illusion. Kazuo unconsciously imitates his behavior, and so they leave the ward undisturbed by the nurses' room. They take the stairs to the roof.

The dawn bathes everything in a pale light and everything seems so unreal that Kazuo feels more than ever that he is standing next to him. The empty helicopter lands in front of them - it's shiny and wet, it must have rained. Funny, he hadn't even noticed that it had rained.

"In a minute," Shredder mumbles, looking at his watch. Then he squeezes Kazuo's hand and gives him a small smile. "Just wait a few seconds."

Kazuo just nods. He doesn't ask any questions, he's just not in the mood for them right now.

But he can't stop staring at his brother. Even as the air in front of them begins to glow and a portal opens, his gaze remains fixed on him.

Shredder wastes no time. As soon as the portal has stabilized, he grabs Kazuo's hand and walks through the gate with him.

***

Kazuo blinks several times, but the image in front of his eyes keeps blurring. The pressure on his temples is now so great that he can no longer concentrate at all.

Not on the unfamiliar surroundings, which remind him of the command bridge of the Death Star, or on the rhinoceros and warthog mutant that are eyeing him curiously, let alone on the angry alien in the belly compartment of a hulking android that is currently scolding his brother.

Not at all. Not even to this rant, even though it's about him.

He hears the words, but they don't reach him.

“Why are you bringing this cop here?”

“He's my little brother, that's why,” Shredder snaps back as he peels himself out of the uncomfortable doctor's coat and throws it to one of his mutants. They both catch it at the same time and then squabble over which of them gets to keep it. Shredder registers it with a raised eyebrow, but then refocuses on Krang in front of him.

“I know he's your brother,” the latter snorts just then, throwing a look so venomous in Kazuo's direction that Shredder's eyes darken with anger at the sight. But he's smart enough to hold back. They're just looks.

“But why are you bringing him?” Krang then demands to know loudly.

“I couldn't leave him there.”

“Why not?”

“We'll discuss that later,” Shredder snorts, whirling around and grabbing his brother's hand. “For now, I'll take him to my quarters.”

“We're not a hostel!” protests Krang - but in vain.

Shredder doesn't even turn to face him as he hurries through the door, dragging his younger brother behind him by the hand.

Kazuo obeys purely automatically. He is in a state where he would follow Shredder into hell without protest if he were to demand it of him.

Of course, Shredder doesn't ask him to follow him into hell. His quarters are quite enough for him.

He is very worried about his younger brother. He looked and still looks worse than the corpse in the hospital. And the kiss may not have been such a good idea after all. It may have convinced him that he was the right Saki, but on closer inspection and given Kazuo's strange behavior, it seems to have driven him deeper into shock.

A good night's sleep will certainly fix that and then they'll see.

For once, they enter his quarters wearing street shoes - his top priority at the moment is his little brother and his plan to get him into bed as quickly as possible.

And so he presses Kazuo firmly onto the mattress of his Futoni and then sets about removing his shoes. And only then does he notice the discrepancy between Kazuo's sneakers and the rest of his brother's clothes.

“Tell me, did you come straight here from work?” With an amused twitch around the corners of his mouth, he sits down next to him, finally undoes the knot of his rather slipped tie and carefully places it on the bedside table, then begins to undo the top buttons of Kazuo's white shirt.

He frowns and seems to think about it for a moment.

“I've just come from a meeting,” he replies, his frown deepening. “But I can't remember what it was about.”

Shredder just smiles quietly to himself and then undoes the belt of Kazuo's dark suit trousers.

“Lie down,” he finally orders him. “You need to get some sleep.”

“Nii-chan.” Kazuo's hand shoots forward and closes around Shredder's wrist. His grip is very firm and unyielding and his eyes are alert and clear. All exhaustion seems to have drained from them as he places his free hand on the back of Shredder's neck and slowly pulls him towards him.

And before Shredder knows it, Kazuo is pressing his lips to his. He kisses him with all the devotion of someone who has almost lost the most precious thing in his life, and Shredder is far too stunned to resist.

But when he feels Kazuo's cheeky tongue trying to gain entry, he breaks away from the kiss and pushes his brother half an arm's length away from him. Kazuo is not himself and Shredder may be a criminal, but he's never taken advantage of his brother and he's not going to start now.

Kazuo eyes him with a look that Shredder has never seen on him before and that God knows he can't interpret.

“Will you stay with me, Nii-chan? Please?”

And Shredder, who has rarely been able to refuse his little brother anything, just nods and then bends down to take off his shoes. As he stands up again, Kazuo suddenly grabs him by his T-shirt and pulls him onto the bed with him.

Shredder feels a strange lump in his throat as Kazuo snuggles up to his side and puts his head on his chest, right next to his heart. Shredder automatically puts both arms around him, and before he knows it, his right hand lands on the back of Kazuo's head and starts stroking his hair.

He dimly remembers feeling a similar sensation in those hours when he was fighting the darkness in the hospital, but then other, older memories flash to the surface and almost take his breath away. Hastily, he tries to suppress them, to stuff them back into the corner where he banished them almost twelve years ago and where they belong!

His mind may refuse, but every fiber of his body remembers, and this memory is stronger than any reason.

And suddenly they are fourteen and sixteen again, finding enough warmth and comfort in each other's closeness to get up the next morning and face that cold, merciless world that lurks beyond this room.

We are no longer teenagers, a small, sharp voice inside Shredder says. We are grown men approaching thirty. We couldn't be more different now. Let it go! See that you get him home and then everyone goes their separate ways again, as it should be!

Shredder grits his teeth defiantly and tightens his embrace around his brother a little. Only a little, but Kazuo reacts in his own, painfully familiar way: he sighs softly and snuggles even closer to him.

“You looked right at me,” he suddenly whispers into Shredder's T-shirt.

He doesn't have to explain, Shredder knows immediately what he's talking about.

“Yes,” he admits quietly. “Even though I was blind, I saw you.” He thinks about it more carefully for a moment and then corrects, surprised himself: “I knew you were there. Where you were sitting. And that's where I saw you. I saw you the way I remembered you. The way we last saw each other. You were wearing that gray suit and had that terribly boring hairstyle.” Smiling, he ruffles his hair. “That's how I saw you. And you were the only thing I saw. And I remember thinking...” his voice trails off, but after clearing his throat once, he can continue quietly, ”I was just thinking how sorry I am that we had a falling out.”

“Me too, Nii-chan,” Kazuo whispers and moves up a little until his forehead comes to rest in the crook of Shredder's neck. His left hand clutches Shredder's T-shirt as tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

Ten seconds later, his deep breaths reveal that he has fallen asleep.

And Shredder doesn't have the heart to leave him, so he stays where he is - only to realize shortly afterwards how much he has missed the feeling of being abused by his little brother as a pillow and fucking teddy bear...

Chapter Text

Krang is sitting in his laboratory evaluating his latest experiment and is grinning up to his non-existent ears when he hears the door hiss open behind him.

Has he trained Shredder well or not?

He's even volunteered to get a telling-off.

But for once he doesn't want to shout today. It's been a bad time for him too, thirty-two hours of just waiting for Shredder to wake up in his body again. None of them here knew what had happened, but they all feared the worst.

It almost drove Rocksteady and Bebop crazy, and almost drove him crazy too. They were so completely cut off from each other - Krang never wants to experience anything like that again.

Krang doesn't like to admit it to himself, but he acted too hastily in this experiment and didn't think through all the eventualities enough. They were lucky - very lucky, he realizes.

And that's why it's not a bad thing if he shows a little mercy today. Just a little bit...

“Ah, Shredder, good of you to come. Before we start - here you go, I think this is yours.” He points meaningfully to one of the lab tables. There is a pair of ankle-high combat boots and a leather wallet. Shredder swallows visibly as he takes a look and hesitantly reaches for it - at least for the wallet. He leaves the boots there for now.

“You left your bag from the hospital at the control center,” Krang explains as he watches Shredder briefly check the contents of the wallet and then let it disappear into his trouser pocket.

“Unfortunately, that's all that was still usable. I'll probably never understand this bad habit of earthly hospitals of always cutting open clothes.”

“Thank you,” Shredder says quietly. He looks a little pale.

Krang suddenly doesn't feel like giving him a good squeeze.

“Helmet, cape and armor weren't included. The Turtles must have,” Krang concludes razor-sharp from the circumstances.

This time Shredder just nods silently.

Krang looks at him for a moment, simply waiting. But apparently his companion doesn't seem interested in telling him anything more than he did in the few minutes before he rushed back to Earth - namely that he was injured in the fight against the Turtles and then taken to hospital by them, where he - or rather his duplicate - eventually died.

Krang sighs inwardly with annoyance. Well then, let's move on to the really important point of the day.

“Have a seat.” Krang points meaningfully to the dental clinic chair next to him. The only thing that distinguishes it from the one in a dentist's office is the red velour upholstery and the alien technology inside.

Shredder hesitates for a moment before sitting down in the chair he hasn't gotten up from in thirty-two hours, and Krang immediately makes a note on his datapad.

One press of a button and the sensor helmet lowers onto Shredder's skull. Now Shredder visibly flinches.

Krang writes something into his mini-computer again.

The helmet takes a few minutes to synchronize with the computer and Krang uses the time to have a serious word with his companion.

“Before we start, I want to know why in the name of three devils you're dragging your brother here?”

Shredder at least has the decency to pull a contrite face.

“That was a spontaneous decision.”

“I realize that. But why?”

Shredder hesitates for a moment and rubs the back of his right hand nervously, as if he can still feel the IV needle stuck in his duplicate's vein. Even before he has said a word, Krang knows that it will be an honest, but also somewhat evasive answer.

Shredder is a man who needs to have certain things wormed out of him, but he actually wants to talk about it. Krang has learned to deal with it.

“I wasn't sure he was there,” Shredder then says quietly. “I mean, this is my little brother we're talking about, a full-blooded cop. I'm no good for his career. Unless he arrests me.”

A bitter smile plays around the corners of his mouth and then he looks Krang straight in the eye and justifies himself:

“After all, I only went back to get rid of the corpse.”

Krang stares at him for a while, typing something on his pad, and then wants to know:

“What gave you the idea he was there?”

A short beep and a flashing green light tell them that the helmet is now starting the scan, but Shredder pays no attention. He is still thinking about his answer.

“I don't know...” he admits haltingly, ”I thought I heard him. And felt him holding my hand. But,” he adds, lost in thought, ”it was mostly just wishful thinking.”

Krang looks at him with narrowed eyes. It sounds as if Shredder is trying to convince himself of something, although he actually knows better.

“What else did you feel there in the hospital?” Krang asks cautiously but curiously.

Shredder is visibly uncomfortable with the question. He gnaws on his lower lip for a moment and his fingers play nervously with the hem of his T-shirt.

And Krang knows that now comes something he didn't actually ask about, but which Shredder wants to get off his chest.

“A terrible headache. And...” he pauses and then takes a deep, shaky breath, ”...it was like that feeling when you've been underwater for too long and you're running out of air. But,” he adds ironically, ”no white light or ancestors waiting for you.”

“But? What was it like?”

“Pain and panic and then ... “ For seconds, Shredder just stares in front of him and then shakes his head as if to shake off unpleasant thoughts. “Nothing. There was nothing. And then I woke up here.”

Krang is silent for a moment and glances at his pad, which shows him the scan of Shredder's brain. The amygdala shows some increased activity, as does the prefrontal cortex, but that was to be expected in such a near-death experience.

“And now?” he inquires, becoming businesslike again. “Is everything working the way you're used to? Is your body obeying you or do you feel strange in it?”

“No, everything's fine. This is my body after all.”

“Are you sure?”

Shredder's breath catches for a second, but then he shoots the alien a bitter look.

“Krang, what are you up to?”

The latter shows the equivalent of a shrug with his tentacles.

“I'm just asking,” he replies innocently. “If you couldn't tell the difference between the duplicate and your real body, how do you know that this one is really yours?”

Shredder opens his mouth to say something salty, but then hesitates.

“Because...” he finally says, furrowing his brow, ”because I woke up in this one and immediately felt like... that sounds totally stupid, but it felt like home. It was like...” he pauses, searching for the right word and then decides on an astonished-sounding: ”... homecoming.”

Krang blinks in surprise and takes notes again.

“You really talk a lot about feelings. You feel this, you feel that...” Krang tries to be neutral, but there's a hint of amusement in his tone. “So can I assume that, from a purely objective point of view, the transfer is working perfectly?”

Shredder thinks about it for a moment and then nods.

“Yes, I would agree with that.”

“So you weren't mentally deranged when you brought your brother here? So, no more than usual?”

“Very funny, Krang,” Shredder just snorts.

“Why did you bring him, Shredder? I'm really interested in that. It would only benefit us if he thought you were dead. One less piece of ballast to hold you back.”

“Kazuo was never ballast for me!” Shredder immediately contradicts him vehemently.

Krang just gives him a really strange look, frees him from the sensor helmet and then hands him another pad.

“Fill out the questionnaire, please,” he orders him. “And then it's off to the reaction test. You know the drill.”

Shredder obediently takes the pad with the questions and gets to work.

“Tell me about your brother,” Krang asks him after a minute.

Shredder gives him a surprised look over the edge of his pad.

“What should I tell you? You witnessed what he's like - back when he allied himself with the Turtles and tried to arrest me.” He delves back into his questionnaire.

“I couldn't leave him there, Krang,” he suddenly explains, adding almost inaudibly, and more to himself:

”Kazuo belongs to me.”

Although it is no more than a whisper, Krang hears it anyway. It sounds like an oath and at the same time contains a clear warning. Krang doesn't let his astonishment show and puts on a grim face.

“I'm not pleased that he's here.”

“You don't say...” comes back snappishly.

“You're taking responsibility for him!”

“He won't bother you. I promise.”

If Krang had eyebrows, he would raise them now. He finds this choice of words remarkable. That's how you talk about a child. But since he doesn't assume that Shredder still sees his brother as a child, it's probably a phrase internalized through years of use. Fascinating.

“He'll rest first and then I'll take him home,” Shredder promises.

Well, they need a portal for that and they barely have enough energy for the life support system, and Shredder knows that very well - so this answer arouses a justified resentment in Krang.

“You're very careless with my energy reserves, pal!”

Shredder's finger over the touchscreen pauses briefly at Krang's sharp tone and trembles slightly, but then the man regains his composure and gives Krang a cool look.

“Krang, please, I'm trying to fill out your questionnaire here. Don't keep distracting me.”

Krang's anger disappears just as quickly as it came - and just as quickly as he remembers that he, Lord Krang, and no one else, still has the last word here in the Techndrome on everything, especially the portals.

He takes a deep breath.

“He's resting? So he's sleeping? Fine. And what about you? Why don't you join him? You must be exhausted too.”

At least that's what his scans tell him.

“Oh,” comes back amiably, “I know how eager you are to examine me. I didn't want to disappoint you. Besides, I haven't finished repairing the power conduit in sector H-37 yet. So, let's get these tests over with so we can each get back to our jobs.”

With these words, he hands the pad back to Krang, slides off the treatment chair and goes to another part of the lab where the reaction test equipment is located.

Krang makes a quick note on his pad and then follows him. He's not stupid enough to stop a workaholic Shredder, after all, there's more than a little to repair at the Technodrome - and besides, everyone has their own coping strategy to deal with something like what Shredder has experienced.

Which doesn't mean he won't be keeping a watchful eye on this stubborn man.

***

Shredder has just taken his work overalls out of the locker and is about to change when Rocksteady and Bebop barge in. He gives a disgruntled snort and quickly pulls the zipper up to his neck. Outside of the quarters, the Technodrome is not a place where privacy is a priority, but he thought he'd at least taught his mutants a little more manners in recent years.

“So Krang wasn't lying! You really want to work?”

Shredder takes a deep breath, puts on an impenetrable expression and then turns to face them. And there they are - not even three steps away from him, arms crossed in front of their chests and scowling.

“Of course,” he replies coolly and reaches for his toolbox. “You're welcome to help me with this.”

The two of them look him up and down penetratingly and then Rocksteady demands to know:

“Do you feel up to it?”

“Thank you,” he replies dismissively, ”I'm fine.”

“Don't you think you should get some more rest?”

“No.”

The two exchange an uncertain glance, but let him pass as he squeezes between them - albeit very reluctantly. But as they can be just as stubborn as Krang, they follow him. He tries to ignore them and hurries along a corridor whose poor lighting at least hides the even worse state of the walls.

“Where's your brother anyway?” Rocksteady wants to know after they've walked about ten meters in silence.

“In my quarters, sleeping.”

“What if he wakes up and starts walking around here?”

“Sniffing around everywhere?” Bebop adds and then adds almost accusingly: ”After all, he's a cop.”

“How long is he supposed to stay?” asks Rocksteady.

“And when is he leaving?” adds Bebop.

And then they both want to know in chorus:

“Why is he even here?”

Shredder's totally losing it. Abruptly, he spins on his heel and shouts at them at full volume:

“What's it to you? None of this is of any interest to you! If you don't know what to do with your time, then get out of my sight, you products of an orc!”

Instinctively, the two flinch back. Shocked and hurt, they stare at him.

Shredder pierces them one last time with a particularly evil look before turning around again and striding off.

This time they don't follow him.

But after a few meters he pauses once more, as if something occurs to him.

He glances back over his shoulder. The two mutants are still standing there, thunderstruck, staring at him.

“My brother is off limits to you, got it? If you touch a single hair, I'll hang you by your feet and peel the flesh from your bones.”

He waits for them to nod and murmur their agreement before continuing on his way.

When he is out of sight and earshot, Bebop swallows hard and then says to his buddy:

“I don't like it when he's like that.”

“You know him, piggy,” Rocksteady puts an arm around his shoulder to comfort him. “He's just stressed.”

Bebop nods unhappily and casts a troubled glance in the direction Shredder has disappeared. He would really like to be with him now, even if it meant helping him with the repairs, but experience has taught them that it is healthier for them not to get in their boss's face unnecessarily when he is in such a state of mind.

And because Krang knows this too, he has given them another task.

“Come on,” Rocksteady's voice close to his left ear startles him out of his thoughts, ”let's go screw down some ceiling tiles. And then we can cook something nice for Bossman, maybe that'll lift his spirits.”

Bebop grins and gives him an enthusiastic kiss on the tip of his nose, because that sounds like a real masterplan!

Chapter Text

Kazuo wakes from a deep, dreamless sleep. Sluggishly, he rolls onto his back and blinks at a bright, unfamiliar ceiling. Then the memories come flooding back.

That's right, he's in the Technodrome.

He gropes beside him, but there is no one there.

“Nii-chan?”

He shoots up abruptly and looks around. The room is large, tidy and very functionally furnished. A few accents here and there hint at the Japanese origins of its occupant, but otherwise there is no one here but him.

The ice-cold claw of panic reaches for him.

Did he just dream his brother's strange resurrection?

“Saki?”

He hastily jumps out of bed and almost falls over his travel bag, which is standing right in front of him. And then he sees the large bath towel and a sheet of paper lying at the foot of the bed. As he curiously unfolds the piece of paper, he quickly realizes that it is a frantically but accurately drawn sketch of how to find the bath, signed with Saki's signature.

Kazuo's relief is joined by a quiet, tender feeling - how well his brother knows him. Not even Hikari would have known that his greatest wish at the moment (apart from seeing his brother) was to take a refreshing shower and make himself presentable again. She would probably have guessed a hearty miso soup.

Although no one can cook it better than his brother....

A little later, Kazuo realizes that the bathroom is very functional. It reminds him a lot of the communal washrooms in the police academy dormitory. You had to save on hot water there too. Only the sign on the wall pointing this out was much more politely worded and not bilingual. The local commander - that alien called Krang, if he remembers correctly - probably wants to make sure that everyone here understands him.

Somewhat refreshed and wearing clean jeans and a T-shirt and full of questions he'd like answered, he sets off fifteen minutes later to find his brother. He has no idea where to start looking, but he's sure he can find his way to the command center.

They are not only cutting back on hot water, but also on electricity, as he soon realizes. At first he thought it was just the path to the bathroom that was so badly lit, but it seems to be a general problem.

After three minutes of simply walking, he admits it to himself:

He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. It wasn't that long a walk between the command center and Saki's quarters!

Kazuo stops, turns around and goes back. Just as he begins to doubt his sense of direction again, he hears voices and reaches a room that looks suspiciously like a kitchen.

But his hope of finding his brother there is not fulfilled. Instead, he encounters two mutants: a rhinoceros and a warthog. Oh. He remembers seeing them when he arrived. And... A year and a half ago, too. And in the files he has compiled on his brother and his criminal activities.

He even remembers their names.

“Hello?” he says in English, raises his hand in a greeting and smiles a little. “You're Rocksteady and Bebop, aren't you? I am,” just in time he remembers that names are changed in the West, ”Kazuo Oroku, pleased to make your acquaintance ... ah ... I'm looking for my brother, have you seen him anywhere?”

The two stare at him suspiciously over their spaghetti with meatballs.

“Please?” he adds politely.

The two give each other a look.

“Sit down,” Rocksteady grumbles and pushes a chair for him with his foot. “And eat something first. I can hear your stomach growling all the way here.”

Only when he says this does Kazuo realize with embarrassment how right he is with this statement.

He sits down, but still refuses a meal. He just wants to see his brother as quickly as possible.

“Bad luck,” says Rocksteady, unimpressed. “You'll have to wait until we've finished eating.”

“Something to drink?” Bebop offers a little more kindly and pushes him a half-full water bottle and a glass. The glass already looks used.

“Thank you,” Kazuo says simply, dispensing with the glass and preferring to drink straight from the bottle. The two of them stare at him, puzzled, but then grin ear to ear.

“Yep,” laughs Rocksteady happily. “You're definitely Bossman's brother.”

Kazuo is just glad that it was so easy to break the ice.

“Why are you here?” Rocksteady suddenly wants to know, who, contrary to his words, seems to be more interested in questioning him than in eating his spaghetti, because he hasn't taken a single bite since Kazuo arrived. Bebop, on the other hand, slurps his noodles with great relish.

“I don't know,” Kazuo admits honestly. “But I'm glad he took me with him.”

“We don't trust cops,” Rocksteady explains categorically, before adding more gently: ”But it's all right, he said to treat you nice. And all this must have been a shock for you.”

Kazuo nods in agreement and shudders involuntarily at the memory.

“It all happened so fast...” he whispers harshly, his gaze growing more and more distant. “One minute he was there and then...”

“He wasn't,” Rocksteady interrupts him sharply. “He was here the whole time. That was just an avatar that looked just like him. But he was always here.”

Kazuo stares at him in confusion, because Saki had explained it to him differently. Then he notices Bebop's dismayed expression and sees how he pats his buddy's hand reassuringly and understands that the rhino mutant has decided to see everything in his own way because the truth is too terrible for him.

And Kazuo can't even blame him.

“Are there any more of those ... avatars?” he asks instead, giving in to the truth-seeking, curious policeman inside him. “Any of yours, too? And why at all?”

“That was one of Krang's field tests,” Bebop answers his questions readily this time. “We don't know why, Krang doesn't always let us in on everything. We don't understand most of it anyway. And no, there aren't any of us. At least not that we know of,” he adds with a wry smile and tugs at his nose ring in embarrassment.

“Krang shouldn't have sent him off with that avatar in the first place,” Rocksteady snorts angrily.

“But Rock-” Bebop begins, but he shuts him up with an angry gesture.

“No, Beeps, it was a mistake! All it did was tempt Shredder to take more risks. Or do you seriously think he would normally have lured the Turtles away from us and gotten into a fight with them? We never part when a fight is imminent, and for good reason!”

Enraged, he bangs his fist on the table, causing plates and glasses to clink.

Kazuo flinches, startled, but says nothing. And he prefers not to ask any questions for the time being.

“What's all this fuss about?” a sharp voice suddenly sounds from the corridor and then Shredder enters the kitchen in combat boots and plain black overalls with the Footclan logo.

When he sees Kazuo, all anger disappears from his face. With a slight smile, he kneels down in front of him, takes his hands and looks at him with concern.

“How are you, Kaz-chan?”

It's strange. Until a moment ago, Kazuo was calm, but as soon as he looks his brother in the eye, his pulse goes crazy.

“Good, thank you,” he finally whispers.

Shredder scrutinizes him once more, then nods and pats Kazuo's knee as he stands up again.

“I was looking for you,” he rebukes him. “You can't just leave the quarters and wander around here. The Technodrome is huge. You could have gotten lost. Are you hungry? Why didn't you idiots give him anything?” he snaps at his mutants in the same breath.

“They did,” Kazuo defends them before they can do it themselves. “But I didn't want to. But now I'll gladly take some. If you eat something too.”

Shredder, already on his way to the stove, pauses at these words and gives him a twinkling look over his shoulder. A mischievous smile twitches around his lips.

Kazuo smiles back, glad that his Niichan obviously remembers their little rituals as well as he does.

Their meals together meant a lot to him, and he realizes that his brother feels the same way when he ungraciously shoos his mutants out of the kitchen.

Unfortunately, they only just manage to sit down.

Suddenly all the lights go out, the red emergency lighting comes on and a long, drawn-out alarm wails through the entire Technodrome.

***

“Shreddddeeeeer! Do something!”

“I will!” Shredder shouts back and pushes Krang's android body into a corner, groaning loudly and with Kazuo's active support. There he helps the mechanical monster to sit down with a friendly kick to the back of the knee.

“Not that!” Krang howls over the noise of the alarm. “You're supposed to fix it!”

“I've been trying to do that for three months! I'm a ninja, not a quantum mechanic!”

“What are you even good for?” grumbles Krang as his tentacles whip through the air in search of extra grip.

Shredder just rolls his eyes, grabs his brother by the arm and drags him over to a row of freestanding pillar consoles.

Kazuo catches a quick glimpse of Rocksteady and Bebop, who have taken cover behind a command chair and are clinging to each other. They don't look like they're doing anything like this for the first time.

The emergency lighting bathes the entire command center in a bloody red light. And the Technodrome is still being shaken like an earthquake.

Kazuo has no idea what's going on here, but when Shredder lowers himself to the floor between two consoles, he follows him willingly.

“What's going on here?” he finally asks the most urgent question of the last few minutes.

“Phase shift,” Shredder explains as he leans back against the hard metal and then pulls him close. “The Technodrome is stuck in an intermediate dimension. Earth's gravity and that of DimensionX are pulling on us and it looks like DimensionX is winning today. I'm sorry,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around Kazuo's waist and hugging him tightly. “Once we're in DimensionX, we'll be stuck there. The portal energy is also almost exhausted, so you won't be coming back for a while. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you with me,” he mumbles, more to himself.

Kazuo shakes his head energetically.

“I'm glad you did. I don't care if I'm stuck in some strange dimension, as long as you're there too. Alive.”

Shredder looks at him, touched. “Little brother...”

“Idiot,” Kazuo explains gently and gives him a peck on the shoulder.

Unfortunately, the brotherly banter comes to a quick end when the ground suddenly rises and falls like a heavy swell on the high seas. Add to that the constant shaking and trembling - Kazuo is really glad he hasn't eaten anything yet.

The howling of the alarm suddenly mingles with the screeching of mishandled metal.

“Here we go. Hold on tight.” With these words, Shredder braces his heels against the neighboring console and wraps both arms tighter around his brother.

Kazuo follows his example and also rests his feet on the console, but unlike the ribbed soles of his brother's boots, the smooth ones of his sneakers barely find a grip.

And so he clings to his brother while he presses him tightly against him and that is so.... Kazuo lowers his eyes in shame. Despite the critical situation they are obviously in, all he can think about is how close they are. Their thighs are touching, their hips and damn it - he's lying with almost his entire upper body on top of him, his lips so close to his neck he could kiss him if he wanted to.

Saki smells like machine oil, ozone and cedar and he's so warm...

Something like a thud goes through the Technodrome and brutally snaps him out of his rapturous thoughts. Startled, he looks around, but that was a mistake, because the world around them bends as if in a distorting mirror, and when it starts to flicker, he instinctively wants to close his eyes, but his brother's voice stops him.

“No, Kazuo, don't close your eyes. It will only make it worse. Just look at me. Look at me.”

Kazuo obediently lifts his head and sinks all too willingly into his brother's velvety brown eyes. In this bloody red light, however, they seem almost black and strange. But Saki's expression is so gentle, so concerned, that Kazuo would have liked to tell him that everything is all right, that he feels safe, but he feels sick and probably something completely different would come out of his mouth than words right now.

So he just clenches his jaw and tries to tell him all this with his gaze.

His ears tell him there is a tearing sound, as if someone is slowly and gleefully tearing a bed sheet to shreds, along with the continued groaning and groaning of metal and that dreadful alarm.

Someone utters a foul curse and he hears coughing, choking sounds and moaning and then, suddenly, all he can hear is his own breathing and that of his brother. It doesn't take long for their breathing rates to match.

Kazuo carefully relaxes his fingers, which had been clutching at Shredder's overalls, and places them flat on his chest until he not only feels Shredder's upper body rise and fall under his breaths, but can also feel his heartbeat.

And the whole time they look into each other's eyes. There's suddenly something in Shredder's gaze, something in his expression, an echo of times long past, and the next moment all Kazuo knows is that he's sitting on Shredder's lap, hands tangled in his hair, kissing and kissing and kissing him like there's no tomorrow, while all hell still rages around them.

Chapter Text

It is pure breathlessness that forces them to end this kiss. Breathless and with a violently pounding heart, Kazuo sits back, his fingers still buried in Shredder's hair.

For seconds they stare obliviously into each other's eyes. Shredder's chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. His hands have slipped from Kazuo's back to his hips and are now holding him there.

They are so absorbed in each other that they don't even notice how quiet it has become around them. The Technodrome has quietened down, the alarm has gone off and the lights have returned to normal. Only Krang's long drawn-out

“Shreddeeeeer!”

brings them both back to the here and now.

And then they both lower their eyes, ashamed and embarrassed at the same time.

“Shreddeeeeeeeeer! Help me at last!”

“Yes, Krang!” Shredder shouts back, annoyed, while Kazuo hastily slides off his lap.

While his brother jumps up and hurries over to the alien, Kazuo lets his back sink heavily against the console and buries his face in his hands.

Heavens - what was that? What did he just let himself be tempted to do?

***

Krang screams and raves and curses and blames Shredder for everything. But most of his ranting is just for show, Kazuo recognizes that immediately. This pink brain just needs an outlet to vent his anger and the easiest way to do that is to blame others.

He loudly demands that they - all of them (whether he means Kazuo is not entirely clear) - go out immediately and check the Technodrome for external damage while he runs the main computer's self-diagnosis.

“First my brother gets something to eat,” Shredder shoots him down, unimpressed.

He ignores Krang's protest, orders Rocksteady and Bebop to “clean up a bit in here first” and then leads Kazuo out of the command center and back into the kitchen.

Here it looks less chaotic than feared. A water bottle has broken, two chairs have tipped over and the spaghetti has not survived.

The mess is quickly cleared up.

Shredder takes a look in the fridge and is delighted that they have been in the habit of storing everything in sealable plastic bowls wherever possible for some time now. Even the eggs have remained intact.

“We still have some sushi,” he offers his brother after a brief inventory.

“You made it yourself?”

“Yes, just this morning.”

The thought alone makes Kazuo's mouth water.

“Your sushi is the best ”

Shredder gives him an irritated look over the fridge door.

“It's just sushi.”

Kazuo just smiles quietly to himself. For his brother, cooking was always something normal - it was simply part of his daily duties, which he had been doing since he was old enough to see over the hob. What else could he do with a mother who couldn't manage anything apart from miso soup and instant noodles? And then often forgot to do so? Someone had to feed Kazuo, who was crying with hunger, and scrounging from the neighbor was not an option.

So he taught himself how to cook. The results were very strange but very tasty combinations and his sushi always sold like hot cakes at school parties.

He should have been a celebrity chef instead of a Wannabe world conqueror.

He is torn from his memories when his brother hands him the bowl of sushi and then takes the plates out of the cupboard himself.

A short time later, they are sitting at the table again, as they were half an hour ago when they were so rudely interrupted.

It's only after the first bite that Kazuo realizes just how enormous his hunger really is. He tries not to gulp, but he doesn't seem to succeed, judging by the amused twitch around the corner of Shredder's mouth.

After he has satisfied his hunger and a few minutes of decorum have passed, Kazuo gathers all his courage to ask two important questions.

“Will you tell me what's going on here? Why was there a duplicate of you? Your two friends couldn't tell me much about it.”

Shredder saw these questions coming, but they still catch him cold and all the nice, well-prepared words suddenly fail to come to him. He hates looking like a stammering idiot in front of his little brother just because he can't remember the technical terms.

“They don't know much either,” he admits, hesitates and then explains, and fuck it, that doesn't sound very scientific now - at least it's the truth:

“Krang really wants a body. A real one, made of flesh and blood. And as with every invention, there's a prototype first. And that was one. The problem is not the bodies, but the connection between Krang's consciousness and these bodies. He is occupying someone else's brain, so to speak, even if it is without consciousness. That's what I tested for him. I have a body and should now answer a few questions in a field test. Questions like: does everything work as it should or are there transmission problems? And above all: does this body feel exactly like my own? Does it feel real?”

“So, did it feel real?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah, it did!” bursts out of Shredder. He has gone pale and his hands are visibly shaking as he loses the battle against unpleasant memories.

“Nii-chan...”

Kazuo jumps up and in a single bound is around the table and at him, wrapping his arms around him. Shredder finds himself unexpectedly pressed nose-first into Kazuo's T-shirt. It's an unfamiliar feeling, but it's good, especially when Kazuo does that thing with his hair. The icy anxiety and trembling inside him gradually disappear the longer Kazuo holds him close and ruffles his hair. As if by magic, Shredder's arms wrap around Kazuo's waist, seeking support.

For a few precious seconds he allows himself to be so weak, then he takes a deep breath, grabs Kazuo by the hips and resolutely pushes him away from him.

“Thank you. I'm fine now.”

Kazuo just stares at him for a moment, then nods silently and goes back to his seat, where he resumes his interrupted meal.

They eat in silence for a while.

“You should talk about it. It'll help,” Kazuo finally says when there's nothing left on his plate.

Shredder gives him an annoyed look.

“Are you a cop or a psychiatrist?”

“At the moment? Your brother.”

This actually throws Shredder for a moment. But he tries not to let the dangerously warm feeling in his chest get the better of him. Kazuo used to be his one and only, but now they are grown up and his Otouto has his own life. Which, by the way, he needs to get back to as soon as possible.

“We'd better make sure we get you back home quickly,” explains Shredder, mentally running through all the possibilities of how and where they could siphon off energy for a portal.

But Kazuo's answer throws him off track once again.

“I'm in no hurry.”

Shredder frowns and gives him a penetrating look.

“You must have a girlfriend who misses you.”

Kazuo remains thoughtfully silent. Hikari ... he ... really doesn't miss her. Not in the slightest. Not the slightest bit. And that doesn't even bother him.

“And what about your work?” urges Shredder. “Are the criminals supposed to catch themselves now?”

When his brother doesn't say anything in response, the crease between Shredder's eyebrows deepens and he leans forward to scrutinize him even more closely.

“Kazuo?”

“Hah?” he snaps back to the here and now and then shakes his head slowly, as if he has to shoo away unpleasant thoughts.

“They're all doing just fine without me,” he explains firmly, to which Shredder just stares at him in amazement.

“What happened to my little, annoyingly dutiful brother?” he wants to know in horror.

He's exactly where he belongs, Kazuo thinks to himself, but outwardly he just smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

“I'm not in a hurry,” he repeats, emphasizing: ”I'm really not. I'm happy to stay a few more days and help you. Whatever. I mean,” he adds dutifully under Shredder's skeptical gaze, ”as long as it's not against the law.”

Although he does wonder what laws might apply here in DimensionX. The laws of Japan certainly don't apply here. But he's only saying that to reassure his brother anyway.

“DimensionX is no picnic, Kazuo,” Shredder warns urgently. Then he sighs heavily and runs his fingers nervously through his hair. “I shouldn't have brought you here. That was a huge mistake. I apologize.”

Although he would like to protest, Kazuo just nods silently. However, he reserves the right to continue this discussion at a later time. Preferably when he himself knows exactly what he really wants.

Chapter Text

“Thank God!” Shredder groans in relief as the door to his quarters opens in front of them. “My quarters didn't smash this time.”

A few things have already fallen over or down, but everything is still intact.

“This time?” Kazuo asks as he helps him to put a floor lamp back up.

“These are my second quarters,” his brother explains to him as he opens a closet and rummages around in it. “The first one didn't survive the transition from Earth to the intermediate dimension. I was actually pretty sure that this one wouldn't make it through the final crash.” He sighs heavily once and gives his brother a wry smile. “You didn't really think I couldn't afford a better bathroom, did you? Oh, I miss my spa. But it's mashed now.”

For a few seconds, he just stares sadly in front of him, then shakes himself briefly and continues searching.

“What, mashed?” Kazuo's breath almost catches. “Thank God you weren't in there.”

“Emergency protocol. When the alarm goes off, we all run to the command center. - Here, put this on.”

With these words, he hands Kazuo a long coat, thermal cargo pants and a hoodie.

“Why?” Kazuo wants to know, puzzled, as he watches his brother throw similar clothes on the bed and then begin to peel himself out of his work overalls. Apart from a T-shirt and boxer shorts, he is wearing nothing underneath. Kazuo notices him staring and hurriedly starts to change as well.

“We can't go out there in those clothes,” Shredder explains as he changes into black cargo pants and pulls a gray sweater with the Foot Clan logo over his head. “It's cold out there. And ... hmm, no idea what else is out there. An extra layer of clothing never hurts. Uh... You don't mind wearing something of mine, do you?” he inquires hesitantly.

Kazuo just shakes his head and pensively strokes the fleece hoodie before throwing on his coat. A nostalgic feeling comes over him. For a moment, he is once again the boy who puts on his older brother's clothes. Whenever he was sad, all he had to do was put on one of his shirts, a sweater or even Saki's old school uniform and he immediately felt better.

So no, what could he have against it?

He suddenly feels Shredder's gaze on him, snapping back from his memories and giving him a small smile.

Shredder just stares at those full lips for a breath, fighting the urge to just want to kiss them, then clears his throat once, determinedly pulling the zipper of his parka up to his chin and then ordering his brother to follow him in a strangely husky voice...

***

The Technodrome is really impressive. So far Kazuo has only seen it from the inside, and he knew it was big, but he never thought it would be this big. He gets a stiff neck just looking up at it.

And the damage is immense. Two repair drones have already set to work, but even a newcomer like Kazuo realizes that two is simply not enough.

And the damage is immense. Two repair drones have already set to work, but even a newcomer like Kazuo realizes that two is simply not enough.

But - as his brother tells him - they only have the two of them.

“The rest of the repair service is us,” Shredder tells him with a sigh as they set about slowly circling the battle fortress to survey the damage.

Rocksteady and Bebop walk a few meters ahead of them, equipped with cameras to document the damage. Most of the outside cameras have also been hit.

“We've been tinkering around for months. But now we're in DimensionX, at least the spare parts shouldn't be a problem anymore. And maybe Krang will bring in a few professionals who know what they're doing. I usually don't even know the names of the things I'm repairing.”

Kazuo just nods and tries not to look too admiringly at his brother. This goes far beyond the usual DIY tasks like clearing a blocked drain. But Saki has always been good at fixing things - if Kazuo only thinks of dripping taps or her bicycles... and how many afternoons must they have spent sitting in the courtyard pimping their mopeds together?

Everything he knows about it was taught to him by his brother.

How could he have suppressed all of this in recent years? He's really embarrassed now.

“It doesn't seem that bad here,” he changes the subject and takes a particularly long look around him this time.

It's touchably cool, just like his brother said, and the landscape is barren and rocky and the predominant color of light here is red and someone has probably been bored to death here before, but he can think of worse places.

On the other hand, he can't imagine they took the ray guns just for decoration either. That thing weighs a lot.

“Well,” Shredder grins unenthusiastically, ”wait till the Gar'taks wake up.”

“Gar'taks?”

“Annoying little beasts. They look like balls of fur, but they have nasty teeth. Don't let them bite you. Luckily they're not very fast. Even those two bozos there,” he nods meaningfully at Bebop and Rocksteady, ”have never managed to get bitten. And that's saying something when I think what's been after them around here.”

The gentle undertone and small smile give the lie to his harsh words - he is proud of his mutants and considers them good friends.

“So always stay close, Kazuo.”

He just nods, hesitates and then lets the rifle slide from his shoulder into his hands. Better safe than sorry.

They continue with the inspection and find a hull breach and, after a brief consultation with Krang via communicator, decide to fix it immediately because it's pretty close to the ground and none of them are in the mood for uninvited visitors. Krang sends them a drone that brings them a cart with materials and tools, and then the four of them get to work, with Shredder and Bebop doing the main work, while Rocksteady and Kazuo just hand them the tools and occasionally hold a metal plate so that the other two can weld it in place.

Shredder and his two mutants work together so routinely that it becomes clear that they do this kind of thing often.

Kazuo almost feels a little superfluous, and because he sees Rocksteady looking around at regular intervals and checking the position of his weapon again and again, he not only imitates him, but soon switches almost completely to keeping an eye on the area.

When the first spherical thing jumps towards them, he is so taken aback by the sight that he lowers his rifle again.

“Gar'tak!” he hears Rocksteady shout next to him, a red finger of light whizzes over the rock, hits the thing and throws it back a meter.

It squeaks and jumps back to where it came from. Unfortunately, his fellow creatures don't seem to understand such warnings, because suddenly there are lots of them rolling and scampering towards them.

Kazuo shakes off his stupor, takes the rifle in both hands, fires and shoots. He has never shot at anything living before, and perhaps it helps that he has seen that these shots do not kill these creatures, but at the latest after he has fried the tenth Gar'tak on the fur, he feels something like fierce anger at these stupid animals. And by the fifteenth, he has slipped into a state of concentrated numbness that is comparable to his regular practice at the shooting range, where there are only lifeless targets and his name has topped the top ten best shooters for years.

Stupid for the Gar'taks, too, that he sees himself as the last line of defense between them and his Nii-chan...

***

“Hey, boss,” Bebop pats Shredder on the shoulder to get his attention and then, when he gives him a questioning look, points over to Rocksteady and Kazuo, who have their backs here. “He can shoot better than you.”

It is clear that he is not referring to Rocksteady, as they are both well aware of his shooting skills.

Shredder pushes his welding goggles into his forehead, turns his head and is filled with pride as he watches his brother fend off the Gor'taks so successfully.

“Yes,” he murmurs as a small smile creeps onto his lips. “He can do that, can't he?”

Then he becomes aware of Bebop's intense gaze and adds quickly and particularly grimly: “He's a cop, of course he's a good shot.”

It's Bebop's great luck that Shredder can't see his eyes behind his purple glasses (Bebop already knows why he's wearing them) and is therefore unaware of the amused glint in them. Bebop even manages not to grin.

“We could do with someone like him,” the mutant says dryly and then goes back to his work.

Shredder watches his brother for a while longer, lost in thought, until he realizes this, then flicks his goggles back on his nose and hastily turns around to continue welding.

Three minutes later, he and Bebop have finished, give each other a relieved grin and pack up their tools again.

Shredder is about to turn around and shout to the other two that they can leave now, when Bebop suddenly shouts a warning next to him, grabs him by the arm and pulls him backwards.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shredder sees a movement, a rather rich, splashing sound is heard and the Gar'tak, who was about to drop down on him from above, flies three meters through the air, hit by a rifle butt swung like a baseball bat.

Shredder, who has not yet fully comprehended what just happened, sees Kazuo walk past him with a grim expression on his face over to the stunned Gar'tak and crush the animal mercilessly under his boot.

Then Kazuo turns to him, rifle casually on his shoulder, with a beaming smile.

“You okay?”

Shredder swallows hard once and then nods. He is so taken aback that he forgets to say thank you.

“Cool move, Kazuo!” Bebop praises him with a thumbs-up.

He just grumbles his thanks, raises his head and looks suspiciously at the tracks towering behind them.

“They're coming over the tracks. Better we go. Or should we fight them off? Before they find a way into the Technodrome? With all those holes, that's more than likely.”

“Nah,” replies Rocksteady, who has joined them in the meantime, ”they won't get in. They won't enter a house, a tent or a vehicle. They don't like enclosed spaces.” As he talks, he quickly shoots a few of the last Gar'taks over the top. “But we really should go now.”

With these words, he bends down, picks up the tool and throws it loudly onto the small cart.

It's as if the noise wakes Shredder from a kind of trance, and he suddenly returns to his usual authority and commanding tone.

“Then don't stand around like that, you products of a snail! Let's go!”

***

A handful of Gar'taks follow them, but only until they reach the other side of the Technodrome. Maybe they got bored.

The four do not mourn them.

Kazuo, who is the last to leave and vigilantly covers their backs, only rushes forward at his brother's call, where Shredder hands him a camera.

While the two brothers record the damage on this side, Bebop and Rocksteady trot a few meters behind them, pushing the little cart.

“Hey, Rock. Shh,” Bebop suddenly says quietly, leaning over to his friend and whispering in his ear: ”Listen: Shredder loves his brother.”

“Huh?” Rocksteady says blankly, rubbing his nose. Gor'taks always gives him an allergic cold. “Of course he does. They're brothers.”

“I mean,” Bebop specifies, his voice still lowered and always keeping an eye on the two men a few meters in front of them: ”He loves him a little more than just ... well, brotherly.”

“Really?” Rocksteady glances curiously over at Shredder and Kazuo, watching them a little more closely.

Now that Bebop mentions it ... the looks Shredder gives his brother, the way he talks to him and his whole body language: so open, so devoted to Kazuo, like nothing in this world matters more than this one person ... it's subtle, but once you spot it, you find more and more clues.

Rocksteady gives Bebop a furtive sideways glance. Maybe you have to know this feeling to recognize it in others.

Rocksteady thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs.

“Well... they're adults.”

On the other hand - they're brothers! That makes the whole thing a bit ... piquant. Rocksteady thinks about his own siblings, thinks about what it would be like ... and shakes inside. He's not even able to finish the thought.

“Hm...” Bebop suddenly says, lost in thought.

Rocksteady gives him a curious look.

“What?”

Bebop's eyes are still glued to Shredder and Kazuo, even though the two of them are not standing particularly close to each other or talking at length, but are simply filming the outer walls of the Technodrome with an almost saintly seriousness.

“Well, I was just thinking...” he then says in an unusually brooding way, ”it seemed kind of strange to me back then how he reacted to Kazuo, you know, when he allied himself with the Turtles to arrest him. He was more... disappointed and hurt than angry.”

“Yeah, I remember. It was the first and only time he's ever been on the edge after a day like that. It really wasn't funny.” Rocksteady shudders at the memory, and Bebop uneasily agrees.

Shredder doesn't tend to get drunk, he's far too attached to his brain cells for that, but that night almost a year and a half ago he had a real crash.

For a few seconds, they simply watch the two brothers in silence.

“But now Kazuo seems very relaxed...”, Bebop finally begins and then proves that he is capable of very profound thoughts: ”He was there when Shredder died, maybe that's why.”

“Shredder didn't die,” Rocksteady contradicts him immediately. “That was the Avatar.”

“Yes, exactly, that's what I mean,” Bebop agrees good-naturedly. “But Kazuo didn't know that. For him, it was his brother who died.”

“Hm...” Rocksteady says, stretching and giving him a long sideways glance.

“What?”

“To think I'd have to watch you die...” Rocksteady wraps his arms around his torso and hugs himself, shuddering.

“You don't have to, Rocky.” Comforting him, Bebop pulls him close and gives him a tender kiss on the nose. “Sorry I even started this. Now stop thinking about that, okay?”

Rocksteady just nods wordlessly. But from now on he looks at Kazuo with much more indulgence and understanding.

Chapter Text

“No, Shredder.” Krang's tone of voice, facial expressions and even his gestures are clear - the gestures even double, because he not only crosses his tentacles, but his android body also crosses his arms in front of his chest.

But that doesn't stop Shredder from trying anyway.

“What if we drain some energy from life support again?” he suggests.

“No, Shredder!”

“But it worked the day before yesterday.”

Krang's face turns murderous.

“And we all know the result.”

His words are followed by awkward silence. Shredder even has the decency to look down in shame. At least for a few seconds.

“And if we...” he begins again, but Krang's sharp voice cuts him off immediately.

“No, Shredder!”

“You don't even know what I was going to say yet!”

“Irrelevant.”

“Oh, Krang, come on!” Shredder throws his arms up in despair. “Kazuo has to go home!”

“You should have thought of that earlier when you brought him along without asking,” the brain snarls back pitilessly.

At this point, Kazuo, who had been politely staying in the background, breaks his silence and raises his hand.

“I'm really in no hurry to go back.”

“There you go, Shredder,” Krang grins triumphantly. “He doesn't want to go home. So don't keep stealing my time. You'd better take a leaf out of Bebop and Rocksteady's book -” he points meaningfully to a monitor showing him footage from the surveillance cameras, where the two mutants are actually showing initiative and cleaning up one of the Technodrome's many rooms.

He prefers to ignore the fact that this is the armory and that the two of them are probably just hoping to steal - he knows these jerks. But that's not the point here.

“You'd better tidy up a bit, my battle fortress looks like a pigsty. Especially the spare parts store.”

“But...” Shredder tries, but Krang gives a warning hiss and wags his tentacles meaningfully.

“Shoo, shoo. Get out of here.”

Shredder glares at him, but knows when he has lost. And so he just spins on his heel and drags his brother out of the command center behind him by the sleeve.

Kazuo bites back a grin. At first he had certain reservations about this Krang, but for an alien he seems to be all right - if you ignore his ambitions of world conquest. If Krang was as cruel as Kazuo had always been told, he would surely be in a cramped dungeon cell by now - or whatever equivalent there might be here at the Technodrome.

“I'm really in no hurry to get back,” he explains as he follows his brother along a corridor that could do with a repair or two. “I'm happy to stay a little longer,” he adds as he pushes a fallen ceiling panel aside with his foot.

Shredder says nothing and just eyes a hole in the wall suspiciously, behind which electrical cables are spraying sparks - the more vigorously they do this, the more the light flickers. Shredder avoids the spot in a wide arc and Kazuo follows suit, then says:

“And at the risk of repeating myself, they're all doing just fine without me.”

“That's all right,” growls Shredder. “I've got the message. And nothing works here without Krang's consent anyway. But don't say later that I didn't warn you.”

Kazuo just nods obediently.

***

The storage room is on the same floor - but that doesn't surprise Kazuo. It's only logical, considering the state of the Technodrome - which, according to his brother, has been so disastrous for months. It's safer to keep the things you need where you can reach them easily.

On the way out, he saw what the stairs look like here - they simply no longer exist. Instead, they make do with makeshift ladders attached to the walls.

Of the elevators, only one freight elevator still works - at least sometimes.

Under these circumstances, he is more than happy that the storage room is where it is.

Kazuo is used to the sight of damage caused by a quake at home, so he is not surprised when they push back the door to the storeroom and find a medium-sized battlefield waiting for them.

But even after the initial inventory, it's clear that it looks worse than it is. No shelves have fallen over, but many shelves have been torn from their moorings and everything that was on them is now lying here at their feet. Fortunately, most of it was well packed

Silently and with the routine of men who often do this sort of thing, they set about tidying up.

This situation awakens long-forgotten memories in Kazuo.

“Do you still remember the earthquake?” he asks abruptly, pausing in mid-motion and looking over at his brother. He is kneeling on the floor with his back to him just two meters away, sorting through cables, circuit boards and transistors.

“Which one? There were a lot of them.”

“Yes, that's right,” mumbles Kazuo, his eyes still on his brother and yet years away in his mind.

He doesn't know why he never realized it, but the terror and fear he experienced as a child or teenager when the earth shook again wasn't half as great as it was when he was an adult. He used to think it was because as an adult he now knew exactly how dangerous this kind of natural disaster could be, but now he realized that it was something else. And that something, or rather someone, is now kneeling two meters away, trying to untangle electronic waste.

Kazuo can't remember an earthquake before he was eighteen where his brother wasn't with him and holding him - either during or shortly after.

“I mean that earthquake when I was in elementary school and you were already in middle school. I still remember hiding under the table like everyone else and the main quake had just passed and then suddenly you were there, crawled under the table and hugged me.” A pensive smile plays around his lips. “Your school was on the other side of the road and you just climbed over the school gate.”

“And I got a reprimand for that,” Shredder adds dryly.

“Or the other time,” Kazuo continues, lost in thought, ”when I was really little. I can hardly remember anything, I just know that we were in a forest or a park when it started. You must have been little yourself, but I felt safe with you.”

Shredder pauses in mid-motion and gives him a long look.

“What are you getting at?”

“I don't know,” Kazuo replies evasively, shrugging his shoulders with an emphatically bored expression. “I just remembered.”

“I'm the older one,” Shredder replies more brusquely than necessary, ”I was responsible for you. So it's only natural that I should be there for you in an emergency like this.”

Kazuo just stares at him for a moment, nods and then turns back to the shelf next to him, where he continues to put the shelves back in place.

“You were four,” Shredder says abruptly without pausing in his activity or even lifting his head. “It was the first time I was alone with you during an earthquake. And it was the city forest. I had just picked you up from kindergarten. We were on our way home and you really wanted another ice cream...” He pauses briefly and then continues after a short pause: “You dropped your ice cream when it started and you cried terribly and I didn't know what to do...”

He lifts his head and throws Kazuo a wry smile over his shoulder.

“I'm amazed you remember it at all. You were so little...”

He gives him a quick wink and then turns his attention back to the mess at his feet.

Kazuo just stares at him. How could he not? It's the first earthquake he consciously remembers and Saki protected him. And he was just a little kid himself.

“Oh, I also remember you buying me a new ice cream afterward.”

“Because you were crying.”

“I didn't cry because of the ice cream.”

“I know.” Shredder hesitates for a moment and then shrugs. “That's normal. You were just scared. You were so little and I didn't know how else to calm you down. So I bought you a new ice cream. Luckily it was only a small quake and the supermarket was still open. Nevertheless, the sales clerk was quite astonished... he... hm,” he sits back on his heels and rubs his smooth chin, lost in thought, ”I seem to remember that we even got the ice cream as a gift.”

“The ice cream thing became a nice tradition.” Smiling, Kazuo walks over to him and sinks down next to him, pretending to help him when all he wants is to be close to him and look him in the face. “We ate ice cream after every earthquake. Even in winter.” He laughs briefly at the memory. “Well, that was always somehow the only thing that stayed intact.”

And later they set about scraping eggs, sushi and leftover soup out of the fridge together. And although it was never fun, Kazuo thinks back to that time now with a warm feeling.

Shredder frowns at him.

“I see... you want some ice cream, don't you? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that was a phase shift, not an earthquake.”

“Continental plate shift or phase shift - the result is the same. Just look around you.” Grinning, Kazuo points to the hullabaloo around them.

Shredder tries a stern look at first, but then smirks and states regretfully:

“We don't have any ice, Kaz-chan.”

“Oh, I'm flexible. Besides, we're adults, we're not just satisfied with ice cream anymore. What about sake? Beer? Or a good Burgundy?”

“You drink? I'm horrified.” And he really seems to be, judging by his tone of voice and facial expressions.

Kazuo is almost sorry to have to destroy the good image of himself that his Niichan apparently has of him. But only almost.

“Nomination,” he replies with a subtle smile. “If I don't regularly let my hair down in a karaoke bar with my colleagues and superiors, I'm down for the count.”

He prefers not to mention that he once got so drunk that he couldn't remember proposing to his girlfriend the next morning.

Shredder rolls his eyes and then gives him a pitying look.

“That's right, there was something...”

“Don't you drink with your friends?” Kazuo asks in surprise.

“Rarely. The last time I woke up with a full-blown hangover was a year and a half ago.” An expression of pain briefly flits across his face as he remembers what exactly was responsible for that crash, but he quickly regains his composure and escapes into a mischievous smile. Fortunately, Kazuo doesn't seem to have drawn the right conclusions yet.

“I'm hanging on to my brain cells, you know? But I guess you cops don't mind if one or two are missing. Even so, the criminals are all dumber than you anyway.”

Kazuo tilts his head, gives him a long, penetrating look and then asks, stretching:

“Was that a compliment?”

Shredder shrugs his shoulders with an air of equanimity.

“Maybe it was. But maybe not.” A strange silence falls between them, and as Shredder fears that his clever brother might be struck by a flash of inspiration after all, he quickly clears his throat and makes a suggestion:

“I don't have any Burgundy here, but I can offer you a good Merlot. How about that? Let's sort this out first and then have a glass of wine? Or two? Or three?” he adds with a grin. “After all, I've never seen my little brother drunk before...”

Kazuo just laughs good-naturedly. His big brother can wait a long time - the day he gets drunk on wine will never come.

Chapter Text

When Rocksteady and Bebop stumble into the kitchen with growling stomachs and dry throats, they are met with a surprising sight:

There's Shredder sitting in his regular spot - the head - at the kitchen table and Kazuo is perched at his right side, each of them has a glass of red wine in front of them, the corresponding bottle is also not far away and there are Mikado sticks between the two of them.

It's not the fact that Shredder has apparently found their Mikado game somewhere or the fact that they find the two brothers here that amazes them, but the wine. Their boss hardly ever drinks, especially not after his crash back then.

Rocksteady and Bebop give each other a long look, but try not to let their astonishment show.

“Hey,” Shredder says to them as he circles a red, green and blue striped wooden stick between his fingers, lost in thought, ”do you want to play?”

“You only want to because you're losing,” grins Kazuo.

“Who's losing here?” mutters Shredder, frowning as he leans forward a little and lifts a stick from the pile with great concentration.

The two mutants exchange another glance and then come to a silent agreement.

“Nah, just play on your own,” Rocksteady then explains as they set about raiding the fridge.

Packed with everything that can be eaten uncooked or cold, they head off again.

They actually love Mikado and would love to have a hot meal, but this time they decide not to. Shredder and Kazuo should spend some time alone together. They don't want to disturb their young happiness.

And so they just grin meaningfully at each other and stroll back to their own quarters.

***

“Wobbled. I saw it.” Twenty minutes and three glasses of wine later, Shredder has the hiccups and tends to swallow syllables. And he amusingly throws Japanese and English together.

“Oh, damn,” Kazuo pulls his hand back in disappointment and reaches for his wine glass instead to take the last sip. His pronunciation and his Japanese are still flawless.

Shredder across from him grins smugly and reaches out for the Mikado sticks. Halfway through, his fingers suddenly begin to tremble. Grumbling, he closes his hand into a fist and then opens it again; he repeats this several times, but when he stretches it out again, it only takes a few seconds for his fingers to tremble again.

He takes a deep breath, concentrates and tries again, and this time it seems to work. But just as he touches the Mikado stick, the trembling starts again, this time so strong that it causes the whole pile to shift.

Shredder lets out an unsubtle curse, clasps the unruly hand with his other and leans back in defeat.

“You win,” he grunts.

Kazuo gives him a sharp look. Unlike his brother, he is still relatively sober - now he is not pouring the wine as if it were water and is still on his second glass - and so he notices things that his brother is now finding difficult to conceal. To the casual observer, it may look as if his Niichan is casually lounging on his chair, but Kazuo can see the exhaustion behind it. What's more, Shredder's gaze often slips into blankness, but in a way that can't just be down to the alcohol. His movements seem sluggish, and now this trembling too...

“Are you all right?”

“Damn,” his brother just curses and flings his won sticks towards the pile between them with an impatient, waving hand gesture. “I've lost. Once again. Bloody hell too.”

When he swears, he sounds reasonably clear, but it's deceptive.

“How old are you? Three?” Kazuo reprimands him and puts the game neatly back in the box.

Shredder just grimaces and reaches for his wine glass. Halfway through, he changes his hand because it starts to shake again.

Kazuo frowns.

“I hope it's nothing serious?” he asks with a meaningful gesture to his brother's hand. “Are you sure this isn't an after-effect of Krang's experiment?”

He doesn't think it's that simple, because if it was, his brother would have had this problem when he was sober. In his experience, these could be the first signs of post-traumatic stress syndrome.

Shredder just stares at him in irritation for a moment, but then the penny drops for him too - albeit very slowly due to the alcohol.

“Krang doesn't make mistakes!” The vehemence with which he defends the alien is very revealing. “Believe me, he scanned me thoroughly before, during and after. And my body was here all the time, it couldn't have gotten anything. Nah,” he finally admits with a wry grin, ”I just haven't slept since the whole thing...”

Kazuo immediately knows what he means by “the thing” and then he does a quick calculation and his eyes widen in horror. He's not naive enough to call the time when Shredder was trapped in his duplicate body, fighting for his life in a coma, restful sleep (or sleep at all).

“Not at all? Not even when I slept with you?”

Shredder shakes his head.

Kazuo stares at him, somewhat stunned. But his bewilderment is accompanied by a deep sense of guilt - how could he sleep so blissfully while his brother...?

“You just lay there and...” he wants to say, but he stops in time. “Why didn't you sleep?” he wants to know instead.

Shredder just shrugs his shoulders and smiles a little unhappily.

“Just couldn't. And then Krang needed me. Repairs, you know...” He shrugs his shoulders again, as if he can shrug it all off.

To escape his little brother's penetrating gaze, he quickly takes another sip of wine. Now his hand is no longer shaking. But damn... Not for the first time in his life, he feels betrayed by his body. That's always annoying, but it should never happen in front of Kazuo of all people!

“And now what?” Kazuo finally wants to know. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“Here?” quips Shredder with a sweeping gesture that includes the whole kitchen - and almost makes him slip off his chair.

That strange smile plays around Kazuo's lips again, which Shredder can't interpret.

“Let's drink up,” he explains, setting a good example, before reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring Shredder a refill without being asked. “It would be a shame about the good wine. You don't let something that good go to waste.”

Shredder gladly takes the wine, but gives him a dirty look.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“That, my dear Nii-chan,” Kazuo replies affectionately and pats his cheek, ”you already are.”

Shredder just hiccups in affirmation, toasts him and drains his glass in a single gulp.

***

Shredder is tipsy, but far from drunk, as he is perfectly capable of walking without help. What is bothering him is the fatigue, which he is feeling more and more now that the alcohol is eroding his self-control. He feels dizzy and it's a long way to his quarters - and even further to the washroom. And he really must go to the washroom now; and he should also brush his teeth slowly, they already feel disgustingly stained.

And it's perfectly all right for him if Kazuo supports him. Kazuo's one hand around Shredder's waist and the other on his chest - it just feels good for Shredder.

His little brother has become a strong, well-trained man.

He is so proud of him!

He still remembers the very first time he held him in his arms - so small and fragile. Such delicate, soft skin and that typical baby scent of pure innocence.

He loved him from the very first moment.

And that's why he has to find a way to bring him home again. The Technodrome is not the right place for Kazuo, and the DimensionX certainly isn't - it will change him. She's already started when he remembers how unapologetically Kazuo killed that Gar'tak. If Kazuo stays here any longer, he'll become like him - and he simply can't let that happen!

“You're coming home,” he mumbles into Kazuo's mop of hair. “Soon. I promise you that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kazuo replies in the kind of tone you usually use when talking to drunk people to avoid upsetting them unnecessarily. “But not now. Let's make sure we get you to bed first, okay?”

“Washroom,” Shredder corrects him with a heavy tongue.

“Washroom,” Kazuo confirms patiently and leads him carefully along the corridor, the lights still flickering at irregular intervals.

Suddenly, a door slides aside just before them and Rocksteady leans against the doorframe.

“Are you all right?” he asks with a highly critical look at Shredder.

His sudden appearance has given Kazuo a small fright, but he quickly recovers.

“Yes, thanks, all right. He,” he pats his brother on the chest sheepishly, ”just had a bit too much to drink.”

“Need some help?” offers Bebop, who has come up behind his buddy.

Kazuo shakes his head and tightens his grip on his brother a little.

“No, thanks, I can manage on my own.” His gaze flits briefly down the corridor, where he knows his brother's quarters are, and then wanders back to the two mutants. The little he can see of the room behind them through the open door suggests that the quarters are just like Shredder's.

“I didn't realize you were staying here too. Did you have to change your room too?”

Shredder next to him shakes his head, but searches for words for too long.

Rocksteady observes this little helplessness with a gentle smile.

“No,” he then replies. “We moved voluntarily.” And then he admits quietly, with a meaningful nod of his head to Shredder: “We wanted to stay close to him.”

“They just want to annoy me all the time,” Shredder mumbles, burying his nose in Kazuo's hair for a moment and inhaling his scent deeply. “I'm always supposed to make stupid videos with them... hicks... play video games with them. But,” he lifts his head and then raises his index finger reproachfully, ”when it comes to work, they're ... hiccup ... never around.”

The two mutants grin indulgently, wish them a good night and disappear back into their quarters.

“There,” Shredder points accusingly at the closed door. “What did I tell you? It's always like this. I don't know why I keep them.”

“Because you like them?” Kazuo suggests as he leads him on.

Shredder just snorts. Even in this drunken state, he would never admit it. They reach the quarters, but when Kazuo takes a step towards them, Shredder simply stops, shaking his head, and releases himself from his grip. He sways for a moment, but quickly regains his balance.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he explains in a tone of voice that brooks no argument and at the same time makes a waving motion with his hand towards the door.

“You can go and lie down. I'll catch up with you.” When it comes to ordering someone around, he suddenly sounds much clearer.

Kazuo thinks about the increased risk of accidents with alcoholics, especially in connection with damp floor tiles, and is immediately back in touch.

“I'm coming with you,” he declares.

He can also sound very firm when he puts his mind to it.

***

Kazuo is used to showering with other men - any sense of shame, if there is any, was taken away from him in the dormitory at the police academy - and there is this unspoken rule of politeness to always keep your eyes above your navel, but something happens to him when he glances at his brother's rear view. The broad shoulders, the way that torso tapers into those narrow hips, all those muscle packs standing out under that golden-brown skin, and then that firm ass... Kazuo suddenly feels the need to touch him. To really touch it. He wants to run his fingers over that smooth, beautiful skin, wants to feel the play of the muscles underneath and the warmth of that body. He wants to compare every scar and birthmark with those in his memory.

While he is still staring, he suddenly becomes aware of his body's reaction. He hastily gathers the towel a little tighter around his hips.

But he still can't take his eyes off it.

Shredder continues to stand under the shower, supporting himself with both hands on the wall and his head lowered, and while the lukewarm water pours over his tired body in a weak splash due to the decreasing pressure, he struggles with similar problems as his brother without realizing it.

Only his strong feelings for his little brother do not manifest themselves in physical symptoms - thanks to the alcohol and his exhaustion. They don't have any free quarters for Kazuo to stay in, so his brother has to sleep with him. But he only has one bed! One of them could sleep on the floor, but that small, sensible thought quickly disappears as Shredder thinks back to how good it felt when Kazuo snuggled up to him.

He didn't know it until now, but - he missed that so much!

He thinks of their kisses, but also of Kazuo's eagerness to arrest him a year and a half ago and then of Kazuo's tears in the hospital and finally of how good it felt to hold him in his arms again.

And then he remembers that Kazuo doesn't belong here.

With a soundless sigh, he puts the water down, straightens up, turns around and stares directly into his brother's face.

But before he has really recovered from the shock, Kazuo throws him a large bath towel, gives him that strange smile again and then walks wordlessly over to the washstand and grabs a toothbrush and toothpaste.

Shredder just stares after him in a daze until he remembers the bath towel and, more importantly, what it's used for.

As he dries himself off, he keeps glancing furtively at his younger brother and can't help but notice how well-trained and muscular he really is. Since he only ever wears those stupid suits, you can't really see it.

“I'm so proud of you.”

Only when his brother turns to him in amazement does he realize that he has just said that out loud.

“You did it,” Shredder declares as he walks over to him. He moves carefully because the alcohol in his system is interfering with his sense of balance and even though the shower has made him a little clearer, his pronunciation could be better.

“You've become someone. An' ... and I don't just mean the fact that you're a police officer. When I left, you were still a greenhorn and now look at you.”

Kazuo sees him sway slightly and meets him halfway. He catches Shredder's wildly gesticulating hands and holds him by them.

His words and the look on his face make him feel embarrassed. He can't remember Hikari ever looking at him with so much love.

“Nii-chan...” he lets go of one of Shredder's hands, but only because he needs his hand to brush the wet hair out of his face.

He wants to tell him so much, but then he can't get a word out. And so he just puts his hand on the back of his neck and pulls him in for a tender kiss.

It is only a very brief one and Kazuo ends it before his brother even realizes what is going on.

With an emphatically cocky smile that is only meant to cover up his own embarrassment, Kazuo grabs his brother by the shoulders and pushes him towards the sink.

“And now,” he explains with demonstrative amusement, ”it's time to brush your teeth, get dressed and off to bed.”

Chapter Text

Kazuo feels very comfortable and content. For lack of his own sleeping clothes, he is now wearing soft sweat pants and a T-shirt from his brother, and he doesn't care at all that the Footclan logo is emblazoned on both. It belongs to his Nii-chan and it even smells like him.

Just like everything else here.

Kazuo has stuffed the pillows behind his back so that he is lying in a semi-upright position and—for once—holding his brother in his arms.

He seems to have dozed off, and Kazuo's eyelids are also slowly becoming heavy. But he is still fighting it. He wants to enjoy this feeling for as long as he can. Saki's hair is so soft, and his body is so wonderfully warm. He is so... alive.

Kazuo likes to listen to his breath. He loves the feeling of his breath ghosting over his neck like a warm breeze. It all proves to him that his brother is here—here, with him.

And above all: he is alive.

Suddenly, however, his breath catches and Shredder flinches so violently that he bumps his head against Kazuo's chin. He gasps and his fingers clench tightly in Kazuo's T-shirt. He goes rigid for a few seconds, clinging to his brother as if he were a shipwrecked man and Kazuo was the lifebuoy.

“Nii-chan?” That was very unexpected. Kazuo absently rubs his maltreated chin, while at the same time trying to stop certain physical reactions that the warm, heavy body of his brother, pressed so closely against him, suddenly triggers in him.

Shredder in his arms takes a few deep breaths and then - to Kazuo's great regret - lets go of him again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he struggles to sit up. “I told you, I can't sleep.”

“It's okay,” Kazuo pulls him close again with determination. “Just lie down. The rest will come naturally.”

Shredder snorts at this, but he rests his head on Kazuo's shoulder again.

His pulse is racing and he is trembling. Kazuo soothingly strokes his hair, neck, shoulders and back - simply every place he can reach in this position.

He knows it makes his brother uncomfortable and hurts his pride, but he carries on anyway.

He bravely ignores his own ever-growing problem, which he fervently hopes his brother won't notice.

“Sleep is death's little brother,” Shredder finally whispers, his tongue still heavy with wine, after they have just lain there for a while.

Kazuo involuntarily tightens his embrace and mentally calls himself a moron - he should have thought of that himself.

“I'm sorry,” Shredder mumbles gloomily into Kazuo's shoulder.

“Don't be,” he mumbles as he wraps both arms tightly around him and slides his hips a few centimeters to the side at the same time. “Keep trying. I'll take care of you. I promise.”

And Kazuo keeps his promise. His brother dozes off twice more and wakes up twice more, but the third time he dozes off into a light, restless sleep. But at least he is asleep.

Of course, Kazuo also dozes off from time to time, but never really deeply, because a part of him always stays awake and listens to his brother's breathing.

And all the while, his desire grows. He wonders involuntarily if his brother felt the same whenever he held him like this.

***

Logically, there is no day or night in the Technodrome, but something like a daily rhythm is simulated, as Kazuo notes with fascination: Indirect lighting emanating from the walls.

At night, they glow a greyish dark blue and then, punctually at half past four in the morning - at least that's what the radio alarm clock on the bedside table indicates - it slowly turns a lighter blue, which eventually changes to a golden tone that is probably intended to simulate a sunrise. That's around six thirty. It's quite a long dawn and sometimes it really stutters - that must be due to the many faulty power lines.

Kazuo still thinks it's beautiful. He likes how the color creeps back into his Nii-chan, how pale skin slowly turns into the familiar golden-brown hue and how his matte black hair becomes a rich dark brown again. It's no different for him, but for his Nii-chan it's simply beautiful.

The clock radio shows six forty-five when Shredder begins to stir in his arms. And then he blinks sleepily at Kazuo.

“Good morning, Saki,” Kazuo greets him cheerfully, but then quickly corrects himself: ”Oh, sorry. I mean Shredder, of course.”

Shredder blinks at him again and then yawns cautiously.

“Call me whatever you want,” he mumbles as he moves a little away from Kazuo.

Kazuo is very reluctant to let go of him.

Suddenly, Shredder straightens up on his elbows and lets his eyes wander over Kazuo and then over the bed.

“Have you been lying like that all night?” and when Kazuo nods proudly, Shredder shakes his head in bewilderment. “That's really exhausting. Did you at least sleep?”

Kazuo frowns. Exhausting? Well, it's true, his arm has fallen asleep more than once and he feels a bit tired, but that's from the alcohol and lack of sleep and it's nothing that a good coffee can't cure.

“That's only fair,” he replies. “Considering all the times you've held me like this.”

Shredder just stares at him for a moment and then shakes his head again before sinking back into the pillows next to Kazuo with a soft groan. He rolls onto his back and rubs his forehead, whereupon Kazuo gives him a sly smile.

“Well?” he teases him. “Do you have a headache?”

“From wine? Definitely not. And you?”

“Come on, please. I'm definitely harder to drink than you.”

Shredder gives him a sharp look. “That's not something to be proud of.”

Smiling, Kazuo slides a little deeper into the pillows, folds his hands in front of his chest and stares at the ceiling. It doesn't take long for his brother to do the same.

Oh, how often did they used to lie together like this after school, in a relaxed silence and in complete harmony with each other? Kazuo always knew: he didn't have to say anything, his brother understood him even without words. Always.

Sometimes, when he left his Nii-chan's room, not a single word was exchanged between them and yet he always felt better afterwards.

But - how did Saki always feel then? Ashamed, Kazuo realizes what a selfish person he was - and still is.

He cautiously turns his head and scrutinizes his brother's profile. He looks tense, as if he is brooding over something again.

Kazuo would like to stroke his face, to massage away with his fingertips all his worries and troubles and all the bad memories that make him sleep so restlessly, but then he remembers himself tracing Shredder's features in the hospital and he suddenly has trouble breathing properly.

And suddenly Shredder's warm, strong hand is there, squeezing Kazuo's, and the budding panic dies before it can really take hold.

Kazuo says nothing, nor does he look at his brother, staring instead at the ceiling as he intertwines his and Shredder's fingers.

After a few minutes, he thinks he can talk again without his voice breaking.

He thinks it's safer not to talk about it, though.

“What's on the agenda today?” he inquires in an unconcerned manner and lets go of his brother's hand.

Shredder rubs his forehead thoughtfully.

“Let's see what Krang comes up with. But it will probably come down to the usual repairs. And then,” he adds quietly, more to himself, ”I'll have to find a way to give the portal enough power.”

“Damn it all, Nii-chan!” Kazuo raises his head in anger. “Get it through your head: I don't want to leave here! I almost lost you! I'm staying with you!”

Without realizing it, he has not only turned to face him, but is now kneeling over him, his fingers buried in his shoulders and pressing him into the pillows.

Puzzled, Shredder stares up at him. He doesn't even think about fighting back. His hands, which move up Kazuo's arms and then wrap around his elbows, are not defensive, but holding and supporting.

He is fascinated by the determination in Kazuo's expression, the sparkle in his eyes and the way a few strands of his otherwise impeccably coiffed hair now fall untamed into his face, so that he forgets to pay attention to his words.

He loves it when his little brother shows so much spirit.

For seconds they just stare into each other's eyes, seconds in which Kazuo leans lower and lower without really noticing. And then there are only centimetres separating their faces and each of them can feel the other's warm breath on their skin.

Shredder is transfixed by the soft gleam in Kazuo's brown eyes, so instead of fighting him off, he takes his hands off Kazuo's arms and wraps them around his cheeks instead, helping him bridge the last few inches between them.

Kazuo, for his part, doesn't stop at just tasting those delicious lips, he goes all in.

His tongue plunders Shredder's oral cavity like there's no tomorrow.

It's so wild, passionate and uncompromising, just the way Shredder likes it, just the way he needs it, that he can't resist it at all. And so he is all too willing to get carried away.

But as he feels all the pressure and warmth, he realizes that Kazuo is now on top of him and this brings his mind back from nirvana.

Not without regret, but determined nonetheless, he breaks away from their kiss and pushes his brother off him by the upper arms. At least a little. Enough so that their lips are no longer stuck together.

“What are you doing, Kazuo?” He actually tries to put some sternness into his voice, but it trembles with suppressed desire at least as much as the rest of him.

“Hm...” Kazuo says thoughtfully, while his hands, which at some point during their kiss had ended up in Shredder's hair and tousled it nicely, now smooth over it.

“Hmm...” he repeats with a mischievous smile. “I think I'm trying to convince you that it wouldn't be so bad if I stayed.”

At first, Shredder doesn't know what to say to that. But he is only too aware of the feelings that Kazuo's body weight triggers in him. He can feel everything: his warmth, how he breathes, his fingers in his hair, he can even feel his breath on his lips and - how aroused he is.

“Kazuo,” Shredder tries to reason with him, ”you'll lose your job if you stay here any longer.”

“I've only been away for three days,” Kazuo replies amusedly, stretching his head down and playfully nuzzling Shredder's lips. “I'm entitled to a three-week vacation too,” he breathes, then challenges him: ”Try again.”

Shredder doesn't want to, but his good intentions immediately vanish into thin air when Kazuo's lips touch his. He can't help but return the playful kiss.

“Ah...” he says anyway, ”you have a girlfriend?”

“Fiancée,” Kazuo corrects him, putting a few centimetres of space between their faces again and frowning slightly. “The one I must have proposed to when I was drunk, otherwise I'm sure I'd remember.”

“Really? Shame on you, little brother.”

Kazuo just gives him a warm, deep look.

“I don't even know if I love her.”

“Kazuo!” Shredder is really indignant at so much callousness. He doesn't know this side of his little brother.

Kazuo just lowers his head again and sips playfully at Shredder's lower lip.

“She doesn't expect me to be back before a week. Try again.”

“Your friends will miss you?” suggests Shredder, already rather perplexed.

He still can't escape Kazuo's caresses and is beginning to have serious problems with his body. There is a certain part of his body that is developing a life of its own.

He already catches himself moving his hands from Kazuo's upper arms to his back and drawing gentle circles there. The urge to move his hips is also getting stronger and stronger.

“That's lame,” Kazuo replies, ”try again.”

“You have a life in Tokyo!” Shredder scrapes together the last of his sanity and willpower. “You can't just put that on hold like that.” Actually, he wanted to say throw it away, but that would be too final, wouldn't it?

He just doesn't know if that's exactly what he wants.

Now that they've finally found each other ...

“It's my life, Saki,” Kazuo growls, ”and I can't stand it when someone tries to control it. And that goes for you too.”

“I'm just trying to save you from making a big mistake,” whispers Shredder. “This is not a good place for you.”

Kazuo looks deep into his eyes and again there is that strange gleam that Shredder finds so difficult to interpret.

“Well,” Kazuo finally says softly and with a slight hint of reproach: ”Then you shouldn't have brought me here, should you?”

Before Shredder can say anything in response, Kazuo engages him in another kiss - and this time a real one. But before Shredder can really lose himself in it, a loud crack sounds from a speaker in the wall, followed by an even louder one:

“Shreddddeeer! Wake up! Come to the control center immediately! The work won't do itself! And bring your brother with you, you don't get free board and lodging here!”

Shredder had never been so relieved to be ordered around by Krang. With a mumbled “I'm on my way” and an apology in Kazuo's direction, he wriggles out from under his brother and hurries to the built-in closet, where he pulls out a few things for Kazuo without giving it much thought, just like the day before, and then throws them on his bed.

“Don't be angry,” he then asks his brother with a wry grimace, ”but it's better not to keep Krang waiting.”

Kazuo sits up and just nods silently as he pulls the clothes towards him.

He is not angry. Not in the least. After the initial surprise and spontaneous disappointment have subsided, he actually appreciates this interruption.

His brother has to be convinced by the salami tactic anyway. The way things have now developed, Saki has time to let everything sink in.

He will convince him. After all, a sly smile flits around Kazuo's lips, which he only dares to do because his brother has just turned his back on him, he has always managed to wrap Nii-chan around his little finger. If he put his mind to it.

And that's exactly the case this time.

Chapter Text

There really is a training room at the Technodrome - lined with tatami mats, a padded makiwara, a wooden punching dummy and a weight bench plus dumbbells in various shapes and weights.

“Nothing special, I know,” Shredder apologizes sheepishly as he leads his brother inside. “This is all I could salvage from my old quarters. And I'm sorry we had to climb up a floor to get it, I'd love to have it all back in my quarters, but the current one is far too small for that.”

“Doesn't bother me,” Kazuo simply replies.

In the last six hours, he and his brother have crawled through narrow maintenance tubes, across all levels of this monstrous sphere and the last ladder here was almost routine.

“And sorry, I know this is unhygienic, but we have to use the water sparingly.” Somewhat embarrassed, Shredder peels himself out of his soiled overalls.

Kazuo just shrugs his shoulders indifferently. Sure, they've got a lot of sweat on them, after all, they've been working hard for the last six hours, and a shower wouldn't hurt either of them, but that can wait until after training.

It's been ages since he's trained with his Niichan, he can't pass up an opportunity like this!

The last few hours have been a lot of fun for him, despite all the effort, and this little training session would be the perfect way to round it all off. After all, who knows how long it will last?

It can all change from one second to the next, can't it?

He peels himself out of his own work overall, which resembles his brother's down to the last fiber - it is, after all, his brother's spare overall - and almost feels something like nostalgia welling up inside him. This item of clothing established a connection to his Niichan in more ways than one, and not just on the outside. It's like all the clothes he's allowed to borrow from him, like the T-shirt he wears underneath or the work boots. Or the gi that his brother now throws to him from the closet. Kazuo simply feels close to him when he wears his clothes.

Unfortunately, his brother has already changed while he is still standing around lost in thought. Kazuo has thus cheated himself of a beautiful sight. Annoyed with himself, he changes his clothes too.

As they stand opposite each other on the tatami mats and assume their basic stance, Kazuo finds it difficult to look his brother in the face. His eyes are repeatedly drawn to the triangle of golden-brown skin that the carelessly belted gi exposes in his brother's chest area.

But when the training match begins, all that fades into the background and everything about Kazuo is focused.

***

Shredder is very proud of his little brother. He has learned a lot in the last few hours and has gone from being a simple tool carrier to a real assistant who was able to carry out one or two small repairs to the power lines himself by the end. This little training session is intended to reward him, as he knows how much Kazuo likes to fight. It's certainly better than destroying another bottle of Merlot.

And he himself also needs a little distraction. And he hasn't had a good sparring partner for ages. Rocksteady and Bebop have been refusing for months, and he can't even blame them.

They start with the usual punch and kick combinations to warm up and gauge each other, but soon they move on to a real fight.

But even after the first few seconds, Shredder feels a certain trepidation, an unease, as if something inside him is resisting all this. His movements lose much of their usual smoothness and the more he concentrates on this fight, the worse it seems to get.

Something is blocking him.

Still, it's not because Kazuo finally sends him to the tatami mats. Something inside Shredder freezes. It feels like a moment of shock stretched out to infinity that you just can't get rid of, and that prevents him from reacting properly.

He tries to suppress this ... feeling and concentrate fully on the here and now. And there are quite a few things, especially that surprising lever and throw combination his brother just used.

“What was that?” Irritated, he blinks up at his brother.

He just grins smugly and offers him his hand. Shredder willingly lets him pull him back to his feet.

“That's what they teach you at police academy.”

“That was the same combination you used to beat me back then,” Shredder realizes with a certain unease. He doesn't have fond memories of that day.

Despite everything that has happened between them in the last few days, he still feels humiliated and hurt when he thinks back to that day. Above all, the hurt runs deep. If he were one of those sentimental idiots from Krang's highly rated TV soap operas, he'd say Kazuo broke his heart that day.

“Shall I teach you?” Kazuo offers, excited at the chance to teach his Niichan something for once.

His question hurts Shredder's pride deeply, but he doesn't let on and just nods in agreement.

It's going to be a disaster. He tries to concentrate, but he still feels like he has to fight something inside himself. Not only is it blocking him, it's also paralyzing a part of him - the part that is usually full of determination.

On the outside, he is able to hide it all, but his body and mind are no longer in harmony, and this does not go unnoticed.

And so Kazuo skillfully outmaneuvers him and uses his own momentum against him, and then all he can see is the wall coming towards him.

Shredder instinctively stretches out his hands to support himself against it. His face and the wall are separated by perhaps another fifteen centimetres. He stares wide-eyed at the steel in front of him. Something inside him remembers before he consciously remembers it.

This disturbing, blocking something inside him swells and suddenly fills his entire being -

His breath catches, his pulse races and an ever-increasing trembling awakens inside him.

“Wait, Niichan, I'll help you up.”

Kazuo obligingly bends down to him, his hand outstretched helpfully again.

Abruptly, Shredder snaps back to the here and now.

“Get out!” he hisses at him indignantly, brusquely slapping aside the hand offered to him. “Leave me alone, I don't need your help!”

Grumpy, Kazuo takes a step back and blinks at him in confusion.

“What...?”

“Just go away!” And yet it is Shredder who jumps up and rushes to the door.

But before he reaches it, Kazuo has shaken off his surprise and caught up with him.

“Hey, Niichan, what's going on? What's going on?”

“You're getting on my nerves!” Shredder snaps. “Who wants to learn your stupid police suit? You just want to show off!”

He takes a deep breath and then another and then starts to hyperventilate and tries to hide his trembling hands, but by now it's not just his hands that are shaking.

From one moment to the next, all strength leaves him and then he finds himself on his knees - in Kazuo's arms, his face against the crook of his neck and he feels his brother's fingers gently stroking the back of his head.

“Take a deep breath,” he hears him murmur softly, ”Everything is fine. Just breathe. I'm here.”

Shredder tries. But it takes a while and a lot of patient coaxing before his breathing is anywhere near normal again.

“I... I'm sorry,” Shredder backs away, head bowed in shame, trying to hide his still shaking hands in the sleeves of his gi.

He feels exhausted, downright drained, and he is so embarrassed by his behavior that he would like to sink into the ground in shame.

“You don't have to apologize. It's okay.” Kazuo rubs Shredder's upper arms reassuringly. “We shouldn't have fought. I should have thought of that. I'm sorry.”

And when his brother only gives him an uncomprehending look in response, he uses this moment to pull him back into his arms.

“The Turtles told me you were fighting when...” he doesn't manage to finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. After a moment of awkward silence, Kazuo clears his throat audibly and then pushes his brother away from him until he can look deep into his eyes. “You'll be fine. You just have to be patient with yourself. We can start with something simpler: With warm-up exercises together or simple strength training and then slowly increase.”

A bitter smile twitches around Shredder's lips.

“You talk like you're going to be here for months.”

Kazuo just smiles his strange smile again and leans a little closer to him.

“I once heard it's best to overwrite unpleasant memories with pleasant ones.” With that, he grabs his stunned brother by the collar, pulls him the last few inches towards him and engages him in a quiet, gentle kiss.

***

This kiss is different, it's sweet, almost innocent like the ones from their childhood. And... it works, as Kazuo realizes when he gently strokes Shredder's carotid artery with his thumb. His pulse becomes noticeably calmer.

And when Kazuo then feels his Niichan literally melt away under this kiss, something like a quiet feeling of triumph flares up inside him. No one does it better than him. Because no one loves Saki more than he does.

Kazuo deliberately doesn't use his tongue; this is meant to remain calm, tender and convey true, deeply dormant feelings and awaken memories.

Kazuo ends the kiss just as gently as he began it.

They kneel in silence for seconds, then Shredder exhales with a deep sigh and opens his eyes.

“You're not playing fair, Kazuo.”

He feels anything but guilty about it and smiles smugly.

“I'm trying my best...”

But Shredder remains serious.

“We're not kids anymore. A kiss like that means something completely ... different.”

“Really?” Smiling, Kazuo leans forward again, touches his brother's forehead and looks deep into his eyes. “Doesn't he always mean love?”

Shredder swallows hard.

“We're adults now, Kazuo, and we should behave accordingly.”

“Said the man who's always in battle armor and cape trying to take over the world.”

Shredder just stares at him in silence. For a few seconds, Kazuo defiantly holds his gaze, then voluntarily lowers his head.

Salami tactics, he reminds himself. It's time for a change of subject.

“I think your hands are feeling better now,” he exclaims happily as he grabs said hands and squeezes them meaningfully. “I should patent that recipe.”

Shredder abruptly removes his hands.

“Baka,” Shredder says tenderly and ruffles his hair with his right hand as he stands up again.

“Come on,” he says as he walks over to the closet, ”let's call it a night. Let's get changed, treat ourselves to a shower and see what the kitchen has to offer.”

***

Showering with Kazuo is a risk, Shredder is aware of that, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself by insisting on separate shower times. He hopes for the best, after all, his message was clear and they really aren't kids anymore. They can control themselves.

It goes well, too.

If Shredder ignores the strange feeling of being stared at by Kazuo whenever he turns his back on him.

And the fact that Kazuo chooses the shower right next to him makes him slightly nervous, but he can't forbid him to do that either without exposing himself to ridicule.

They stand in silence for quite a while, each under his own weak stream of water, and Shredder is just beginning to relax a little when they both reach for the soap at the same time and their fingers touch.

It only takes a second because Kazuo immediately withdraws his hand, mumbling a silent apology, and looks down at the floor, embarrassed.

It only takes a second, because Kazuo immediately withdraws his hand, mumbling a silent apology, and looks down at the ground in embarrassment.

Seeing this makes Shredder's heart tighten - how he would have loved to give him a comforting hug right now.

He didn't want to hurt him. Never.

So he leaves the soap to his brother and squeezes the last, pitiful remnants out of the tube of shower gel instead.

He tries to concentrate fully on washing the dirt and sweat of the last few hours off his body, but Kazuo's silence weighs on his mood - especially when it's his fault!

“I just don't want you to make yourself unhappy!” he finally blurts out. And yet he doesn't dare to look his brother straight in the face. The old wall tiles are much more interesting and he still has to wash the rest of the shampoo out of his hair.

Kazuo doesn't answer, at least not immediately. Instead, he steps behind him unnoticed and gently places his left hand on the small of his back.

Shredder flinches and then freezes.

Kazuo leans forward a little, but is careful not to touch his brother extensively and whispers in his ear:

“Can't I decide for myself, Saki?”

Shredder can feel himself blushing. He just doesn't know whether it's because of Kazuo's question and his guilty conscience or because of the forced closeness.

“Yes,” he finally manages to get out in a hoarse voice, ”of course you can.”

Kazuo's hand, which had just been in the small of his back, moves up his back. Warm, wet fingertips dance tenderly over his spine, up into his neck, where they remain heavy and very present.

Shredder involuntarily holds his breath. He desperately tries to collect himself and remain calm, at least on the outside.

“You wanted me to be here,” Kazuo breathes into his ear. “Here, with you. Or why else did you take me with you?”

It is somehow fitting that the water dries up at this exact moment and it becomes completely silent - almost as if the whole world is waiting for Shredder's answer.

“Possibly,” he admits after some time. He still refuses to turn around and prefers to stare intently at the wall in front of him. “But that doesn't mean it was a good idea.”

“Yes it does,” Kazuo replies gently but firmly, ”it was a good idea.”

His hand on the back of Shredder's neck strokes briefly through his wet hair and then disappears. Shredder misses it immediately and has to bite his lower lip to hold back a longing sigh.

And then Kazuo is suddenly gone, leaving behind a chill that makes Shredder shiver involuntarily. He hears the sound of his footsteps on the damp tiles, followed by the rustling of fabric and then, just a moment later, the characteristic hiss of a door first opening and then closing again.

And even then he doesn't turn around.

It takes a very, very long time for him to wake up from his stupor.

Chapter Text

The Technodrome is huge and sooner or later he will get lost here again, but he knows the way from the washrooms to the quarters and from the quarters he finds his way to the control center and - above all - to his current destination: the kitchen.

And there he meets Rocksteady and Bebop, who look very embarrassed when he enters.

“Oh. Ahem,” Bebop clears his throat, balancing a covered plastic bowl and two plates in his hands. “We'll be gone in a minute. Just wanted to grab a quick bite to eat.”

Kazuo, who had no intention of chasing them away, makes a dismissive gesture and shakes his head.

“Why don't you stay?”

“No, that's all right. We don't want to disturb you.”

But suddenly they both hesitate.

“Isn't Shredder coming?” Rocksteady leans a little to the side to peer past Kazuo into the corridor. “I thought he was coming right after you.”

“He'll be here later. I hope,” Kazuo adds quietly as he goes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of water.

Rocksteady and Bebop exchange a worried look.

“You weren't arguing, were you?” Bebop then inquires cautiously.

Kazuo shakes his head.

“Not exactly. I'm just still trying to convince him that I'd like to stay here longer. He's so stubborn.”

“Tell me about it...” they both agree, rolling their eyes.

In silent agreement, the three of them exchange a conspiratorial grin.

“Tell me,” Kazuo finally says, tapping the opening of the bottle against his lips thoughtfully, ”does Saki still like curry rice so much? I'd like to give him a little treat.”

“Oh,” Rocksteady smiles smugly. “The way to the heart is through the stomach, huh?”

Kazuo pauses for a moment.

“Of course I love him,” he then explains lightly, ”he's my big brother.”

The two mutants exchange an uncertain glance.

“Is that so?” Rocksteady finally wants to know lurkingly, but is interrupted by Bebop before he can say any more:

“Maybe we were wrong, Rocky.”

“Maybe with him,” Rocksteady says with a fierce gesture towards Kazuo - and the glasses almost slip out of his hand. “But not with our boss.”

And then, before Kazuo can even think of asking a question, the rhino whirls around to face him and glares at him menacingly.

“If we find out that you're playing a bad game with him, I swear to you - brother or not - we'll kill you!”

Kazuo blinks irritably and raises his hands defensively.

“Slow down, okay? What did I do or say to freak you out like that?”

“You know that for a fact!” Rocksteady growls back, taking a threatening step towards him.

“Rocky, don't!” Bebop hastily steps between them and holds him back.

He eyes Rocksteady sternly and, when he is sure that he will keep his head down for now, he turns to Kazuo.

He hesitates briefly, then gives himself a jolt, takes a deep breath and finally wants to know:

“Please tell us honestly: do you love Shredder?”

And when Kazuo doesn't answer immediately, Bebop feels obliged to explain - a little embarrassed because he doesn't like to cross such private boundaries, but nonetheless very convinced because he is only acting in the best interests of his boss:

“Because we know he loves you. And much more than is good for him. More than he should. And if you don't feel the same way, then you should tell him. Or at least keep a healthy distance from him.”

Kazuo feels caught out and at the same time relieved that the whole thing was just a misunderstanding.

“Sorry, your question came out of nowhere, I just gave a standard answer. I didn't know you would understand.” He takes a deep breath and then looks them openly and honestly in the eye. “Yes, I love my brother. I always have. But I've only known how much since I got that call from the hospital. I always dismissed everything that happened during our puberty as hormone-driven crushes. A bit extreme, but nothing really serious. At least,” he adds thoughtfully, looking inwards at his past, ”that's what I always told myself.”

He stares ahead of him for a moment, lost in thought, then smiles and asks her curiously:

“Did I get that right? You think he's like me?”

Bebop and Rocksteady, who have visibly relaxed at his honest words, grin a little wryly.

“Yes,” Rocksteady is visibly embarrassed by his previous reaction, so his answer is a little brusque. He would like to leave it at that, but Kazuo's expression clearly demands an explanation. Rocksteady hesitates at first, but then realizes that there is also a logical explanation, which sounds less sentimental than: because we know how to interpret his looks.

And so he turns the corners of his mouth into a grim grin and explains:

“Because otherwise he would barely look at you since that thing you did to him a year and a half ago.”

“A year and a half ago?” Kazuo repeats in irritation and frowns thoughtfully. But then he remembers and the crease between his eyebrows deepens. Ashamed, he lowers his eyes.

“Oh. Yes, I understand.”

While Rocksteady just glares at him pitilessly, Bebop wants to know from him almost empathetically:

“Why did you do that? Back then?” He doesn't mention how bad it made Shredder feel, because Kazuo already looks very guilt-ridden.

And Kazuo's sighed reply only proves to him how right he was:

“I wish today that I hadn't done it. It ruined everything between us.” Sighing heavily again, Kazuo runs his splayed fingers through his hair. “And the stupid thing is: today I don't even remember why I was so intent on arresting him. That... was so petty. And selfish. You know, there's no evidence against him, at least none that would stand up in court. But I didn't care.”

When he thinks back on this story today, he no longer understands himself. Oh God. Had he really pointed his gun at Saki back then? Had he been ready to pull the trigger? How deluded was he?

“Well,” Bebop's gentle voice snaps him out of his self-reproach, ”he seems to have forgiven you.”

Kazuo just stares at him for a moment until it dawns on him. But then he nods.

“Yes.” Determined, he slams the water bottle down on the sideboard and pulls open the larder with a flourish. “And I'm going to make him the best curry rice he's ever eaten.”

***

When his brother arrives, Rocksteady and Bebop have already left and Kazuo has already thrown all the ingredients into the pot and is just about to pour the rice into the second pot of boiling water.

Almost half an hour has passed - Shredder hasn't been in a great hurry.

But Kazuo can't blame him; after all, he has given him a lot to think about.

“Sit down,” he greets him, meaningfully adjusts a chair for him and then returns to the stove. Shredder gives him an irritated look, but he obeys without objection.

“You're making curry rice?”

“You'll love it,” Kazuo explains enthusiastically over his shoulder. “I've refined the recipe since then.”

Shredder gives it a good sniff and then praises it:

“It already smells good.”

Kazuo smiles flattered, stirs first with one wooden spoon in the pan and then with the other in the rice pot and then turns the heat down a little on both. Then he takes a bottle of water and two glasses and sits down at the table with his brother.

Shredder watches him with a strangely thoughtful expression on his face, while Kazuo fills two glasses with water and finally pushes one of them towards him.

With a grateful nod, Shredder takes the glass and turns it thoughtfully in his hand. He feels Kazuo's attentive gaze resting on him and gives himself a jolt. He lifts his gaze and looks his brother firmly in the eye.

“I'm glad you're here. Really, Kazuo, I mean it.”

Kazuo eyes him for a moment and then nods once.

“Good, I'm glad you saved yourself the but.”

Shredder ventures a thin smile.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he asks him quietly, almost shyly. “I don't really know anything more about you. Tell me about your job. Your colleagues. Your fiancée... What's her name? Where did you two meet?”

Kazuo bites back an amused grin. He should have expected that. Now his brother is trying to remind him of all the things that define his life in his eyes so that he can ... what? Suddenly get homesick after all and beg him to open a portal to Earth for him?

“Oh, Niichan, there's not much to tell. In the end, my job is just a job that I can barely make a living from, my colleagues are just that: just colleagues and my fiancée...” he pauses briefly for a dramatic pause and then explains succinctly: ”... I don't love.”

Shredder just stares at him in surprise for a few seconds.

“You...” he finally asks cautiously, ”...really mean it?” And when Kazuo just nods silently in response, he wants to know exactly once more:

“You really don't love her?”

Kazuo shakes his head.

“And why,” Shredder asks, confused and a little reproachful, ”are you still with her then? When you're always so honest and straightforward? How can you deceive the poor girl like that?”

He sounds really disappointed.

“You're right,” Kazuo concedes. “When I get back, I'll break up with her.”

“Very sensible,” Shredder grumbles and sips his water.

Kazuo also takes a sip and for a short while they simply eye each other appraisingly over the rim of their glasses. It almost seems as if they are waiting for the other to say something. But they are both silent - until Kazuo loudly puts his glass down on the tabletop and gets up to walk over to the stove.

“Why don't you ask me when I stopped loving her?” he asks abruptly as he stirs the pan. “Or if I ever really loved her? Or just what happened?”

Shredder stares at his rear view, silently wondering if he even wants to know. And yet, to his great astonishment, he hears himself willingly ask:

“So, what happened now that you don't love her anymore?”

Kazuo carefully puts the wooden spoon aside and then slowly turns to face him. With an almost worryingly serious expression, he returns to the table, where he stops just in front of Shredder, leans down to him, puts his right hand to his cheek and presses a small kiss to the surprised man's forehead.

“You happened.”

He gives him a brief, tender smile and then wants to hurry back to the stove. But Shredder's fingers, closing around his right wrist, hold him back.

When Kazuo obediently turns to him, Shredder has already stood up. His fingers under Kazuo's chin cause a small tingling sensation on his skin where they touch him, and then it becomes a shower of sparks as Shredder's lips touch Kazuo's. It's the faintest touch, not much more than a breath, but it goes through both of them.

“You know we shouldn't be doing this,” Shredder murmurs against Kazuo's lips, but immediately belies his own words as he lures him into another kiss.

“Says who?” Kazuo whispers back between two more kisses. His left hand is on Shredder's cheek, the other stroking tenderly through his dark, still slightly damp hair.

He himself feels his brother's strong left hand on his upper right arm and the other one a little more tentative, but so much more present at his waist and although they still keep a chaste distance from each other and these kisses are without tongue, he feels a pleasantly warm excitement rising within him.

“The moral,” Shredder replies quietly, promptly earning a soft laugh.

Amused, Kazuo pulls his head back a little and looks at his brother's absolutely serious expression in disbelief.

“You're giving me morals?”

Shredder blinks in disbelief.

“I can't believe you have no scruples.”

Kazuo lets out a deep sigh. As much as he regrets it, the larger, saner part of him is glad for this little change of mood, it gives him time to cool his agitation back down to an acceptable level.

“Why should I have any scruples, Saki? Who are we hurting with this?”

He looks challengingly into his brother's eyes and he can literally see the cogs behind Shredder's handsome, smooth forehead begin to rattle as he starts to think hard about this question.

“And don't mention my girlfriend,” Kazuo warns him hastily. “That topic is closed. Firstly, she's not here and secondly, I'm going to break up with her as soon as I'm back on earth. Which, if it were up to me, may take another hundred years.”

It seems as if Shredder is about to say something in response, but at that moment the pan on the stove behind them begins to hiss loudly.

“Oh damn, my beautiful curry!” Cursing, Kazuo whirls around and is at the stove in two big strides to save what can still be saved.

Luckily, only the minimum heat level was set, so the mishap isn't too big.

Shredder watches his brother for a while as he twirls around the stove and can't help but smile fondly.

Yes, that's right ... who are they hurting?

Chapter Text

"There you are at last," Krang greets the two men ungraciously as they enter his command center.

"Thanks for at least letting us eat, Krang," Shredder replies, partly ironically, partly seriously.

"I know how grumpy you are with a growling stomach, my friend," Krang grins.

Kazuo has been paying attention to this verbal exchange, short as it was, and now he has a terrible suspicion.

"Wait ... you're serious, aren't you? Is there a camera in the kitchen and have you been watching us?" He glares at Krang, and when the brain makes an emphatically harmless face, he spins around to Shredder in anger.

"Nii-chan?"

"Sorry," he apologizes ruefully. "He's got his cameras everywhere, I don't even think about it anymore."

"It's not like I have nothing better to do than watch you shower or anything," Krang interjects with a snort.

Since it wasn't that long ago that they actually stood in the shower and exchanged caresses - harmless ones, but caresses nonetheless - Kazuo doesn't find this remark funny at all. His eyes are murderous, but before he can give Krang a salty reply, Shredder grabs his forearm and holds him back.

"Krang, stop teasing him." He shakes his head and turns to his brother. "Kazuo, most of the cameras don't work anymore anyway. Only the ones that are important for the alarm system still work. The ones in the corridors, in the labs, in the engine room, here in the control center and also the ones in the kitchen because of the fire risk. Have I forgotten any, Krang?"

Grumbling, he crosses his tentacles in front of him.

"Well, if you have, I certainly won't tell you. Spoilsport."

Shredder holds back an annoyed roll of the eyes and instead smiles his best fake smile.

"Okay, Lord Krang, why did you call us?"

"We have visitors in two hours. I would like you to join me in greeting the lady."

"Lady? Oh, please tell me you're not talking about the chameleon?"

Krang clucks his tongue reprovingly.

"Reducing others to their physical attributes is not gentle, Shredder. The lady has a name."

"Yes, one that no one can pronounce."

"Which is why you will politely address her as Your Grace. And, Shredder, please try not to be rude this time and look her straight in the eye."

"That is difficult. She has three of them. And each one looks in a different direction!"

Krang blinks and tries to remain serious, because Shredder is right.

"Then at least try to smile when she smiles at you," he suggests.

"Oh, is that supposed to be a smile? I always thought she was going to eat me."

"She's very proud of her teeth, show some respect."

"I'll try my best..." Shredder promises, rolling his eyes and giving his brother a wry smile.

Kazuo smiles back encouragingly, trying not to show how amusing he just found this little argument.

Krang draws attention to himself by clearing his throat loudly. When he is sure that he has Kazuo's attention, he explains:

"For your information, Her Grace is one of my most reliable business partners here. She can get anything if the price is right. She will provide us with materials and labor to restore this rolling ruin to its former glory. You should be happy about this - while the professionals are working here, you and the stupid mutants are off the air. All I need is for you not to get in the way of their work."

"Did Your Grace tell you what she wants for your help this time?" Shredder asks pointedly.

"Well, that's why you're supposed to greet her with me."

"And what exactly does that mean?" Now really suspicious, Shredder crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at the alien. "Hopefully not something as perverse as last time."

"Don't be such a mimosa. Her Grace owns shares in a reproduction factory. She's always looking for fresh genetic material. There are even banks for it on Earth."

"Yes, but the donors also know what happens to the stuff. Do I know what Her Grace and her strange factory are doing with it?"

"It won't be much, considering the inferior material you're made of," Krang hisses, scowling at him from head to toe. "But don't worry, this time I'll persuade her with something less... personal. I just have to convince her that you're off the market."

"Off the market? Good grief, what does she want?"

"Well," Krang presses a little at first, but everyone can see that his embarrassment is just an act. "She thinks you're cute. For whatever reason. She wants you."

"What?"

"For her daughter. She's still looking for a husband. Although a playmate would be more like it, due to genetic incompatibility. Unless they've developed a new procedure in the meantime ... hm," Krang taps a tentacle against what would be someone else's chin thoughtfully, "maybe they need your donation for that?"

Shredder turns pale and receives only a sardonic laugh from Krang in return.

"Don't faint now. I told you, I'll talk her out of it. Provided you play your part perfectly."

Since Shredder has obviously lost his tongue, Kazuo now asks the all-important question:

"And what would that look like?"

"Well, if she sees that Shredder is already taken, he's off limits and she'll demand a different price. So it's up to you." Krang looks at them sharply. "Do you think you can play a couple in love for two or three hours? Of course, you don't have to make love in front of her three eyes, but you should be able to manage a few amorous glances, touches and kisses, right? I know, I know, you're two guys and you're also brothers, but it's almost part of their culture."

The two exchange a long look. Kazuo nods once briefly and then Shredder says hesitantly:

"Yeah, sure, we'll manage somehow."

Krang's piercing gaze moves back and forth between the two and the wrinkles on his cerebral cortex deepen.

"I'm not so sure," he says, crossing his tentacles in front of him again.

"Come on!" he challenges them. "Show me!"

"What?" Shredder replies in confusion, and Krang just rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"I demand a demonstration. Convince me. Come on, I want it to look believable!" And when they still hesitate, he groans in agony. "Are you really that stupid? I want to see a kiss! But one that people will buy, please. If you convince me, you'll convince Your Grace. Come on, what are you waiting for?"

"You really want us to kiss?" Shredder's right hand makes a waving gesture between him and his brother, and Krang nods in agreement. His own tentacle gesture is a clear, rather impatient sign to get started and not waste any more of his precious time.

Shredder gives Kazuo a helpless look, but Kazuo just shrugs his shoulders. If Krang really wants to see a kiss, that's fine with him. After all, he really likes to kiss his big brother. Although, it occurs to him, Krang should rather believe the opposite. He doesn't know anything about them and maybe it's better to leave it at that for now.

Shredder takes another deep breath, gives Krang an ungracious look, and then Kazuo feels Shredder grab his wrist and pull him close.

"You love each other," Krang asks with pleasure, "you have a burning passion for each other. Your kisses reflect that. Come on, now!"

"This isn't one of your stupid TV soap operas," Shredder protests angrily.

"It better be one," the alien hisses back in warning. "Or we'll soon be celebrating your marriage to the lovely Miss Reptiloid."

Shredder swallows hard and a look of panic crosses his face.

"Come on," Kazuo smiles encouragingly, "let's show him what he wants to see."

He briefly wonders if that sounded a little too eager, but then just shrugs his shoulders. His brother is obviously so uncomfortable with the whole thing that Kazuo could almost take it as an insult if he didn't know better.

When he leans forward a little, Shredder meets him halfway and when their lips touch, everything else fades into the background.

As if by itself, Kazuo's hand lands on the back of Shredder's head, playing with his hair, sliding down to his neck and stroking the warm, sensitive skin there, while his other hand works its way down Shredder's right forearm, over his wrist and palm, where their fingers intertwine tenderly.

Shredder's left hand rests securely and warmly on Kazuo's hip, pulling him closer with gentle pressure, while at the same time trying to gain control of this kiss for once. After all, he has his pride. And as much as he would like to - he can't ignore Krang's piercing gaze and he would like to let himself fall completely into this kiss, but he can't do that either. Not like he could in the first few seconds, after all, such a kiss is something intimate, not meant for the eyes of others - and certainly not for the eyes of a disembodied brain that, judging by his strange comments, must be watching too many bad daily TV shows:

"You are too hesitant! Is that passion? The refrigerator is more temperamental than you! And you're too far apart, someone could almost fit between you. And that's a kiss? I want to see a real kiss. One with tongue. I want to see wild passion! Passion! Not an old couple in a nursing home. Now make an effort!"

Frustrated, Shredder ends the kiss, turns his head to the side and glares at Krang.

"Can you just shut up and let us do this, you pain in the ass?"

Grumbling, Krang crosses his tentacles.

"Then do something," he grumbles. "You just stand there and kiss each other. That's not very convincing. And if it doesn't convince me, it won't convince Your Grace."

He sighs once, very loudly and very theatrically.

"If you don't do everything yourself... Kazuo," he shouts commandingly as he takes a step towards them, "stop holding his hand. The hand on his neck is fine, but the other one belongs in the small of his back. And stand closer together, damn it. Yes, yes, that's much better."

He rubs his tentacles with satisfaction when at least Kazuo willingly follows his instructions. Murmuring to himself, he walks around the two of them to get a picture from all sides and gives further orders:

"Shredder, your hand on Kazuo's hip can go under his shirt while you kiss. And your other hand... hm..."

Shredder just rolls his eyes and places the hand on Kazuo's cheek. Then he meets his brother's gaze. And as their gazes become intertwined, his expression changes, becoming soft and affectionate as he tenderly strokes Kazuo's cheekbones with his thumb.

Delighted, Krang claps his tentacles.

"Wonderful. That's it. Now kiss each other. With tongue this time, please. And let your hands wander around a bit."

"Just say you want her to catch us in flagrante delicto," growls Shredder, who manages the incredible feat of still looking at Kazuo with that soft expression on his face.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Krang grins innocently. "Of course I do. That's the pose I want her to see you in as soon as she walks in here. Oh yes," he enthuses, "and then I'll have to make a thousand excuses because you're so terribly hormonal instead of greeting her with the respect she deserves. She'll be offended, of course, but in her culture such disrespect for such reasons is actually considered a great show of love. When the love is so great that one forgets everything, even the appearance of Her Grace, her people love that, they are terribly sentimental. Of course, she won't be allowed to show this to the outside world, but the marriage deal is off the table for now. Of course, she'll be keeping a close eye on you, so you have to be consistent and constantly seek physical contact with each other. You know, a hand on the knee here, a hand on the butt there..." He falls silent, confused.

Kazuo seems to have lost his patience, because before Krang can ask him or Shredder to do so, he snaps his head forward and playfully grabs Shredder's lips two or three times before finally taking them.

Wow.

His tongue has entered Shredder's mouth so quickly, and is plundering it so mercilessly, that Krang can only marvel.

Shredder seems frozen at first, but then he finally reacts - though not in the way Krang expected.

Instead of stormily pulling his kissing partner towards him, he just lets out a low, pleasurable humming while his hand explores Kazuo's warm, soft skin under his t-shirt.

That's still too little action for Krang, but he can't expect more from Shredder.

Chapter Text

Krang is clearly comfortable as a director. Even if his way of directing is rather unusual: a roll "as we practiced" followed by a sharp look is all he feels compelled to do before he stomps out of the command center - this time in his plexiglass sphere with the three elastic steel legs - to receive his guest.

But he's right: nothing more is needed, because they know exactly what depends on this performance.

As soon as the door closes behind Krang, Rocksteady and Bebop turn to the two brothers and grin expectantly. But they are wise enough to keep their mouths shut.

They were allowed to squeeze into exactly the same parade uniforms as Shredder and Kazuo: black and gold and heavy fabric and just terribly uncomfortable, although the jacket is probably worn open here. The shirt underneath is black and simple - and fits like a second skin.

But of course this uniform suits the brothers much better than it does them.

Shredder gives Kazuo an embarrassed look.

"This is so stupid," he mumbles.

Kazuo just gives him a mischievous wink. "It's for a good cause."

Shredder chuckles softly. "I've never been a good cause before. I'm really flattered."

"Well," Kazuo smiles, stepping close and adjusting Shredder's collar, even though there's nothing to adjust. "Anyway, I'll make an extra effort. You won't marry this alien lady. And," he whispers as his hand moves to the back of Shredder's neck, "let's be honest: Krang's little theater isn't going to cost us anything, is it?"

"No," he breathes back. Shredder gets more and more lost in Kazuo's brown eyes.

"Good." Kazuo's smile deepens as he catches one of Shredder's hands with his free hand and places it on his hip. Shredder immediately realizes what he is doing, grabs Kazuo's waist tighter and pulls him close with a strong tug.

He lets out a small, startled laugh, but then wraps both arms around Kazuo's shoulders, snuggles up against him and kisses him.

Grinning, Rocksteady and Bebop elbow each other in the side. Although they have plenty of comments on the tip of their tongues, they remain as quiet as mice.

After all, they don't want to deprive themselves of the pleasure of this sight.

Watching them is very ... heartwarming.

Rocksteady involuntarily reaches out to hold Bebop's hand. Bebop gives him a surprised sideways glance, but then happily squeezes it back. Rocksteady is always very careful with little gestures like this when they're not alone - even if it's not really necessary with Krang and Shredder.

Maybe - Bebop glances at his Rhino for a moment before turning his attention back to the two brothers in front of him - Kazuo's outgoing nature is contagious? At least a little bit?

He would be pleased.

Although there is a certain charm in watching them sink deeper and deeper into their own little world.

When Krang enters the command center with his guest, they don't even have to pretend not to notice.

***

The corridor in front of the command center has never looked more festive.

Kazuo is involuntarily reminded of the nominations at home. Discussing business over a good meal and even better drinks somehow seems to cross dimensions. Even if the guests on Earth rarely bring their own household goods. Drinks, food, even the table and benches on which they sit - Her Grace has brought it all, had it set up and served by her entourage.

And they sit in the middle of it all like two strangers in their gala uniforms.

But his brother has never looked better.

"And you were really separated from your brother for four years?" Krang's three-eyed business partner turned out to be a very curious person.

And his brother was right: it's difficult, no, almost impossible, to look into her eyes without getting sick. Not only do her eyes all look in different directions, they also move. And she really does look like a chameleon. But she's not unpleasant.

"How did you manage such a long separation?"

"Oh. It was five years," Kazuo corrects, putting his hand on the one of his brother sitting next to him and looking him in the eyes with a smile. "Five far too long years. I tried to distract myself, but I really missed him."

The good thing is: he doesn't even have to lie when she asks him. Even though he was the younger one, he was the one who left home first - because he went to the police academy at the age of eighteen, while Saki's life became more and more focused on the Footclan. From then on, they only saw each other when Kazuo came home for the holidays to play house with their mother.

That all ended when Saki left Japan five years ago, changed his name to Shredder, and met Krang.

Shredder smiles back, and Kazuo moves closer to him, leaning his head on his shoulder and intertwining their fingers.

"But now," Kazuo smiles, "he can't get rid of me."

He snuggles closer to Shredder's side. Kazuo is not one for submissiveness, but he has quickly discovered that Your Grace expects him to play a certain role. So he puts on a convincing show for her without sacrificing his honor. It also gives him the unique opportunity to aggressively attack his Niichan in front of an audience. He also wants to show Shredder what he can have and what is possible if he only wants it.

The lizard lady turns the middle of her three eyes to the two of them, and the left one to Krang, who sits next to her in his Plexiglas sphere.

"Such a deep connection between siblings is always a stroke of luck for the house," she explains unctuously. "Your Techndodrome is truly blessed, Krang."

"Thank you, Your Grace," he thanks her graciously.

"Under such conditions, we will of course be happy to resume our business relations with you."

"Thank you very much, Your Grace."

"My heir daughter will be disappointed, but I hope to console her with a holo-photo of the happy couple." At a wave from her, one of her aides rises from his seat and scurries to her side to hand her a richly decorated box. She accepts it graciously, and when she opens it, a ball the size of a ping-pong ball floats out. She taps something on the control unit implanted under her palm, whereupon the ball floats higher and circles the two brothers before dutifully returning to its owner's hand. As the servant repackages the orb and scurries back to his seat, a three-dimensional image of Kazuo and Shredder appears above Lizardlady's palm. While Shredder sips boredly from his glass of water, Kazuo can't hide his excitement at the lifelike hologram. However, he is less astonished by its quality than by how fast and how small it was. A 19th-century photographer would probably feel the same way today when confronted with digital technology. Above all, the ordinariness with which this technology is used here is almost frightening.

Not wanting to seem like a Neanderthal, he hides how impressed he really is with a small, embarrassed laugh.

"Oh, I didn't realize what a beautiful couple we are. Your Grace, are you sure the camera hasn't made us even more beautiful?"

She clenches her fist and the image disappears. Something close to a snarl twitches at the corners of her mouth as she suddenly turns all three of her eyes to Kazuo.

"Kazuo, I can assure you that my camera works perfectly. Don't try to flatter me with false modesty, Kazuo, because there's no question that you know exactly what a feast for the eyes your brother is. You should also be aware that the same is true for you, unless you see something different in the mirror than the rest of us".

At first, Kazuo just stares at her in shock, but before he can stammer out an embarrassed apology, Shredder has wrapped an arm around him protectively.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, my brother did not mean to offend you. On the contrary: in our culture, it is good manners to belittle one's superiority." He begs forgiveness with a smile, but there is a clear warning in his eyes.

Her Grace looks at them silently for a moment, then her eyes drift off in other directions and she nods once.

"You make a beautiful couple," she confirms, sounding completely neutral, as if commenting on a successful work of art. In the same breath, she turns slightly to the side and engages Krang in a conversation about the details of her business.

She ignores the brothers for the rest of the meal, and they are more than relieved.

***

It's not that bad. Normally, Shredder hates these forced social gatherings - they're loud, boring and a complete waste of time, but when he has Kazuo by his side, he can apparently take anything. He knows that all this show of affection is just that: show, but it feels good.

It feels real.

And it is real.

Even if he doesn't like the submissive role Kazuo is forced to play here, he admires him for the equanimity with which he endures it. Shredder knows that he should be much more dominant towards him, but everything in him resists. His role as protector seems convincing enough - but it was no more an act than the emotions behind the whole charade.

And the longer this "business lunch" lasts, the more he likes to be ensnared by Kazuo and the more natural every kiss and every tender touch seems to him.

In fact, he begins to relax.

He is content to feel Kazuo's hand on his thigh, to let everything else pass him by and to sip his water from time to time.

Suddenly, a loud noise pierces his little bubble of well-being: the loud clang of metal on metal, followed by a soft curse and laughter - but he doesn't even notice it anymore.

All he hears is the clank.

And his body reacts.

***

Amused, Kazuo watches as the servant who just dropped one of the metal plates on which the bread was served disappears under the table to fix it, amidst the jeers of his colleagues, when he feels his brother stiffen next to him. And then he feels the small tremor that suddenly runs through his body.

"Saki?" Worried, he turns back to him.

Saki's face is completely rigid, as is his gaze, and the hand holding his water glass is shaking so badly that it almost slips out of his fingers.

Kazuo quickly takes it from him and puts it out of reach, while Saki quickly hides his trembling hands under the table and thanks Kazuo with an uncertain smile.

Kazuo smiles back encouragingly, puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. His other hand searches under the table for Saki's hands. They are still trembling, even though he holds them clenched in his lap. Reassuringly, Kazuo puts his own hand over them and strokes the increasingly tight skin with his thumbs.

Something must have triggered him and caused this panic attack.

But the answer to that question is beside the point. What's important now is that he gets Saki out of there. Maybe - he casts a reassuring glance at the lizard lady and the Krang, who fortunately seem to be completely absorbed in their conversation - as inconspicuously as possible?

"Kiss me," he whispers into his ear.

And when Saki automatically turns his head in his direction, Kazuo obeys his own command and presses his lips to his brother's.

He's kissed him before for similar reasons, and that was only a few hours ago, and maybe it's because the memory is still so fresh, but Saki's trembling actually subsides after the first few seconds.

And then Saki returns the kiss - cautiously at first, but then more and more wildly and passionately. Kazuo enthusiastically welcomes his tongue into his mouth, tastes water, bread and simply SakiSakiSaki ... and oh, every fiber in his body vibrates and cheers with joy, because ... oh yes, that's it.

Exactly that!

Just like back then.

And suddenly he remembers that special day twelve years ago when it all began and ended. It was dark in the room because it was raining and storming outside, and it was one of those days when everything just went wrong.

But the worst thing was knowing that Saki had a girlfriend. He had been with her for a month already and it was getting worse for Kazuo every day.

On that fateful day, Kazuo finally had enough and made a plan. And so he followed his brother to his room as soon as he finally came home. Kazuo didn't bother with long preliminaries and the next moment, he was sitting on Saki's lap, his arms wrapped around his neck and kissing him. It took some persuasion and a little white lie, but in the end, Saki kissed him back as wildly and uninhibitedly as he was now.

It was the most primal, honest communication they were capable of at their young age and it felt good and right and just perfect. And never, never again, neither with Hikari nor with any other woman, did Kazuo find anything remotely similar.

And so when he comes back from this wonderful kiss a little breathless, he is not surprised to find himself on Saki's lap...

It takes a while - and a few seconds longer for Shredder - for Kazuo to become aware of the dead silence around them.

And then someone behind him claps his hands. First once, then twice, and the third time others join in.

The two brothers exchange a look of horror. But when they look around, all they see are wide grinning faces. And Your Grace herself is grinning the widest, followed closely by Krang.

Chapter Text

Krang knows what's right and will personally escort his guest to the door after a successful feast. Alone.

He has instructed his subordinates to wait for him in the control room.

The fading daylight falls in a dark red through the open bulkhead, two moons are visible on the horizon, and it is getting very chilly. If you, like him, can see ultraviolet light, you can make out the camouflaged dome of the next largest city in the distance - your guest's territory.

Standing next to him, Your Grace takes a quick look at her subordinates as they carry tables, benches, and other equipment back to the large truck parked just a few feet from the ramp.

"This has been a very entertaining evening. Thank you, Krang."

"You're welcome, Your Grace."

"And stop with that ridiculous title."

"Very well, Zyrska," Krang grins amusedly.

Zyrska lets out a low hum and then glances back into the dark interior of the Technodrome.

"Did you get what you wanted?"

"For starters..."

A small grin twitches at the corners of her mouth.

"Old bawd." Then she lets out a soft sigh and shakes her head. "If my heiress daughter knew what she had to use her good name for here... I still don't understand why they believed us."

Krang pulls an emphatically innocent face.

"After what you wanted last time as a little guddie for the usual pay..."

She gives him a surprised look.

"I just wanted to get new genetic material as minimally invasive as possible."

"I must have forgotten to mention that to him."

Zyrska looks at him thoughtfully with all three eyes at once.

"You have a strange kind of personnel policy."

Krang raises his tentacles in an equivalent of a shoulder shrug.

"It works."

She thinks about it for a moment.

"And what happens now?" she wants to know curiously. "What else have you thought of for the two boys?"

"Oh, I'll decide on the spur of the moment. It also depends on what they make of this story now."

"You should let them go at their own pace. Otherwise it could go horribly wrong and you certainly don't want a war of the roses in your Technodrome."

But Krang just laughs at this statement.

"I'm not worried about that. You saw the kiss too."

"The one Kazuo used to help your Shredder get over his panic attack? Of course I did. Everyone saw it." She grins, showing all her impressive teeth, but then quickly becomes serious again.

"Does he have fits like this often?" she asks worriedly. Like all of her kind, she has a certain sympathy for all things cute, and these two humans clearly fall into that category for her. They are weak and sensitive, and yet they think they are so tough - you have to find something like that cuddly.

"No," Krang replies, and anyone who knows him well can see and hear the concern shimmering through. "I've never seen that in him either. It must be an aftereffect of my last experiment." And at Zyrska's questioning look, he explains with a hint of guilt: "He was in a duplicate that was mortally wounded in a fight."

Thoughtfully, she taps the flat of her nose with a claw. She thoughtfully ignores the "mortally wounded" part. In her opinion, the obvious doesn't need to be discussed to death; after all, panic attacks are perfectly natural reactions to near-death experiences.

"Transfer of consciousness?" she asks with interest. "That's a touchy subject. But I know someone who brags about having solved the problem of independent, voluntary retransference. I can introduce you. But this guy should be treated with caution. Narcissistic. Outright sociopathic. In any case, terribly paranoid. It would be easier to steal his research. Do you..."

"No," he cuts her off immediately. "This is the only team I have. I'm not going to risk losing them to some idiotic theft. No, their territory is Earth. You may, can, and should poach there, but here... No."

She nods in understanding.

"Good, then I'll arrange it for you, if you like. And if you can pay for it," she adds slyly.

"First I want to know what the guy has to tell me, and then I'll decide if he's capable of what he says he is. And then we'll talk again."

"Sounds fair. The repair of the Technodrome alone will cost you your entire coffee supply."

"I'll throw in another ten espresso machines."

"Espresso?" she repeats curiously.

Krang grins broadly.

I promise you, it will taste especially good."

She giggles softly.

"Hopefully you'll conquer Earth soon so we can enjoy more of these specialties. This beer was a big hit the other day. Along with the coffee, of course. But the gold chains," she adds with a sigh, "are more of a shelf warmer."

"Yes," he agrees, "this otherwise very backward planet has its little advantages..."

They fall into a brief silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When the vehicle is loaded and their entourage has disappeared, except for the chauffeur who waits politely for Zyrska at the open door, she folds her claw-like hands across her chest and bids Krang farewell with an implied bow.

"A pleasure to do business with you, Krang."

Krang can't bow himself, but his three-legged plastic sphere construction manages a rather elegant curtsy.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, too, Zyrska."

She gives him another small smile, then rushes down the ramp, her white coat billowing and her tail wagging happily.

***

Krang is very pleased with the way things are going when he returns to his headquarters. His spirits rise even higher when he realizes that his top slaves have obeyed his orders and gathered here.

Even though he doesn't think Rocksteady and Bebop should be lounging around in the command chair - the fact that they fit in there at all is nothing short of a miracle - and does Shredder really have to explain the controls of the consoles to his brother?

But all it takes is for him to clear his throat, and all four of them assume a sort of figure-of-eight position.

"I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that your little show was a success," he tells the Orokus unctuously and then turns to Shredder explicitly: "You're no longer the subject of negotiations."

A stone visibly falls from his heart. Krang stifles a grin and instead pulls an emphatically grim face.

"Instead, I had to promise her our entire coffee supply. And ten espresso machines."

"But didn't we steal that just for cases like this?" Shredder dares to object with a frown. "The entire B-12 hold is filled to the brim with coffee. And we have two dozen espresso machines..." He pauses when he notices Krang's twinkling eyes.

"I said all the coffee supplies, you idiot! That includes the private ones. Because of you, I have to go without my coffee! You could at least say thank you."

"Thank you," comes back a little more meekly.

But none of the four seems to be really upset about the coffee. Well, Krang didn't expect them to be. After all, it's only coffee. The alternative would have been far worse for everyone.

Krang bites back a grin. Yes, he knows how to treat his friends. And he also knows that at least Bebop and Rocksteady have a secret hiding place somewhere, which is guaranteed to contain not only discarded weapons and candy, but also something like coffee. So much for the supposed threat of caffeine withdrawal.

He slowly glances at the four men in front of him. They all have one thing in common: they all look very uncomfortable in their gala uniforms, but obviously they haven't even dared to part with their jackets yet.

Well, if that doesn't prove it, at least they're showing him some basic respect.

So he might as well be generous.

"You can go now and get out of your uniforms - although I must say they look very good on you. Then you can call it a day. And that will last a couple of weeks. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, Your Grace will send the first construction crew. The repairs are very extensive this time, as you know, and will therefore take longer. At least four weeks. And during that time, you'll be off the air. I don't care what you do to pass the time, as long as you don't bother the hard workers. If you want to leave the Technodrome and go have fun somewhere else, you'll have to talk to me first, understand? DimensionX is not a pony farm.

The four nod obediently.

Krang glances at the two brothers and frowns in disappointment. He would have expected them to at least hold hands, but no - they just stand there as if nothing ever happened. This is simply unacceptable.

He dismisses them with a grumpy tentacle movement. The four mumble a goodbye and obediently head for the door. Rocksteady and Bebop are the first to reach the door, and just as it obediently opens in front of them, Krang kicks the nearest console with one of his stilts. A bright metallic sound breaks the silence.

Klonk!

Shredder stands rooted to the spot, and even though Krang can't see his face because his back is turned, Kazuo's reaction is all he needs.

The young policeman is immediately at Shredder's side, taking his hands in his and murmuring reassuring words.

The two mutants instinctively spin around at the sound, their eyes darting back and forth between the brothers and Krang. As usual, they are a little slower to draw the right conclusions.

"Shredder!" Krang thunders in a tone and volume that makes more than just Shredder jump.

Krang feels a little sorry for frightening him like that, especially when Shredder immediately turns to him and Krang can see how pale he has become, but Krang quickly overcomes his little sentimental weakness.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demands accusingly.

"I..." Shredder starts, but Kazuo is quicker:

"It's just a little panic attack, Krang. After everything he's been through, it's no wonder. Gosh, it's only been three days!"

"Four," Krang interrupts him coolly with a meaningful look at the wall clock. "Exactly four days ago, ten minutes ago."

"Four days," Kazuo repeats unimpressed. He doesn't allow himself to think about it, otherwise he would tremble as much as his brother. "Still. It's not enough to even begin to process this. It will get better, but it will take time."

He addresses the last words to his brother, whose arm he had already put around his shoulders at the beginning of his little speech. He nods weakly. His trembling fingers are gripped so tightly in Kazuo's jacket, as if he never wanted to let go.

"He can do it," Kazuo says with conviction, looking defiantly at Krang. "I'll help him."

"And so will we," the two mutants chime in.

"If you tell us how..." Bebop adds softly, addressing Kazuo.

He just nods and gives them a brief smile before turning his attention back to Krang.

"It wasn't right of us to keep this from you," he interjects. "And if you insist, we'll tell you every little thing we notice in that regard. But don't beat him up for something he can't help. It's unfair and beneath you."

Krang blinks in surprise as the corners of his mouth twitch suspiciously again. Wow. The boy really has fire.

"Very well," he says, looking specifically at Shredder. He seems to have regained some composure, his face has regained some color, and the frightened rabbit look is gone from his eyes. Somewhat satisfied, he turns his piercing gaze to their newest Technodrome member.

"I will leave it in your capable hands. After all, you've got a few weeks to take care of him. So, Kazuo-kun," he points at him with his tentacle, "take care of your brother."

"I'm not a damned invalid," Shredder grumbles quietly, but Krang has already turned his back on them and stalks over to the main screen.

He waits until he hears the door open behind him and they walk through, but only when the door has closed behind them does he dare to let out the little chuckle that has been lurking all along.

Of course, Shredder's panic attack worries him a bit, but - aren't these two brothers just... well - cute in their way of protecting each other?

Chapter Text

Beautiful.

So beautiful.

Shredder can't get enough of his brother. He never could.

No matter how old and big he got, there was always something absolutely innocent about him. And not only that: he was never unfair, mean or evil. He was always good.

He's still good, Shredder corrects himself in his mind. He is a good man.

Carefully, so as not to wake him up, he wriggles out from under Kazuo's embrace, slides next to him, leans sideways on one elbow and looks at him lovingly. In the pale dawn fake light, he looks more like an angel to him than ever.

A somewhat pale angel. Kazuo clearly spends too much time indoors. A little more sunlight wouldn't do him any harm.

Carefully, he reaches out and runs his fingertips over that beautiful face - over the smooth forehead, tracing the finely arched eyebrows and the high cheekbones, the straight nose with the pert tip and finally, and here he is especially careful not to wake Kazuo up, he traces the contours of those full, delicious lips.

His fingers linger there for a while as he remembers what it feels like to feel those lips on his body.

Hm, does he have a hickey on the back of his neck now? After all, Kazuo had sucked himself in there like a vampire.

Shredder has to smile involuntarily.

He likes Kazuo's dominant side.

Slowly, he lets his fingers wander further, over his chin and neck, then traces the gentle curve of Kazuo's right collarbone, wondering if he can dare to sneak his hand under the covers to explore Kazuo's upper body, especially his sensitive nipples...

"Hm... Niichan, that tickles," Kazuo suddenly mumbles, blinking sleepily at him.

Startled, Shredder pulls his hand back a little.

“Hey,” Kazuo protests immediately, “didn't tell you to stop, did I?”

With a grin, Shredder lets his hand wander over that beautiful velvety skin again and Kazuo just snuggles up to his touch, sighing with pleasure.

A few minutes pass in which Kazuo very, very slowly frees himself from the last stubborn clutches of sleep. When nothing and nobody is urging him to get up, when he is as relaxed as he is now, it can take a few minutes before he really wakes up. And actually, he only has his brother to thank for the fact that he is hardly ever late for school. Later, at the police academy, there were his room mates who took on the task of dragging him out of bed until he finally found an alarm clock whose alarm sound also reached his sleepy brain.

However, Saki's cuddles are not exactly a reason to hurry to wake up.

When he is finally awake, he immediately turns to his brother and scrutinizes him.

“How are you?” he asks him, brushing a few cheeky strands of hair out of his face. God, he really hopes his Niichan doesn't cut his hair for now - it's perfect just the way it is. "Did you sleep well? You were a little restless again, but not quite as bad as yesterday."

“Sorry...” Shredder begins, but Kazuo's index finger on his mouth shuts him up.

“You'd better kiss me.”

“What?”

"Don't waste my time with useless apologies. Kiss me, you moron."

A mischievous grin flits across Shredder's face as he pulls Kazuo into his arms and gives him what he asks for.

If Kazuo wasn't already lying down, this kiss would make him weak in the knees. As he drowns in Shredder's taste, he feels his heart begin to pound harder and harder, so hard that it roars in his ears. Butterflies flutter in his stomach and wherever he touches him, it feels like he's burning up.

When Shredder ends the kiss after a sweet eternity, Kazuo hears himself whisper breathlessly:

“I love you, Saki.”

Shredder opens his mouth to say something back, but before he can, Kazuo has already wrapped his arms around his neck, twisted with him and locked in another kiss. Shredder's body on his is warm and heavy, but above all so wonderfully present. He tastes and smells and feels so good, so familiar and above all - so alive!

In the middle of the most beautiful kiss, this image flashes unbidden before his mind's eye - the memory of another Shredder: pale, lifeless ... dead.

No. No!

Desperately, he clings to him even tighter, this time using his legs to help him and plunges into their kiss with unprecedented ferocity.

His fingers bury themselves so deeply into Shredder's back that his nails make bloody wounds and his embrace slowly takes on a vice-like character. Shredder flinches painfully above him, but only when he tries to pull his head back and Kazuo stubbornly sucks on his lower lip does he realize that something is very wrong.

Shocked by this sudden vehemence, he pulls back as far as Kazuo's grip will allow, which admittedly isn't very much.

“Kaz-chan...?”

“Don't.” A restless fire flickers in Kazuo's wide-open eyes as he struggles unsuccessfully to hug his brother closer again. "Stay. You can't leave me. You're mine."

Shredder's heart almost stops when he hears and sees this. Bloody hell! He really never wanted his Kaz-chan to ever have to go through something like this.

"Shh. Kazuo..." Shredder puts both hands around his face, forcing him to look at him. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. With you." He stares urgently into those desperate eyes. "Look at me, Kaz-chan. I am here. Do you hear me?"

It takes a while for that crazy light to fade from Kazuo's pupils, but then his eyes suddenly swim in tears and the strength behind his grasp diminishes.

“Niichan...” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “I... sorry-”

But Shredder only presses a kiss to his trembling lips.

“I'm alive,” he murmurs softly, rubbing his nose gently against Kazuo's and gazing into his eyes unblinkingly. "And I will never leave you again. Unless you ask me to."

The little joke doesn't fail to have an effect - Kazuo's face brightens a little again and a thin smile even twitches around his lips.

“You can wait a long time for that.”

Tentatively, he tugs at Shredder's hair, and when he takes the little hint and leans down for another kiss, Kazuo reaches up to meet him halfway.

The kiss that follows is soft and tender, and when Kazuo is on the verge of tears this time, it's for completely different reasons.

***

“Oh.” When he sees the welts on his brother's back and shoulders in the washroom an hour later, Kazuo is with Shredder under the water jet within a second and without giving it much thought. He touches the healthy skin between two particularly deep scratches with his fingertips.

"I'm so sorry about that. Please forgive me."

Shredder takes a long look over his shoulder, blinks the water out of his eyes and then shrugs his shoulders:

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt."

To be honest, he hadn't even noticed until just now.

Kazuo smiles sadly, but then he spots the dark mark on the back of Shredder's neck, hesitates briefly and places a small kiss on it.

“But that,” he declares, “I'm not sorry.”

Shredder just grins indulgently.

“Do you always mark your conquests like this?” There is a hint of jealousy in his voice that fills Kazuo's heart with warmth.

“No,” he replies, shaking his head. He never dared to do anything like that with his girlfriends, not even when he was a teenager. Especially not in a place like this. They would never have forgiven him.

He carefully steps closer to his brother and then hesitantly leans against his back.

“May I?” he asks shyly.

“Of course,” he replies quietly.

Sighing with relief, Kazuo wraps his arms around his brother and snuggles up close to him. As if of its own accord, his right hand wanders across Shredder's chest until it comes to rest at the level of his heart. He rests his chin on Shredder's shoulder, closes his eyes and concentrates fully on the feeling of Shredder's heartbeat under his fingers. This, together with the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, has a calming, almost hypnotic effect on him.

He is alive.

Yes, he's really alive.

This isn't a dream, is it?

Shredder says nothing, but he interlaces his fingers with Kazuo's other hand on his waist.

They stand like this for quite a while under the lazy stream of water, bathing in each other's presence, and no matter how much certain parts of their bodies react to this tantalizing closeness, they are completely satisfied with the way things are now.

***

The building work begins at eight o'clock in the morning on the dot, but apart from the muffled sound of drilling, they don't notice much of it in here yet. It's still enough to rouse Rocksteady and Bebop out of bed.

When they enter the kitchen shortly before nine o'clock, they stumble - once again - into an unusual situation. But this one makes them sigh almost in sync.

Their boss and his brother are standing in the middle of the kitchen and kissing, while something omelette-like is simmering in the pan behind them and the coffee machine is bubbling. The pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee hangs in the air and reminds the two mutants that they will soon be forced to tap into their secret stash - but they don't have the heart to be angry with them for using the last opened packet of their daily coffee drug. Shredder doesn't drink coffee, but Kazuo seems to like it all the more, and they won't find it difficult to share with him - not as long as he keeps putting that happy expression on Shredder's face...

Rocksteady and Bebop give each other an uncertain look, they don't know whether to stay or go, but then the last of the water gurgles through the coffee filter and they decide to do the former.

Rocksteady clears her throat carefully and immediately regrets it when the two of them interrupt their kiss and look at her. They both look as if they've been torn from a beautiful dream.

“Sorry,” the Rhino apologizes immediately. "Uh... Good morning? And ... uh, don't let us disturb you?"

“Morning,” Shredder grumbles back.

“Good morning,” Kazuo greets her in a much friendlier manner. His cheeks have reddened with heat, but when he makes an effort to step back from his brother, Bebop squeaks in shock.

"No, no, please! Carry on. That doesn't bother us at all! You don't have to because of us-"

"Fine," Kazuo interrupts him, wraps his arms around Shredder's neck again and continues seamlessly where he just left off.

The mutants cautiously sneak past them to the sideboard, take cereal bowls, cups and cutlery from the cupboard, pour themselves two large cups of coffee, grab cereal and milk and walk over to the table.

The Orokus are not at all impressed.

They are still kissing when the mutants enjoy their first spoonful of cornflakes.

Rocksteady and Bebop just exchange an amused grin and make no secret of the fact that they're watching them. Kazuo is once again wearing one of Shredder's sweaters, and it doesn't seem to bother him that he's also wearing the Footclan logo. And Shredder is so happy ... That's really suspicious.

And of course Rocksteady can't shut up, but at least he waits until the two of them return from their blissful kissing nirvana.

"And when are you finally going to get it on?"

If the two of them were still looking into each other's eyes in love a moment ago, they now literally flinch and whirl around to face them.

Bebop kicks his buddy in the shin and stares at him angrily, but he just grins insolently.

They are mutants, they have an excellent sense of smell and they know the smell of sex very well, and underneath the masking scent of soap, shampoo, water and deodorant lurks that of excitement, but not that of sex. At least not what they understand it to be.

Nevertheless, Bebop thinks that Rocksteady could keep his cool.

"Geez," Rocksteady then grins unapologetically, "what's stopping you? If it's a question of who's bottom first - if that's your problem, then toss a coin."

The two stare at him in bewilderment for a moment. Shredder, who is used to such and similar cheekiness, is the first to regain his composure. In a flash, he stands next to the sniggering mutant, grabs him by one of his sensitive ears and pulls him up towards him.

"How dare you? Who gives you the right to interfere?"

He still has a firm grip on Rocksteady's ear and twists and pulls it in every conceivable direction until the rhino's eyes water with pain and he begins to howl at the top of his voice.

"Niichan!" Startled, Kazuo falls into his brother's arms. And indeed, he lets go of Rocksteady with a contemptuous snort.

He sinks back onto his chair and rubs his swelling ear, whimpering. Bebop hurries to the fridge and returns with an ice pack. He doesn't dare look at Shredder as he treats his lover's maltreated ear.

Rocksteady, on the other hand, still has that little grin around the corners of his mouth and stares his boss in the face without batting an eyelid.

"Don't be like that. We're happy for you. And we know how nervous you are the first time."

"Don't involve me," Bebop complains and presses the ice pack harder than necessary on his ear. "It's none of our business. Sorry, boss." He gives Shredder a real puppy dog look - and it's easy to see, despite his purple glasses, because he uses his entire face for it.

"You know him. He doesn't mean any harm."

Shredder, who has long been sorry for his tantrum, just grabs his forehead and shakes his head.

"You're impossible."

"Now we're going to have breakfast." With these words, Kazuo uncompromisingly pushes his brother to his usual seat and then hurries to the stove.

"Tamagoyaki is ready!"

Chapter Text

Bebop and Rocksteady have decided to spend their free time doing what they do best: Playing video games. Mario Kart in particular always has a very relaxing effect on them both. Maybe it's the cuddly characters or the fact that you don't have to concentrate so hard on the game that you can't even talk to each other.

The drilling noise is a bit annoying, but they've turned the sound up a bit. They just hope that the specialists working on the pipes don't suddenly cut the power.

Rocksteady's aching ear is a constant reminder of their conversation, and even though it was two hours ago, he can't stop thinking about it.

The two brothers are roughly the same height, they have similar builds - though Shredder seems to have a teeny bit more muscle mass - and neither seems submissive in character. Even though Kazuo played his role very well yesterday.

After all, he can't take it anymore.

"What do you think, Beeps? Who's bottom first?"

“The Bossman,” comes back promptly and beyond any doubt.

Surprised, Rocksteady forgets to dodge a flying turtle shell, his character is hit and almost tumbles down a slope.

"What? What makes you think that? There's no way he'd give the bottom."

“Yes, he would,” he returns calmly. “Because he's just like you.”

“Huh?” Rocksteady gives him a puzzled look and tries to work out what Bebop means by that. It's true, the first time they did it he was the bottom, but he only did that because they were both so nervous, didn't know how to do it and he didn't want to hurt his Beeps. After all, he's the one with the thick rhino skin and the slightly higher pain level.

“Besides,” Bebop continues, grinning as he crosses the finish line first, "he's the older one. The older brother," he specifies. "From what I've heard, he was always responsible for Kazuo. I'm sure he was the kind of big brother who protected his little brother from every school bully. He would never...“, he hesitates briefly, swallows the very figurative words that are on the tip of his tongue and chooses a different expression instead, ”impose the passive role on his Kaz-chan."

Rocksteady grumbles briefly to himself, not only because he has lost and is five places behind Bebop according to the high score that lights up, but also because, no matter how elegantly Bebop puts it, the images this conjures up in his mind are very vivid and absolutely filthy.

Reluctantly, he shakes his head to dispel them. He succeeds, but his body is already reacting. Damn.

“But,” he focuses on their discussion, “I don't rate Kazuo as the type to want to dominate his Niichan like that.”

But then again - what was that earlier in the kitchen? Hmm...

Bebop chuckles softly. "He's already got him wrapped around his little finger. Yes, Kazuo is the top guy the first time, definitely."

Pictures. So many pictures. And so erotic, too.

Rocksteady squints his eyes and shakes his head again.

“Boss will never be Bottom,” he insists. "He's far too proud for that. Oh dear," he desperately grabs his injured ear with one hand and tugs on it.

Pictures, get out! Pictures, disappear!

"Can you imagine how bad-tempered he'll be if he lets Kazuo have the upper hand? He's always like that with his pride and honor. And who will he take his frustration out on? On us, of course."

“Rock!” Startled, Bebop puts the controller aside, slides very close to him and holds his hand tightly so that it doesn't continue to maltreat his poor ear. He stares scrutinizingly into the eyes of his heavy-breathing friend, then grins and presses him uncompromisingly into the cushion of the old couch.

"Could it be that you have dirty pictures in your head again? Come on," he says without waiting for an answer, crawls over him and then presses his pig's nose against Rocksteady's neck, just below the jaw, where he knows it makes his Rhino shiver so nicely when he licks it.

“Tell me about it...”

***

The small training room really does seem to be far away from everything, as the construction noise doesn't penetrate this far. It is a small, quiet oasis - almost a bubble in which only the two of them exist.

After half an hour of strength and endurance training with his brother, Kazuo is no longer in the mood and prefers to assist his Niichan with his push-ups. He actually just sits next to him, looks at him pensively and occasionally hands him a bottle of water on request.

Shredder undoubtedly still has a rage in his belly, as mercilessly as he tortures his own body.

At some point Kazuo really has to ask this question:

“Are you still mad at Rocksteady?”

"Of course. What does he think he's doing? Our relationship is none of their business!"

“They only mean well.”

“They're overbearing and more clingy than ticks.”

Shredder takes a deep breath, does one last push-up and then sinks exhausted back onto the tatami mat, where he remains, breathing heavily.

Kazuo simply looks at him for a moment, then gives in to his inner desire and lies down next to him, resting his head on Shredder's left shoulder.

"Hm," he then says thoughtfully as the fingers of his left hand smooth Shredder's gi, "they had no idea how you were for a day and a half. All they had was your body here while your consciousness was on Earth. It must have been almost as bad for them as it was for me waiting in the hospital for you to..." His voice trails off. He swallows hard, clears his throat, buries his face briefly against Shredder's neck and breathes in his scent and warmth deeply before he jerks his head back up to glare at his brother.

“Have you ever thought about how awful that must have been for them?”

That look sends shivers down Shredder's spine. Kazuo can be really scary when he puts his mind to it.

Shredder likes that.

He even likes it a lot.

But on top of that, Kazuo is also right.

"Well... that's true," Shredder admits and then immediately clenches his hands. “But that's no reason to interfere in everything.”

Kazuo just stares at him for a moment and then lets out a deep sigh.

Hesitantly at first, but then becoming more determined, he slides lower and lower until he can rest his head on Shredder's chest. His right ear is now directly over Shredder's heart and Kazuo instinctively listens for its beats. A steady but somewhat rapid rhythm - it must be due to the strenuous training.

Sighing again, Kazuo snuggles even closer to the warm body next to him. And quite automatically, Shredder's right hand lands in Kazuo's mop of hair and ruffles it, while his other arm wraps protectively around him.

“Hm,” mumbles Kazuo with pleasure. "This is like the old days. I've missed this."

Shredder prefers to remain silent, but even he is overcome by a warm feeling of nostalgia.

They just lie there together for a while.

“I'd give anything to have friends like you,” Kazuo suddenly says enviously.

Irritated, Shredder squints down at him, but he can't see more than an ear and a dark mop of hair from this perspective. So he can only guess at the expression on Kazuo's face. He strokes his hair tenderly. He doesn't like it when his Kaz-chan is so downcast.

"Surely you have people who care about you? Colleagues, friends, your fiancée ... our mother," he adds reluctantly. Unlike her firstborn, Kazuo was always her favorite child. That was always kind of annoying, because she didn't really know what she had in this angel. She never had as close a bond with him as he did. She had no right to steal Kazuo's attention.

To his great surprise, Kazuo shakes his head, straightens up and searches his gaze.

“The only one who always cared, who knew exactly how I was doing and what I needed, that was you, Saki.”

Shredder just stares at him, completely perplexed and increasingly moved. But before he can squeeze out the sudden lump in his throat, Kazuo leans down to him with a smile and steals a long, tender kiss.

After he's had enough of Shredder's taste, he trails a trail of hot little kisses from Shredder's chin down his neck, sucking briefly over the carotid artery and then working his way over the epiglottis and then the sternum until the gi is in the way.

Shredder just closes his eyes comfortably and lets him get on with it. After all, Kazuo seems to know exactly what he wants. He briefly wonders if Kazuo kisses his fiancée in the same way - perhaps her small, firm breasts (she is certainly slim and petite, he knows Kazuo's taste) - but then he immediately shoots the thought away. There is no reason to be jealous, Kazuo is here, with him, and Earth is far away, and besides, he said he would break off the engagement

"Kazuo!" Shredder gasps and stares down at himself, stunned. "What are you doing?"

A little irritated, Kazuo takes his tongue out of Shredder's belly button and looks up at him indecisively, as if he can't understand the excitement.

But then he grins mischievously.

"What? I've always wanted to do it in a dojo. This isn't a real dojo, but it does the job."

With these words, he lowers his head again and lets his tongue circle around Shredder's belly button. It's wet and warm and tickles, and then in an erogenous zone too ... Shredder falls back onto the tatami mats, shuddering.

“You're playing unfair again, Kaz-chan!” Embarrassed, he covers his face with his left forearm while his right hand half-heartedly tugs at Kazuo's gi.

But he doesn't even think about stopping.

He's having far too much fun teasing Shredder in this way. He didn't realize how stimulating it could be to scratch at his Niichan's self-control like this.

Besides... slowly he lets his fingers trail deeper, under heavy cotton and thinner fabric beneath, until he meets warm, firm flesh, and then closes his eyes to give himself over to this moment, focusing only on his brother: on the way his breathing grows heavier and heavier until it becomes a stifled gasp, the way he writhes beneath him and then shudders in surrender, even on the way his fingers tangle in his hair and on his scent and the way he feels between his own fingers. He hears his choked, half-hearted “Kaz-chan, stop it” and his soft curses and he bathes in it.

This is Saki.

His Saki.

And. He. Is. Alive.

***

Very pleased with himself, Kazuo licks his lips and then pushes himself up against his Niichan again. He, in turn, is currently a single heavily panting mass, quivering all over and absolutely boneless - just the way Kazuo likes him best, because that means he's done everything right.

Kazuo pushes himself up even further, reaching for Shredder's trembling lips and capturing them in a long, soft kiss.

His hands search for Shredder's trembling hands, press them to the left and right of his head on the tatami mats and interlock with them.

It takes a satisfyingly long time for his brother to actively return the kiss and a few more seconds for him to slowly stop shaking.

“Kaz-chan,” Shredder finally breathes in a quivering voice, “you ... are killing me.”

Kazuo frowns unwillingly, moves a little away from him and glowers darkly at him.

"Bad joke, Niichan. Very bad joke."

It takes a while for Shredder to realize, but then he closes his eyes in dismay and apologizes quietly.

“Gomen.”

Kazuo doesn't hold grudges, and he shows him that with another kiss. He carefully enters Shredder's mouth with his tongue, as calm and gentle as water flowing around a stone, and it's so beautiful that Shredder literally melts away with a soft sigh.

Kazuo is really happy when he hears and feels it. One last, tender tongue game, then he ends the kiss, slips a little lower and rests his head on Shredder's chest in the usual way.

“Shh,” he says languidly, while his fingers press gently but firmly on Shredder's breastbone, telling him not to move.

"I don't want revenge. Not now. Right now I just want to lie there."

And when Shredder just wraps his arms around him in a silent reply, Kazuo snuggles comfortably into the embrace.

“That's what I missed most,” he murmurs pensively as he listens to his brother's strong heartbeat. “The whole world can go fuck itself if you just hold me like this.”

He sniffs, rubs his cheek against the soft fabric of Shredder's gi and draws its scent - sweat and only very, very faint cedar, but all the more unadulterated Saki - deep into his lungs. It's a scent that evokes memories and makes him feel sentimental.

He sniffs once, rubs his cheek against the soft fabric of Shredder's gi and draws its scent - sweat and only very, very faint cedar wood, but all the more unadulterated saki - deep into his lungs. It's a scent that evokes memories and makes him feel sentimental.

“I'm never going back.”

Shredder above him says nothing, but the fact that he only hugs him tighter is answer enough for Kazuo.

Chapter Text

They sit and stand in the part of their dwelling in the sewers that Donatello has confiscated as his laboratory: the four brothers, their sensei and April O'Neil. Curious, they gather around the monitor on which Donatello is now playing the security camera footage from the hospital for the third time. Normally you shouldn't be proud of hacking someone else's server, but in this case even Sensei Splinter makes an exception.

“Who is that?” Donatello asks the all-important question in the room and enlarges the still image to the maximum.

It's not the first time they've looked at this picture. But it is the first time for Sensei Splinter and April.

While April just shrugs her shoulders, Splinter looks at the picture very closely. And then a little more closely. His claw-like fingers involuntarily bury themselves in Shredder's purple cape. He has finally gotten the bloodstains out of it and was about to fold it neatly when his sons called him here.

He immediately recognizes the man who brought Kazuo out of the hospital.

“Oroku Saki.”

The Turtles and April gasp noisily.

“What?” shouts Raphael. “That's impossible.”

“Well,” replies Splinter dryly, ”then it's someone who looks just like Oroku Saki.”

A subtle smile twitches at the corners of his mouth.

“Where did they go, Donatello?” Leonardo asks his brother somewhat curtly. It's a legitimate question, because so far they've only seen the sequence where Kazuo leaves the hospital room accompanied by this apparently not-so-unknown man.

“On the roof,” replies Donatello, who has spent the last few hours painstakingly analyzing the footage. “But unfortunately there are no cameras there.”

They all stare thoughtfully at the monitor for a few seconds.

“How did Shredder recover so quickly?” Raphael finally asks the all-important question.

Donatello shakes his head.

“He didn't. This is a different one. See?” His fingers fly over the keyboard and four different surveillance images appear on the screen. “I traced the way he came. He came off the roof at 04:40, takes the elevator straight to the ICU, steals a doctor's coat and takes Kazuo out of Shredder's room at 04:45. See that thing in his hand? I bet it's some kind of tracking device. It was probably...” he searches for a suitable term for a moment and then decides on: “...double chipped. And at 04:46, they leave the stairwell for the roof.”

The others stare in fascination at the four different stills, all showing the same man in different places. A man who should be lying half-dead in intensive care...

“But if that's Shredder, who or what did we bring to the hospital?” Leonardo finally asks, irritated.

“A clone?” Donatello suggests. “I mean, we know that's not a problem for Krang.”

“There's no body,” April suddenly interjects.

“What?” comes the chorus from the four Turtles.

“That's what I've been trying to tell you all along. This much I was able to find out. Shredder died at 04:30, but no one knows what happened to his body. It's so embarrassing for the hospital management that they've ordered all the nurses and doctors to keep quiet.”

“Oh,” Raphael grins broadly, ”that's your actually-I-can't-tell-you sources again.”

She grins back. “They're always the best.”

There is silence again for a few seconds as they each try to make sense of it all.

“Okay,” says Leonardo and takes a deep breath, ”let's summarize the most important things: Shredder is alive and has taken Kazuo with him to the Technodrome. And...” he casts a perplexed glance around, especially at Sensei Splinter, ”... what now?”

“Well, I don't know how you see it, but I'm really, really glad that the guy is still alive,” Michelangelo announces.

“That goes for all of us, Mikey,” Donatello agrees gently.

The others hum in agreement. Yes, there's really no question about it.

“Yes, but if Krang can create clones of him, that could be really unpleasant.” The very thought sends shivers down Leonardo's spine. “Imagine having to fight two Shredders. Or three or four...” He shakes himself in disgust.

“I don't think they can exist at the same time,” Donatello points out. “This one,” he points meaningfully to their very first statue, ”only appeared after Shredder was already dead... so I guess they're not ordinary clones... hmm, maybe consciousness transfer? Hmm...” His gaze goes blank, as it always does when he's working on solving a problem.

“Do we have to worry about Kazuo?” Michelangelo wants to know nervously. “The last time the two brothers met, it didn't end well. Brothers shouldn't fight each other,” he adds quietly, almost sadly.

“Oroku Saki would never hurt his little brother,” Splinter explains with conviction, earning him many doubtful looks.

“But it looked very different back then,” grumbles Raphael, but is interrupted by an increasingly agitated Leonardo.

“No, Raphael, Sensei Splinter is right. Don't you remember? A year and a half ago? Who attacked first and who was just defending themselves? Kazuo wanted to arrest Shredder without any preliminary skirmishes and immediately put Shredder on the defensive.”

“Yes, that's right,” Raphael nods as he thinks back to that day. “With badge at the ready and gun at the ready. But what followed was typical Shredder again.”

They fall into a brief silence, each of them reviewing that particular day in their minds' eye.

Once again, Splinter strokes the purple fabric in his hands thoughtfully.

“Oroku Saki would never hurt Kazuo. Not intentionally, anyway,” he then repeats quietly, hesitating briefly and deciding that his boys and April have the right to get a little more background information from him. “There have been rumors circulating within the Footclan... Oroku Saki's obsession with his brother has led to wild speculation. The fact is, if a person spends his entire childhood and youth focused on his little brother's well-being, he will hardly be able to touch a hair on his head even as an adult.”

“We're talking about Shredder, who turned against his own sensei,” Leonardo dares to object and then immediately bows apologetically to his sensei, because he didn't want to reopen any old wounds. “Sorry, sensei.”

But the rat just smiles sympathetically. “That's all right, Leonardo. But don't forget, my children: I was only his sensei. Kazuo is his brother. And as I said, there were rumors...”

“Which you should tell us now, Splinter,” April immediately prompts him, sensing a good story, but the wise rat only gives her a skeptical look.

“I don't believe in spreading rumors, April.”

“Well, we'll keep in mind that they're rumors...” She smiles at him in a challenging way, using all her charm. Of course she can understand his reservations, but then she doesn't think he should have started in the first place.

“Yes,” she immediately receives support from Donatello. “It's nice that you're not worried about Kazuo, sensei, but even if you assure us that Shredder won't hurt him and we trust your word, we'd still need a few more clues for our peace of mind.”

“Yes,” Michelangelo interjects, ”after all, Kazuo is our friend.”

Leonardo and Raphael nod in confirmation, and suddenly Splinter finds himself confronted by five pairs of inquisitive eyes.

“Well, I can tell you about things that have been proven to have happened,” he reluctantly admits, and when the five of them only nod promptly, he briefly organizes his thoughts and memories and then begins in a quiet, thoughtful tone:

“I've seen for myself how Oroku Saki adjusted his training times to his brother's schedule and preferred to help him study for the school exams, for example. I've also heard that he taught his brother to read and write so that Kazuo knew how to do it before he started school. Now, it's nothing unusual for little brothers to emulate their older brothers, but it's a completely different story when a first grader teaches a kindergartener something like that.”

He can think of many other things - events he has witnessed and observations he has made himself, things that were so obvious that they sent a shiver down his spine, but these are also purely subjective, from his point of view, and do not belong here.

He too might have misinterpreted the gleam in Oroku Saki's eyes whenever he spoke of his Kaz-chan, influenced by the many rumors.

Better to just stick to the facts.

“Kazuo went to a different dojo because he's more into judo than ninjutsu,” he continues after a brief moment of silence. “And Saki went to every one of his turniers, even if it meant skipping his own ninjutsu lessons. But since he made up for it after sundown and performed well, he was forgiven. He was also highly praised for fulfilling his responsibility to Kazuo so conscientiously as the male heir to the Oroku family. The traditionalists in Footclan were very pleased with Oroku Saki's behavior. But there were also other voices ... voices that said this was no longer normal. I didn't allow myself to pass judgment on it because I've always been of the opinion that relationships within a family are nobody's business unless there is violence.”

“But?” April asks cautiously.

Splinter hesitates for a moment. The cloak in his hands suddenly becomes incredibly heavy. He shouldn't tell them this, but it happened, and it might help them understand why he is so convinced that Shredder could never harm his brother.

“I saw for myself how Saki stood up his then-girlfriend in favor of Kazuo's plans when he was sixteen. More than once. That's why his relationships never lasted long. That only changed when Kazuo's first girlfriend entered the scene. At that time, Saki mutated into the model student of my dojo. Then, one day, he reverted to his old behavior and at some point I learned that Kazuo had broken up with his girlfriend. But Kazuo was a teenager and a damn good-looking one at that, so a new girlfriend soon arrived.”

“Let me guess,” April interjects excitedly, her eyes shining. “Shredder became a model ninja student again.”

“Yes. It was a process of Saki going back and forth between Kazuo and Footclan until he ended up serving only Footclan. I don't think it was a coincidence that this happened just as Kazuo introduced him to his fourth girlfriend so far. Saki was about nineteen then.”

April giggles merrily. “Ah, Splinter, excuse me, but that sounds suspiciously like...”

“Yes, April. That was the tenor of said rumors.”

“My goodness.” She clearly doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. “The purest drama.”

“What?” Michelangelo's eyes dart back and forth between her and Splinter, puzzled, but he's the one who asks first. “What, April? What do you mean?”

“Brother Complex, Mikey.”

“What, really, like in my mangas? Cool!”

Raphael stares at the two of them for a moment in amazement and then snorts contemptuously.

“That's really sick. Poor Kazuo.”

“Maybe it's mutual?” grins April.

“You don't believe that yourself, April!”

But she just points at the monitor. “It didn't look like Kazuo was fighting back on the video.”

Raphael just snorts once more and stares holes in the air, while Michelangelo and April just grin at each other in amusement and Leonardo and Donatello appear rather indifferent.

Splinter looks at them all in turn and then lets out a soft sigh.

“Anyway - do you understand now why I'm sure Shredder won't hurt his brother? And he won't let Krang or Bebop and Rocksteady hurt him either.”

“I don't know if that makes me feel any better,” Raphael grumbles to himself through gritted teeth.

“Kazuo is a grown man,” Leonardo reminds him, the typical voice of reason. “And April is right: he obviously went along voluntarily. We can judge that all we like or not, and the same goes for Shredder's Brother Complex,” he grins involuntarily, because even if he doesn't think much of Michelangelo's BL manga preference, that term is probably more than accurate, ”but ultimately it's none of our business. Let's just be glad that Shredder is still alive and Kazuo hasn't really disappeared without a trace.”

“Well said, Leonardo,” Splinter praises.

Raphael is still grimacing, but they all know that he's only hiding his own relief. Of them all, Shredder's injury has affected him the most; after all, it was his leverage technique that sent the man crashing into the steel pillar.

“Shredder will show up here again sooner or later,” Splinter explains, briefly placing a hand on Raphael's arm as he passes. “Then you can talk to each other.”

At first it seems as if Raphael wants to say something, but then he just nods.

Splinter gives his students another of his rare smiles and then goes back to his laundry. There's one more cape he needs to fold neatly and put with the rest of the gear...

Chapter Text

“I was never good in this game.” Sighing, Shredder counts the five hundred dollars of play money into his brother's outstretched hand. “Especially not against you.”

Kazuo just puts the colored paper down with the others and then watches Bebop roll the dice across the board.

Monopoly. How long has it been since he's played this? It feels like an eternity.

And apart from the fact that he's winning, it was a really good idea to accept the invitation from the two mutants to play a little board game. Firstly, it gives him a chance to warm up to them and secondly, despite all the grumbling, it's definitely a lot of fun for his brother.

“But boss, you know what it's called,” Bebop comforts him as he moves his playing piece three spaces further. Only to land directly on one of Kazuo's streets. “Bad luck in the game, good luck in love.”

“Kazuo is just proving us wrong,” Shredder points meaningfully at his brother, who is currently collecting the street rent from Bebop with an even bigger grin than before.

“That reminds me,” begins Rocksteady, whose turn it is now to grab the dice, ”what's the situation with you two now?”

Bebop gives Rocksteady a warning nudge in the ribs, but he seems determined to provoke a reaction from his boss.

“Have you finally done it or still not?”

Shredder gives him an emphatically indifferent look. “What do you mean?”

Kazuo stifles a small giggle. He likes the little banter between the three of them.

Rocksteady waits to answer until he's set his train and bought a few houses for his streets, but then he starts relentlessly:

“You've had most of the day to do this. Please don't tell me you're still not fucking each other.”

Shredder just gives him a sparkling look, but doesn't bother to answer.

Rocksteady scratches his horn thoughtfully and looks the two brothers up and down.

"Neither of you seems to have any problems sitting, so I'll make a sharp conclusion: either the top is damn good at his job, or you just haven't done it yet. Hmm... maybe the bottom here is just good at hiding his sore butt...? Really difficult, because you're both capable of it..."

While Kazuo feels neither hurt nor offended by these words – in fact, a small, dark part of him finds Rhino's direct manner of expression amusing – Shredder involuntarily straightens up a little. The way his eyes narrow and his cheek muscles tense up suggests trouble is coming.

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?” he snorts contemptuously.

Rocksteady puts on a truly innocent expression. “Surely we're allowed to think about these things.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No,” Shredder grinds out through clenched teeth, “you're not allowed to. Because it's none of your business.”

"Geez. I just want to make sure you have everything you need. Because I guarantee you don't have any lubricant in your nightstand. And no condoms either. They'll do in a pinch, because they have that certain lubricating..."

He doesn't get any further, because Shredder has already pounced on him. Rocksteady lands inelegantly on his back. Shredder kneels over him, his hands clawed into his yellow shirt, shaking him violently.

“Shut up, you product of a—”

“Ah,” Rocksteady interrupts him impassively, “but maybe Kazuo has a few condoms in his wallet. Always ready and stuff.”

“How dare you—!”

But Rocksteady doesn't let him finish again. “What are you waiting for? Why don't you finally take what you want?”

Shredder's right fist digs into the carpet right next to Rocksteady's head. A clear, unmistakable warning. He stops shaking him, but instead wraps his other hand around Rocksteady's throat and slowly squeezes.

Fortunately, the mutant's throat is much wider than his hand and also damn resilient.

“How dare you accuse me of even thinking of dishonoring Kazuo in this way? He's my little brother, damn it! I swore to protect him! Ever since I first saw him—!”

Oh. In the middle of his sentence, he seems to realize what he has just said. Breathless, he pauses and removes his hand from Rocksteady's throat as if he had burned himself. For a few heartbeats, they just stare at each other, and then, very gradually, a triumphant grin twitches at the corners of Rocksteady's mouth.

“Saki.” Even though Kazuo has to admit that his brother looks really cute when he's so angry, there's no need to make things even more embarrassing, right? So he grabs him by the elbow and gently pulls him away from Rocksteady and back to his side.

“Come on, don't let him provoke you like that.” He glances briefly and anxiously at the mutant, who showed no signs of fear during Shredder's attack or when Shredder's hand was around his throat. He looks anything but shaken now. This mutant knows exactly how far he can go with his boss.

“And just for the record, I've bought three hotels for my streets now. It's your turn, Niichan.”

Kazuo meaningfully presses the dice into his brother's hand.

Shredder gives Rocksteady one last murderous look, but then obediently returns his attention to the Monopoly game.

Rocksteady grins, stands up straight and sits down properly. He is smart enough, however, to refrain from making any further cheeky comments for now. Nevertheless, he can't resist winking secretly at Bebop, who is sitting next to him.

Bebop just shakes his head slightly. He's glad that his assessment of the top-or-bottom issue was correct, but did Rocksteady have to exaggerate so much?

What is Kazuo supposed to think of them now?

Surprisingly, Kazuo just continues playing as if nothing had happened, and that cools Shredder down in record time. After just one round, the same relaxed atmosphere prevails as before Rocksteady's provocation.

Wow. Bebop's gaze briefly fixes on Kazuo's hand, which gently and almost casually caresses Shredder's knee. Kazuo really has his brother under control.

A quarter of an hour passes, during which it becomes clear that either Shredder or Bebop is going to lose the game. However, neither of them allows that to spoil the good mood.

Then, suddenly, the lights go out. From one moment to the next, it becomes pitch dark.

***

Beside him in the darkness, Kazuo hears his brother gasp sharply, and he can literally feel the panic washing over him. Fingers grope for him, land on his thigh, and dig in.

Kazuo flinches in pain, but uses this hand and the knowledge of where his brother was sitting when it suddenly became pitch black to orient himself, and then his fingers land on Shredder's sweater and he carefully puts both arms around him and pulls him close.

“Kaz-chan?” Shredder is trembling all over.

Kazuo feels him press closer to him and press his face against his shoulder. His fingers are no longer tormenting his thigh, but they are clawing so tightly into Kazuo's sweater that he can hear a seam give way.

“Yes, it's me, Saki. I'm here.”

“Dark,” his brother's voice trembles with ice-cold panic and his breathing becomes heavier and faster. “So dark. I can't see anything.”

“None of us can see anything,” Kazuo strokes his back reassuringly, “the power's out. It must be ten o'clock. Remember? Krang warned us they'd cut the power at ten.”

But his brother only clings to him more desperately.

As soon as the lights went out, a certain amount of commotion broke out around them, but they remained relatively unaware of it. Although they were more or less prepared for this power outage, it still came as a surprise because they simply hadn't paid attention to the time, and of course, in the first moment of shock, the mutants forgot where they had put their battery-powered light sources.

Suddenly, there is a noise as if a switch has been flipped, and light flares up. It is not very bright, but it is beautifully colorful. For a moment, Kazuo just stares at the light source in bewilderment: a night light? In the shape of a blue hippo?

Gradually, Rocksteady and Bebop find more and more of their carefully placed light sources—three flashlights and a storm lantern.

Within seconds, it is bright enough that they can not only see each other's faces again, but Kazuo can also see the embarrassing position his brother is in. In the excitement, he hadn't really noticed, but now everyone can see that Shredder is lying in his arms.

But the thought of how embarrassing this must be for his Niichan only flickers briefly in his brain, because it is much more important to him that the panic disappears from Shredder's expression.

“Not blind,” Shredder states, confused and relieved at the same time, as his eyes dart wildly back and forth until his gaze finally rests on his brother's face.

And Kazuo remembers and understands.

“No, Saki,” he says reassuringly, stroking a strand of hair from his forehead. “You're not blind. The power has just been cut off.”

This makes the two mutants, who have been politely holding back until now, prick up their ears in concern.

“Blind?”

Shredder, who had actually forgotten their presence for a moment, flinches slightly at the sound of their voices, gives them a guilty look, and then slides off Kazuo's lap, embarrassed. Even though nothing can persuade Kazuo to let him go completely from his arms.

“My head injury,” Shredder explains in a hoarse voice as he leans his back against Kazuo's torso. “The one where I... you know...”

He makes an indefinite hand gesture, while Kazuo's grip around his waist involuntarily tightens, promising him more support and security.

“No, we don't know,” Rocksteady replies accusingly. “Because you never talked to us about it. Because you never talk about anything.”

Shredder lowers his gaze, looking concerned, but gives no answer.

Puzzled, Kazuo blinks at them over Shredder's shoulder.

“You don't know anything about it?”

Rocksteady just snorts and literally pierces Shredder with his gaze.

"No. When he woke up, he just told us that he had fought the Turtles, been injured, and that his duplicate had died. And that he had to go back immediately to get rid of the body. That's all he ever told us."

Kazuo waits to see if his brother wants to say anything, and then rebukes him when he remains stubbornly silent:

“You haven't changed at all.”

Shredder mumbles something incomprehensible and then gives his mutants a long look.

“You were just worrying unnecessarily. And there was nothing that could be done to change what happened – why worry?”

“So we'd be prepared for your flashbacks?” Rocksteady retorts sharply. “Then we would have left a flashlight on here the whole time, just to be on the safe side.”

Shredder just snorts, but can't bring himself to apologize. He always feels uncomfortable when the two worry about him, so he reacts gruffly and dismissively, and he can only consider himself lucky that they know him well enough not to hold it against him.

Nevertheless, there are a few very uncomfortable seconds of silence. The subject is now closed, but it leaves everyone with a bad taste in their mouths.

Shredder tries hard to avoid the gaze of his mutants, and somehow his eyes are magically drawn to the night light, immediately filling him with feelings of nostalgia. With an almost wistful smile, he points to it.

“I didn't think I'd ever see that thing again. I thought it had been crushed along with so many other things in my quarters.”

“We found it,” smiles Bebop, glad to be able to talk about something more innocuous, “but we forgot to give it to you.”

“It's cute,” Kazuo laughs softly. "Where did you get it? No, delete that question. What I actually mean is: why do you have something like this?"

Shredder's smile deepens, and suddenly he can not only look his mutants in the face again, but also do so with such genuine affection in his expression that the two almost wonder if the constant color changes of the Hippo night light are causing optical illusions.

“They gave it to me as a gift. Back when I was a baby.”

Kazuo waits to see if there's more, but he is disappointed.

It is Bebop who finally responds to Kazuo's questioning “Huh?”

"Two years ago, he fell into a lake contaminated with mutagen and shrank to the size of a toddler. It took a few days for his body to break down the stuff and return to its original form." What he doesn't say, but what his and Rocksteady's expressions literally scream, is how much they miss those few days.

“Hmmmmm.” Kazuo hums and slides next to Shredder to get a closer look at him. Under this gaze, he feels very different.

“What's going on? Why are you looking at me so strangely?”

On the one hand, Kazuo continues to stare at him so intently, and on the other hand, he gently strokes his back under his shirt... These contradictory signals make him downright nervous.

“Forgive me for asking,” Kazuo says slowly, “but are you sure this is your real body?”

Shredder flinches at this question.

“What? Yes! Why are you asking me that?”

“I don't know... Just a thought. With everything your body has been through, and when I think about Krang's technology... He can just create bodies like that. Maybe Krang has replaced you dozens of times without you even knowing it.”

Shredder is speechless for a moment. The idea alone is monstrous.

“That's his body, we can confirm that,” Rocksteady explains with conviction. “We didn't let him out of our sight during Krang's little experiment. We were with him the whole time.” He pauses for a moment and then continues somewhat snidely:

"Besides, you should have noticed that yourself by now, right? What with the scars from childhood and all. So if anyone knows his body, it's you."

"Hmmm..." Kazuo's gaze remains intense as he sizes up his brother. "I hope that when I go deeper into the Technodrome, I won't end up in a secret laboratory where my brother's destroyed body is floating in a tank."

Shredder shakes his head vigorously.

"You watch too many bad horror movies. This is my body. I know that." He hesitates for only a moment, then blurts out, “Krang asked me that, too, okay? I told him the same thing I'm telling you now: I just feel it. In the body of that duplicate, something was missing, but I can't describe it well. But I only noticed that when I was back in my own body. It was like coming home. You only notice the difference when you come back. I can't describe it any better than that, but that's why I know this is my body." He takes a deep breath. "If there were a body of mine rotting away in a tank somewhere, I wouldn't have this feeling in this body. And Krang would never betray me like that. On the contrary, he's so proud of his technology, supposedly centuries ahead of ours, that he can't help but rub it in my face. He would tell me. Jeez, Kazuo!” Almost in despair, he buries his face in his hands. "Don't start with these scary stories. It's creepy enough here."

"Sorry." Yet, Kazuo can't help but grin slightly as he pulls his Niichan into his arms comfortingly.

Rocksteady and Bebop, who witness this, swallow the tirade they had on the tip of their tongues. It's a cruel method, but they have to admit that it works. Shredder has talked about it for the first time. It was only a small piece of the puzzle, but still.

They are treated to another beautiful sight: Kazuo comforting his Niichan with a gentle kiss.