Soo, here is the long anticipated chapter! A quick warning: It does involve mentions of injury and while it's not graphic, there still is a mention of blood. Also, for my fellow members of the "divorced parents club," this chapter might hit a little close to home.

That said, I really hope you enjoy it! Emotional damage and all! ️

A Brother's Love

"Are you sure this is okay?"

Kyoya merely scoffed at his brother's question and kept walking towards the abandoned warehouse, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The place looked like it had been swallowed by time, its rusted exterior glowing in the dying light of the evening sun. "Of course it's okay," he replied with that trademark self-assurance that made it hard to argue with him. "We're not trespassing—we're just… making use of what's already ours. Dad probably doesn't even remember it exists."

That did little to calm Kakeru's anxiety. He glanced around, expecting someone to pop out and scold them at any moment. But the harbour was empty, save for the occasional caw of a seagull and the distant hum of the waves. Suddenly, the sound of Kyoya forcing the side door open with a powerful kick made him jump a mile.

When Kyoya turned around, he could see the unmistakable fear and hesitation in Kakeru's eyes. "You coming, or you'd rather we go home?"

With that question alone, Kakeru's doubts vanished. It might be almost dark, it might be an abandoned building, it might look scary, but his older brother was certain that it was safe. Kakeru trusted him wholeheartedly, so he would rather stand by his side here than sit at home, trapped in the crossfire of their parents' cold war.

So, the seven-year-old swallowed his nerves and followed Kyoya inside. The air was thick with dust and the scent of rusted metal, clinging to their skin like a second layer. Shafts of fading golden light spilled through the broken windows, casting fractured patterns on the concrete floor and dancing across forgotten machinery. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional creak of old beams or the distant drip of water echoing through the vast space.

Their footsteps echoed softly beneath the expansive ceiling, each step absorbed by the vastness of the warehouse. As they ventured deeper, the atmosphere became cooler, still dusty, still heavy, but somehow less eerie now that they weren't just standing in the doorway. Kyoya's confident stride was like a beacon, cutting through the shadows. Gradually, Kakeru's nerves began to melt away, chased off by the unwavering certainty radiating from Kyoya.

As they rounded a rusted support beam, Kakeru spotted it—an old, dented oil drum with scratches all over the surface, paint chipped off in jagged lines. Nearby, a couple of cracked crates were stacked haphazardly, their sides scuffed up from previous impacts. It was clear Kyoya had turned this place into a private training ground.

The older boy came to a stop in the middle of the open space, the final rays of sunlight catching in his unruly green hair. He smirked as he pulled Rock Leone from his pocket and snapped it into his launcher. "So, you ready to lose, squirt?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Kakeru's eyes lit up with fire, already swinging his school backpack off and crouching down to unzip it. "Tch—who said I'm losing?" he shot back while going through his stuff. "Let's see how your Leone handles Chimera—" He froze mid-sentence while frantically digging through the bag, pushing past notebooks, a half-eaten sandwich, and a pencil case but seeing no launcher and no bey. "Oh no…" he muttered, going through the bag again, as if the missing items might magically appear. "No, no, no… I forgot them!"

There was a beat of silence before Kyoya's "Ha?!" ricocheted off the tall metal walls, sharper than a whip crack. "Seriously? We came all the way out here for this, and you forgot both?!"

"I didn't mean to!" Kakeru whined, clutching his backpack like a shield. "I thought I packed them!"

The older Tategami groaned and ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth as if he was already an executive director with a tight schedule that could never tolerate such sudden changes. "We could've stayed home and actually done something. Now we're just standing in this stupid, filthy place for no reason. What a waste of time."

Kakeru stared down at his shoes, chewing on his lip in guilt. For a second, it seemed like the evening would spiral into sulking silence. But then, a spark lit in his eyes.

"Wait!" he exclaimed with a grin. "We could play hide-and-seek instead!"

Kyoya turned to him like he'd just suggested dressing up dolls. "Hide-and-seek? What are you, five?"

Kakeru puffed out his cheeks in offence "Oh, please. You just suck at hiding and that's why you don't wanna play."

"I what?!" Kyoya's voice climbed again, reverberating against the far-off walls.

"You always hide in the same spots," Kakeru spoke with the kind of smugness only a pest of a little brother could muster. "You're not sneaky. You're just loud and obvious and always pick the corners."

Kyoya's eyes narrowed, his hands curling into fists. "I do not. I let you find me because I feel bad for you."

Kakeru scoffed, not buying it for a second. "Excuses, excuses."

"Okay!" Kyoya snapped, putting away his beyblade and launcher like he was suiting up for war. "I'll play. But when I win—and I will—you're admitting I'm the best, and you're the one who sucks. Deal?"

Kakeru's grin widened as he zipped up his jacket dramatically. "Deal. Get ready to eat your words, Big Bro."

A matching grin spread across Kyoya's face, full of teeth and pride, like he was the king of this jungle, and he was about to teach this little cocky thing why he exactly he wore the crown. But that didn't deter Kakeru, who was already eyeing the maze of broken crates and shadows ahead, calculating hiding spots like a soldier planning for battle.

The game kicked off with eager energy, both boys diving into it like it was the most important competition of their lives. Kyoya moved through the warehouse with confidence, knowing every corner like the back of his hand. Kakeru, despite being new to the place, proved creative and bold, squeezing into impossible places his brother hadn't even considered. They traded roles with each round, counting loudly, then sprinting off in search of one another, keeping a careful score with every win and loss. For a little while, it didn't matter who their parents were or what kind of pressure awaited them at home - they were just kids.

It was Kyoya's turn to hide. Kakeru was only at fourteen, his voice echoing brightly through the warehouse, when Kyoya ducked behind a stack of rusted shipping crates nestled against the wall. A smirk tugged at his lips because there was no way his little brother would find him this time. He crouched low, heart thudding in anticipation, and while he would never say it out loud, this silly game he used to scoff at, was actually kind of thrilling.

But then the ground shifted.

A low rumble stirred beneath his feet, like a beast waking in the belly of the earth. The steel bones of the structure groaned, and the foundation shuddered hard enough to knock Kyoya onto one knee. His eyes widened as vibrations climbed up the walls, rattling old chains, shaking dust loose from the beams above. High up, forgotten barrels clanged against the rails, and something heavy crashed in the distance.

Kyoya didn't need anyone to tell him—this place wasn't built to withstand earthquakes.

"Kakeru!" he shouted, scrambling toward the centre of the warehouse.

There in the open, the younger Tategami stood frozen by the column where he'd been counting, his wide eyes scanning the chaos when a metal barrel crashed nearby with a deafening sound, missing him by just a little. The noise jolted Kakeru into motion, and he bolted for the nearest cover he could spot, a half-broken crate across the floor.

Kyoya's heart dropped when his gaze shot higher, where heavy steel plates were hanging by worn wire ropes, swaying violently. One strong shake, and they'd break loose, crashing down on the exact spot Kakeru was heading for.

"KAKERU, STOP!" Kyoya's screamed as he sprinted across the trembling floor, willing himself to reach his brother in time. The distance between them vanished in a flash, and he lunged forward, grabbing Kakeru by the collar and yanking him back with every ounce of strength in his body.

And then came the metallic snap, like the crack of thunder, the wire ropes finally giving way. The steel plates plummeted, slamming into the ground where Kakeru would've been just a heartbeat ago. The impact sent a blast of air in every direction.

Kyoya felt exactly that whip of wind first, then fire across his face. Sharp, searing pain tore through both his cheeks as the frayed ends of the recoiling wire ropes lashed out like whips. He cried out, stumbling backwards, clutching Kakeru close with trembling arms.

A sudden hush fell over the warehouse, jarring after the deafening crash.

The ground stopped shaking. Dust clouded the air, swirling in shafts of fading sunlight like ghostly smoke. Kyoya's wounds burned with every grain of debris that touched them, but somehow, he pried his eyes open. Through the haze, he looked down at Kakeru who was curled up against him, arms locked around his torso, his face buried in Kyoya's chest, shaking like a leaf caught in a storm.

But he was okay.

That was all that mattered to Kyoya.

Slowly, Kakeru turned his head, his eyes wide as they flicked around the ruined warehouse. "It's over…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "The earthquake… it's over, right?"

Kyoya gave the faintest nod, his own body still quivering from adrenaline.

Finally, Kakeru looked up at him, really looked at him, and froze as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"Kyoya… your face…!" he gasped, his small hands reaching up to touch his brother's bloodied cheeks.

Kyoya winced at the contact but forced himself to keep his composure. Last thing he wanted was to make Kakeru even more scared and worried. "I'm fine," he uttered, though his voice was strained. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!" Kakeru cried. "You're bleeding!"

Kyoya touched his own face, his fingers coming away slick with blood. "It'll heal," he declared firmly, wiping his hand on his shirt. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Kakeru shook his head, tears streaming down his panicked face. "No, but—"

"Then we're good," Kyoya interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Let's just get out of here."

They stumbled out of the warehouse into the dark outside. Kyoya, despite the throbbing pain in his cheeks, kept his head high. The wounds didn't matter. What mattered was that Kakeru was safe.

Three days had passed since the warehouse incident. The memory of snapping wire ropes and collapsing plates still echoed faintly in the back of Kyoya's mind, but today, something else made his hands clammy and his stomach twist. The time had come to remove the bandages.

He was leaning against the bathroom counter stiffly, the sterile scent of ointments and alcohol stinging his nose. For once, both Reina and Gaou were present together. No tension, no biting remarks or cold silences, just quiet concern. His mother hovered close, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. His father stood nearby, arms crossed but emerald eyes softer than Kyoya had seen in years.

Reina unwrapped the gauze with slow, careful fingers. The closer she got to Kyoya's skin, the more he tensed, every inch of exposed flesh making it harder to breathe. When the last strip came off, there was no gasp, no dramatic reaction…just stillness.

Taking a deep breath, Kyoya turned around to face the large mirror. His reflection stared back at him, familiar yet irrevocably changed. Two vertical scars ran down his cheeks, crossed by two shorter, horizontal marks, forming even crosses on either side of his face. The skin was already healing, but a part of him knew they'd never disappear.

It wasn't pain or shame that hit him first. It was a deeply embedded reflex, automatic as breathing, a thought drilled within his brain ever since he was able to talk: What will people think?

"They're gonna say I look scary…" he muttered, voice wavering with vulnerability despite his best attempt to sound indifferent about it. "At school. At tournaments. The tabloids. Everything." He let out a bitter scoff. "Just perfect for the Tategami image, right?"

Silence again. Until Gaou stepped forward.

"Come here," he instructed, crouching so they were eye to eye. Then, without a word, he lifted a hand and tapped the prominent scar running vertically between his brows, a deep, old mark that gave his already sharp face an even sterner look.

"You think this makes me less of a Tategami?"

Kyoya blinked, caught off guard at the unexpected question.

Gaou gave a small smile, the rare kind that softened the hard edges of his usual serious demeanour. "Happened when I was seventeen. Worked construction back then. We were setting beams and a chain gave out. Caught me right across the face."

Kyoya couldn't help but listen intently. His father never talked about the time before the company. That part of Gaou's life was like a myth - rough, distant, and too humble to belong to the CEO of Tategami Corporation.

"I hated it at first," Gaou admitted with a bittersweet smirk. "Felt like it branded me—like I'd always look like some reckless punk. But it made me realize something - I was tired of breaking my back for scraps while someone else sat at the top. I didn't want to be the guy risking his life for minimum wage while others raked in profits from their cosy offices with AC." He paused, placing his heavy hands on Kyoya's shoulders, as if this impromptu speech wasn't grounding enough. "That scar was a wake-up call and reminded me I needed to climb higher. Scars don't mean you're broken. They mean you've been through hell and still came out swinging."

Kyoya swallowed hard, eyes drifting back to the mirror. The wounds were still there. But now, they didn't look as jarring. Perhaps… they symbolized something else now, not shame.

Before Kyoya could respond, Reina stepped in quietly, her sapphire eyes glassy with unshed tears. She knelt beside Gaou, gently cradling Kyoya's face in her hands the way she used to whenever he scraped his knees as a little kid. Her thumbs brushed softly against the edges of the fresh scars on his cheeks, touches so light they barely registered, and yet they meant everything. "Your father's right - these marks aren't something to be ashamed of. You're still my handsome, strong boy, and you're amazing for protecting your little brother. What you did was brave and selfless, and no one can take that away from you." A genuine smile found its way to her lips. "And whenever you forget just how proud I am of you… I'll always be there to remind you."

Kyoya didn't say anything at first because the knot that had sat in his chest for days finally started to unravel. Her words sank into him like sunlight through clouds, making him feel safe and cared for, and certain that everything his parents had just told him was the truth.

As Reina stood beside Gaou again, not as business figures or socialites, but just as parents, Kyoya stared up at them virtually with disbelief. They were both smiling at him, both present, and for once making him feel seen.

At that moment, something flickered to life in his chest.

Hope.

Just the tiniest flame, but real enough to burn.

Maybe, he thought wishfully, they can start getting along again.

They left him alone to get ready for bed, Reina brushing a hand through his hair one last time before quietly shutting the bathroom door. Kyoya stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection while running his fingers along the faint lines on his cheeks. The pain was still there, but it didn't burn quite as much now. He could live with these, even if they scarred. And especially if they were the trigger for Gaou and Reina realizing that they need to fix their relationship.

Kyoya had just begun to brush his teeth when the sound of muffled, tense voices downstairs made him pause. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but then he strained to listen harder, brushing his teeth slower, trying to tune it out, trying to believe they were just talking.

But these tones and words could never be mistaken for "just talking".

"…you should've watched them, Reina—how could you not notice they snuck off!?"

"Of course I noticed! Don't you dare talk to me like that! I'm already doing everything I can! Maybe if you were around more than just twice a week—"

The boy's shoulders slumped, toothbrush limp in his hand. The words popped the hope that had just started to form like a balloon. The warmth from earlier drained out of him instantly. He stood there, motionless, eyes locked on the mirror. His reflection didn't look surprised at all. Just... tired.

The tightness came back to his chest, sharp and persistent. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, trying to ground himself, but the thoughts drowned him anyway.

What if they divorced? What if they hate each other forever now because of what I did? If I hadn't brought Kakeru there, if we hadn't gone out at all—

It's my fault.

A tear slipped down his cheek, stinging where the skin was still tender. He wiped it away quickly, but more followed, silent and hot.

The wounds on his face were healing.

But the ones in his chest?

Those were still wide open.

And they wouldn't ever heal.

You see, I really felt like I needed to give Kyoya a reason and explanation as to why he's a total dickhead in early Metal Fusion. And what better explanation than good ol' dysfunctional family? :D

As for the accident itself, I've seen the sketch of Adachi where he shows how Kyoya got his scars. And honestly? I'm not buying the whole window-randomly-exploding thing either. To me, it genuinely looked as if someone had launched beys at Kyoya and that's how he got those ridiculously symmetrical scars. But then I ran the image through Google Translate (not the most reliable source, I know!) and it mentioned "wire ropes". So I did some digging, and it makes more sense than glass shards conveniently slicing artistic little X's on both cheeks. The physics are still hanging on by a thread, but hey, it's fiction! Let me live!

Also, I went full fanon mode with Gaou's backstory. The idea that he used to work construction before becoming part of Japan's fancy elite is 100% my own made-up bullshit. I only noticed way later that he's got a gnarly scar on his face too, much rougher than Kyoya's. And since he's canonically described as a wild dude who "talks with his fists," my brain was like: Aha! Dangerous job and bad manners = construction worker energy. Plus, it ties nicely into Tategami Corp starting as a contracting company. Maybe Gaou just worked his way up from the trenches, literally. And let's be real, nothing lights a fire under your butt quite like misery and a desire to not eat instant noodles for the rest of your life.