A fill from the Tiger and Bunny Anon Meme. Prompt: Antonio/Muramasa.

Rated T for language and sexual themes.

If Antonio wanted to go back to the absolute beginning, he first met Muramasa when he and a group of his punk friends tried to rob his store. They were broke teenagers without fake IDs in a town so small that fakes wouldn't get them anywhere, and they didn't see stealing from Kaburagi Liquors as any great loss to the proprietors—they knew about a kid called Kaburagi at the rival high school, but if he got pissed about Antonio stealing from his family, then Antonio would just kick his ass. If he ever found out who robbed them at all.

The bar closed at 1:00 AM, so at 1:30, Antonio and three of his buddies walked the street to the store in dark hoodies with some rocks and a knife. The windows stood defenseless, no grates or anything. Like candy from a baby.

But then a shotgun fired, blasting through the still night air. Antonio's friends scattered, screeching, and ran for home. Though Antonio had no reason to fear bullets, if someone was firing on them, then that meant there was a witness around to see their faces and call cops, so Antonio turned to follow… but not before catching a glimpse of the gunman silhouetted in the door, stance strong and tall like an action hero on a movie poster, the black stick of a shotgun barrel crossing his chest.

The second shot rang out, and Antonio ran while the gunman reloaded.

In hindsight, robbing a liquor store at any hour had to be the absolute worst way of going about getting drunk. But Antonio was not about to resent his poorly-thought-out plan, because it set into motion the single biggest change in his young life. Getting shot at by some guy at a liquor store made him look more seriously at the Kaburagi kid still in high school. That more serious look revealed that Kaburagi was an undefeated fighter, so then Antonio decided to challenge him, and continued challenging him when he got ignored. Then his efforts were all in vain when his punk friends stabbed him in the back and kidnapped Kaburagi's girlfriend without permission, so they had to save the girl from a flaming warehouse, a rescue that won Antonio over to Kaburagi's ideals. His powers had a purpose: helping people.

But then, Antonio got a legitimate invitation to the Kaburagi Liquors premises. Kotetsu asked Antonio if he wanted to come to the bar "To do stuff like homework and stuff" after class and clubs (when that Amamiya girl dragged him to choir practice).

"You do your homework right after school?" Antonio scoffed at him.

"My brother will kick my ass if I don't," Kotetsu answered, kicking a rock in the street.

"Your big brother can kick your ass? So he's a better fighter than you?"

"Do you have any brothers?"

"No."

"Then you don't know. Doesn't matter who's better, with brothers."

That explanation made absolutely no sense to Antonio, so he decided to wait and see for himself if the elder Kaburagi was really as tough as Kotetsu said.

When they got to the store, Kotetsu practically flung himself through the door and announced, "M'here!"

A woman behind the counter looked up from a stack of receipts, adjusting a pair of reading glasses. "Ah, Kotetsu. How was school?"

"Fine," Kotetsu slid his backpack into a corner and claimed a barstool, leaning against the counter like he owned the place.

"Just 'fine?' Talk to me, Kotetsu. Who's your new friend?"

"Oh, I'm Antonio, um, Lopez," Antonio gave his full name, a little unsure of exactly how Japanese the Kaburagis were. Oriental Town boasted a large Japanese population, which involved fewer kimonos than Antonio had thought, but was he supposed to give his last name first and call people senpai-san-sama and stuff like that?

"Nice to meet you," Kotetsu's mother said. "I'm Mrs. Kaburagi."

Antonio relaxed. "Same, nice to meet you."

Mrs. Kaburagi turned her attention back to her son, and frowned. "Well, if you aren't going to tell me about your day, at least give me a hug."

"I'm not a little kid. Don't treat me like one," Kotetsu complained, shifting his legs in a search for the most badass bar-pose he could muster.

But that's when his fantasy shattered. A voice like a steel sword sliced through the air and ordered, "Kotetsu. Stop acting like a yakuza punk and hug Mom."

In a flash Kotetsu abandoned his posturing and darted behind the bar to give Mrs. Kaburagi a hug. Antonio looked to the source of the voice—a young man, only a few years older than Kotetsu and Antonio, in a white collared shirt with a yellow apron. A young man with thick brown hair and a tall spine. A young man with amazingly deep eyes.

"Sorry about him," the elder Kaburagi son said. "When he brings a new friend to the bar, he always tries to act cool. I hope he wasn't too annoying."

"N-No, it's—" Antonio cleared his throat so it wouldn't sound as squeaky. "It's cool."

He only half-succeeded.

It took Antonio weeks to get an answer to the shotgun problem. The weapon itself just hung on the wall innocently, supported by some hooks, but Antonio struggled with how to approach the question without admitting guilt.

"So, um, do you know what kind of gun that is? On the wall?"

"1947 Browning A-5, twelve-gauge," Muramasa rattled off as he wiped down glasses.

"Wow. Does it still shoot?"

"Yeah. I use it on troublemakers."

"You use it?" Antonio gaped in surprise.

"Well, I won't let my mother fight off intruders alone," Muramasa answered.

So that meant that back then, that action hero framed in the doorway of the liquor store, that had been Muramasa Kaburagi.

Muramasa. Muramasa. The name didn't quite stick in Antonio's memory at first. After some grievous errors—Muramama, Musamara, Muramura—Antonio drilled himself in correctly pronouncing his friend's brother's name: Muramasa. Muramasa. Muramasa. Muramasa. Muramasa.

But then, one day, he etched 'Muramasa' onto the front of one of his notebooks without even thinking about it. And, horrifyingly, he didn't notice the name was there until Kotetsu pointed it out to him.

But bless Kotetsu's heart, he thought it was out of some fascination for Japanese culture, so he scrawled his own name across Antonio's notebook and added Japanese 'kanji' for the both of them. As Kotetsu launched into a long-winded story of how he got his future hero name from this special kanji, Antonio stared at his notebook and fought back a strange heat on his face.

He tore the front of the notebook off later, at home, but didn't throw it out. The Japanese characters looked like mystic symbols of power and wisdom. The ones for Muramasa seemed to suit him particularly well, simple, broad, and strong. Antonio kind of wanted to learn how to draw them, but decided he was already acting way too weird, and knowing how to write Muramasa's name in two different alphabets was asking for trouble.

Antonio only got bits and pieces of the story about Mr. Kaburagi—anti-NEXT, left when he found out about Kotetsu's powers, putting the family on a shoestring for years, then pain, gangs, fighting, struggling to maintain if not their lives, then at least their pride—but the most important thing was, everything turned around when Muramasa started working full-time at the store. Mrs. Kaburagi stayed around to teach Muramasa the ropes and handle things that needed her signature, but no one in town cared if a teenager served their alcohol so long as he didn't cause trouble.

Muramasa was nineteen, and absolutely unlike any other nineteen-year-old Antonio had ever met. Working straight out of school, late-night shifts at that, and able to keep his firecracker little brother in line, and always mature and responsible with the right answers and broad hands and lean arms and muscles that he gained not from hurting others, but though honest, hard work, and eyes—goddammit, Antonio, what the fuck?

And it didn't help that the atmosphere started getting a little… rosy. Kotetsu finally got a clue and started flirting with Amamiya, the girl Antonio's ex-friends had kidnapped. Amamiya and Antonio got along well—Antonio liked to think he had made a good first impression, kicking the crap out of his underlings for harming her—but she and Kotetsu had a very clear thing for each other, and rather than sit at the table and watch them make goo-goo eyes over algebra, Antonio took his books and moved over to the bar, usually right under Muramasa's nose.

Muramasa could be a slave driver. If Antonio gave even the slightest hint that he had a lot of homework, or a test coming up, or a concept he didn't understand, Muramasa would bring some work over to where Antonio sat and then stand over him and glare down, ensuring he stayed on task until he could prove that every assignment had been completed, in legible handwriting, and double-checked. Only then could Antonio ask Muramasa about his likes, dislikes, wishes, or fears, and even if he made it that far, he rarely got answers. Muramasa had a habit of deflecting Antonio's questions, redirecting them to make Antonio talk more about himself rather than adding information about his own life. As far as Antonio could tell, he might as well be talking with a brick wall, all give and no get.

"I don't like sweets much, either."

A feeling kind of like a sunrise grew in Antonio's chest. Or maybe the rarity of getting made the getting all the better.

Antonio used to make jokes about sneaking sips from the stock, but Muramasa had no patience for that sort of humor, so he stopped quickly. Because of that fact, it surprised Antonio all the more when, on the evening of his high school graduation, the young master of Kaburagi Liquors presented him with a dark emerald bottle crowned with gold foil.

"Don't drive," Muramasa ordered. "Don't share it with anyone younger than you. Don't break anything… and good job."

Antonio stared down at the champagne bottle—the crinkle of the foil, the curve of the neck, the weight of the base. Anything to not look Muramasa in the eye, because he's fairly certain that if he did, he'd do something embarrassing. In his last growth spurt, Antonio came to tower over the Kaburagis, and looking down at Muramasa, someone who always seemed miles taller than him, tended to aggravate his pulse.

"Thanks," Antonio managed a sideways grin. The champagne in his hands felt so heavy. And even not as an alcohol expert, he can tell Muramasa chose well for him. A good vineyard, a good year. He accidentally glanced down at Muramasa, and half an instant of eye contact was enough of a cue for Muramasa to open his arms.

A hug. Two years of knowing the Kaburagis, Antonio understood that touching was a big thing for the Japanese. Even just holding hands with the wrong person at the wrong time could be a huge scandal. Two major gestures from Muramasa: alcohol and physical contact.

Antonio accepted the hug just so Muramasa wouldn't see his face—lips way too wobbly and eyes too watery for a guy who, even without a gang, remained a badass punk who never cried over stupid stuff like getting to hug… getting to hug…

How to define Muramasa. He didn't want to define their relationship in terms of Kotetsu, as 'best friend's big brother,' but didn't exactly know where he fell on the scale of friendship. They spent time together, yes, but Kotetsu was always the one with Antonio on their teenage exploits, while Muramasa remained in the background. Was he a friend? A role model? Something completely different?

If Kotetsu took Antonio's world and turned it upside down once, then Muramasa was the one who turned Antonio's world upside down every single time they saw each other, until down was up and black was white and wanting to spend every day with a stiff, stoic guy who gave Antonio absolutely no reason to want to be with him made perfect logical sense.

With his arms wrapped around Muramasa, nose filled with the scent of liquor that Muramasa never tastes, Antonio mumbled again, "Seriously. Thank you."

And even though he went to the cool party and got just drunk enough to have fun and scored with a pretty girl, Antonio kept Muramasa's champagne away from the festivities. He didn't want that gift wasted on something as petty and trivial as riled-up teenagers. He wanted to save it for something serious and meaningful, something like Muramasa himself.

Kotetsu's school graduated a week later, and rumors started to circulate, because apparently just after the ceremony, Kotetsu and Tomoe vanished and weren't seen until the following morning, dirt and leaves in their hair. Suspicious, suspicious, suspicious. But Antonio got the real story.

"See, I carried Tomoe up the side of Fuji-chan hill, to that clearing at the top where you can see the stars, and I asked her if she'd marry me in Sternbild. And she said yes! We're like half engaged! I mean, no ring, but it's a promise! So then we spent the night stargazing and drinking the champagne Muramasa gave me—"

At that point Antonio stopped listening, because he had an answer to the relationship problem. Muramasa supplied drink to his little brother. His little brothers, Kotetsu and Antonio both. Little brothers. He and Antonio both.

I'm so stupid.

For that beautiful summer, with Sternbild on their brains, Tomoe spent as much time as possible outside putting Kotetsu through an improvised boot camp, lugging heavy objects, running long distances, blocking pebbles with his hands.

"Your power gets stronger as you do!" Tomoe insisted. "You said you're way stronger now than you were when you were a kid! So if you become stronger still, you'll be the best hero ever!"

"But Tomoeeeee…" Kotetsu whined. "I should train while actually using my powers, right?"

"Did you sleep through the day we learned about exponential growth?" Tomoe threw another bit of gravel at Kotetsu, hitting his shoulder as his hands moved half a second too late to block. "If you can lift just another pound without your powers, if your abilities grow by a factor of ten, an arbitrary estimate for calculation, that's ten more pounds you can move while powered up! Conversely, every pound of strength you gain if you train while powered up will only translate to a tenth of a pound when you're back to normal," She paused to gather up a new handful of rocks. "Makes sense?"

"Nope," Kotetsu shrugged. "But I'll actually be using my powers on TV because I'll be saving people! It won't be like fights, where I gotta stay normal."

"What if you can't save the people in time? Your super-strength runs out after just five minutes. If you're just a weakling for the rest of the fifty-five minutes, no one will take you seriously!"

"So you think flinging rocks at me is gonna fix that?"

At that point, Tomoe usually turned to Antonio and asked, "Antonio, would you be so kind?" hoping that Antonio could provide some healthy competition and make Kotetsu quit complaining. Thus, Antonio joined in Hero Camp for the summer after high school with his friends, because the alternative was hanging out at the bar with Muramasa.

Big Brother Muramasa. Big Brother Muramasa, proud of his Little Brother Antonio…

"GYHAAAAAGH!"

After spending the summer running and punching and breaking trees and flinging boulders and screaming his soul out, each day burning up all the rage and frustration in his heart, come fall, Antonio felt ready to settle back into routine. The Kaburagis bought a (relatively) new van, in good repair, and branded it for deliveries around town. That was Kotetsu's new job, after Muramasa weighed the choice of leaving his little brother unattended at the shop or sending him out into the world in a motor vehicle, and decided the second was the lesser of two evils. Tomoe started up at the local community college, close enough to come home for weekends and make a little money tutoring. Both were preparing for their future in Sternbild, researching rents in different neighborhoods, gathering dishware and cookware sets piece by piece at yard sales, debating the pros and cons of owning a car. To an outsider, it looked like the two grew up overnight, but Antonio just saw it as an extension of their teenage dreams of heroics.

Antonio… bounced around. And the only thing that seemed to stay the same was Kaburagi Liquors, where he ended up more nights than not to blow a few bucks on a beer or two. Staying later now that he was of age and had some spare change to burn, Antonio got a better look at the usual crowd of patrons—lots of older men, fathers and grandfathers and aged single men, a set of close-knit regulars. They didn't trust Antonio at first, calling him "boy," "sonny," and "green-horn," but Antonio accepted the challenge to prove himself and stuck it out until they acknowledged him, and the derisive nicknames turned to proud titles of belonging. At the bar, Antonio learned how to nurse his drinks through the night and which stories to tell and how to share a night of intoxication with others rather than lonely teenage binge-drinking.

These men all had fire; not blazing youth, but a potential energy, like the fuse of a stick of dynamite. And Antonio realized that, though barely a few years older than himself, Muramasa had the same fuse these older men did. Not a daredevil spirit like Kotetsu, not a temper like Antonio, but he saw it on nights when the atmosphere turned sour and someone had to get kicked out for causing trouble. Muramasa took absolute authority in the bar, divine rule over his kingdom, and had no tolerance for those who abused their privilege to drink, dumping them outside on their asses and notifying their next-of-kin of their disgraceful discharge.

At moments like that, Muramasa came closer to exploding. He never did, but he got close. Antonio spent dull days and sleepless nights imagining if Muramasa exploded, his stoic exterior ripped to shreds by the sheer force of his soul, all that fight that Antonio barely saw flashes of pouring out of him in an unrestrained flood… Just thinking about Muramasa like that made Antonio's heart race for a strange reason.

The power that Antonio's imaginary, unbridled Muramasa held over him to make his pulse beat hard and his skin shiver scared him more than anything else. But somehow, that wasn't a bad sort of scary.

Kotetsu and Tomoe made it to Sternbild just a few months after she finished college, and a few months after that, she walked down the aisle to become Mrs. Tomoe Kaburagi, just as she and Kotetsu had promised one night in the forest all those years ago.

Nice to see some dreams come true, then.

Antonio teased Kotetsu every step of the way ("A white tux? The woman wears white, not the man." "But black is for dead people!") and though Kotetsu threatened to take away his status as best man and give it to Muramasa, he never did. During the ceremony, Antonio stood to Kotetsu's left in a rented tux a bit too small for his shoulders, with Muramasa just behind him, staring at the happy couple and Tomoe's bridesmaids beyond them.

…Did the maid of honor just wink at him? Or was she focused on Muramasa? Strangely, both interpretations didn't sit right with him.

"Tomoe," Kotetsu began his vows. "Even back in high school, you always had your eye on me, keeping me in line. But at the same time, you never laughed at my dreams. You're stern when I'm slacking, but kind when I just need someone there for me. That's how I know I'm absolutely in love with you."

Wait… what? Antonio fought the urge to glance over his shoulder at Muramasa. Stern kindness is love? At least by Kotetsu's definition, caring about someone and enjoying their stern kindness qualified as love. Antonio barely heard the rest of Kotetsu's vow, and suddenly, it was Tomoe's turn.

"Kaburagi T. Kotetsu-kun," she rattled off, earning a little laugh from Kotetsu. Some sort of inside joke. "I just can't help but feel like every day is an adventure with you. Even the laziest of days where all we do is sit together are still a thrilling highlight of my life."

When I go by the bar… No, stop thinking like that! Get a hold of yourself! This isn't—isn't…

He spent the rest of the ceremony quietly forcing his hands not to shake as he pondered the "Is" and "Isn't"-ness of his feelings, his entire self aware of the person standing barely two feet away, behind him. And he played his part well for the reception, too, standing where designated, delivering his blessing, applauding, but watching Muramasa at every opportunity. Because he couldn't be in love. Not with his best friend's brother. Not with another man. Not with someone who trusted him.

But when the maid of honor made her move—on Antonio—he snapped, and ranted about how, on a day dedicated to the celebration of Kotetsu and Tomoe's true love, their friends should not be so crass and disrespectful as to run around and hook up with each other. The phrasing is funny enough that everyone takes it as a half-drunk joke, but Antonio had never been more serious or sober about anything in his life.

He was in love, and he wanted to die.

"I still can't believe that's Kotetsu wearing all that spandex," Muramasa shook his head at the TV.

"It could be worse," Antonio said. "He could be in purple sequins, like Razzle Dazzle."

Muramasa just kept shaking his head. "And what's he getting all bulky for? That never used to happen."

"Visuals, I guess."

"He looks like a thug," Muramasa judged. "And how does a wild roar do anything? That's a stupid catchphrase. They're making him look like a crazy muscle nut."

So much negativity from the solid, stable Muramasa. "C'mon, if we support Kotetsu, we have to support Wild Tiger, too, no matter how stupid he looks."

"Supporting Kotetsu has nothing to do with cheering for an idiot in a cape," Muramasa stared at the TV as Wild Tiger rescued an armful of civilians. "We can't let him get lazy when things are going well. And we can't let him mope when things go wrong, either. That's support."

The back of Antonio's neck heated up, and he looked away. "I guess that's best."

That was what it took, to stay by Muramasa's side. Friendship. So long as Antonio stayed friends with the young barkeeper, he could spend time with him, hear his voice, and every so often, see him smile. He could subsist on that, right?

No. He couldn't.

Antonio burned through jobs like matches, hating each one more than the last. He spent hours at the bar, deliberately trying to outlast the late crowd so he could have a minute or two alone with Muramasa, and half-drunk, those brief moments tore him apart. So he'd run to the nearby forests and glow blue and just shred through the mountainside, screaming his feelings until his whole body hurt instead of just his heart. Then he staggered home and usually found an answering machine message, either from Tomoe or Kotetsu, asking about how he was and sharing a few details of their lives. Kotetsu's messages always emphasized how awesome hero work was, telling Antonio it'd be a great way to use his powers for good. Antonio deleted the messages and let the cycle continue.

But then one night, with the cicadas singing loud enough to hide any other sound, Antonio locked his door and lay back and imagined Muramasa in his arms, his skin, his breath, his voice, his lithe, breadwinner body, trembling with heat, and he gasped—

The next day, Antonio called Tomoe and Kotetsu, asking if he could stay on their couch for a week or so while he hunted for an apartment. He quit his job and boxed up all his truly important possessions, and then told the bar he was moving to Sternbild. He stayed late and told Muramasa that his goal was to be a hero.

Muramasa blinked, a bit surprised. "Good luck, then."

He opened his arms for a hug, but Antonio shook his hand, looking away, and then left.

No way could he stay in Oriental Town knowing what he had done. Someone like him didn't deserve to hold Muramasa, even in an ordinary, platonic embrace. A freak didn't deserve Muramasa.

But some part of Antonio hoped that a hero might.

The Kronos Foods executives picked Antonio apart, dissecting him, evaluating every element of his appearance, face and body, praising some parts and criticizing others. Antonio didn't give much thought to the way he looked before, but under such scrutiny, he felt absolutely hideous. Kotetsu had to reassure him that TopMag put him through the same treatment, and it was all worth it in the end.

He was right. Kronos unveiled his new hero persona: Rock Bison, the Bull Tank of the West Coast. After weeks spent systematically attacking Antonio's self-esteem, he put on the green iron suit for the first time and felt like the king of the entire world.

Rock Bison. Obviously, Bison, a horned beast that crushed its opponents before they crushed it, and Rock, something solid, immobile, eternal. But it occurred to Antonio that if anyone qualified as rock-like, it was Muramasa, back in Oriental Town, maintaining Kaburagi Liquors and caring for Mrs. Kaburagi. Muramasa, who never changed, always standing resolute, the protector of everything that ever mattered.

So long as Antonio stayed busy, the homesickness stayed at bay. But after his debut party (filled with praise and admiration he hadn't known since he was the leader of a gang of punks) his apartment was so silent, far, far too silent, and Antonio reached for the champagne Muramasa had given him for his high school graduation all those years ago. Then he stared at it for a full hour, turning it about in his hands, the glass gradually warming in his hands.

Finally, he put it away, unopened. Not alone.

The next time Antonio visited Oriental Town, Tomoe was lying in a coffin and everyone was crying.

Mr. and Mrs. Amamiya wept in their front seats. Mrs. Kaburagi dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she soothed the toddler, Kaede, half upset just because everyone else was, and half because she was finally starting to comprehend that she couldn't see Mommy anymore. Kotetsu sat to her other side, shoulders shaking. Even though he had time to prepare for Tomoe's passing, the math was easy and Antonio realized that Tomoe had died during a hero call, placing just enough blame on Kotetsu to crush him.

And then Muramasa. Handsome, mature Muramasa, growing finer the longer Antonio left him alone. He stared at Antonio with his deep brown eyes—shining slightly with tears—and opened his arms to Antonio. Without even thinking about it, Antonio let Muramasa wrap his arms around him and savored an embrace he hadn't felt in years.

"I know this is hard," Muramasa mumbled in his ear. "This is hard on everyone that Tomoe called family…"

At that, the loss of his friend compounded with yet another reminder of heartbreak, Antonio cried into Muramasa's shoulder. Doubtlessly, Muramasa assumed the tears were for Tomoe alone.

Kotetsu staunchly refused grief leave, even though his boss offered him all the time he wanted to sort out his feelings. He still went to work, and as far as the other heroes could tell, Wild Tiger was just a little stressed. But Antonio saw more. He knew Kotetsu had lost his daughter to Oriental Town at the same time as he lost his wife to illness, and now lived absolutely alone for the first time. Antonio spent a week or two trying to stay at the house, but Kotetsu got so awkward he'd barely do anything, and kept telling Antonio they should leave and go drinking together, the way they used to.

Since Antonio didn't trust Kotetsu with alcohol, and apparently Kotetsu didn't trust Antonio in his empty house, Antonio found a compromise.

He signed them up for classes. Anything, everything. Find Kotetsu a new hobby, new friends, unassociated with painful memories. They went to the first-day lessons for cooking classes, foreign language classes, photography classes, sewing classes (which Antonio followed through with, though Kotetsu lost interest) and a few martial arts classes (which Kotetsu followed through with). Antonio worried a little that fighting had too much to do with hero work, but in Judo class, Kotetsu talked to people without being prompted and sometimes even reminded Antonio to come to class, so he had to consider martial arts a success, making Kotetsu do something other than sit at home and go to work and be sad.

Good. Sorting out Kotetsu life made it easier to pretend that Antonio's own life wasn't falling to pieces.

The new hero, Fire Emblem, knew he was hot stuff, pun indented. In a flame-red costume designed to make blood boil, with a strong, solid body that took down three thugs in hand-to-hand combat in his first episode, a soft, feminine voice filling his introduction speech with kindness, and then later, with his mask off, striking features, professional makeup, and…

"Nathan Seymour, CEO of Helios Energy," he drawled. "I'm very glad to be joining you all~."

Wealthy, cultured, intelligent, powerful, and if not respected, then at least taken seriously, in spite of all the glitter. The heroes went around in a circle and at least gave their civilian first-names, because even though they all used each other's hero names, it wouldn't do to run into each other out of costume and not know what to call each other.

"Rock Bison. Antonio," Antonio stuck out his hand for a shake. Fire Emblem glanced down at his hand, then up at his face, a twinkle in his mysteriously pink eyes.

"Nice to meet you." His soft-strong hand slid easily into Antonio's grip, and lingered a little longer than strictly necessary.

Antonio supposed Fire Emblem would be considered 'a good catch' in this situation, but Antonio couldn't let go of the fact that even after all these years, there was still another man on his mind. Besides, Fire Emblem didn't seem to 'follow up' on his expressed interest. He talked with Antonio a lot, but usually about common interests and never romance, and the flamboyant hero divided his time very equally among the other heroes, too. After just a few months, Kotetsu had apparently already spent the night at Fire Emblem's place (somehow without having sex with him—"it was a good bed, but that guy is a terrible pillow.") before Fire Emblem ever asked Antonio out. And even then, the whole conversation remained so vague and interpretable: he just wanted to have dinner with Antonio, to get to know him better, outside of work. Probably the same line he used on Kotetsu or the other heroes.

The whole night, Antonio couldn't tell if the fancy restaurant, the sparkly clothes, or the good wine was all stuff Fire Emblem did for his friends or his romantic conquests. The anxiety of maybe falling into the 'conquest' category messed up Antonio's glass count, and he ended up a bit drunker than he wanted.

"So, you just trying to screw all the heroes?" Antonio asked. "Gonna go back, try Tiger again?"

Fire Emblem giggled. "The forbidden fruit always sounds like it's begging to be tasted," he said, running a manicured finger along the rim of his glass. "But the key is knowing if the voice belongs to the fruit, or to me. And never listening when it's just me."

"Well—okay, whatever," Antonio stabbed his steak and ripped off a bite. "Because if you fuck with Tiger, I'm gonna… You're not gonna like it. At all."

"Oh, I read you loud and clear~," Fire Emblem crooned.

At the end of the night, things tipped definitively into the 'conquest' category, and Antonio just couldn't think. Fire Emblem took one of Antonio's hands in his, then on his front step, rested a palm against his chest, just above his heart, and leaned in—

He didn't mean to shove Fire Emblem so hard (there might have been a flash of blue light involved) but at the time, the action felt perfectly justified. An insult from Fire Emblem about manners and rudeness died away quickly when he noticed Antonio shaking and sweating, on the verge of a panic attack.

So he sat with Antonio for another two hours, still holding his hand, but rather than Fire Emblem reaching out to Antonio, Antonio clung to Fire Emblem like a lifeline. The other hero gently coaxed answers out of Antonio with simple, sensitive questions.

Do you consider yourself attracted to men? No. Have you ever been attracted to a man? Yes. A single, special man? Yes. Someone who means the world to you? Yes. Someone you can't wait to see each day? No, he lives far away. A long-distance relationship? No, not a relationship. One-sided? Yes. How long have you known him? Over fifteen years. And how long have you loved him? At least ten, maybe the whole fifteen.

Does he know?

No. He doesn't know.

At that point, Antonio was crying, so Fire Emblem helped him to bed and stayed the night on the couch. Antonio never gave him permission to do so, but the next morning, there he was, cooking omelets. A bit hung over, Antonio just stood in the kitchen doorway and stared at him.

"No one knows," Antonio said. "I've known Tiger fifteen years and he doesn't know. You've been here for four months and I think you were hitting on me for half of that."

"Just half?" Fire Emblem winked at him.

"Can I trust you?"

He set the omelets on another burner so they wouldn't overcook. "I have excellent instincts in these matters of love, but even I didn't anticipate how…" he paused to search for the word. "How… pure your long-standing love is. I see us as good friends in the future, and nothing more. And I promise to keep your secret until you're ready to tell it."

Antonio's mouth twitched. "Thanks, Fire Emblem."

"Oh, Nathan, please~!" he replied, flicking a wrist. "Fire Emblem is a cape and cowl. Here and now, I'm just Nathan."

"Nathan," Antonio said. "Thanks for taking this so well."

"Don't get me wrong, I reserve teasing rights, but no one will learn your secret from these lips~…"

Antonio worried what 'teasing rights' meant, until one day in training a very unwelcome hand grabbed his ass and squeezed. Antonio shrieked, drawing the eyes of every hero in the gym. "What the hell!" he snarled at Nathan.

"Teasing rights!" Nathan cited. "It's a crime for those fiery buns to remain untouched~!"

And that's when Antonio realized that one man's teasing is another man's sexual harassment, but it sparked the beginning of one of Antonio's most unlikely friendships ever.

Then things got worse.

It started with the Hero TV closing ceremonies: out of seven heroes, Antonio placed fifth for the first time. These crime-fighting challenges were nothing new—mobility and limited application of his powers had always hindered him—and with a cool costume design, he retained a strong fan-base, but to rank so low felt as if the world was telling him, You are a bad hero. Going drinking with Kotetsu didn't help, either, because Wild Tiger had fallen to sixth, sparking a similar despair in his best friend. Neither had the will to encourage each other. Not to mention Antonio's love life remained hopeless. After telling Nathan about his secret, without even being advised, Antonio tried dating again, mostly women, but a few men, too, though none of those dates turned into relationships, and Muramasa stayed at the forefront of Antonio's mind the whole time.

His bosses were getting angry. His best friend was slipping into sorrow again, and Antonio had no clue what to do. He couldn't forget about his hopeless love no matter what he did.

It got so bad, Antonio snapped and called the bar.

"Uh, Muramasa? It's… me. Antonio."

"Antonio."

Silence on the line.

"Been a while," Antonio pressed, gripping the phone so hard it creaked. "Um… how are you?"

Antonio stumbled through awkward pleasantries—Muramasa never stumbled, strong and solid, fearless—but just hearing his voice made it easier to get through the night.

Mondays were the slow nights for both the bar and Hero TV, so they started calling each other. It was Antonio's favorite night of the week, giving him happy jitters the way a dozen first dates never did. He had to force himself to wait and call after the dinner hour, but sometimes Muramasa called him first, when he had the time. Those times, where Muramasa took the initiative to contact Antonio, made his heart leap.

Not like it meant anything. Antonio knew it couldn't. Muramasa thought of him as a younger brother, so to him, he was just keeping up with his family, asking about Antonio's week, sharing stories about his own, just talking, sometimes until late.

But Antonio felt better; he felt wanted. Those phone calls made for a happy medium between seeing Muramasa every day and feeling his love unreturned, to absolutely no contact with him and lying around, useless. At least for now, he could stand it.

One Tuesday, Antonio invited Kotetsu drinking, and his friend strutted into the place with a stupid, overconfident expression, like he was about to begin an interrogation.

"So," Kotetsu started. "I tried calling Kaede last night, and I got a busy signal."

"Yeah?" Antonio said, feigning coolness.

"'Yeah?' Once I finally get through, my mother said it was Muramasa on the phone with you!"

"We're friends," Antonio said quickly, a bit too quickly in hindsight. "Just trying to keep in touch."

"But the thing I don't get is that he calls you!" Kotetsu complained, pausing his nascent rant to order a shochu on the rocks. "I'm his own brother and he talks to you more than me."

The implication made Antonio's face heat up. "But you've always been close with Muramasa."

"I mean, we get along, I trust him, but we don't talk the way you two do," Kotetsu said, adding in a mumble, "Just like Kaede'd rather I don't call at all…"

Sensing the conversation taking a bad turn, Antonio struggled to pull Kotetsu back to more neutral topics than whatever was going down in the Kaburagi household, but the damage had been done. Muramasa didn't treat Antonio like his brother. That meant Antonio wasn't family-zoned. And against all odds, Antonio had hope again.

Damn hope.

"So what do you think of this Barnaby kid?" Muramasa asked. "Hero TV is pushing him, but I'm not buying his story."

"I don't think he's bad," Antonio responded in a very qualified way. "He's good at hero work, too. If he was only good for posters, I think I'd really hate him."

"How's Kotetsu? This whole setup smells like hell on earth for him."

"God, Kotetsu can't stand him. Barnaby can't stand him, either, actually. Whenever they can, they avoid each other, but when they can't, they bicker like there's no tomorrow."

"Figures," Muramasa scoffed. "Are either of them causing trouble?"

"No, they aren't. Actually… Hm."

"What?"

"It's hard to explain," Antonio said. "Barnaby's not friendly or social. He just keeps to himself and only cares about points and making the sponsors happy. If it weren't for the cameras, it'd be really easy to forget he was there. But something is different now. Everything's more… more… See, I notice it most in Kotetsu. It's been years since he really got fired up about stuff, really fired up, and fighting with Barnaby just makes him… I don't know, but I've seen it in the others, too. It's weird."

"He's the piece you didn't know you were missing," Muramasa answered.

"A missing piece?"

"Like a mixed drink. Adding something odd or even bitter or sour can pull everything else together. Even if he's just a sad, lonely little pretty boy, you all need him, and he needs all of you."

With Muramasa on the other side of the line, unable to see him, Antonio dug up that fifteen-plus-year-old bottle of champagne, and stared at it pensively. Missing pieces of our lives, huh?"When did you take up philosophy?"

"It's good sense," Muramasa stated. "But you feel it, right?"

Antonio could. He knew his life was still missing a few pieces, namely Muramasa, but he figured having something was better than having nothing, and should be grateful for Barnaby either way.

Antonio found the answer to the "Unstoppable Force vs. Immovable Object" question. The force wins.

"Look at how pathetic you are!" Jake Martinez crowed. "You're a fucking loser! A fucking weakling!"

And then he leaned close to Antonio's motionless form and whispered, "No one will ever love a loser like you."

And then he strung him up to the Kronos Foods minotaur, hanging by the armor on his shoulders, and Antonio felt like everyone could see straight into his soul—that they could see all his failures and mistakes and the hopeless, disgusting fantasy he's clung to for twenty years. And Muramasa could see him, beaten and broken and for the first time, honest, accepting his worthlessness.

Lying in the hospital, he half-wished that the paramedics had left him up there to die.

When they finally repaired the cell towers and calls could get through from Oriental Town to Sternbild, Antonio prepared himself for Muramasa's scorn. He was not prepared for concern.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Muramasa repeated.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Antonio rubbed at a bandage on his face, fingers tracing the adhesive edge. "Shouldn't you be more worried about Kotetsu? He got beaten worse than me."

"The TV showed that idiot walking around. If he's well enough to go back to the scene, he'll last another few minutes before I call. I just have to make sure you're okay, too."

Touching, for sure. And even if Antonio couldn't prove Jake wrong, at least he knew that Muramasa cared. Muramasa cared about a loser like him, even if no one else did. And after such a close brush with death, that's enough to go by.

The relief of surviving that near-death experience lingered for months, buoying Antonio through the day-to-day struggles. Muramasa's continued contact and support even helped Antonio move past Jake's haunting words: Jake was strong enough to beat Antonio, point to him, but he was stupid enough to get crushed to death by his own helicopter, so point deducted.

Well, mostly Antonio could push past it. The Hero TV rankings said otherwise, as he and Origami Cyclone jockeyed for Not Last Place. He never realized how much his self-esteem depended on the photobombing weeaboo keeping him from coming in last, and with people's lives on the line—being a hero is about saving people, after all—Antonio couldn't wish his fellow hero to be less successful. The weekly (not-that-peppy) pep talk from Muramasa was usually enough to get him through until the next week.

"It's been years since we've hung out," Antonio mentioned one night, with Origami three hundred points ahead of him.

"Took you four of those years to decide you still wanted to talk to me," Muramasa pointed out.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Antonio frowned. "It just feels like a lot longer, though."

He kept his tone neutral, but his mind raced with, I miss you. I want to see you. I love you.

"You don't have to tell me that," Muramasa chuckled lightly. "Kaede's growing so fast. She needs new shoes every time we turn around. Seeing her change while everything else stays the same…" He sighed. "Remember, you may feel old, but I'm even older."

"Mm," Antonio struggled with how to phrase the question. "So… the bar's still busy?"

"Pretty busy. Fewer patrons, more deliveries."

"Mrs. Kaburagi's okay?"

"Just planted cabbages."

"And Kaede just started fifth grade, right?"

"Yeah. She's got a few good friends. Stays out of trouble."

Have you found someone to love? Antonio wanted to ask. Himself, on the older side of thirty, Muramasa at the threshold of forty, if Muramasa wanted children of his own, he had only a few more years to find that special little wife and start a family. Just a few years to finally break Antonio's heart and be done with it. Hell, Antonio didn't have those paternal urges, not in any perceivable way, but seeing the Kaburagi family, for all their dysfunctions, full of love and care, Antonio would never deny Muramasa that familial happiness.

"Still there?"

"Huh?"

"I was asking how you were."

"I'm fine," Antonio gritted his teeth. "Just… if you're ever in Sternbild, call me up. I'll show you around. Keep you out of the tourist traps and show you the real city. And just hang out."

Muramasa laughed. "You'll end up at the bar before I end up in Sternbild."

"Yeah, probably."

"But the same offer stands. You're welcome at the bar. Always have been. And if you need anything…"

"I know."

Murdering an old lady. In cold blood. Not even for money, just for kicks.

It's enough to make Antonio detest Kotetsu T. Kaburagi already, but the true insult is in his name: Kaburagi, as in Muramasa Kaburagi. What are the odds of this lowlife criminal sharing the same last name as someone as strong and noble as Muramasa? They couldn't be family, no matter how distant. Impossible. Just impossible.

Antonio imagined the trouble Muramasa would face, especially in a small town like Oriental, as people pestered Muramasa and asked if this murderer on TV was a relative gone astray. Antonio had to arrest this Kaburagi so it could go on the record that he and Muramasa had nothing to do with each other, not a drop of blood shared.

And when the lowlife Kaburagi started impersonating Wild Tiger, all bets were off. Because Antonio could not let this double insult stand: shame to his best friend and to his love.

Go to hell, Kotetsu T. Kaburagi! Go to hell and burn!

The last twenty-four hours—everything Antonio had seen, and done, and felt—finally caught up to him when Kotetsu announced his retirement. Then immediately after him, Barnaby decided to quit, too, as if his presence had always been dependent on Kotetsu's. Antonio had a lot of time to think about everything, too, as he and the other heroes were ferried to the hospital for varying degrees of medical treatment. A few bandages and a check-up for most of them. For Barnaby and in particular Kotetsu, more extensive scans and casts were ordered. Kaede staunchly refused to leave either one of their sides, rushing into Barnaby's room when the nurses shooed her from Kotetsu's, and back again when they chased her out of Barnaby's. Her dedication anchored the other heroes to the building long after their exams were done, and they waited for the hospital to discharge Apollon's duo.

Antonio had a lot of time to think. About how he struggled to fight the H-01 androids and got beaten, not for the first time. How he almost convinced himself to blow up his friends so he could keep his promise to Kotetsu. About how he succumbed to Maverick's tampering. About how he failed to tell the difference between a robot and his best friend. About the strange way he prized Muramasa above everything else…

The heroes waited in a small lounge as dawn broke, periodically visited by doctors, their bosses, and people from Hero TV, until a familiar face appeared.

"M-Muramasa?" Antonio stared, seeing the age wearing on his face that had not been there the last time they had seen each other. Or was that just stress? Antonio felt a gut-wrenching instinct to just make everything better, forget his own pain and heal whatever was making Muramasa upset, no matter how trivial…

Five years since they saw each other, and Antonio knew nothing had changed. Of course. Because Muramasa never changed.

But, once he caught sight of Antonio, at least a few of the wrinkles evaporated. Antonio stood respectfully—instinctively—and found himself again wrapped in Muramasa's arms, for the third time in his entire life. And he could feel the other heroes staring at him, wondering who this strange man was, how Antonio knew his name, and what right he had to hug their friend right out of the blue. But Antonio could care less, because Muramasa was here, the one who made the world make sense the way advanced sciences made sense: something reliable and predictable, though the mechanics of how and why remained far beyond Antonio's understanding.

Everything was fine, with Muramasa here.

When Muramasa let go—because Antonio could have stayed there forever if allowed—he got down to business. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

"Kaede? Kotetsu?"

"In the other room."

"You?"

Antonio shifted. "I'll be fine."

At that point, Blue Rose interrupted, "I'm sorry, but… who is this?"

Antonio introduced Muramasa Kaburagi, Kotetsu's older brother, which spawned the understandable shock of how little the heroes really knew about Wild Tiger's life and history, and how different the two brothers were, though they could still see the resemblance. They named a few arbitrary traits as 'the same,' but Antonio disagreed with every comparison. He had spent long enough looking at Muramasa, looking at Kotetsu, longing for Muramasa, he knew every difference between the two.

"I'm here for Kaede," Muramasa explained at long last.

"Yeah, how did she get here?" Dragon Kid asked.

"Ran away, and took the train."

As the surprise at Kaede's tenacity spread through the heroes, Antonio shuffled a bit closer, head hanging low.

"Listen," he mumbled. "Were you… watching?"

"The TV? Yes."

Dammit, here it comes… "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, I never should have—"

And then he felt Muramasa's hand on his, and the words died on his lips.

"Antonio, it'll take something a lot worse than that to make me change what I think about you."

And he felt ready to cry from relief. But he didn't. At least, not in front of the other heroes.

Muramasa ended up staying around long enough to take Kotetsu with him, which still wasn't very long at all. Though still injured and heavily bandaged, the doctors discharged Kotetsu later that day, and with his brother's help, he loaded all of his possessions (and Kaede) onto a truck and started the long drive back to Oriental Town. Barnaby practically vanished into thin air once Kotetsu was gone, staying around just long enough to say a round of stiff, formal good-byes.

Suddenly, there were six heroes. Antonio thought back to when Barnaby debuted, and he had struggled to describe that feeling of completion to Muramasa. Now, they lost not only what they had gained, but also what they had taken for granted that whole time—Wild Tiger, Kotetsu T. Kaburagi.

And just as suddenly, Antonio found his best friend among the heroes was Nathan Seymour, the guy who loved groping his ass about as much as Antonio hated it.

"You know, I never would have thought Tiger was someone's little brother," Nathan commented, gently swishing an olive around his martini. "You think you know someone, and then… Surprise~!"

"Yeah," Antonio said, staring at his beer.

"And in case you were wondering, I don't hold it against you at all for not telling me that very important detail that your secret flame was Tiger's brother."

Antonio spluttered at the metaphorical piercing javelin thrown through his chest, but he eventually recovered with, "Sounds an awful lot like you are holding it against me."

"Well, excuse me, I feel I have the right to!" Nathan cried. "You gave me three-fourths of the picture and left out the most important part! You're not just holding back to preserve a friendship with one man, you're trying to protect your bond with Tiger, too!"

"How is any of this your business?"

"Love is my business~…" Nathan puckered his lips at Antonio, who shivered and shifted to the other side of his bar stool.

"So yeah. It's Tiger's brother. Whatever. Tiger's family was some of the nicest people I ever met when I was growing up, and… Just…"

"I know, I know. Those who support you are the most precious people of all, no matter who you are." The lowlight cast warm shadows across Nathan's makeup, and Antonio drank again, a little nervously. They spent a minute sitting in silence.

"You must know him quite well," Nathan said at last.

"Huh?"

"At best, he's a four," Nathan said, holding up four fingers. "And that's being generous. But I suppose this is just another example of how you can never account for taste."

"Huh?"

"Honestly, I can't imagine any way you could possibly sustain such a deep, long-suffering love for that man unless he's some sort of divine diamond in the rough. Or perhaps he was a real Adonis in his youth."

"Nathan, I—wh—can you cut it out?" Antonio groaned, massaging his forehead.

"Why should I? You haven't discussed this for twenty years, and I think you can benefit from a different perspective on the matter."

"Perspective?"

Nathan smirked. "Antonio, from my view as an outsider on this issue, I see two men with sparkling chemistry who have grown old, alone and apart, for fear of destroying a deep trust."

Antonio flushed deeply, not entirely sure which part of that statement to address first. "Sparkling?" he repeated, rubbing behind one ear.

"You need to tell him, Antonio. You've spent the last fifteen years letting him slowly crush your heart, fearing the pain of letting him break it clean in two," Nathan said. "But you need your answer. I'll still be here for you. And though the particulars in Tiger's past are a mystery, he's not the kind of man to judge someone for who he loves. We'll help you pull your life back together after, if he rejects you. And if he doesn't reject you~…" Nathan let the statement hang, tantalizing Antonio.

"You're crazy," Antonio decided, swigging his beer again. "You know my secret, but that doesn't mean you're supposed to try and fix me. Just leave it alone, will you?"

"Leave the issue alone?"

"Yes. Leave it."

"But I don't have to leave this alone, right?"

"Leave that alone, too!"

Three weeks into the New Year, Antonio and Muramasa resumed their regular Monday-night calls, but it's not the same. Kotetsu on the other end always wanted a chunk of Antonio's time, not to say Antonio hated talking with his best friend, no way, but retirement gave him plenty of time to do whatever it is he went back to Oriental Town to do, play with Kaede or something, and still third-wheel Antonio and Muramasa like a professional. Muramasa's stories center on Kotetsu for a while, too, and all his antics trying to assimilate back into his childhood home.

Antonio's childhood home, too.

It wouldn't be like the old days, if Antonio went back. He was too different. He'd lost and gained and grown and changed. But even so… that damned, eternal, immortal hope that Antonio could never get rid of no matter how hard he tried, no matter how long he tried, it beckoned him back.

"Hey, Muramasa," Antonio brought the subject up. "If I took a week or so off, and visited, would you want to get drinks with me?"

A chuckle on the other end. "I knew you'd come home first."

"Ah, no! You came to Sternbild to get Kaede! So you came to Sternbild first!"

A silence on the other end. "I… wasn't sightseeing. So it doesn't count."

"Like I'm going to go 'sightseeing' in Oriental Town. Face it. You came to Sternbild first."

A sigh on the other end. "Fine. You want a prize?"

"Drinks on you."

"Not a chance."

They laughed.

Damn hope. Damn hope that caused Antonio so much pain and suffering. But at that moment, the hope brought him joy, too, and it was almost sweet enough to make it all worthwhile.

Antonio stayed vague about his plans at home—who he was visiting, what they'd be doing, and how long he'd spend—so that he could schedule two stops by Kaburagi Liquors without being questioned. One was for friends and alcohol, for Kotetsu and old barflies he hadn't seen in just under ten years, but the other was for Muramasa alone, a secretly scheduled night when Muramasa would keep the bar open for him, and they could just talk. Just each other.

Packing for the trip, Antonio pulled out the bottle of champagne that Muramasa had given him for his high school graduation, still unopened. A stray corner had poked through the gold foil once or twice, pockmarking the shimmering metal, and the paper label on the front was starting to fade, but Antonio had kept it safe and secret this whole time. And God help him, now was the time to bring it out, tell Muramasa how much Antonio loved him and for how long, and once and for all, kill this hope or let it fully blossom. One or the other.

Are you a man or aren't you? Antonio gritted his teeth, carefully swaddling the champagne with clothes and stuffing it in a small duffel bag before resting it in the passenger seat of the stale-smelling rental car. So he was going to go talk about his feelings with another guy. Not many men Antonio knew did that. But so long as Antonio wasn't afraid to do that, that meant he was a man. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid.

He was fucking terrified.

Opening the door to Kaburagi Liquors felt second-nature, old habit guiding him to a stool at the end of the bar, as the duffel bag hung heavily in Antonio's hand. Muramasa greeted him warm as ever, and they settled into conversation easily, the same-old, same-old that Antonio knew to expect from Muramasa. For a few minutes at a time, Antonio could forget about his resolution and just enjoy Muramasa's presence the way he used to, but then his foot shifted and bumped the duffel bag, and Antonio remembered, You're going to tell him tonight. You have to tell him tonight. You have to.

His fingers trembling, Antonio reached down and brought the duffel bag up to the stool next to him. "Muramasa?"

"Hm?"

"There's… something," Antonio unzipped the bag and peeled back layers of shirts and socks, struggling to bring the champagne into the light. "I wanna show you."

He finally grabbed the bottle by the neck and pulled it out, setting it on the bar and turning the label toward Muramasa. The barkeeper stared at it in puzzlement for a minute, before he picked it up for closer examination. Finally, he recognized it.

"You didn't drink it?" Muramasa asked.

Antonio's face felt about to burn off. "I… didn't feel like it back then," he said.

"Why not? It was for your graduation."

"Did Kotetsu tell you who he shared his with?"

"Yes."

"I think that's… a good reason. He shared it with the one he loved."

"Why'd you bring it with you?" Muramasa asked. "Why now?"

Skin cold, heart pounding in his ears, and only half-able to draw a breath, Antonio stared at the surface of the bar and cleared his throat, hoping to make his voice sound less squeaky. "D-Do you… want some?" It only half-succeeded, and Antonio swallowed harder and continued, frailty be damned. "I'll share it with you, Muramasa, if you want any…"

Antonio saw the bottom of the bottle slide back into view, landing on the bar with a thud. He looked up at Muramasa, his calm expression tainted with… regret.

"It's gone bad by now, Antonio," Muramasa said.

"Bad?"

"Champagne keeps fermenting after it's bottled, just like other wines. And I don't think it's been properly stored to fight that."

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no— "But, can we still drink it? Is it still good? So long as it's not poison, I think—"

"Antonio," Muramasa cut him off. "Stop."

His throat tightened, and his shoulders cramped and his eyes stung and he couldn't stop thinking, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! This was everything he had thought, and it hurt worse than he feared, worse than anything he could have possibly imagined, to see Muramasa stare down at him with sorrow and pity. He picked up the champagne again and took it back to the storeroom, leaving Antonio alone at the bar.

Well, that was it. That was Muramasa's answer. Antonio swiped at the duffel bag's handles until they caught on his fingers, and he pulled out some money from his wallet, he had no idea how much, and left it crumpled on the bar. Best go back to Sternbild right now, with nothing left for him here. Muramasa knew. Muramasa rejected him. He was an idiot to hope for anything different.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Antonio jumped and looked back at the bar, suddenly aware that the stinging in his eyes had made tears. On top of shaming himself in front of Muramasa, the older man had seen Antonio cry, as if this night could get any worse.

But Muramasa lifted another bottle, gold-tipped champagne. "I get the symbolism," Muramasa said. "But it's stupid to drink spoiled wine. We should start fresh. Get back here. You don't want to miss this stuff."

He just stared, dumbfounded, as Muramasa peeled back the gold foil, took hold of the metal twist, and popped the cork, a fountain of shimmering foam spilling over his hands. Wiping it clean with a towel, Muramasa produced two elegant flutes and filled them expertly.

"Well?" Muramasa pressed. "Get back here."

Antonio didn't need to be told a third time. The tears kept falling, now tears of joy that dripped into Antonio's champagne and generally made a stupid mess, but Muramasa didn't care.