A fill from the Tiger and Bunny Anon Meme. Prompt: Barnaby always teased Kotetsu about being an old man, but ten years later, Barnaby realizes the tables have turned. He's getting older, but Kotetsu... is the same? Barnaby worries about Kotetsu's "surprise" ability (ie. He'll stay younger than/outlive Barnaby) and Kotetsu reassures him that he'll stay with Barnaby forever. Late-blooming relationship.

No warnings, but I know everyone has a different headcanon regarding the heroes' ages. Try your best to just roll with the numbers I picked.

Kotetsu catches Barnaby staring at his reflection in the mirror one day, tracing along fine, barely-visible wrinkles in his face—crow's feet, laugh lines, worry lines.

"Feeling old, Bunny?" Kotetsu teases, elbowing Barnaby's ribs.

"Not at all," Barnaby smirks. "How old were you when we met?"

"Thirty-five."

"I've got two years until I'm an old man."

"Who says thirty-five is old!?"

"Would you rather I call forty-five old? You can't avoid your age any longer, old man."

Kotetsu grumbles and leans in to the mirror, tracing around his eyes, and those pesky shadows he's had since he was thirty. "I'm not over the hill until I'm fifty. So there."

"Get over yourself, Kotetsu. You became an old man years ago." Barnaby leans in, too, sliding down his glasses and gently nudging the corner of his eyes.

"Hey, I'm a kid at heart!" Kotetsu smiles, and his face sparks with energy. If Barnaby lowers his glasses a little, Kotetsu looks exactly the same as he did ten years ago, back when he changed Barnaby's life forever. "That's what's really important, right?"

"You could look at it that way," Barnaby returns the smile—the smile Kotetsu gave him. "Come on, let's go."

"Happy birthday!" the heroes chorus, stepping back from around the table to show Barnaby his cake. He's grateful his friends decided to use two number-shaped candles rather than jabbing forty sticks of wax onto his frosting. Barnaby looks over the faces of his friends—aged, like his, but robust and healthy—as they sing. Karina's bright, soulful voice dominates the chorus, but Kotetsu rings loud and clear when, instead of 'Barnaby,' he sings 'lil' Bunny.'

Barnaby is appropriately and genuinely gracious, following Kotetsu's juvenile insistence that no one can eat until Barnaby's had the first bite, even though Pao Lin, the youngest, had turned thirty months ago. They swallow sugary cake and move on to alcohol, featuring a good vintage of Barnaby's favorite rosé, and all offer a quick toast.

Antonio toasts his strength, Ivan his skill, Pao Lin his rank. Nathan praises how his beauty has grown finer with age, touches of gray melting seamlessly into his highlights. Keith complements his dedication, repeating a cleverly calculated statistic a few times: Barnaby has spent nearly half his life working as a hero. Karina (a stunning beauty at thirty-three, and despite Titan dropping Blue Rose when she turned twenty-five, she spent eight years building a music career from the ground up under her real name) calls him a good man.

And as she sits down next to Kotetsu, Barnaby can barely see their age gap. Just two adults strolling toward middle age, enjoying each other's company on the way there.

Kotetsu stands and delivers a grandiose speech filled with words he looked up in the dictionary, but Barnaby barely hears a word of it, studying Kotetsu's face, hair, hands. There might be a single whisker in his beard a bit lighter than the others, and the creases in his knuckles are deep with use, and those shadows beneath his eyes endure, but Barnaby sees no other sign of age.

"…and I'll say again what I've been saying for over fifteen years," Kotetsu lifts his glass in Barnaby's direction. "I have the best partner in the whole world."

They drink to that, but the wine is bitter in Barnaby's mouth.

Kotetsu, you're fifty-two. But you look like this could be yourfortieth birthday party, not mine. What is going on?

What could possibly be going on?

Kotetsu loves keeping photographs, mementos of his favorite moments in life. He's got photos from forever framed along his dresser: his wedding to Tomoe and two baby pictures of Kaede in a trifold, him and Ben from just after Wild Tiger won King of Heroes with Kotetsu out of costume, a random photo of Kotetsu and Antonio at a baseball game and clad in everything orange, a photo of Barnaby and Kotetsu just after Barnaby won King of Heroes, group photos of the second leaguers where Kotetsu took the picture, and hence is absent, Kaede's high school graduation, another trifold with pictures from Kaede's wedding, with the happy couple in the center and the in-laws and child to either side. Kotetsu and Kaede stood together on the left side of that trifold, Kotetsu's arm wrapped proudly around Kaede's waist as she beamed at the camera, a beautiful woman on her perfect wedding day.

Barnaby grows obsessed with these photos, spending long stretches of time staring at them, begging them to solve his mystery. Particularly the difference—or lack thereof—between the photos of Kotetsu's wedding and Kaede's. If not for the strong familial resemblance, like the bright tawny eyes and the strong jaws, Barnaby has a shot at convincing himself it was a photo of Kotetsu and a second wife. Behind the gloss of glass, the signs of Kotetsu's age absolutely vanish. He and Kaede almost look the same age.

This isn't the way it's supposed to be. Barnaby flicks back and forth between the trifolds, trading the women at Kotetsu's side so rapidly they blur. He wishes he could perform an experiment, ask a stranger to identify the wife and the daughter, to try and prove Kotetsu's lack of change. Barnaby deftly thumbs the clasps on the back of the photographs aside. The older photo is dated with Tomoe's hand, and her loopy calligraphy spells: Kotetsu + Tomoe: Our turn for bliss. 1966. Not bothering to name that strange pain flaring in his heart, Barnaby sets the photo aside and opens the back of the second photo. This time, Kotetsu inscribed it: Kotetsu with Kaede: Her turn for bliss. 1993.

In 1966, Kotetsu would have been twenty-five. In 1993, he should have been twice that. How could the two Kotetsus possibly look so much alike?

"Bunny, are you sure this looks okay?"

Kotetsu's voice shocks his partner, who sets the photos as they were, hiding the removed backs. Kotetsu appears at the top of the stairs, tugging on the cuffs of a black blazer.

"This feels like too much black. I hate wearing so much of the same color, I feel flat. I could get my brown sport coat—"

"The opera house won't let you in if you don't pass dress code."

Nothing is amiss from his partner's usual appearance. Black slacks, green dress shirt, cream vest, black buttoned tie, and at Barnaby's request, he added the suit jacket. Otherwise, he's maintained the same appearance for nearly twenty years.

This isn't right. Barnaby thinks again, but he doesn't know how to start solving that problem. Because the thought that keeps him up at night isn't the puzzle of a mysteriously un-aging old man, but the terror of turning tables, and Barnaby losing Kotetsu to anything other than death. Barnaby knows death well, and he at least knows that death is unbeatable. Leaving Kotetsu again, with Barnaby giving into his age, would tear him apart.

"…You look fine, Kotetsu. Please, don't worry."

Or perhaps, you should worry, Kotetsu.

Barnaby sits stiffly on Kotetsu's couch and stares at the rows of photos across the room, and though they're too far away for Barnaby to identify individual faces, he knows their order, a chain of memories in perfect sequence. He feels battered, sore, aching, a sensation that culminates in a prickle behind his eyes, tears he refuses to shed. What kind of hero would he be if he cried over this sort of pain? This is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Kotetsu returns with a glass of water and a pair of aspirin. Barnaby takes the pills and gulps them down as Kotetsu stands behind the couch and rubs Barnaby's shoulders.

"You'll get 'em next time," Kotetsu coaches confidently. "It was that statue they tipped, otherwise, you had a clear shot. But that's okay. Chalk it up to experience."

"Experience?" Barnaby repeats, staring at the 'experiences' on the far side of the room.

"I went through this, too. Stopped scoring well, lots of times other heroes had to help me. You had to help me, too. But Sternbild still needs you. It needs all of its heroes."

They sit in silence. Kotetsu's strong, skillful hands identify all the knots in Barnaby's shoulders no problem, but he can't reach the deeper pain.

"It hurts."

"Oops, is it me? Tell me where, I think I can—"

"I'm getting older. That's what hurts. In my bones."

"Sounds like a bone-bruise. I've had plenty of bone-bruises, they hurt like a son-of-a—"

"Kotetsu!" Barnaby snaps. He tosses off Kotetsu's hands and stands to face him. "I know it's not a bone-bruise. This is aging. I am getting old."

"Bunny, you're not old. I'm old."

"You don't look old. And as far as I can tell, you don't feel old, either."

"I've always been healthy. Taking care of my body, you know?"

"So have I. And yet you are twelve years older than me, and you should be feeling at least a little bit of this."

"A little bit of what?" Kotetsu blinks. "Just sit back down, Bunny. If it's not your shoulders that hurt, I can rub your back, too!"

"Kotetsu," Barnaby repeated. "Those photos along the wall. The picture of you with Kaede at her wedding, and the one from your wedding with Tomoe—" Kotetsu flinches, but Barnaby presses on. "—You look barely a few years older. You're not doing anything to hide your age, no hair dye or creams. And you'd never pay attention to this sort of thing so long as you can stay a hero and save people."

"What?"

"It looks like you're frozen. And the rest of us are getting older."

"…What?"

Barnaby looks away. "It makes just as little sense to me as it does to you, but… this is what I've seen."

There's silence. He can't stand to look back at Kotetsu, just in case he doesn't like what he sees—disbelief, rage, or fear. He feels at fault for passing on bad news, and looking at Kotetsu's face would just compound this guilt. And he knows he should be happy for his partner. Why on earth would he want Kotetsu to suffer the pains and aches of aging with him? It's selfish.

Is it so selfish to want to grow old with Kotetsu... rather than growing old instead of him?

Kotetsu attempts to start a few words, but nothing forms an intelligible sentence. Suddenly, he circles around the couch and picks up the phone.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugs. "Calling my doctor. Apparently I need a check-up."

Barnaby sits back down—he feels a creaking sensation in his hips—as Kotetsu jumps through automated hoops before finally contacting his doctor and setting up an appointment for two days later. Staring at his folded hands, Barnaby waits patiently until Kotetsu finally picks a time, "Two o'clock? All right, three," and hangs up the phone. He hates making Kotetsu worry as much as Kotetsu hates people worrying about him. But with nothing making sense, Barnaby just wants to know if Kotetsu sees what he sees—and what he plans to do about it.

"Hey," Kotetsu sits next to Barnaby, looping one arm around his partner's shoulders familiarly. "I'm… glad you told me."

"What?"

"If this was worrying you, I'm glad you told me about it. Because now we can start finding out, y'know, what's happening. I'll go to the doctor, see some NEXT specialists."

"NEXT research is still extremely speculative."

"This whole thing is speculative. But there's got to be ways to tell for sure if I'm aging or not. And I'm still glad you told me."

Barnaby lets himself slump into Kotetsu's side, full of the sweet warmth he feels so rarely, and treasures every time.

"I'll be there if you need anything, Kotetsu."

"You always are."