Summary: Aged-up AU. Osamu is still alive, Ken is still the Kaiser, and things get personal when Osamu decides to intervene in his brother's stupidity. "Don't misunderstand: I couldn't care less about this world, and I don't find your company enjoyable in the least. I just can't tolerate my brother's selfishness any longer."

A/N: So here I go, trying my own hand at an Osamu-is-still alive AU. My interpretation of his character is largely influenced by Ken's drama monologue (which can be found here: www (dot) youtube (dot) come (forewardslash) watch (questionmark) v (equalsign) 5XrppEEtQ7Y ). In it, he recalls Osamu's sincere but clumsy attempts at displaying affection, which is also shown in the anime itself by the way he and Osamu used to blow bubbles together. In this fic, the two brothers are going to be quite similar in personality, with the fundamental difference lying in the observation that Osamu made during those bubble-blowing sessions: Osamu is far less sensitive and kind than his little brother. And yet, Ken is still the Kaiser. Why? Well, read and find out.

I should probably take this opportunity to mention that some Kenyako might sneak into this fic eventually, though it won't be a focus at all. So, if that isn't your cup of tea, I'm giving you a heads-up in advance.

Warnings: Absolutely none. This is the most innocent thing I've written in quite a while.

The Kaiser's Keeper

Chapter One

High school, Osamu had decided, was a complete waste of his time and energy – a discovery he had made only two weeks into his first year. Granted, he had felt the same way about elementary school and middle school. But, during those times, he had reminded himself that he looked and sounded like a child, and that nobody would accept him as anything otherwise.

Now in his third year of high school, however, he could have easily passed as an adult. And yet here he was, stuck enduring the endless frivolities of teenage life.

"So what do you think, sempai?"

He gave his schoolmate a small smile. "I don't see anything particularly wrong with it, Inoue-san."

The younger girl glared at him. "That isn't even remotely helpful, you know."

The smile morphed into a smirk. "How unfortunate."

She crossed her arms, her glare intensifying.

His smirk fell away, and he sighed. "Alright, fine. I think it's a decent idea for the festival, but I also think it may prove to be impractical."

Her arms fell back to her sides. "There, was that so hard?"

Shaking his head, he said, "Indeed. I daresay I may never recover from the strain."

"You have all of my pity, sempai. Thank you ever so much for supplying me with your invaluable opinion."

And with that, Inoue Miyako walked towards the student council room. Truthfully, Osamu knew he wasn't suited to be part of a body that was so involved with the affairs of others – but he also knew that his parents expected it of him. And so he'd become a member in his second year, although he did his utmost to avoid the associated responsibilities. His junior didn't appreciate his lackadaisical attitude, however.

I do believe that she genuinely dislikes me, he thought, putting his hands in his pockets and walking towards the school exit. The notion didn't really bother him all that much; he'd rather be disliked than pestered. People had a tendency to gravitate towards him – more often because of his physical appearance than his intelligence, though the latter did sometimes play a part – and he'd always found it rather vexing. There were only a handful of individuals who were worth his time, and he wasn't keen on slogging through any number of tedious conversations in an effort to find a handful more. To be fair, Inoue's company wasn't completely unbearable, given her quick wits and sharp mind, but her boundless energy and erratic temper could become tiresome very quickly.

Having no intention of staying at school any longer than was absolutely necessary, Osamu made his way home. The school he attended – prestigious and very selective – was gallingly far from his apartment, so it took him a good forty minutes to commute to and from it each day.

He walked in to find Ken in the kitchen, cutting up scallions and mixing them into a bowl with some ground pork, soy sauce and sesame oil. To his side was a package of pre-made dumpling skins.

"Gyoza?" asked Osamu, walking up to where his younger brother was standing and peering over his handiwork.

Ken nodded. "Mama's staying later at work, so she asked me to get started on dinner." There was a pot of miso soup already simmering on the stove.

Osamu's mouth twisted in distaste. "And was it really necessary to add in the scallions?"

His brother rolled his eyes; the worth of scallions as an ingredient was an old point of contention between them, going back as far as Osamu remembered. "If you don't like it, feel free not to eat them," said Ken, spooning some of the mixture into a dumpling skin. "Or, alternatively, you can have the pleasure of making them yourself."

It was Osamu's turn to roll his eyes. "Don't pretend that you don't enjoy it. And, in any case, the only reason why Mama asks you is because she knows you won't bother to do any schoolwork with your free time. Perhaps if your grades were better…" He trailed off, knowing that the meaning of his words were perfectly clear. His little brother was incredibly bright – not a genius like Osamu was, perhaps, but not too far off. Even so, he had little to no concern for actual schoolwork, choosing instead to pursue his own interests and hobbies in his spare time. And while their parents weren't overly concerned with Ken's blatant underachievement – probably because they didn't even realize that he was underachieving in the first place – it irritated Osamu just to think of it. He sympathized with Ken's distaste for formal education, sharing, after all, the exact same sentiments himself. But Osamu still sought to achieve his full potential, while Ken was perfectly content with mediocrity.

"You know that's not true, nii-san," said Ken, the words hitting Osamu sharply in the stomach despite their nonchalance.

Unsure what to say in response, he replied, "I'm going to go and study for a while."

With that, he retreated into the solitude of his bedroom. He and Ken had once shared a bedroom, back when they were still children, but his parents had converted his father's office into another one once Osamu had turned thirteen. Ken had retained their old bedroom, and Osamu's old computer, while Osamu was given a brand new computer in addition to his brand new room.

He wondered if Ken still resented that; the younger boy had been noticeably curt with him for weeks afterward, as if it had been Osamu's fault rather than their parents'. People who didn't know his brother well would probably never guess that Ken had a rather volatile temper, since he was very good at concealing it. But a temper he did indeed have – yet another thing that the two of them shared – but Osamu, unlike his younger brother, didn't bother to hide his.

Then again, Ken just cared more about people in general than Osamu did.

Dinner was a rather subdued affair, what with both of his parents clearly exhausted from their respective jobs. Osamu recalled a time when his mother had only worked the occasional part-time job, but the combined strain of both his and Ken's tuition fees was obviously taking its toll on the family coffers.

"So how's school going, Osamu-chan?" asked his mother, a strained smile on her face. "Is there anything interesting that you're involved in?"

He knew what the question actually meant: Are you going to be entering any high-profile competitions so we can add another trophy to our collection, and does it have prize money?

"Not at the moment, I'm afraid. Aside from the upcoming cultural festival, there's been nothing much of interest happening."

"That's too bad," said his father. He turned his attention to Ken. "And how's the soccer going?"

Osamu could see that his little brother wanted to roll his eyes at the half-hearted interest, but, as always, he kept his expression carefully in check. "It's going well," he said. "We have a match against some Odaiba-based high school coming up next week, though I don't remember the name."

His father nodded. "Well then, I'll try and see if I can get a little time off work to come and watch."

At this, Osamu barely resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. His parents never went to Ken's soccer matches, and all of them knew it.

After some more stilted conversation, Ken began to clear the dishes.

"I'll help you wash up," said Osamu, as his parents left to go relax in the living room.

Ken shook his head. "There isn't much – you go and study."

Osamu smirked. "You must have a very high opinion of me, thinking that all I do is study. All I plan to do for the rest of the night is play Starcraft."

Ken returned the smirk. "Fine then: you wash and I'll dry."

He complied with a nod and walked over to the sink. As he began to wash, he said, "I'll come to your game, if you want."

His brother raised an eyebrow. "Why would you do that? You have about as much interest in soccer as I do in flower arranging."

Shrugging, he said, "If you don't want me to come, just say so."

"I don't really care either way," said Ken. "You don't need to trouble yourself."

Osamu sighed, but sensed that he wouldn't be getting a straight answer out of his brother anytime soon. So he said nothing further and focused on his scrubbing.

They finished the dishes in comfortable silence.

Osamu did end up attending Ken's game. It was true that he had absolutely no interest in sports, but even he couldn't help but be impressed by his brother's finesse on the soccer field. Of course he would rather his brother be exercising his brain, but he still got an odd, vicarious sense of pride from watching him.

More than that, however, he had noticed the way that Ken was behaving around one boy in particular. He was of middling height – several centimeters shorter than his brother, but a bit bulkier – and had a mess of spiky red-brown hair. Perhaps nobody else in the bleachers would notice it, but Osamu saw the way that Ken's eyes lingered on the other young man, and how the expression on his face looked anything but pleased.

And yet, oddly enough, the recognition seemed completely one-sided.

It came as no surprise that Ken's team was completely decimating their opposition, though that had more to do with Ken than with his fairly mediocre teammates. By the time that the game was almost done, Ken's team was leading by eight goals to one. They would have scored yet another goal – at least, Ken would have scored it for them – had the spiky-haired boy not tackled Ken at the last minute. It was then that Osamu found himself disliking the boy, if only because the sight of his brother tumbling to the ground made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

After the final whistle was blown, Osamu made his way down from the bleachers in order to congratulate Ken on his victory, and found the he was shaking hands with the boy who had tackled him.

"You're my worthy opponent, Motomiya-kun," he said, as 'Motomiya-kun' grinned and rubbed the back of his head.

He waited for their exchange to be over, and for the boy to walk away, before finally saying, "In no way is that boy your 'worthy opponent'."

Ken smirked. "I know that already."

Osamu walked closer, watching as the boy ran over to a group of people holding what appeared to be stuffed animals. "So then why did you lie?"

Ken's smirk fell away, replaced by an expression Osamu couldn't quite identify. "No reason in particular," he said.

He had a feeling he knew the reason, however. "You care far too much about other people's feelings."

Not saying anything for a moment, Ken gazed at the cluster of people made up by the boy and his friends. And then: "I said that you didn't need to come."

"So you did," Osamu agreed.

A small frown briefly marred his brother's face. "So what did you think of my childish hobby?"

Osamu smirked. "Are you fishing for compliments, Ken-chan? You know that you're the best player here."

With immense satisfaction, he saw Ken's cheek twitch in annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

It's just too easy to get a rise out of him.

His smirk widened. "I'm not sure. Perhaps you shouldn't make it so rewarding for me."

Ken glared, but was cut off from responding when a feminine voice called out, "Sempai!"

Osamu turned his head to the source of the voice, only to find that it belonged to one Inoue Miyako. She must have been blocked from his view before, because the stuffed animal in her arms gave her away as one of Motomiya's acquaintances.

"Inoue-san," he acknowledged, then waited for her to reach them. "What brings you out here today?"

She smiled. "I'm friends with one of the players." He noticed with mild interest the way her eyes kept darting to his brother, so it came as no surprise when she asked, "So, are you two related?"

Osamu nodded. "This is my little brother, Ken. Ken: this is one of my colleagues from the Student Council, Inoue Miyako."

Osamu didn't miss the look of surprise that passed over his brother's face, even if it was quickly buried under one of Ken's neutral expressions. "Pleased to meet you, Inoue-san," he said, bowing.

She returned the bow. "Pleased to meet you, too." She grinned. "And let me just say that you have much better manners than your older brother."

"He does, indeed," said Osamu. "And, speaking of my lack of manners: is there any particular reason why you're holding a stuffed animal in public?"

She rolled her eyes. "None of your business," she said. And, with that, walked away.

He observed the way his brother's eyes lingered on her retreating back. "With the way you're staring at her, one might almost think you find her attractive."

It took a moment or two for his words to fully register, at which point his brother's cheeks went a fierce shade of red. "Don't be absurd."

"Right. Absurd. What could I have possibly been thinking?"

Ken glared at him, but the redness on his cheeks remained.