Archive of Our Own

Ingo was the good twin.

That was a simple fact.

It was a truth that seven-year-old Emmet had known for as long as he could remember.

It was one of the first things strangers commented on when meeting the twins. Once they’d gotten past the intimidating frown permanently molded onto Ingo’s lips and spoke to the boy himself, they would all trill, “Oh, what a polite child! You are just the sweetest thing!” And, Emmet thought, they were right. Ingo was good and sweet, and polite, and caring.

Ingo made being kind look easy.

But it wasn’t.

For Emmet, it wasn’t.

Words were difficult and communication was often a one-way track with other children. Emmet enjoyed playing games, enjoyed winning games. Asking others to play was hard when all he had were big, pleading eyes and two hands hopefully balancing whatever toy his game required. He didn’t understand why, when he would throw himself completely into a game, others would look uncomfortable. He didn’t understand why, when he would win and smile with flapping hands, his playmates would pout and stomp off. He didn’t understand why, when he’d approach them again looking for another round, he’d be shoved away. He didn’t understand why, when he’d try and join other children’s games, they would yell at him to go away.

“We don’t want to play with you,” they would sneer. “You’re mean.”

That was fine.

Even if none of the other kids wanted to play with him, Emmet had Ingo.

Ingo always wanted to play with Emmet.

But the others wanted to play with Ingo, too.

Even when Ingo would win, with a few warm words and a gentle invitation for another game, the children would happily play with him again and again.

It was…frustrating.

It was frustrating that everyone wanted to play with Ingo and not Emmet. It was frustrating that, despite the fact they all had each other, the others wouldn’t let Emmet have Ingo to himself. It was frustrating that Emmet didn’t have the words to tell the others that they weren’t being fair.

Sometimes, it was just too frustrating.

Like one day, when a young boy came up to Ingo in the middle of the twins playing and said, “You should play with us instead.” Then he’d tried to pull Ingo away from Emmet, like Emmet didn’t even matter and he couldn’t tell the boy to stop—

So, Emmet hit him.

And, for the entirety of afternoon recess, Emmet had to sit outside the teacher’s lounge while everyone else was outside.

“Poor Ingo,” one of the teachers said, Emmet’s ears barely able to catch the voice beyond the partially open door. “I can’t help but feel sorry for him, you know?”

“Yes, yes, I know, I agree,” another tittered. “I’m sure Emmet is a good boy, deep down, but it just isn’t fair at all for Ingo. I truly think that, if he was allowed to be on his own, he’d be able to flourish. At the very least, the poor thing would have friends.”

A third teacher added, “He’s just so kind. He’d never leave Emmet alone. It’s hard to believe a boy that sweet has a twin who is so…”

“Let’s just say competitive.”

They all laughed.

Emmet didn’t think it was very funny.

By the time Emmet was eighteen years old, he’d learned how to more effectively communicate with others.

The words tangled themselves in his throat less often than they once had. He was mindful about the way he spoke to others, especially while he was on the clock selling and checking tickets at Gear Station. Working part time while also attending college full time was difficult, but ultimately rewarding. Just like everything else, Ingo was by his side and the two of them were determined to make their goal of becoming train conductors. Things were, for the most part, going smoothly.

Usually.

Working with the public always came with drawbacks. Less-than-understanding businessmen, irate mothers at the end of their rope, teenagers with a drive to entertain themselves even at the expense of others; there was a never-ending list of unpleasant passengers one would come across sooner or later. In a giant, bustling city like Nimbasa, they seemed hellbent on coming sooner.

Despite his role in ticket sales, Emmet was often called to assist with security situations.

Ingo was, arguably, the better Pokémon trainer out of the two of them. He handled his team with just as much grace as Emmet, if not more. He was able to beat Emmet more often than not when they would practice outside of work.

Yet, when it came to situations at Gear Station which unfortunately required force, they always turned to Emmet.

When the younger twin finally grew curious enough to ask why, his manager had simply responded, “We just think you’re most effective in enforcing the rules. Ingo is amazing, but he’s very tenderhearted. We know you’re able to do what needs to be done.”

Emmet was not stupid.

He knew the words they were reluctant to say to his face.

People are afraid of you.

And, Emmet…Didn’t understand why.

He was passionate about Pokémon battles, to the point of challenging any trainer with even a hint of promise, but he was never rude. There were moments where he would overhear fascinating conversations and try to join a bit too enthusiastically, but he never meant any harm. Sometimes he would share what he thought about others with too much honesty, but he never did it to be cruel.

He tried to be respectful and kind, like Ingo, yet Emmet always caught wary eyes following him throughout the station. The ones who knew Ingo would send him a warm smile, while those who caught a glimpse of Emmet stayed back in caution.

“I heard he likes to battle people just to see them cry,” some whispered.

“If you break the rules, he’ll sic his Pokémon on you and throw you onto the tracks,” one warned.

“His brother’s afraid of him, too. I’ll bet that’s why he never smiles,” others speculated.

Ingo wasn’t afraid of Emmet.

Ingo had told Emmet a thousand times before, and he wouldn’t hesitate to repeat himself, that he loved Emmet the way he was.

Even if everyone else was scared of Emmet, even if none of them thought he was kind or good, Ingo would be different.

As long as that truth remained, Emmet could stand the false whispers that followed him throughout the day.

Becoming the bosses of Gear Station was the greatest accomplishment of Ingo and Emmet’s lives.

After earning their engineering degrees, spending years climbing the ranks, learning the ins and outs of every element of their trade, they’d finally been awarded the highest position in their field. The depot agents they’d worked beside congratulated them with small office parties and train-themed presents. Elesa, their dear friend from childhood who they reconnected with after she was made Nimbasa’s gym leader, took them out for a night on the town from which they still held fond if not slightly embarrassed memories. Even several regulars who recognized them from their early days had praised them for the achievement.

It was only eight months into their positions that Nimbasa’s mayor had approached them with an offer.

Apparently, Ingo and Emmet had been spotted training with Elesa during their weekend workouts.

A video of Elesa battling Ingo had gone viral along with several photos of a skirmish between Emmet’s Archeops and Ingo’s Crustle. The internet had eaten the images up with ferocious excitement, a large number expressing interest in having their own battles with the, “mysterious men from the subway.”

Inspired by the allure of generating more tourist revenue for the already flashy city, Nimbasa’s mayor asked Ingo and Emmet, “How would you gentlemen feel about being the heads of a battle facility?”

While the idea of being Frontier Brains was tempting, the thought of leaving Gear Station behind was far too drastic for either brother to bear. It was after a long moment of deliberation that Ingo offered, “If Emmet and I were to work out the logistics, could we perhaps use the subway as our battle facility?”

“The subway?” The mayor had asked. Emmet had also looked at Ingo quizzically.

“Yes, sir. If we reinforce the cars with the ability to withstand Pokémon attacks, we could create our very own battle subway,” Ingo explained.

Emmet had perked up. “I am Emmet. We can have different lines for different battle types. I like Double Battles. Ingo enjoys Single Battles.”

“We could even do one line in which trainers may pair up to battle together!” Ingo exclaimed, his voice an utterly delighted boom.

The mayor was practically tripping over himself to start up the project and fill out the paperwork.

It took less than two years for the Battle Subway to be complete.

It took less than five months for them to make up for lost revenue from construction.

Ingo and Emmet’s reputations grew.

Ingo was known as the brother with a stone-cold face and whose voice was a megaphone of unyielding encouragement. The few capable of beating him told of deafening congratulations and a speech which filled them with unrivaled motivation. The many who lost described heartfelt rallying to try again and friendly advice that they felt would grow their teams into Pokémon worthy of beating even the Super Singles Line.

Emmet was known as the brother whose cutting smile and sharp eyes meant heart-wrenching defeat for anyone brave enough to step foot into his car. All who made it to the final stage of the Doubles Line described a monotone voice with cruel intent plunging them into a battle so electrifying they felt their heart would leap from their chest. The handful who won told of clipped praise and an icy grin. The majority who lost reported an almost bored mocking, telling them even if they returned, they would once again be defeated.

The Gear Station was known for its two Subway Bosses. The media sensationalized them as the Angel in Black and the Demon in White.

Ingo abhorred the nicknames.

Emmet paid them no mind.

He’d long since accepted the fact that he wasn’t a good person.

Ingo was gone.

Like a ghost train at the first light of morning, Emmet’s twin had vanished.

Ingo was seen on the security footage inspecting one of the tunnels for the passenger trains. The video had become corrupted at some point. In one frame, Ingo was standing on the tracks with his flashlight. In the next, his flashlight and Pokéballs were laying abandoned on the ground.

The news had gotten out quickly.

Nimbasa City’s second most popular public figure had vanished without a trace.

Gear Station’s employees refused any interviews with news outlets or tabloids. The police only disclosed the barest of details, asking for citizens to come forward with any information they may have to help with the case.

In less than one week, click-bait articles began circulating on the internet.

MISSING: Subway Boss Ingo Disappears Under Mysterious Circumstances

Frontier Brain Missing. Twin Brother Only Known Suspect

Subway Boss Emmet: A Grieving Brother or Manipulative Killer?

Former Classmate Reports Subway Boss Emmet Was “Violent” In Youth

Evidence For Subway Boss Emmet’s Involvement in Ingo’s Disappearance

The forums and fan-pages for Gear Station were worse. Elesa would always scold Emmet, tell him that those who were spreading rumors only did so to hurt him. Emmet knew that. He knew that many people didn’t like him, whether it be because of grudges from battles lost or his ‘cold’ personality. Nimbasa had never made it a secret as to which of the twins were its favorite.

That hadn’t mattered.

Emmet didn’t care who saw him as horrible or mean.

He didn’t even really care if it was true.

Because Ingo was always there and Ingo always cared, always made Emmet feel as though he was good.

But, now, Ingo was gone.

And Emmet felt as though it was—in some way, shape, or form—his fault.

So, late into the night, he would read the rumors.

The only other person who can get into Gear Station that late is Emmet.

Maybe he fed Ingo to his Joltiks. That’s why they can’t find a body.

Gear Station always used to have only one boss. I heard Emmet forced his brother to either share the position or turn it down.

Emmet was always creepy. I bet he was smiling when he killed Ingo.

Poor Ingo. I don’t understand why the police aren’t arresting his brother.

I always had a bad feeling about that guy. I don’t understand how he became a Frontier Brain.

I went to school with Ingo and Emmet. Ingo was the kindest person I’ve ever met, but something is definitely wrong with Emmet…

Elesa unplugged his router after finding a sleeping Emmet with a tear-stained face in front of his laptop.

The whispers of Gear Station told of the Demon in White who smiled in the face of his brother’s demise. The remaining Subway Boss of Nimbasa became an icon of sadism and ruthlessness.

Emmet was indifferent to the villainization.

He just wanted his brother back.

After four years of fruitless leads and theorizing bordering on hysteria, Ingo had returned.

The Singles Line had pulled into the station, empty and ready for the day’s battles. Emmet had been waiting at the platform, trainers and passengers alike milling about in the early morning lull. Some were waiting to board other cars of the train while most were making their way to one of the passenger lines. The normally hectic hub of transportation was peaceful.

Until the train’s doors open.

There in the supposed-to-be-vacant car, stood a man in a tattered black coat and matching, shredded hat. A bizarre, hooded shirt sporting an odd symbol was visible under the coat. His short, silver beard matched the hair lining both sides of his face. His slate eyes were haunted, deep bags beneath his stare telling of countless nights without sleep. He was different. He was changed. He was back.

He was Ingo.

Emmet choked on his breath.

He began to rush forward, lifting his arms to embrace his brother. His brother. The one everyone was saying was dead, who everyone thought Emmet was heartless enough to kill, was here and Emmet wasn’t alone anymore, everything is okay because his brother came back—

Ingo visibly withdrew, eyes wide as his hand went to his belt.

“STOP!”

Emmet skid to a halt, beaming smile falling in dismay at the sound of a voice that had never been raised at him before.

The onlookers watched with bated breath, several pulling out their phones or Xtransceivers to record.

“I-Ingo?” Emmet whispered, a tear escaping him as he realized his twin was staring at him blankly. There wasn’t a hint of fondness or happiness. There was only a deep seeded distrust. As if…As if Ingo didn’t know—

“Who are you?”

It had taken four depot agents to convince Ingo to get off of the train and follow them to the back offices. It had taken another two to break through Emmet’s frozen state and convince him to leave the platform as well.

Ingo was taken to the hospital shortly after.

Amnesia. That was what the doctors had told a still reeling Emmet. He seems to have forgotten everything aside from his name. He can’t even remember where he was before the train. Emmet’s lungs struggled to function, his ribs feeling as though they’d been crushed. They had to be lying. It wasn’t true, none of it was. Ingo couldn’t have forgotten Emmet.

But, when Emmet had entered Ingo’s room and told his brother his name, Ingo responded with a cordial, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Emmet. My name is Ingo.” The following apology for yelling was lost on Emmet as his mind kept replaying the first few words of his brother’s greeting.

It’s nice to meet you.

If it had been under any other circumstance, Emmet would have been embarrassed for collapsing onto the floor.

Videos of Ingo’s return flooded the internet.

The media was a wildfire of half-truths and conspiracies. The tense exchange between the famous twins was the key highlight, the clip of Ingo yelling at Emmet being played ad nauseum on every website. Speculations ran wild amongst journalists, all of them wanting to publish the story of the century.

It wasn’t difficult to shield Ingo from it.

His amnesia had washed away almost all of his knowledge of modern technology. He had no interest in relearning anything having to do with computers or Xtransceivers. Kitchen appliances were the only sort of technological luxury he seemed willing to interact with.

“I think it’s good,” Elesa had said. “He won’t have to deal with all the stupid rumors people are throwing around.”

Emmet, however, could not avoid it.

Whenever he caught a glimpse of a screen, he was affronted with commentary from others about the whirlwind of his brother’s return.

Did you see how scared Ingo was of Emmet?

How did no one see him board the train? Is Gear Station covering something up?

I can’t believe Ingo can’t remember anything… I couldn’t imagine forgetting about my own twin…

Trying not to think about it was difficult.

Ingo always used to know how to pull Emmet away from the ugly words. Sometimes they would battle, sometimes they would talk, sometimes they just sat together and rewatched their favorite train documentaries. No matter what, Emmet would come away feeling loved and understood. Ingo knew everything about Emmet and he thought Emmet was a good person.

Now, though, Ingo knew nothing about Emmet.

Somehow, in some way, Ingo forgot all about his younger brother.

Emmet wondered how it could have happened. Was it an injury? Did a Pokémon alter Ingo’s mind? How could it be possible for one twin to look upon their counterpart without a hint of recognition?

Late one night, a comment on the Gear Station website’s forum had lodged itself into Emmet’s head.

You know, what’s happening to Ingo sounds a lot like dissociative amnesia. Sometimes, when someone has a lot of trauma, their brain tries to protect them by forgetting about anything relating to the trauma. Maybe the reason Ingo doesn’t remember Emmet is because Emmet did something to him. Maybe forgetting Emmet is Ingo’s brain trying to protect itself from anymore harm from his brother.

Elesa had told him to avoid going online. She’d told him that listening to what others said would only end up hurting him. She’d told him anyone posting about the situation only did so for attention. She’d told him that they were cruel liars and none of what they said was worth his time. She’d told him this over and over, and over.

But the thought wouldn’t leave.

Even if Ingo always assured Emmet that he loved him, that he was never afraid of Emmet or thought Emmet cruel, was it possible there was a part of Ingo that agreed with everyone else?

Surely, if that were true, Emmet would have known, wouldn’t he?

Ingo would have said something. Even as polite, and sweet, and kind as Ingo was, he would’ve put his foot down eventually.

I truly think that, if he was allowed to be on his own, he’d be able to flourish.

Ingo never really had the chance to be alone before now.

Wherever he ended up going, he was able to experience life without being tethered to Emmet.

Perhaps…

Perhaps being on his own made him realize how much Emmet weighed him down.

Because of Emmet, Ingo always had very few friends. Because of Emmet, Ingo always had to spend so much of his time making sure his twin wasn’t getting into trouble. Because of Emmet, Ingo always had to carry the burden of communicating with others, less Emmet scare them away. Because of Emmet, Ingo always had to double his efforts of being kind, polite, and sweet to make up for the cruel nature of his brother.

Because of Emmet, Ingo lost everything.

No more.

Emmet wouldn’t allow himself to cause Ingo any more suffering. From now on, he would be kind. He would treat Ingo as he had deserved to be treated since the beginning.

Emmet would learn how to be good.

Maybe then, he would be worth remembering.

One way Emmet had always seen Ingo be kind was through words. Though his voice was always loud, Ingo seemed able to effortlessly string together sentences capable of inspiring happiness, motivation, or comfort in even the coldest of hearts. Emmet was perhaps the greatest example of that.  

Compliments were considered one of the kindest things one could give another.

“Ingo is verrrrrry strong!” Emmet commented one morning. “Yup! He is the best Pokémon trainer ever!”

Ingo had blinked in surprise, then said, “Oh. Thank you, Mr. Emmet.” Emmet managed to hold back a wince. “I was able to surmise I must have some affinity with Pokémon, but I did not think I was so skilled.”

“You are the most skilled in Nimbasa,” Emmet assured, heart alight with the progress he was making. “Not many have been able to beat you.”

“You are…Talking about the Battle Subway, yes? The one you and Elesa were explaining the other day.”

“Yes, but more than that. Even when we were little, you rarely lost.”

“Really?”

“Yup! Watching you is how I learned to battle the way that I do. I am verrrrrry proud to be your brother.”

Something in Ingo’s eyes seemed to dim a bit, his form hunching as he said, “Thank you, Mr. Emmet.”

Although he didn’t know what, Emmet couldn’t help but feel he said something wrong.

Words had never been Emmet’s strong suit. In hindsight, it was rather foolish to try and use them to rebuild his character.

No matter. Emmet knew of other ways to be kind.

Ingo was always helping Emmet complete his chores. He’d often blaze through all domestic duties on the days where Emmet felt particularly down.

So, Emmet set to work around the apartment. He did all of the laundry, both washing and putting the clothes away. He fed and groomed their Pokémon, making the creatures chirp and trill in glee. He cleaned all the rooms of the apartment, even going so far as to dust the shelves and re-fluff the pillows on the couch. He cooked all of the meals and washed all of the dishes, setting and clearing the table accordingly. He wrote detailed explanations about Gear Station, how the Battle Subway functioned, and what the job of being a Subway Boss entailed. He reasoned it would be easier for Ingo to go through and read at his own pace, rather than have Emmet rambling on and inevitably side-tracking throughout a verbal explanation. He left the stapled booklets on Ingo’s bedside table to be leafed through whenever it was most convenient.

Ingo approached Emmet one evening after dinner.

“You’ve really been doing an exceptional job keeping everything in order here.”

Emmet’s hands flapped slightly. “I want everything in perfect, working condition for you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Mr. Emmet, but…I can’t help feeling a bit guilty.”

Emmet’s smile shrunk. “What? Why?”

Ingo scratched his neck. “I suppose seeing you work so hard for my sake and not being able to reciprocate makes me wish I could do more. I hope you don’t see me as helpless—”

“I don’t!” Emmet interrupted, monotone voice contradicting his panicked eyes.

“Then, please, allow me to help as well. Refamiliarizing myself with my responsibilities will help lessen your burden and may aid in recovering some of my memories.”

Emmet agreed, making a small chore list for Ingo. Again, he saw the experience as a failure.

Ingo was finally deemed well enough to return to Gear Station with Emmet.

He couldn’t return to his duties, he still had to redo his certification and training. For now, he was allowed to shadow Emmet throughout the day. While Emmet did wish his brother could join in on the joys of driving the trains and battling trainers, Ingo seemed to practically be glowing with delight as he watched Emmet work.

If it was enough for Ingo, it was enough for Emmet.

Though Emmet did feel some level of relief being back at work as well, there were still many patrons of Gear Station who saw him in a negative light. Thus far, what Emmet had done to show Ingo kindness had backfired. Ingo had always been a particularly selfless person. If he were to see Emmet being kind to others, perhaps then he’d be able to see Emmet as truly good.

It certainly wouldn’t hurt Emmet’s reputation to try.

The first two trainers who managed to reach Emmet were…not very good. At all. It was clear that their Pokémon were strong, but they lacked strategy. It appeared the trainers had relied on brute strength to make their way through. Such tactics were, quite frankly, boring. Pokémon were capable of so much more than mindlessly blasting foes.

Such critiques were not very kind.

Emmet didn’t want to see his brother’s reaction to him effortlessly crushing the trainers.

Therefore, in a very un-Emmet-like fashion, he allowed them to win.

“I am Emmet. I lost against you. Because you are the strongest trainer I've fought lately. You're a verrrrrry strong Trainer! Yup! It was fun! Ride the trains some more!” His speech was still cold, but he hadn’t had time to rewrite it. Something to do later.

Emmet thought he’d been doing well. He thought allowing the trainers to win was verrrrrry kind.

Until Ingo spoke up.

“Emmet, may I ask a question?”

“Of course! What is it?” Emmet asked, the lack of a title making him grin.

Ingo hesitated before saying, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but…I thought it was very rare for you to lose.”

“It is! Those trainers were not great battlers. It is a surprise they made it this far.” Emmet paused, realizing the words coming out of his mouth. Cruel. “They were good. Their Pokémon were tough. I did not want to discourage them and ruin their winning streak. So, I let them win.”

Emmet felt apprehensive as his twin stared at him, stomach churning in anticipation as Ingo thought. His older brother then said, “I understand not wanting to crush any spirits, but I believe losing is the best way to learn where one can improve. I don’t think those trainers would be happy to learn their victories were frivolously handed to them.”

Emmet wrung his hands. “I…see.”

“Ah, please forgive me, I should not be criticizing—”

“No, no, don’t apologize. I want to know what you think.”

Ingo tipped his hat slightly as he looked to the floor. “Please, do whatever you think is best.”

Emmet didn’t know what was best.

He agreed with Ingo, losing to stronger trainers is critical to learning how to battle, but…

He didn’t want Ingo to witness what everyone else already saw in him.

The next trainer was about to enter his car.

Forfeiting three matches in a row was incredibly unprofessional. If Emmet were to continue on his current route, the Battle Subway’s strength would be undermined. The best course of action would be to adhere to standard operating procedure.

Emmet proceeded to soundly defeat each and every challenger that day.

The last trainer, a young girl, left the carriage with tear-filled eyes.

The Demon in White.

Emmet thought the name was fitting.

It was their day off.

Emmet didn’t have the energy to do anything.

He’d done his share of the chores and fixed some breakfast for his brother, but retreated to his room soon after. He laid in bed, still clad in his pajamas. A small Joltik laid resting in his palm. Emmet stroked its course fuzz with two fingers, watching the jewel blue eyes drift shut under the attention.

Everything he did seemed to end in failure.

His words were ineffective at best and downright hurtful at worst.

His actions made Ingo think Emmet considered him incapable.

No matter if he won or lost at the Battle Subway, he hurt trainers either way.

It was tiring.

Emmet was always creepy.

I heard he likes to battle people just to see them cry.

Something is definitely wrong with Emmet.

No matter what Emmet did, the truth remained the same.

Ingo was the good twin.

Emmet was not.

He was not good, nor was he kind, or polite, or sweet.

Emmet was mean, cruel, heartless.

He was a bad person, forgotten by the only person that saw the real him and liked it.

Ingo was never going to remember him.

Ingo should never remember him.

He was bad, bad, bad—

A short knock interrupted his spiral.

“Emmet? May I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door opened and shut softly, near silent footsteps making their way to Emmet’s bed. The younger twin scooted over, making room for Ingo to lay down if he so decided. After a moment of consideration, his brother accepted the invitation.

Ingo peered down at the tiny Pokémon in Emmet’s hand. “I’ve seen a few of those around the apartment.”

“They are mine,” Emmet said. “Sorry for not telling you.”

“It’s alright. I was more surprised by how many there seemed to be.”

“I breed them sometimes.”

“That…makes sense,” Ingo hummed, tapping a knuckle against his chin. At Emmet’s curious look, he continued, “Apologies, when I was…Where I’d been before here, I believe I was tasked with looking after baby Pokémon.” An odd quirk to Ingo’s frown implied a smile. “I recall being nervous, as I didn’t have any prior knowledge on the matter. But then I had remembered something.”

Emmet’s head lifted slightly. “What did you remember?”

“I remembered someone watching over large clutches of eggs,” Ingo murmured, normally deafening voice a soft breath. “I remember the eggs hatching and a pair of hands gently cradling the newborn Pokémon.” The quirk of Ingo’s lips grew. “I see now that the person I remembered must have been you.”

Emmet blinked before looking back down at his Joltik, feeling oddly flustered.

“Forgive me for prying, but…Has something been upsetting you?” Ingo asked.

“No,” Emmet said, still not looking up. “I am fine.”

Ingo’s odd smile vanished; a frown deeper than his usual expression appearing. “I know that I remember close to nothing about our lives.” Emmet curled tighter in on himself. “But I’ve had a feeling for a few days now that something isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel as though you haven’t been acting like yourself. I wish to get to know the brother I have finally been reunited with.”

A rough swallow scratched Emmet’s throat, his eyes stinging. “What if,” he started hesitantly, “you don’t want to know me?”

Ingo looked bewildered. “Of course, I want to know you. I thought I’d been fairly clear about that.”

“You are not understanding. Once you know what I am like, you may regret coming back.”

“That’s silly—”

“It is not,” Emmet forcefully insisted, prompting the Joltik in his palm to squeak and skitter away. A dark, bitter feeling began building in his chest. “You have always been kind and good. Even without memories, you have stayed that way. You think you will like me because you see the best in people. You saw the best in me. But I am not like you. I am Emmet. I am mean. I scare passengers. I make challengers cry. I do not know how to speak sweetly or gently. I do not know how to be kind like you. I am bad. I have always been bad. Everyone else saw it but you. Then you left and you forgot. Somewhere inside of you, you wanted to forget me. So, you did. It is good you forgot. You should not have to remember. I am scared of you remembering.” A sob broke through Emmet’s jumbled words, tears falling onto his pillow. “I wanted to be good. If I was good, you would not have to remember me being bad. But I can’t be good. I am awful at being good. You are the good one. You have always been good. I’m sorry I can’t be good. I’m sorry—”

A hand settled itself atop Emmet’s head, stroking his static filled locks gently. Another rested on his back, pulling him into a hug. Selfishly, he cuddled closer to the warmth. Tears spilled messily onto Ingo’s shirt, though he didn’t complain. It had been so long since they’d hugged like this. It was soothing and cozy, and exactly the same as it had been when they were little. The hug promised safety and acceptance. It was all the things Emmet craved yet didn’t truly deserve.

After a few moments, Emmet’s cries dimming into sniffles, Ingo said, “Emmet, I need you to understand that I never, not for a single moment, wanted to forget you.” The arms around him squeezed tighter. “Even when I was totally adrift with no memories and surrounded with unfamiliar faces, I always knew there was someone I wanted to return to. I didn’t know if it was family or something else, but I knew there was a person who was more important to me than anyone else.” Emmet was surprised to feel droplets fall against his hair. “I don’t know who told you these things, but I implore you to believe me that they are not true.”

“But—”

“No, Emmet,” Ingo said, his tone bordering on anger.

“I made you feel helpless.”

“I made myself feel helpless,” Ingo argued, drawing back to look at Emmet properly. The younger frowned when he saw the redness of his brother’s eyes. “I saw you doing so many things, all for the sake of making me comfortable, and I hadn’t done anything in return. I wanted to give back some of the comfort you gave to me.”

Emmet frowned. “I lost to trainers on purpose. I was patronizing them.”

“While part of why I spoke up was to ensure trainers had a fair fight, my actual motive was more selfish,” Ingo admitted, looking sheepish. “I was eager to see how you battled without holding back. I wanted to see your skill and strategy firsthand. It was remarkable.” Ingo hugged Emmet again, drawing a hiccup out of his twin. “Before, when you said you were proud to be my brother, I felt ashamed. Here you were, praising me and looking after me, and I wasn’t even able to remember your name.” There was another squeeze, on the brink of being too tight. “You are the most amazing person I know, Emmet. You are smart, and strong, and you are kind in ways people don’t understand right away.”

His arms shook as Emmet clutched Ingo back. His heart felt fit to burst. He trembled as he whispered, “Ingo…”

“Out of all the people I could have been born with, I’m so thankful it was you.”

Ingo had managed to complete his training and certification in record time.

In less than six months, he was officially reinstated as one of two Subway Bosses at Gear Station. Only four months after that, Ingo had excitedly informed Emmet of a guest coming to their facility.

“I knew them when I was lost,” he said, his lips gleefully quirked as his hands shook. His voice was rattling the framed pictures in their office. “They had remembered me and found a way to get in contact. I didn’t remember them at first, but after sharing some stories, I recall we were quite close. They are coming to visit. They wish to battle us on the Multi Line!”

Emmet was ecstatic to see his twin so overjoyed. He asked for as many details about their guest as his brother could recall.

At the end of the week, he was able to meet her.

Dawn, formerly referred to as Akari, was a young girl with dark hair and bright eyes that seemed ready to take on the world. With her, she brought an eccentric boy named Barry. The two battled with explosive fervor that almost blew Emmet away.

Almost.

In the end, Ingo and Emmet managed to win by a hair.

Barry groaned, “Aw, man, you weren’t kidding! These guys are no joke!”

Dawn laughed, recalling her Pokémon and running up to Ingo to wrap him in a hug.

The twin in black chuckled and returned the embrace. When he released her, he gestured to his brother, “As I said before, Dawn, this fellow is my brother, Emmet. Emmet, this is Dawn.”

“It’s verrrrrry nice to meet you,” Emmet said, tipping his hat.

Dawn smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I’m so glad we were able to come and see you guys.”

Barry bounced up beside her. “Yeah, Nimbasa is insane! There’s so much to do here!” Then, he pouted childishly. “We couldn’t afford tickets to the amusement park, though. Airfare ate up all our spending money.”

Emmet tilted his head, hand reaching into his pocket. “The flight from Sinnoh to here is expensive. Yup! I’m not surprised you have no money.”

“Emmet,” Ingo fondly chided, even as Dawn giggled.

“No need to make fun of us!” Barry huffed angrily.

The blonde paused his tantrum when Emmet withdrew his hand from his pocket. Between his gloved fingers, he held two tickets. He said, “The amusement park is verrrrrry fun, the best in Unova. It would be no fun to only see from the outside.”

He handed the tickets to a flabbergasted Barry. The teen sputtered, “Dude, these are VIP pass tickets!” He turned to Dawn beaming. “We get to skip all the lines!”

Ingo looked to Emmet surprised. “When did you buy tickets?”

“I bought them while on break yesterday,” Emmet answered. “Teenagers have no money. I didn’t think they’d be able to get them. I am glad I was right.” He jumped when a young pair of arms hugged him tightly.

Dawn squeezed Emmet then let go of him with a grin. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“It is top priority that all passengers enjoy their stay to the fullest,” Emmet replied, giving a small nod.

“This is awesome! Thank you so much!” Barry crowed, holding the tickets as if they were made of gold.

Dawn looked to Ingo. “You weren’t kidding about him, Ingo.” At Emmet’s puzzled look, she elaborated, “You’re really kind.”

At that, Emmet let out a laugh.

Ingo was the good twin.

That was a simple fact.

Emmet was also good, in his own way.

This was the truth.