Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even though he’s lived life under his parents’ thumbs, Miya takes pride in the fact that nobody he knows is aware of all of the aspects of his identity, and all of the activities that he partakes in. 

From his parents, S is hidden away, kept quiet by a common consensus to avoid spreading the word. From the skaters at S, even though his full name is known (because Chinen Miya’s history and status are splashed across skateboarding news on a regular basis), his interest in games is less so, and his streaming hobby as Ranboo is completely out of the picture.

And from most of the people he interacts with on a daily basis - his coach, the other regular skaters who snub him during training, the classmates who shunned him - both of those are secrets that they can’t mock him for. These separate aspects, at least, are items of his life that he can control, and he will hold tight onto these skeletons in his closet for as long as is feasibly possible.

Technoblade being in Japan, however, was one issue he didn’t think he would ever have to face.

-

Reki had sent him a text a couple of hours earlier, telling him that he’d convinced Cherry Blossom to teach them about how Adam skated. Despite trying his best to hide it, Miya knew that he hadn’t been the most subtle about his worry for Langa, especially since Adam had managed to break Reki’s arm through sheer intimidation.

The inopportune timing meant that he would have to cancel a stream, but helping Langa to avoid major injuries in a beef against an unscrupulous skater came first. His fans were supporting when he tweeted out his apologies, as they always were. Miya didn’t think he could ever sufficiently express his thanks for them.

At exactly 10AM JST, he showed up outside of Sia la luce in time to catch Reki and Langa before they entered.

“Hey there, Miya!” Reki called enthusiastically, grabbing Langa’s hand to get him to wave as well.

“Hello.” Langa said, quieter than Reki’s loud shout but equally warm.

Miya greeted them in turn, though one of his hands and half of his attention were pursuing a greater 2048 score. He already had a block of 512 and one of 1024, right next to each other.

“Geez, get your head out of your phone,” Reki teased, “Kids these days, always on their electronics. Look up!”

Miya scowled, more performatively than anything, still swiping away. “We’re here for Langa, not me. It doesn’t really matter what I do.”

“Right.” Langa nodded.

“Don’t agree with him!” Reki turned to Langa, donning a mask of horror. He ignored Miya’s protests, yet didn’t bother him further, going on to heckle Langa.

It was a pleasant distraction from the upcoming beef. With the stakes so high, both of them were worried sick for Langa, although Langa himself didn’t appear all that worried; which of course, made them even more anxious. Miya knew that he was practicing, but despite all of Langa’s skill with snowboarding, surely that couldn’t be enough to beat Adam, an integral member and one of the original founders of S itself?

They had to do as much as possible in preparation.

His determination to help Langa was promptly derailed when they pushed open the door and heard Cherry and Joe arguing in English. It wasn’t so much the language that took him aback - it was that without the language difference obscuring his tone, and without the roar of other skaters in the background, he realised that he knew that voice.

That tone, those inflections, that almost-monotone drawl with a hint of an American accent… There was no way.

Surely not.

“Oh, and look, they’ve arrived.” Cherry mentioned to Joe, still in English, and still in that damning voice.

“You…” Joe fumed, glaring at the back of Cherry’s head, before switching to Japanese. “You owe me for this, four-eyes. Hey, kids.”

“Good morning.” Cherry said, this time in Japanese, and if he hadn’t been so aware of how exactly Cherry was speaking he wouldn’t have noticed the shift in tone.

But Miya was, so the way that Cherry’s voice had changed and risen ever so slightly upwards in pitch, and the way he emphasised the vowel sounds of his words just a little bit more was evident. In hindsight, he could see how it hadn’t been noticeable earlier, but Miya should have recognised him sooner.

How many days had it been since Ranboo was added to the Dream SMP? How many interactions had he had with Technoblade thus far?

“Miya, are you alright?” Reki asked, seeing the mixture of shock and uncertainty plastered across his expression.

“Pleasetell me I was hallucinating just now. ” He said in English, inflicting his words with an American accent, and watched with a kind of visceral satisfaction as Cherry’s face twisted and flickered with the same array of emotions that Miya had experienced moments before.

“Ranboo?” He whispered, in a tone so full of unidentifiable emotions that it could be mistaken for horror.

“Fuck-” Miya cursed under his breath.

“Aren’t you meant to be in the USA?” They said in unison.

“You two know how to speak English?” Langa asked.

Chapter Text

“Well, I’m not in America right now.” Miya stated the obvious, his 2048 game forgotten. “That’s why I’ve never told you guys which state I live in.”

Cherry narrowed his eyes. “Clearly.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be living in California?” He asked.

“Wait, what?” Joe interjected, and the two paused their conversation long enough to turn to the others watching them in confusion. “A little context, please?”

Cherry and Miya looked back at each other for a moment, before silently coming to a consensus.

“We’ll tell you later.” Cherry said, leaving no room for argument. “Kojiro, you outline Adam’s skating techniques to these two. Miya and I need to have a talk.”

“Wait, wait, hold up, what’s this talk going to be about? What if Miya doesn’t want to talk with you, Cherry?” Reki interrupted.

“Don’t worry about it. This is none of your business.” Cherry replied.

Miya rolled his eyes. Technoblade would be Technoblade, especially to people he didn’t know well. He idolised the man, but even he had to admit Techno’s social skills needed work.

“Reki, let me handle it. I’m sixteen, not ten.” He huffed, irritation flaring at the both of them as he followed Cherry into the kitchen area, not giving Reki time to respond. He wasn’t a child .

“Sixteen?” Techno arched a brow as soon as they were out of the others’ earshots.

“You already knew I was younger than Tommy. Is this really that much of a surprise?” He responded drily. A two-year age gap wasn’t that wide.

“I suppose not.” Techno conceded, instead moving onto a more pertinent matter. “What are you doing in Japan?”

“I’ve lived here all my life. It was just… easier to pretend I was in America.” Ranboo admitted. “All the streamers I watch are either American or British, so 15-year-old me figured…”

He trailed off, as if that explains everything, and to Technoblade, who meticulously tracks numbers every day for a living, it does. Most popular streamers come from America or the British Isles, so in order to get big, pretending could be a strategy that came to mind immediately. When one went a little deeper, the various other factors that influenced this statistic (as well as notable outliers) started to poke holes in this basic theory, but 15-year-old Ranboo wouldn’t have considered those.

“What about you?” Ranboo returned the question, cutting off Techno’s internal thought trains.

“My family moved here when I was 16. I didn’t have anyone to tell at the time, so I just kept pretending, as you did.” Techno explained with some difficulty, his words slightly stilted.

His manner made Ranboo realise, with some guilt, that he had accidentally hindered Technoblade’s efforts to keep his identities separate. With how notoriously private Cherry Blossom is concerning his matters outside of S - despite basically everyone knowing his given name is ‘Kaoru’, thanks to Joe - Ranboo can’t imagine that this overlap is easy for him to handle.

But Ranboo is selfish . He isn’t eager to cease any of his hobbies. These are the pieces of his identity that he’s managed to painstakingly cultivate on his own and he doesn’t want to give them up.

So instead of apologising, he posed a question to Techno. “What are we going to do about this now?”

His tone is filled with uncertainty and doubt and almost suffocating hesitation, but Technoblade had an almost automatic answer.

“Carry on as is.”

“As in, pretend we haven’t met before?” His brow creased.

Techno blew air out of his mouth. “No, kid, I mean; don’t let either persona influence the actions fo your other. You’re relatively experienced at it, right? You’ve managed to keep Chinen Miya and Ranboo separate for so long that you must know what you’re doing.”

The subtle praise made Ranboo glow, but he stifled his pleased look behind his underlying worry as he responds. “I do. And I can do that, definitely!”

“Good. I’ll… come up with a cover story, I can see Reki peering into the kitchen every so often. At least he’s not actively eavesdropping.” Techno grumbled, and like that, Ranboo can see a bit more of Cherry in him. “Just smile and nod.”

“Got it!”

“That was a figure of speech, by the way, don’t smile and nod; it’ll be creepy.” Cherry backtracked as they left the kitchen.

Miya laughed.

Chapter Text

Whether unintentional or not, meeting another person in real life was bound to change your interactions with them.

It’s not overtly noticeable at first, but the way that Technoblade is just a little softer when interacting with Ranboo, and the way that Ranboo talks back just a tad more all add up over time. To the viewers, it only fuels their excitement, but for their friends, it paints a slightly different picture.

“Hello, Technoblade.” BadBoyHalo said, acting out his role on the stage that the Dream SMP has become. “You’re awfully fond of Ranboo, aren’t you?”

Techno denied it immediately, of course, citing the material benefits of keeping Ranboo around. “He’s alright, but I keep him around mainly for the stuff he gives me. I’ve got four netherite ingots and a netherite axe from the guy. But we’re not friends or anything.” He hastily tacked onto the end.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I had a talk with him?” Bad asked, and on his second monitor - which has Technoblade’s stream open, although he’s in the Discord call with them (albeit muted) - Ranboo saw Techno’s crosshair still.

“Actually,” Techno replied, a touch of something entering his tone, “I would mind. Very much.”

“I thought you weren’t friends.” Bad could be either frowning or grinning behind the screen - Ranboo wouldn’t know.

“Wellll, yeah,” He drawled, “That doesn’t mean I’m letting you around the unsupervised kid that you trapped in a creepy Egg a couple of months ago. That things practically screams bad news, come on. He’s only-” Ranboo froze. Techno paused, briefly, then changes his words, but the damage is done. “Like, a few years younger than Tommy.”

The chat caught him. There’s a break in the constant stream of ‘Blood for the Blood God’ (and, heartwarmingly, ‘Protect Ranboo’) as several questions asking if Techno knew Ranboo’s real age popped up.

Fortunately, for all that Technoblade disliked people and social interaction, he was adept at managing the masses. Its use both online and at S ensured that he didn’t have any shortage of practice.

“So if you want to get to him, you’re going to have to show up when I’m not around.” Techno said, which basically translates to you’re never talking to him , because the plot necessitated Techno’s residence at his snowy base for the foreseeable future. “Otherwise, you’re going through me.”

The only things that would draw him away are Syndicate meetings, which Ranboo would also attend.

Ranboo himself ignored the flush that rises to his cheeks at Techno’s words. It was all an act, after all. And an effective one at that; because Techno’s chat goes back to spamming ‘Blood for the Blood God’ soon after. Bad left a couple of minutes later after a few more shared threats.

Sat there in front of his desk, one screen open to Technoblade’s stream and the other to the Minecraft interface, Ranboo took a deep breath then released it. He pressed his cold hands to his cheeks and made sure that his fleeting, treachorous thoughts wouldn’t show in his tone, or voice, or even the minute twitches of his minecraft avatar. 

Once he’s certain, he clicks [Multiplayer]. Clicks the [Dream SMP] option. Logs on. And when he speaks, it’s the character of Ranboo speaking, not himself, and those thoughts are forgotten in the efforts of integrating his crafted persona into his actions.

“Hey, Technoblade, was that BadBoyHalo just then?”

When the stream ended and the spotlight on them faded, Ranboo couldn’t help but collapse in his chair like a boneless octopus. Streaming always helped him to calm down, but it could also be terribly draining. Lately, he’s also found that streaming with Techno was especially tricky.

He always had to try to not let anything slip, which is a pain in of itself, but that pressure doesn’t always alleviate even after the stream ends. Presently, their four-person call involves two people that don’t know about his and Techno’s shared secret, meaning that he can’t switch to Japanese and initiate a conversation about their days, because Niki and Phil will be left clueless and suspicious.

At least the latest stream had gone well, dulling the sting of his classmates spurning him once more earlier that day. Ranboo knew that he would regret staying up late for it when the sun inevitably rose in a couple of hours, but for now, he would bask in the afterglow of another successful stream.

Less fortunately, being in a call with Niki and Phil didn’t stop Techno from admonishing him on his sleep schedule. “Oi, kid, now that the stream’s over, go to bed.”

He groaned and his reply, admittedly, bordered on petulant. “No.”

“ Ranboo .” Technoblade said.

Phil laughed from his end. “Don’t mother hen the kid too much, Techno, isn’t it around three PM where he is?”

“Something like that,” Techno brushed off, “But he hasn’t slept in nearly 24 hours, so go to sleep , Ranboo.”

At this information, Phil changed his tune and began to agree with Techno. “If you’ve not slept in that long, you really should, Ranboo, especially since you’re as young as you are, mate.”

“Mmmm.” Ranboo complained, not bothering to voice his arguments. Phil was a traitor.

Niki giggled. “Ranboo, you need sleep to grow. You’re still in your growth stage, get some rest.”

“I’m not short!” He retorted, though he had to stifle a yawn immediately after, much to his mortification.

Some part of it must have reached his microphone, because the next thing he knew, his phone was ringing with Cherry’s caller ID displayed. He jumped halfway out of his skin and rushed to mute it. His parents were asleep - if it woke them, he might be banned from streaming for a month.

“Techno, what the heck!” He typed furiously into his phone as he complains into the call. Don’t call me this late. My parents will kill me. “I gave you my phone number for emergency purposes; you’re abusing your calling privileges!”

It’s 4AM. Go to sleep, Miya. “This is an emergency.” Techno asserted, completely unrepentant. “If you’re sleepy, we won’t be able to plan lore well tomorrow, meaning that my viewer retention rate will drop.”

Tomorpw is Sunday. “Oh, stop spouting nonsense.” Ranboo said, suppressing another yawn, both the backhanded words and the typo slipping through in his tired haze. He realised his mistake moments later. “-Wait, sorry for the rude-!”

Technoblade exhales, long-suffering and weary-sounding. “Go to sleep, kid.”

The text comes through a moment later. I think you mean today. And I can and will ban you from S if you don’t get enough sleep.

Ranboo glowered at his phone. He wanted to hop onto Tubbo’s stream after this and see what his friend was doing in Snowchester, but he can’t exchange S for that. S is an escape where he can put his passion and skill to use and it is the place where his IRL friends reside. Tubbo would have to wait for another day.

He grumbled a bit more, yet ultimately acknowledged Techno’s words. “You win this time.”

By text, before he shuts his phone off, he says; I’ll steal Carla from you one day, just you wait.

Technoblade sends a TechnoPepe back.

Chapter Text

“There’s a tournament coming up, right?” Miya asked, his cheek to the polished wood constituting the bar at Sia la luce. It’s a rhetorical question; they all know of the tournament.

A stream the previous evening had prevented him from attending S, meaning that he’d had to find out Adam’s tournament through secondhand means, namely the other skaters. A text from Langa had been his first alert, and now, their entire group was gathered in Joe’s restaurant. Well, except for Reki, who had been acting off over the last few days.

When asked, Langa had shrugged, meaning that Reki hadn’t disclosed his problems to anyone yet. Langa was always his first point of call. Miya just hoped that he wouldn't be too much of a stubborn - what was the word that Techno had taught him? Egocentrist? - and actually confided in someone if it was a cause for concern.

“Yeah.” Joe replied, prompting his actual question.

“So what are you guys going to do to prepare?” Miya continued, fishing for ‘subtle’ advice.

Langa blinks owlishly at him. “Practice.” He said, as if the answer is obvious.

And it is, but Miya had been hoping for a little more detail. “Well, I know that!” Miya said. “I mean, what in particular?”

“Training at the gym? More beefs in preparation?” Joe responds, listing off his own ideas.

“There’s not much one can do to improve their skateboarding except more skateboarding.” Cherry butted in. “You should know this better than anyone, Miya.”

He lifted his head up off the counter briefly to look at Cherry before letting his head drop onto the hood of his hoodie once more. “I know that…” Miya repeated. “But I feel that what I’m doing isn’t enough . How am I supposed to win the tournament if I can’t even come close to you or Langa’s times?”

He received a frown for his complaints, but it doesn’t appear to be aimed directly at him. “How indeed.” Cherry appeared to be seriously pondering his disgruntled question.

“Oi, what about me?” Joe asked, inflecting his voice with affected indignity.

“You’re too strong.” He replied simply. “There’s no way I can catch up to you in a week’s time, and your skating is all,” he waved a hand, “too energy wasting.”

Joe protested. “Hey! You’ve been spending way too much time around Kaoru. I don’t need two people lecturing me about efficiency.”

Miya grinned at him, the expression lopsided and sideways due to his head’s position. Joe caught it nonetheless, rolling his eyes in response. He sighed, and ultimately moved to continue preparing the restaurant for opening. “At least Langa’s on my side. Skating is all about the passion, right, Langa?” 

“Eh? Ah, yes.” Langa agreed, much to Joe’s satisfaction.

Just then, Cherry broke out of his silent state, snapping his fingers. “Got it.”

They turn to him. “Got what?” Miya asks.

“How to help you improve your skating, of course.” Cherry announced, with the same amount of flair that he’d had at the destruction of L’Manberg last year. Miya thought that he could stand to be a bit less dramatic sometimes, but filed that comment away.

“...I was kidding. I know the answer is more practice; I’m not going to be able to catch up with you guys for a long time given how much more experience you have.” Miya clarified, but Cherry doesn’t waver.

“There are faster ways to reach the same outcome.” Cherry said, the faintest quirk of his lips betraying a smirk. “I’m becoming your sensei in real life.”

Joe cut in, pointing out a flaw in Cherry’s logic. “Not that I don’t think this proposal is cute and all, but as opposed to what? In fake like? You’re slipping, smart-ass.”

“In fake life?” Miya’s own eyes widened minutely before he adds to Joe’s mocking remark, trying to make light of Cherry’s slip. “I don’t think that’s a thing. You’re getting old, dude.”

Cherry scowled at him, the emotion only half-faked. “Keep that up and I’ll retract my offer.”

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“When have I ever not been serious?” Cherry asked.

Vividly, Miya thought back to every other encounter he’s had with Technoblade online, half of the other’s words laced with sarcasm and another quarter being blatant jokes or hyperbole. But now that he really considered it - he rarely saw that quality in Cherry (outside of arguments). He chose to avoid mentioning it.

“You have a point.” He replied, and then his mind actually processes the offer.

Cherry was offering to become Miya’s tutor in skateboarding. On top of the lessons that he has with his official coach.

There was a chance that he could reach greater heights at a rapid pace. Cherry is a certified expert in skateboarding and landing tricks, not to mention an entertaining person to spend time with. 

Miya was not ashamed to say that he sat up straight so quickly that it gave him whiplash. “When can I start?”

Cherry’s lips had upturned into a smile - and wasn’t that a strange sight to see on his face - by the time Miya turned around to face him. “Tomorrow, if you’re free.”

Adam is an asshole whether he means to be or not, and Miya is half-convinced that the insane man knew of their streaming hobby, because the date of S’s quarter-finals fall on a lore stream date. One that had been in the planning books for just over a month.

Two unavoidable events, scheduled on the same date, probably at the same time. There’s no way that they can make it for both, and without a valid reason…

“Miya, do you think you can fake a family emergency?” Kaoru proposed, his phone open on Adam’s flashy (and temporary) tournament app.

“Will they believe it?” was Miya’s first and only concern, rather than protesting. It would be a waste for their carefully woven triple lives to unravel because of a scheduling conflict, let alone one caused by Adam , of all people.

Kaoru’s index fingers tapped the side of his phone repetitively, this and the strain in his voice being the only indicators of his worry. “You’ve never called one before, so it would be believable.”

The two of them were sequestered away in Kaoru’s apartment, the older man having deemed this a problem to discuss in person. Miya paid no attention to his laptop, balancing precariously on his knees, insteading choosing to stare at his phone with glazed over eyes. It’s open to the pins of the Dream SMP Discord’s #general channel. 

Miya chewed on his lip, lost in thought. “How would I…?”

As they began to discuss the merits of various ‘family emergencies’, their phones lit up simultaneously with a new notification from Adam’s app. “Wait-” Kaoru started.

“-This starts at 10!” Miya finished, his worry evaporating. “We could probably make it back for the streams if the races are fast enough.”

“If they’re fast enough…” Kaoru turned around to face his desk, pulling up an Excel spreadsheet on his computer’s screen.

Setting his laptop aside, Miya shuffles his own chair towards the screen, peering at the rows and columns of identical boxes laid out in front of him.

‘ very legal behaviour ’ is one of Kaoru’s favourite creations pertaining to skating, and is where he records the details of each skater he deems notable at S, gathering data from the CCTV logs that each of the three founders holds access from. It’s a well-known fact that the cameras exist, yet what most of the skaters either don’t know or haven’t considered is that the three founders have access to the logs to do what they please with them.

Adam probably uses them to monitor the skaters at S with more nefarious motives, while Joe might not even look at them often unless someone in particular catches his attention, but Kaoru had used them to meticulously analyse each of S’s recognisable figures and their techniques for several purposes.

One such purpose is for estimating their racing times.

“There’s a break of about 10 minutes in-between races, and with 4 races total, that’s an additional 30 minutes.” Kaoru murmured, inking numbers into a spare piece of paper with a thin calligraphy brush.

“Which brings us to half past 10.” Miya nodded.

“Then the totals of everyone’s times…” He wrote a neat 6.05 down, denoting it to be Shadow’s in a series of several brush strokes.

Kaoru repeated the process with each of the skaters that had made it through the qualifiers, finishing off with Miya’s own timing; a 4.48 that made him wince when he saw it surrounded by the qualifying times of everyone else. He’d seen the difference between him and Adam in the qualifiers themselves, yet seeing his 4.48 next to Adam’s round 4.00 hit slightly differently. Not to mention the 3.58 of Snake, who was his opponent in the quarter-finals.

“I can feel your self-depreciation from over here.” Kaoru deadpanned. “Stop it. You’re six years younger than Adam and I.”

“But Langa…”

“Langa’s been snowboarding since he was 2. It’s not an exact match with skateboarding but it shares enough similarities that he’s able to utilise that muscle memory which you haven’t had nearly as much time to build, despite your skill.” It’s straight, to the point, and worst - or best - of all, it’s true.

Miya deflated. “Yeah, alright.”

“Regardless, the summation of the expected race times is…” Kaoru moved on, tapping the other end of the brush to the paper as he did the mental arithmetic. “16 minutes, 58 seconds. Ideally, including a buffer just in case, the tournament will end shortly before 11PM. That’s plenty of time.”

“Thank goodness.” Miya verbalised, breathing a sigh of relief.

His expression is mirrored on Kaoru’s face, whose fidgeting settled down to a slow tap-tap-tap ing on the soft material of his chair’s seat. “What a gift horse.” Kaoru settled for, folding up the piece of paper and tucking it away in a drawer.

“That’s one way to put it.” Miya pushed his chair back to his original position, just a foot or two back to give Kaoru more space as he hibernates his computer and turns around.

As he did so, he hit the home on his phone. The Discord message from Tommy regarding the lore stream date - pinned and referred back to so many times over the last month - finally vanished from his sight. “I’m glad we don’t need to worry about that anymore.

“As am I.” Kaoru responded.They basked in the alleviation of their panic for a moment before he spoke again. “Oh, since the original purpose of your visit has been fulfilled, how about some last-minute practice?”

And though Miya was still tired from school and from the emotional rollercoaster that the last few days have been, he readily agreed. It was an easy distraction for them both; and he couldn’t say no to spending time with Kaoru. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Adam just hit Cherry in the face. Adam just hit Kaoru in the face with a skateboard.

Miya took a moment to process it, but his brain must have decided against cooperating, because it doesn’t make sense to him. Why would Adam…? At such a high velocity, it could have killed Kaoru, so surely Adam wouldn’t- not to one of his oldest friends, former or not? But the facts are in front of him, plastered across his phone’s screen.

Adam is speaking to Cherry’s prone form at a volume too low for the microphones to pick up, yet it’s still not quite registering.

“Miya.” Shadow called urgently, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. He’s standing on his skateboard, so it’s a simple task for the other to drag him away from the crowds. Miya looked up from his phone and stared at Shadow, uncomprehending.

Shadow cursed. “Miya, snap out of it. We’ve got to get to the van. Joe and Cherry will need a quick way to get to the hospital.”

Hospital . Kaoru needed to go to a hospital?

“He- Techno-” It felt as though the world around him was fuzzy - ethereal, even. 

Shadow shook his head in defeat and picked Miya up, grabbing his skateboard with the other hand. He squawked reflexively; Shadow was only half a centimetre taller than him, yet was somehow lifting him with ease. “You’re not making any sense, kid. Let’s go.”

Miya struggled briefly on principle alone before going limp in his grip, watching the other stationary observers go by in a blur. Shadow is deceptively strong, and within moments he’s placed none-too-gently into the passenger seat of the van.

And then he sees Joe cradling Kaoru’s body, with Kaoru himself barely able to move. “What the fuck.”

Shadow elected to ignore him, instead focusing on letting the other two into the van before setting off. As they headed off, he watched Miya cast worried glances back at Kaoru, who was still struggling to stay conscious. Joe, for his part, kept most of his attention on Kaoru, murmuring quiet stories to him to keep him awake

“That’s Adam for you.” Shadow eventually ground out, as they pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. “Brutal even to those he’s closest to.”

“I don’t think he has anyone he’s close to.” Joe said humourlessly. As soon as the van stops, he’s picking up Kaoru once more and stepping out of the van.

And from there, it’s a blur of motion and activity until they’re gathered by Kaoru’s hospital bed, where he rests unconscious but stable. As Joe and Shadow quietly conversed under the dimmed lights at 3AM, Miya realised too late that he’d accidentally ditched both his own quarter-final - and the important lore stream.

His hands were still tremoring as he pulled his phone out. Checking the tournament app first, he found that his departure had resulted in a forfeit, allowing Snake to continue unchallenged. It didn’t matter. Kaoru would always come first. The same held for the hundred or so Discord notifications that showed up when he opened the app, though these were more daunting.

Scrolling up to the top of the #general chat for the day, Ranboo began to read.

The messages started off with chatter about the upcoming stream, along with last-minute basic script changes and their accompanying squabbles, but as the messages became more recent, they transitioned to talk about both Techno’s and his own absences. At first, the general sentiment is irritation and light-hearted teasing, but then the tone of the messages turns urgent. Finally, a vexed message immediately preceded an announcement that the stream has been postponed by a day.

‘ you owe me, ranboo. ’ Tommy’s DM said, explaining that he’d taken the fall for them.

If the true reason for the delay came out, suspicion might have been directed at their shared absence and real life circumstances, and neither Ranboo nor Technoblade are prepared for that sort of pressure. Tommy was, as the guy himself outlined, a more public figure than the both of them combined.

It’s phrased crudely, but Ranboo made a mental note to buy Tommy a thank-you present when he visits the UK anyway.

‘ ranboo!! ’ Tubbo’s own DM came in as he read through all of his other miscellaneous DMs. Phil, Wilbur, Jack and even Niki have messaged him in his absence. ‘ i see yuo online ’

The Discord ring tone began to play, the sound echoing around the near-silent hospital room. Ranboo jumped and declined it, ducking his head when Joe and Shadow glanced his way curiously.

‘ can’t call ’ . He responded, then pauses for a moment to think. He decides on a half-truth. ‘ family emergency. i’m in the hospital ’ .

‘ whaaat ’ came Tubbo’s reply almost instantly. ‘ what happened, big man? are you alright?’

He spent the next few minutes reassuring Tubbo that he was alright, then posts the same excuse to the DSMP chat. There was an influx of moving messages and well wishes that immediately follow, but then as that peters out, there was an isolated message wondering about Technoblade’s whereabouts.

Ranboo so badly wanted to tell them that Techno isn’t purposely skipping the stream or simply forgot - wanted so badly to tell them that he didn’t show because some psycho gave him a concussion - but the choice of who to tell is up to Technoblade himself.

He can’t defend his friend without giving their secret away.

Ranboo turns off his phone soon after, knowing that the others will take it that he’s tired of talking about it, rather than because he doesn’t want to accidentally spill a secret that’s not entirely his to share.

Gazing gloomily at Kaoru, Miya wished that they’d decided on a contingency in case they couldn’t make it home on time; but more so, wished that they had better judged the lengths that Adam would go to.

Chapter Text

In the morning, he woke to a group chat text that Kaoru had snuck out of the hospital to go to Sia la luce. Joe followed that up with instructions to the rest of them to get Kaoru to rest if they saw him working, along with a private message to Miya to Keep him away from content creation .

That message had led to his heart pounding unreasonably loudly in his ears before Miya remembered that Joe- Kojiro had been friends with Kaoru for years. Of course he knew. He’d probably known for a while.

Kaoru mentioned it last night . The next message said, causing him to freeze. I think it’s a wonderful hobby. I’m glad that you have friends to rely on outside of us.

He stared down at the characters, black on bright white, for longer than necessary. A rush of warmth spreads throughout his body at Kojiro’s kind words. He really had become an unofficial big brother, not dissimilar to how Kaoru had, if he were to be completely honest. Not that he’d admit it to either of them. Kojiro would wave it off or become unbearably smug, while Kaoru would - more likely than not - deny it altogether with a touch of pink on his cheeks.

He’ll probably be mad at himself when he wakes up in the hospital. Joe explained. I don’t think he was in his right mind. Had a concussion. But take care of him, will you?

Miya flushed at the implication. To think that he has the ability to care for Kaoru - for Cherry and Technoblade, who were once on an unreachable pedestal beyond his influence - is heartening.

I will. He replied, to a friend who has known Kaoru for six to seven years, as opposed to his own mere one year. Putting this into perspective never ceased to amaze him.

Thank you. Kojiro responded.

As the evening sun set on Japan, being one of the first countries to greet the new week, Miya closed his curtains and settled himself at his desk. The first of the semi-finals was today, Reki versus Adam, and he’d be heading off in about an hour to watch it.

Reki had been strangely cagey about his plans to race Adam, stating that he’d show up for the race itself, but telling them all not to bother him until them. Miya was glad that he’d regained some passion for skating - Langa was probably with him anyway - but in the meantime, there was nothing stopping him from stewing in nervous anticipation.

He checked on Discord as he waited, texting Tubbo with vague updates on the health of his ‘family member’ along with frowning at how frequently a familiar MS Paint icon pops up in the #lore-discussion channel of the DSMP Discord. Technoblade was active.

And well, despite the fans needing their ‘technocontent’, Techno’s health should come first. Miya owed it to Kojiro to at least try to get him offline. It wouldn’t do for him to have end up back at the hospital due to the screentime intensifying the concussion’s symptoms.

Kaoru. Ranboo picked up his phone and starts messaging. You should be resting.

There was no response.

He copied and pasted the message into Discord instead, sure that Techno would see it given his activity. Three dots show up, hopping up and down rhythmically, yet no message is sent. After a period of a minute goes by without response and the dots vanish, Ranboo cracked his knuckles and went straight to the threats.

‘ I’m telling Philza Minecraft if you don’t answer me .’

‘ Do not do that. The response to that is immediate.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘ You have a concussion, Technoblade. You need to stay off screens, meaning no Minecraft for a week. ’

‘ I am fine .’

‘You’re not fooling anyone. I saw Kojiro’s text in the group chat this morning. We don’t want you passing out on stream.’ He added a little mention to the audience at the end to punctuate his messages.

‘ I haven’t passed out today. ’ Was Technoblade’s indignant reply, as if that made it any better. ‘ And you can’t force me. ’

Ranboo sighed. Though Techno has six years of age on him, he could sometimes act as if he were younger than Ranboo’s 16 years. Fortunately, he has a tried-and-true strategy for dealing with a testy Techno. ‘ I’m telling Phil. ’

He was typing the message when Technoblade called him, and gave a wry smile at the call icon insisting to be clicked. Instead of doing so instantly, however, he let it ring for a while as he finished typing and sent the message. By the time he answered it, it had been ringing for about half a minute.

“Please say you haven’t messaged Phil.” Techno’s tone was frantic, panicked, but seeing as he brought it on himself, Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to sympathise that much..

If he wouldn’t take care of himself, Ranboo would, and that was fine with him. It’s not like Techno hasn’t done the same for him before. “Too late.” He hung up.

Ignoring the inundation of messages from Technoblade, he opened up his chat with Philza in a new tab. Below his message - ‘ hey, Phil, Technoblade has a concussion so if you can like, get him to postpone his stream that would be great ’ - was a baffled reply.

‘ How do you know? ’

He must have spent too much time typing, rephrasing, rewording and backspacing, because before he can post an appropriately censored and altered version of events that would lead to him knowing that Techno has a concussion, Phil sent another message.

‘ Kid I don’t think you’re lying but I need evidence if I’m gonna to confront Techno ’

Ranboo stared down at his half-complete paragraph filled with lies, both outright and of omission, and deleted the entire chunk.

‘ you know the family member i mentioned last night? it was a cover. that was techno. ’

Phil’s reply was short, simple, and expressed everything he needed to convey. ‘ wtf ’. It’s continued by a ‘ How did he end up in the hospital? ’

‘ long story ’ . Ranboo replied, reluctant to share the truth, still not sure if it was his story to tell. He eventually settled for a half-truth, somewhat similar to the story he had concocted moments before. ‘ someone hit him with a bat while he was going at 15km/h .’

‘ And you know this how? ’ It wasn’t accusing, at least he didn’t think it was. The question was more inquiring.

‘long story’. He reiterated. ‘just please get him to postpone his stream for a week if possible.’

Phil’s curiosity was almost palpable despite the thousands of kilometres that separated them, but he doesn’t ask any more questions, much to Ranboo’s relief. ‘ I’ll call him. And I’ll get Wilbur involved if need be, and maybe even Tommy if he won’t listen. Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it handled. ’

‘ Thank you ’ . Ranboo responded, closing the chat.

He winced when he clicks on Techno’s tab, grimacing when he sees the messages have slowly transitioned from begging to empty threats with an undercurrent of pleading.

The most recent is a censored threat about killing him unless he called Phil off. It’s missing the details - one of Techno’s preferred ways of limiting his bad ‘influence’ from affecting an ‘impressionable kid’ - but the sentiment is there.

He doesn’t really mean it, though. Kaoru never did.

‘ You can blame Kojiro if you want. ’ Miya texted, ignoring the stream of ultimatums he’s received. ‘ He told me to take care of you. ’

‘ Kojiro? That interfering ape. And you went along with it? ’

‘You have a concussion.’ He repeated, like has has what feels like countless times before. ‘I wanted to. Besides’, Miya added, dredging up memories of an incident from long ago, ‘if you can force me to sleep, I can force you to stop staring at a screen when you have a concussion.’

He received a ‘ ._. ’ emoticon in response, causing him to laugh. What goes around comes around, and if that happened to be necessary smothering care when the other didn’t want it, so be it.

‘ ;) ’

‘ You’re such an meddlesome cat. ’ Techno sent.

A smile stretched across his face. ‘ I’ll take that as a compliment. ’

Chapter Text

In the interim between the postponement and the date of the postponed stream itself, they’d had to give the fans some sort of excuse. Techno had warred with Wilbur (who, along with Tommy, had ended up getting involved because of Techno’s stubbornness) about how to best solve the conundrum, pitting his desire for privacy against a constant stream of confused and/or concerned fans, some of whom would be wielding pitchforks.

They eventually settled for a vague ‘Technoblade was hospitalised a week ago and didn’t tell anyone until we asked why he was skipping two streams in a row’ followed by ‘it was a concussion, he’s alive, don’t worry’, or something along those lines, messing up the timeline so that nobody could draw a clear line linking Techno’s ‘civilian’ life to Techno himself.

Fortunately, they hadn’t needed to come up with an excuse for Ranboo; delaying the lore stream solely because of Technoblade made sense owing to his major role. 

But with the immediate urgency of forcing Technoblade to take care of himself passed, Phil, along with both Wilbur and Tommy (who had both ended up needing to get involved) had questions that Miya wasn’t prepared to answer alone. In hindsight, he should have expected the repercussions of his actions, but...

At least Techno hadn’t admonished him too much for his ill-thought-out measures to get him to stay offline, admitting that if Miya hadn’t gone over his head, he would have continued with his stream until he did collapse while the cameras were rolling. The other sleepy bois had done well in reminding him of the risks he was taking.

So at 3.28PM JST, squeezed into the break between the end of his school day and his after-school activities, Miya pulled Techno into a call to settle the others’ questions.

He entered the Discord call to Phil and Wilbur’s quiet murmurs, their voices low and heavily indicative of the early hour in the UK.

“Oh, good morning Ranboo.” Phil greeted him. “I think Tommy will be over in a minute. Techno should be as well.”

“He’ll probably enter at 3.30 on the dot.” Ranboo mused, twirling the earphone wires in his free hand.

He was tucked away in a hidden corner of the school cafeteria, having needed to fit in the conversation before his skateboarding training. On Fridays, post-training time was his designated study time, then S would come after, leaving no other opportunity to discuss this unless he wanted to wait until Saturday.

“Sounds like him.” Wilbur agreed. “What’s that background noise where you are, Ranboo?”

Answering honestly, Ranboo plainly replied with, “School.”

“Isn’t it like, 2AM EST?” Phil asked, baffled.

“Yeah, about that…” Ranboo trailed off, hearing Tommy join the call.

“What’s up.” Tommy said in greeting.

“Heyo, Tommy.” Ranboo said back.

Phil and Wilbur echoed him. “Hello Tommy.”

There was the sound of rustling and of Tommy briefly moving things on his desk before he asked; “Where’s Techno?”

As if on cue, Discord rang out with a tone again as Technoblade joined the call. “Helloooo.” He didn’t even give them time to greet him before he launched straight into the subject. “So this call is about how Ranboo knew I had a concussion the night I got it, yeah?”

A way of avoiding the pleasantries, Ranboo noted idly. Techno was scared of how the others would react, and quite frankly, so was he.

“Yeah,” Tommy responded.

“I mean, while we’re on the topic, I’d love to know why Ranboo’s in school at 2AM.” Wilbur chimed in.

“That’s connected.” Technoblade admitted. “So we’ll get to it in good time. Ranboo, if you will?”

Ranboo let out a theatrical sigh. “If I have to.” He shifted a bit in his position, where he was leaning against the wall at the back of the school. “So! To start, one day a few months ago, I went to a restaurant with my friends and to my horror, I heard Technoblade’s voice chatting with the owner.”

“You know each other in real life, then.” Phil confirmed, though this was information he already knew.

“We do.” Techno said.

“With how close you two have been lately, we really should have known.” Wilbur contemplated. “Was this only after you joined the SMP?”

“It was. Meaning that Technoblade recognised me as well, after I switched to English.”

“Wait, you weren’t talking English?” Tommy caught on.

“We were not. That was why I say ‘to my horror’, because I was expecting Technoblade to be, you know, an American.” Ranboo explained, his sentences fragmenting in his nervousness. “We’re both Japanese, apparently. And live in Japan.”

“You’re what .” Wilbur said, floored, his sentiments echoed by Tommy.

“ 日本語 .” Techno enunciated, before repeating it in English. “Japanese.”

“No offense intended, but what the fuck.” Tommy said.

“Yeah, imagine my reaction when I walk into an Italian restaurant in Japan and hear one of my ‘American’ streamer friends speaking English.” Ranboo commented, then considered his words. “...That sounds like the start of a bad joke. Or a fanfiction.”

Techno picked up from there. “His friends actually knew me in passing and had come to ask for advice on something.” He said, keeping it vague. S’s business stayed at S. “He’d been dragged along for the ride, and we had to have a conversation then and there about everything. In the end, we decided against revealing the intricacies of our relationship to everyone. Neither of us had told them about streaming, and none of you lot knew about us being in Japan, so…”

Nothing personal , Technoblade implied.

It didn’t stop the hurt from reaching Tommy’s voice. “Why lie?”

He’d come up with a prepared explanation, compiling all of his thoughts into one paragraph prior to this conversation. But even with a script to read off, his voice coming out in an almost monotone, Ranboo winced at his own words.

“Neither of us are… particularly out of the public sphere, here. For entirely different reasons, we ended up moderately famous both as Ranboo and Technoblade, and as-” He stumbled over his own words, before continuing. Techno had agreed that he could reveal their real names but that underlying fear borne of months of hiding was still present. “And as Chinen Miya and Sakurayashiki Kaoru. I’m a candidate for the national skateboarding team. Techno’s a famous AI developer. It was easier to separate the two, for both of us.”

“Mixing the two would be messy.” Kaoru continued, giving Ranboo some time to collect himself. “It would open up questions of my credibility, despite being them being unfounded, and might have influenced Miya’s career in either direction; positively or negatively. As for why we didn’t tell you… well, ‘three may keep a secret if two of them are dead’.” He quoted.

“So… Nothing personal.” Phil concluded tentatively.

“Nothing personal.” Kaoru confirmed.

“I understand.” Phil said, no trace of judgement left in his tone. A flood of relief washed through Ranboo.

There’s a ‘thunk’ from Tommy’s end, which might be him punching something, or maybe face planting.

“Tommy?” Wilbur asked.

“I’m alright.” Tommy replied, voice muffled. “Leaned back in my chair a bit. Should’ve seen this coming. I understand as well.” The hurt isn’t completely gone from his tone, but enough is that Ranboo can tell it isn’t as raw anymore.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Just give me time to recover from the shock, I guess. And tell Tubbo, Ranboo.” Tommy demanded suddenly. “He deserves to know as well.”

Ranboo took a moment to mull over it, but the decision was an easy one. “Will do.”

“Good. Then I’m good with you two keeping this a secret.” Tommy decided.

“Thank you.” Ranboo said, genuine gratitude seeping through his words.

“So am I.” Wilbur added. “I can get you wanting to separate your streaming from whatever you do outside of it. I’m only surprised that you know how to code, and code well. I distinctly remember you telling Dream that you didn’t know the difference between an array and AR.”

At that, Technoblade snorted. “Got to keep Dream on his toes somehow. He does know his stuff, even though he only codes Minecraft plug-ins and mods nowadays.”

There was no voiced gratitude, but like most of Techno’s interactions, what he actually wanted to express was hidden behind layers of sarcasm and dry wit. Ranboo had figured out how to pick them out over the last few months, and he was sure that Wilbur had learnt the same skills.

“Still, Techno, can’t believe you let me just believe you were a massive weeb instead of telling me you could speak Japanese because you lived there.” Phil joked, lightening the mood.

Ranboo let out a small laugh. “Would you have thought I was one as well if I’d spoken Japanese on call without an explanation?”

“Absolutely, mate.”

“I guess this means that you’re the bigger weeb then,” Techno said.

“Nah, you literally read light novels in your spare time.” Phil replied. “You might be Japanese, but that doesn’t make you any less of a weeb.”

Technoblade objected. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Actually, Phil, ‘weeb’ specifically refers to non-Japanese people who like Japanese things, so out of everyone here, you’re the bigger weeb.” Ranboo butted in.

Techno barked a laugh. “See, the kid’s got my back.”

Phil gasped in mock-affront. “Wilbur, help, they’re ganging up on me.”

“Sorry, Phil, they have a point.”

“Tommy?”

“You’re on your own here, Philza Minecraft.” Tommy cackled.

“So I’m right.” Techno stated smugly.

“Fine…” Phil conceded, before his voice took on a more teasing tone. “But you know, Ranboo, you were pretty defensive of Techno there.” He pointed out, diverting attention away from his own ‘humiliation’.

Wilbur seized the opportunity to jump in. “Makes you wonder exactly how close you two have gotten while we haven’t noticed, right?”

Ranboo raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck, irregardless of the fact that they couldn’t see him. “Uh…”

“Hey, didn’t you explain your no-show as a family emergency the first time?” Tommy mentioned.

“Maybe there’s some truth in that.” Wilbur pondered.

“No, no. I know where you’re going with this, stop it .” Technoblade interrupted.

“Hey,” Wilbur defended. “We’ve barely said anything.”

“I’m not mothering the kid,” Technoblade said, “So don’t say anything about it. Especially you, Phil.”

Tommy paused. “Wait.” He spoke up, delighted. “Phil’s noticed it before? Before we knew about your meeting up in real life?”

“Phil accused you of mothering me?” Ranboo asked, feeling faint.

“ No. ”

“I did.” Phil answered. “You forced him to go to sleep, Techno, if that isn’t mothering I don’t know what is.”

“It’s called being a caring friend.” Techno complained. “Stop misconstruing it!”

“I’m pretty sure you kept track of how many hours it had been since he’d last slept. How did you know that, exactly?”

“I-” Kaoru started, then stopped. “It’s just his schedule.”

Ranboo thought about that statement for a bit, then let his legs fold underneath him, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. “I never told you my schedule.” He realised.

All those times that Cherry had called him or messaged him had not once conflicted with his training, or school, or streams. Not since the first week or so of knowing him. How had…? Had Kaoru mapped out his schedule based solely on their interactions?

“See?” Phil responded, satisfied. “ Mothering . Or parenting, to be more gender-neutral. Trust me, I’d know.”

“...” There’s silence from Kaoru for a moment. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight, Miya.”

He disconnected.

The call filled with quiet chuckles, not too raucous, but nowhere near subtle either. Ranboo flushed, raising his cold hands to his cheeks to try and quell the pinkness that he knew had risen to the surface of his skin.

“That’s as good as admitting it from Techno.” Wilbur laughed.

Tommy agreed. “Basically, yeah.”

“Hey, wait, you two are meeting up for dinner as well?” Phil asked, not bothering to stifle the mirth in his voice. “You’re definitely family.”

Ranboo let out a choked sound and hit the End Call button, folding his body in on itself as his flush threatened to cover his entire body. Yet in spite of the embarrassment, there was a small smile tugging on the edge of his mouth. 

Maybe this was what it was like to have a truly caring family.