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It shouldn’t have happened, it had never happened before, why would something so happenstance occur now? Momoi and Sonoi alike were both top class warriors, practically unmatched aside from each other and when on even footing, both were almost perfectly even in skill and strength. In their fights they tended to isolate away a bit, every skirmish and struggle a private duel that their comrades respected and left to its own conclusion without interference usually. They had done away with declaring it as such, for if so they’d have the pomp and circumstance almost every day and that would be too ostentatious for even Sonoi’s tastes, though Momoi might have enjoyed it. Regardless, they were equals and fought fairly with all they had, they’d never slipped up in that regard ever since Sonoi had righted his wrong early on in their ritual of combat. So then how did it come to this?
It was a fluke really, something that could happen to anyone, not that Momoi Taro was anyone though. They were fighting in the rocky quarry a bit past the city limits, an abandoned construction site from years ago that lent itself almost too perfectly to their fights with little damage people would notice. For today it was just them, the other’s having finished their group battle already and taking their leaves as they had grown accustomed to their leaders going late into the evening if given the chance. They had let themselves as always get lost in the ebb and flow of each other's routine of strikes and punches and flips that they'd come to expect of each other.
Sonoi had defended a sword strike to his side, cleanly sidestepping in the next movement to flow into a jab at Momoi’s center. Momoi without hesitation threw himself down and back, his spine arching as he made to duck beneath it like some game of limbo. Sonoi expected he’d either allow himself to fully fall just to push himself up in a surge of movement to kick out at him or flip himself with the momentum and land back onto his feet ready for the next exchange. So when Momoi’s foot shoved out beneath him, sending him onto his back, he thought nothing of it at first, until the next moments were not following the rest of his expectations.
Momoi did not make to flip himself around nor did he kick out or laugh off the attack as usual. He had no witty banter or remarks and he had nothing to retaliate with. He was just…laying there, suddenly still. Sonoi stood there a few moments, not quite processing what had happened or if this was some new factor into their exchange. Another beat and it finally clicked that the other was not going to and maybe unable to rise on his own, and Sonoi was quick to ‘power down’ letting blue light flash and as it faded it took blue and silver armor away to leave human-like flesh and satin clothing behind. By the time his knees hit the ground next to Momoi, the man in question had also had his armor fade to his civilian clothes and lightly tanned skin, though due to lack of consciousness to upkeep it rather than a decision on his part.
Momoi’s eyes were closed, lips slightly parted to allow a bit of reddened spit to drool out of the corner of his mouth at a crawl. That was enough to get him going and he moved to trail his fingers along the red ranger’s chest, checking for any noticeable injuries and moving his way up to check at the back of his neck and head. Before he could properly lift the other’s head to check however, he felt more than saw something running full speed directly at him. He jerked his head up and over to gauge his assailant but all he saw was a flash of white and gold before he felt himself get roughly body checked to the side, the force enough to make his body skid a couple feet into the grit below them to his displeasure. He scrambled to pick himself up, moving to hold himself up on his palms only to pause, the sight he was greeted with not something he ever expected again.
Momotani Jiro was crouched overtop of Momoi, on all fours like an animal and with the fallen leader between his limbs, the long white robe of the other curtained to hide Momoi away it seemed. He was staring directly at Sonoi, his eyes flashing silver and his teeth bared in a snarl that rumbled in his chest unlike what any other human had ever made in Sonoi’s experience. The red markings beneath his eyes that continued to his temple only made the fierce expression all the more striking. Sonoi didn’t really know much about the other members of the don brothers, it wasn't what his attention was drawn to, and with his comrades serving to latch onto others themselves he felt it balanced out enough.
Momotani Jiro though was one he had heard bits and pieces about, giving it the extra attention ever since their first meeting with the gold ranger almost excitedly cutting into his battle unwanted those months back. From what he had gathered, Jiro was not one man but two; for reasons unknown to him, Jiro’s mind had split at some point before he ever came across the don brothers and resulted in two different people in the same body. One was the man, no, boy he had first met and saw in passing offer childishly bright smiles and excitement to his teammates fairly often when they were together. He was always bouncing around Momoi like an excited puppy, eager for praise or attention it felt like in some way.
Then there was… this Jiro; dangerous, all but feral, quick to lash out and taking no sides in the conflict other than latching onto a target. He spoke with a rough rasp to his voice, distinct and deeper than the other one despite sharing the same organs with which to speak. Somehow having the same face did nothing to make the two recognizable as each other however with everything else about them so starkly different. The other aimed to help and please, this one aiming to claim dominance and show his aggression. Sonoi idly wondered which came first of the two as he continued his staring contest with the beast of a man just a ways from him.
Jiro never broke eye contact, but he lowered himself closer to Momoi’s prone form beneath him, letting his cheek all but press against the other’s lips. Sonoi’s brows furrowed but Jiro grunted in the back of his throat, having found whatever it was he wanted in that and moved to then press his ear to Momoi’s chest.
Ah, he must have been checking to feel his breath then…
It seemed Momoi’s untamed beast had come to his aid, he must have stayed behind to watch their fight from a distance. It was odd, Sonoi hadn't been able to sense anyone nearby or feel what would have certainly been an intense stare that should have made him alert quickly. Perhaps it had been the other Jiro who had stayed and only once Momoi fell, they had switched? He had seen their swaps before in battle, it wasn't quite seamless but it was fast and unpredictable usually.
Jiro, having been pacified at least somewhat with Momoi’s assured breathing and heartbeat, let himself finally look away from the cerebran, his gaze now fixed on the red clad man. He held his hands the way one would if they were endowed with claws, but even so he slid those hands along Momoi’s face to his neck, checking the back of the other’s neck and head as Sonoi had intended to begin with. He pulled a hand back and up close to his face, his nose scrunching and another growl that was almost a huff through his teeth rumbled from him. From the short distance away, Sonoi caught the smear of red against Jiro’s hands, and he grimaced along with the beast-man.
The helmet of the don brother “uniform” was considerably tough, not cracking or breaking even after all these fights. Not even scratched really. However, as good a job it did of protecting the skull and face, it didn’t do much in the back as it ended at a slant following the jaw of the wearer; it left the base of the skull easily accessible and the neck entirely expose, the white collar a simple cloth not proper armor like most the rest of what he wore in combat. Must have finally gotten unlucky it seemed and hit some of the rocks that scattered themselves amongst the sand and grit of the area, knocking him out. It wasn’t too serious most likely, but it was still an unnecessary thing nonetheless and Sonoi hated the idea of Momoi getting injured by something so trivial and unworthy of him.
He had taken Jiro’s break in attention as trust, and had made to stand up once more to approach the two, however when he was no higher than a rising crouch, Jiro’s attention darted right back to him with renewed fire, his teeth bared and an outright hiss coming from him. Sonoi grit his teeth together behind closed lips, frustrated but not wanting to do anything too rash in case this Jiro was not as tame or loyal as he was seeming in the moment. From what he could recall, this one wanted Momoi defeated if not dead under him. So he lowered himself back to the ground, this time kneeling and leaning on his hands instead and keeping his eyes level with the other’s.
“I just want to help him, he wasn't supposed to get hurt so I want to help him and make sure it isn't too bad.”
Jiro, twitched his head, his neck cracking as if releasing stiff tension loudly in the quiet between them and he ghosted a “clawed” hand over his throat. His lips quirked into a sneer, looking down at Sonoi in disapproval.
“Last time, you were the one who hurt him. Almost died, I couldn't help him so I had to leave him to someone else. I don't plan to do that twice.”
Sonoi blinked a few times, trying to hide his bewilderment at the accusation. It was…well, true, objectively. He hadn't quite been himself, but regardless it was still him who had left Momoi to die at the end of their last official duel. It had been this Jiro who had retrieved him though?
“That was an honorable duel, we agreed on it and he lost then. This was an accident though, nothing more.”
Jiro snorted, clearly unconvinced and he scratched roughly at his neck, purposefully cut short and blunt nails still trying their best to dig into the skin of his own throat absently. Sonoi could have winced at it, feeling his own skin itch beneath his high feathered collar when he tried to imagine the sensation out of habit.
“He’s my prey, and we’re not ready to have our fight yet. He can't die, not even when I win. I won't let anyone try to change that.”
“Not even when you win?”
Jiro bared his teeth as he spoke. “I want him to see my victory, and see me be the best. I want him to see Jiro take his place and be a better leader than he is, stronger than him.”
Sonoi hadn't meant to let the question pass his lips out loud, but the response he was given all the same intrigued him. Perhaps it wasn't just the other Jiro who was looking for attention and recognition. He was interested, but now wasn't the time so he would have to broach this conversation again later if he ever got the chance. This Jiro did not often come out when they weren’t in battle and certainly not when they were all gathered as a group. The other one seemed much more adept and eager for groups and friendships than this one was and they swapped out accordingly.
Sonoi was intent on inching closer, waiting for Jiro to release him from this stare-down once more, but he almost threw caution to the wind as he saw Jiro release the hand from his own throat just to quick as a viper reach down and place it over Momoi’s exposed neck instead. Once again as Sonoi moved, Jiro snarled animalistically, his voice not unlike the gravel and grit they were no doubt coated by at this point.
“He’s. Mine.”
Jiro lifted his chin even further, glaring down in challenge at Sonoi and scooching his position to now once more use his coat sleeve as a barrier between the cerebran and his other half. Sonoi opened his mouth to retort back, but he stopped to notice an odd behavior he hadn't noticed in Jiro: the way he held himself currently exposed the dip of his adam's apple clearly, the collar unzipped to his clothes beneath so it offered no cover. He expected there to be scratches or even from how often the habit of digging his nails into himself seemed, and yet there was almost nothing. He wanted to test a theory, and though it debased him in ways he would be embarrassed to acknowledge, Jiro wasn't exactly a talker here and it if helped him to help Momoi faster, than he would try it.
He reached to his own feather collar, smoothing down the feathers and tucking them into the shirt they poked out of and then pulling that garment too down to rest lower than intended to reveal his throat underneath. He heard a soft rumbling from Jiro, but it wasn't loud or as full of intent as before and the tilt of his head in curiosity encouraged him further. He tilted his head back and to the side, exposing and emphasizing his throat to the man mere feet from him; this was foolish and probably objectively dangerous if Jiro saw him as an enemy, which he was, but that was a complicated layer of labels and decorum he didn't have time to think on.
“I want to help him, not hurt him further. I just want to check and make sure it isn't too serious, the impact could have just knocked him out but if it cut deeper in it might be worse than we can deal with out here. I wont hurt him…I too want a fair proper duel with him, I won't take advantage of him like this.” He quashed the urge to sniff out how it would be unbecoming of a warrior like him, as he was trying to ease Jiro down to trusting him not to rile him further with challenge. This had drawn on long enough as it was.
At first he didn't get much of a response, watching Jiro’s gaze go between himself and Momoi below. However after a few moments, he groaned loudly and he moved himself down to sit overtop of Momoi’s abdomen and he moved his arm to lay more flat against the red ranger’s chest so the “barrier” of cloth was out of the way. He then jerked his head towards Momoi, and Sonoi took no time in obliging the permission as he definitely did not scuttle crawled his way forward to now kneel beside Momoi’s head. He slid his hands behind Momoi’s head, lifting it carefully and probing along the back of his skull downwards to check for where he was hurt.
He could feel a slight bump at the base of his skull, right where the helmet’s lip would have ended, and the skin there was tender. He hummed to himself thoughtfully and he wiped his palm down the back of the other's neck, pulling away to have only a small amount of actual blood come with it and more flakes of dried blood come off from where it had stuck to skin before.
“He’s not hurt too badly, he was just struck in an unlucky place. The cut is more superficial and isn't bleeding hardly anymore I don't think, so he’ll likely wake up on his own with a migraine. I don't even think he’ll have a concussion from this, not that one would stop him for long most likely. He’s stubborn, like a stone in the ocean standing strong against the waves at its sides.”
Jiro didn't make any move to respond or acknowledge him, but his intense gaze wasn't on him at this close so maybe that was the preferable option. He slid himself without moving from his kneeling position, dragging himself to the side until his lap could serve as a pillow for the other’s head. Once warm brown locks found themselves against silk blue pants, Sonoi let himself relax a bit and returned to studying the man now sitting vigil with him out here. He still hadn't removed his hand from Momoi’s throat, but at this close he could see it wasn't with any pressure or violent intent. Rather, it seemed more like he was caging his hand like a barrier; he was guarding his weak point while he was unable to himself.
“Is that why you do that then?” He was answered with a confused sound that was closer to one of Sonoza’s yell’s than a verbal cue, but all the same he continued. “You keep your neck covered often as long as you have a free hand, especially when you’re close to people. Is it to guard yourself?”
Jiro didn't look up at him but his eyes narrowed, a sharp tooth worrying into his lip as he hesitated to respond.
“....Jiro exists to laugh with the people behind and ahead of us. I’m stronger and keep us safe, Jiro isn't ready to be the hero we’re supposed to be... Sometimes he isn't strong enough to keep us safe or the people he laughs with, but I am.”
Sonoi was surprised by the upfront answer, not quite used to the humans he inquired of giving him what he sought out when it came to understanding them. It seemed he had bridged some sort of gap he didn't know he would ever want to before today.
“Which of you came first?”
Jiro paused once more, a sound catching in his throat somewhere between a growl and a sigh.
“You ask too many questions…”
Sonoi tilted his head, interested to see if his patience or the other’s aggression won out. It seemed neither would though as he felt movement against his thighs, his shockingly blue gaze darting down to see Momoi Taro’s features scrunch up as he neared wakefulness. Jiro was quick to release his hold on the man, sliding even further down and away from him. Sonoi didn't give him much thought in the moment as a soft groan came past full lips and dark eyes fluttered open to stare back up at him. Momoi’s brows scrunched together in confusion, but he thankfully wasn't too startled and didn't try to fling himself up too quickly and risk knocking into Sonoi’s face.
“What happened?”
Sonoi offered a practiced smirk of amusement as he spoke, a teasing tone on his lips as if he wasn't worried a few dozen minutes before.
“It seems the great Don Momoi Taro was felled by a rock in the dirt. You hit your head just under your helmet when you fell and it knocked you out.”
Momoi sighed, raising a hand to wipe down his face in what might have been tired irritation.
“That’s...not the best way I've been hurt in battle.”
Sonoi chuckled and got his hands beneath Momoi’s shoulders, helping him to sit up slowly and adjust himself into a cross legged position. When he was sure he wouldn't topple, Sonoi let go, sitting back on his haunches. He glanced over to try and gauge what Jiro had been up to with how quiet he was in the passing last minutes, he was surprised to see soft features and golden bright eyes dusted pink as tears threatened to spill. Seeing Momoi was upright and awake, he all but launched himself forward to cling to Momoi’s shoulders, resting his forehead against the other’s chest.
“Taro-san~! I’m so glad you’re okay, I was so worried!”
His voice, though a bit thick with building tears, was light, youthful, and clear with a slight lilt to them as an accent edged into his words. Momoi stared at him a bit dumbly, glancing at Sonoi briefly before he awkwardly patted Jiro’s back in a stiff mimicry of comfort. He didn't look uncomfortable so much as out of practice, but it seemed enough as Jiro cried a bit more in earnest now and tightened his grip. Momoi let him, rubbing small circles into the space between his shoulder blades with an exasperated sigh.
“Alright, alright, I'm fine. Something like that won't be the death of me, I have too much to do. Besides,” he let a bit of a pout reach his lips and tinge his voice, serving to make Sonoi stifle a fond smile, “that would be an embarrassing way to die.”
Jiro nodded into his chest in agreement, but when he reluctantly peeled himself back he was smiling dazzlingly bright and wide even with tears and snot on his face still. Sonoi noticed the lack of the other Jiro’s signature robe and his eyes seemed red only by natural means and not the makeup from earlier. He wondered to himself how exactly that worked, did it appear and disappear like their uniforms did?
“I’m sorry, I just- I saw you and you just didn't get back up and I was-I didn't know what to do so i just ran over to help, but I…”
Momoi gave him a confident smile, indulging him and patting his head both in comfort and to get his attention.
“55 points.”
Jiro’s eyes widened, his mouth agape in shock that seemed so much it jolted him from crying. He quickly wiped at his face to get as much of the tear stain from his cheeks and snot from his upper lip as he could before looking back at Momoi.
“55!?”
He grinned wide, throwing his arms up above his head in a cheer of sorts. Momoi sat back and let him as he threw himself into a ramble on how he was glad he could help and something about cooking dinner, something Momoi nodded along to so Sonoi assumed the boy’s food must certainly be good in such a case. He tuned out the words and more took in the expressions, fascinated by how strikingly different the two Jiro’s were out of battle as much as he had gotten to see them within it. He thought back to his earlier unanswered question, letting it sit in his mind once more as he saw how bright Jiro seemed to be all on his own with just the smallest of encouragement from his leader.
‘Ah, so that’s how it is. This one is so they can both feed that desire for approval then.’
“This is the one that can smile at those in front of them…”
He had once again not caught himself mumbling his thoughts aloud, garnering attention on him suddenly from both the don brothers around him. Momoi quirked an eyebrow in curiosity but did not voice it, not having the chance as Jiro was quick to reach forward and pat Sonoi firmly on the shoulder with a warm grin. Sonoi glanced to the point of contact before meeting golden eyes, intense but in their sincerity and warmth so much unlike the fierce cold silver of the other one’s.
“Sonoi was a big help, he knew better than I did for what to do, so thank you! Would you like to join us for dinner then? You like Oden like Taro-san, yes? I can assure you mine isn't as good as Rumi-chan’s, but she taught me the same recipe so it’s at least half as good as hers!”
Sonoi glanced at Momoi for help, unsure what to do with the invitation leveled his way. His dancing around their enemy status with Momoi was one thing, but this was entirely too forward and from someone he didn't even have the most interest in. However, the warm gaze Sonoi saw Momoi give made him pause, considering what he wanted to outright decline without hesitation.
“Just say yes, his cooking is decent enough and his house is warm. He doesn’t stop talking much, but it isn't all bad.”
As much as it was a backhanded one, the compliment still made Jiro practically beam under the praise and at the excitement of what was to come. Sonoi sighed dramatically, putting a hand in front of his face for added effect and he nodded resolutely.
“Alright…Oden it shall be.”