It was a Unovan tradition to dress twins in black and white, but not necessarily in that order.

Per the legends, the kingdom’s heir was associated with Reshiram, and so elder siblings customarily donned white, while their younger siblings wore dark clothes, to echo the second prince’s alliance with Zekrom.

When they had been very young-- well before transitioning, joining on Gear Station's staff, and even before their father’s abrupt departure from their lives-- Ingo and Emmet hadn’t been an exception to the rule. In those pictures taken before age ten, they often wore inverted colors, adding yet another layer of confusion for the uninitiated.

As their personalities became more defined, friends of the family would often remark on it-- was Lane sure her children hadn’t gotten mixed up at birth? Her supposed eldest was much more of a visionary, while her youngest would abide no untruth. It said a great deal that Clay, who hadn’t lived a life steeped in Unovan culture, was one of those few who never breathed a word of it.

In recent years, Emmet had posited that the commentary might have contributed to their dynamic; that constantly being questioned-- even if only in jest-- had reinforced the idea that Ingo needed to try harder, to be a dependable older sibling. Ingo hadn’t had anything to say to that. It was in the distant past, now.

They'd only taken it upon themselves to swap, once and for all, while they were on their Pokemon journey, free of any adult influence that might discourage the decision. Both of them had faced difficulties adjusting-- sometimes looking into a mirror, only to find their sibling staring back at them, and sometimes it was the feeling of disconnection that came of seeing "themselves" out of the corner of their vision. There had been a moment, halfway through that week, where they'd discussed switching back, but for all the confusion it caused, they'd liked their new colors, and it was well worth toughing it out until they were used to it.

Their friends and family took longer to acclimate, but, eventually, it became the norm to see Ingo in black and Emmet in white-- so much so that few said anything about the mismatch, nowadays.

“You used to smile?” Rael asked, looking up from an old picture that had been stuck to the bottom of a hardback, only unearthed as part of a deep clean.

Ingo blinked at him, set the box he’d been carrying on his bed, and crossed the space to look over the boy’s shoulder. “Oh, no. You’re actually looking at Emmet; I’m standing beside him.”

“Where else would you be?” Kari joked, looking at the both of them upside-down with half-lidded eyes. Nevertheless, curiosity got the better of him, and he rolled onto his stomach so he could get down from his father’s bed and see what this was about.

Rael, meanwhile, looked between the two tiny figures in the photo, and then away from it entirely, up at Ingo. “Were you trying to play a prank?”

“We did our fair share of that, as well, but no-- not in this picture. That’s how we used to dress.”

“In the wrong colors?” It was incredulous, and Kari moved in closer, side flush with his brother. It was a little bit funny, Ingo thought; neither of them had spared a thought for the discrepancy in the style of clothing-- the skirts in particular-- they only took issue with the color coding.

He stepped back to give them a little more room as they subtly wrestled for a dominant position. It hadn’t escalated to a point where he felt he had to intervene, quite yet, and if they settled it on their own, all the better. “By technicality, what your father and I wear today are actually the ‘wrong’ colors; traditionally, older siblings-- brothers, in particular-- are dressed in white, and younger siblings in black.”

First Rael, and then Kari glanced down at that-- to the bold blue and red of their respective shirts. Ingo tried to bite down on a laugh, but it came out as a strangled snort.

“Yes…?” He asked, leaning back against the edge of his bed, waiting for the inevitable.

Somewhat unnecessarily, Kari said, “Neither of us wears black or white.”

“Well, which one of you would wear which color?” Their father teased. With the changing topic, Rael handed the picture over, and Ingo tucked it between the first page and cover of another book for safekeeping. Surely, he wouldn’t immediately lose it again.

While Kari and Rael started debating circles around each other for the umpteenth time, trying to make a case for why their interpretation of birth order was the only valid one, he picked the box back up and carried it out to the living room. It held years’ worth of files, and while they were cleaning up, they might as well see what remained relevant and what only held use as a treat for Garbodor. When he shooed Durant away from the two-box stack, he heard a thump down the hall, but knew, instinctively, that it hadn’t been either of the passengers.

As he returned to station, he paused to rap his knuckles on the door across from his and ask, “Do you require a medic in there?”

“No. I need less help.” Emmet sputtered on the other side, and a second later, the door exploded open, sending Crustle and Boldore scurrying to freedom.

Ingo watched them go, vocalizing a warning as they scuttled too close to the short tower of files, and then glanced past his brother to see what else he was dealing with. There were two more Pokemon on the ceiling, which didn’t seem ideal, but they weren’t directly in the way, either.

“Should I ask Chandelure to vacate the premises?” He asked, watching her eyes flutter open as she heard her name. She looked between them and, when it didn’t seem that they needed anything from her, gave her limbs a limp shrug as she dozed off next to the actual light fixture. Galvantula didn't open a single eye the entire time.

Emmet didn’t answer right away; he leaned past his twin to look across the hall, and Ingo tilted his head to match. He caught a glimpse of Eelektross’s tail, but nothing more. Even that much told him that the eel was exactly where he’d last seen him, sprawled out over the head of his bed; he was so deeply asleep that Kari hadn’t even roused him upon getting up.

A glance to the left gave them a perfect angle of the boys, backs straight against the wall and hands over their heads as they uselessly tried to compare heights.

“No.” Emmet said again, and immediately pivoted into, “What are they trying to accomplish?”

“They’re attempting to determine which of them is older.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Again?”

Ingo hummed, feeling that the scene itself said plenty without him confirming or denying anything. While he’d stirred it up a bit, today, it was hardly their first circuit on these tracks.

“We’ve already set the precedent with regards to their shared age; it wouldn't hurt anything to tell them, now.” The ruse had always been meant for friends and family-- if not also the greater public-- to keep them from projecting their own image of brotherhood onto the boys. There might be some teasing, but Ingo didn’t think either Rael or Kari would truly care which of them was a full nineteen minutes older. Both had been known to argue in favor of either possibility, depending on what benefited them in the moment; it was a game without an end condition.

He might have just talked himself out his own suggestion. Why spoil their fun?

“Elesa finds out as soon as they do.” Emmet argued at the same time.

That was completely accurate. It would be hours, at most, before one of the passengers shared such exciting news with their godmother. The boys weren’t so young that they would change themselves to suit the narrative without a thought, but it could easily influence them in in other ways-- ways the perpetrators wouldn’t even realize. That had been the entire motivation for hiding their ages, all this time. Ingo would have ceded the point there, was it not followed by another key factor.

“Their next question would be of parentage.”

Lips parted in a subtle grimace, he tilted his head, accepting both rebuttals. Fortunately, the boys were happy with their current understanding of where babies came from, but someday-- for their own good-- he would have to explain how different their conception had been. He just… he didn’t even know where to begin; every time he buckled down to figure out an angle of approach, the oxygen froze in his chest. It wasn’t Arceus’s doing-- it couldn’t be, unless it was constantly monitoring his thoughts-- but it felt so keenly like being back under its hoof that he couldn't keep up the momentum without derailing.

They’d tried to talk through it before, as practice, and gotten nowhere. One could argue that they’d actually lost ground in the attempt, because Emmet had walked away from it muttering renewed oaths against Arceus under his breath. Ingo maintained that-- minus the bruised tailbone from hitting the ground-- he hadn’t been hurt at the time of the boys' conception, but the inability to revisit it convinced his brother that it occupied the same mental and emotional space as an assault. He wasn’t even sure that he could argue against that.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he shouldn’t seek out professional assistance, instead of relying on coping skills, but it ended in the exact dead-end he was trying to confront. How could a therapist help him in this matter if he couldn’t even make himself explain the situation? It was a circuit without a terminal, feeding endlessly into itself. A selectively mute ouroboros.

A thump snapped him out of his thoughts, followed shortly thereafter by a groan. When he followed his brother’s line of sight, he found Crustle red-pincered, frozen next to a toppled box of files. It was a mixed blessing the papers were packed so tightly that none of them spilled out, but the moment’s good luck meant that they had that much more to go through later in the evening.

Shamefaced, Crustle ducked his head beneath his shell, and blindly lifted the box back into position. Boldore, his partner in crime, didn’t seem nearly so repentant, already locked in play-combat with Gurdurr. Sometimes the two were a refreshing change of pace-- a reminder of what their entire teams had been like in years gone by-- but other times, it was like having a second pair of children to contend with.

As if summoned by their father’s meandering train of thought, Rael and Kari poked their heads out of the bedroom; the fact that they looked both ways before crossing the hallway spoke volumes, both about themselves and the household in general.

“Have you reached a conclusion?” Ingo asked them, belatedly registering that there was a hand braced on his bicep, firm and reassuring. It must have been from when they were still discussing heavier topics, forgotten there as Emmet turned his attention toward more trivial matters. He leaned minutely to the side, bumping his shoulder fondly against his twin.

Rael’s expression drew into a pout, and he threw a sour look in his own twin’s direction, “No.”

“We thought of something else.” Kari said. The retaliatory scrunch of his face relaxed as he addressed their parents in full.

“Trading is better.” Rael added, once prompted. “It would feel bad to match with you and not with dad sometimes.”

Kari gave a decisive nod. “No playing favorites.”

From the corner of his eye, Ingo glanced to his brother, who returned the look a second later. His expression softened. “We’re glad to hear you say that.”

“We thought the same thing.” Emmet said, drawing his hand back so he could fold his arms over his chest, the picture of authority-- to the passengers, at least. “That’s why you get your own colors.”

Ingo didn’t follow up on that immediately, content to watch the boys process the information. The differences in how they took it were fascinating, and emblematic of who they were becoming-- Kari looking relieved, and Rael with a puckered brow, thinking it over. After a moment, he reached out to either of them-- a hand on one shoulder each.

“We hadn’t considered that you would feel deprived of the tradition, however.” At the same time that he turned to face his twin, Emmet gave a shallow bob of the head, listening just as intently as the kids, “I’m sure we can find a balance. As we’re already paring down, perhaps we could set aside some articles of clothing they might like?”

After a second to process, he broke into a smile. “Good idea. But they should also get something new.”

“Agreed.” He said, and turned his head ever-so-slightly, checking in on the subjects of discussion. “What do you two think?”

“Yup!” Kari chirped, whirling around and all but barreling back the way he’d come.

It seemed self-evident that he had something in mind, and Ingo had to call after him, “That doesn’t mean you get carte blanche! We have to come to an understanding!”

A raspberry sounded from his bedroom, echoed by the still-snoozing Eelektross.

With his recently-freed hand, Ingo ran his knuckles across his brow.

“You better catch up.” Emmet said, still grinning-- but he wasn’t speaking to his brother. Successfully provoked, Rael trotted off in Kari’s wake, leaving only one set of eyes boring holes into the younger twin.

“You’re a terrible enabler.” Ingo told him, leaving no room for self-defense.

Emmet didn’t even try. “True. Maybe you should wear more white too.”