He was anemic. Elesa was insufferable about it when she heard.

To be fair to her, she had called it months ago, back when she’d been taking guesses at what was wrong with him-- and also at the stadium, when she posited that his current regimen might not be enough for someone who was carrying twins. Ingo had to give credit where it was due.

He did not, however, have to accept her behavior in the aftermath. As much as he appreciated her concern for himself and the passengers, he understood the problem and was working to address it; the symptoms had decreased dramatically since adjusting his iron intake, and while the discovery had been frightening, it had been caught before damage was done to anything beyond his pride. There was no need for her to constantly stick her nose in where it didn’t belong.

Elesa wasn’t the worst offender, however. Bizarrely, neither was it Emmet, though that wasn’t to say he hadn’t also made a nuisance of himself in his own ways.

No, to Ingo’s immense confusion, the person who’d taken his fainting spell worst was Drayden.

Their uncle had gone so far as to firmly suggest that it was time to take a step back from the Battle Subway, which seemed rather preemptive in Ingo’s opinion. He was already putting measures into place for when it was appropriate to hand the reins off, and didn’t appreciate being rushed; it was only right to give the prospective stand-ins time to consider their answers.

...not that it would keep him from battling entirely. He still had every intention to meet the challenge of those trainers who qualified-- it was just a matter of where, which was easily answered by the under-utilized arena in the station. When Drayden had raised this question, Ingo might have left that part out.

Truthfully, he didn’t understand the sudden scrutiny. So long as a person learned from their mistakes, Drayden wasn’t usually one to double down, which made it difficult to comprehend what this might have been about.

He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, either.

“Why is Drayden mad at you?” Emmet asked on one of their morning commutes, to-the-point as ever. It was only on his mind due to the fact that their uncle had sent a pointed message the previous evening, which Ingo had opted to ignore until moments prior; normally, he wouldn’t put it off, but he just hadn’t had the energy for it until now. “You thought you were taking the appropriate precautions. It’s not fair to expect that you account for information you didn’t have.”

It was surprisingly foreign to turn left to answer, but that had been the condition for keeping up their usual routine after this recent scare. Ingo had been adamant about staying active on the way to and from work-- a short walk, their choice in living arrangements all those years ago having been based on the proximity to Gear Station-- and that had been acceptable, so long as he stayed on the inner side of the walkway.

“We’re currently experiencing a difference of opinion. He believes it’s for the best that I distance myself from battling for the remainder.” His own thoughts on the matter went without saying.

“That is fifteen weeks. It would be unbearable.”

“Thank you,” He said, disproportionately vindicated. Not for the first time, he was incredibly grateful that he could count on Emmet to be on his side when it mattered. A smaller part of him wondered if that same cooperation was something they would have to contend with in the coming years; it was certainly better than the idea of the passengers being at odds with one another. “His concern will be a valid one, if not for a number of weeks still. There’s no reason to cause a disruption to the schedule when I’m perfectly capable of fulfilling my duties.”

“Just a little more slowly.” Emmet added, ever helpful.

It was trailed by a rueful sigh, “I’m afraid that’s not going to improve any time in the near future.”

“A heavier load is slower to pick up speed. But also harder to stop once in motion. You’re as fast as you need to be. No need to rush.”

“That’s hardly a concern.” He said, and he couldn’t quite articulate why he thought it, but he also added,“Believe me when I tell you that they will not be hurried.”

As if to prove his point about maintaining momentum, Emmet picked up his own pace for several strides in order to get the door, which was far from necessary, but kind of him. He poked his tongue out when Ingo caught up, prefacing a flat-but-teasing, “Too stubborn. They come by it honestly.”

That was the start to a lovely day. Those comments made to his face were encouraging, and any that weren’t simply didn’t reach him; they saw several challengers successfully go on to the super courses, and a young woman on the Single Line was fortunate enough to help her Pignite evolve into an Emboar. It was the kind of day that made up for any number of grievances caused in those prior.

Around lunchtime, Drayden responded, asking if he could visit the next evening. In spite of their minor disagreement, there was no reason to refuse-- if anything, it would allow them to communicate more clearly-- and thus the plan was set. The day continued on, just as strong as before, and the one that followed it was similarly engaging, ending with a pleasant sort of fatigue that only highlighted how wrong he’d felt in the midst of the iron deficiency.

Since they’d been expecting company, Ingo made a point of being available to get the door, though he was slightly preoccupied with Excadrill when the knock actually sounded. He pushed away from the kitchen counter and ignored the slightly distant “Got it!” as his brother all but flew out of the guest room. Despite being slow to start, the heads up and closer departure point got them there at roughly the same time, but Ingo obligingly backed off, unable to begrudge his twin this new hobby of running ahead to open doors.

Drayden nodded to them and rumbled a greeting as he entered, conducting the usual once-over of the visible space-- and, as always, Haxorus perked up. She narrowly avoided hitting an axe one of the Klinklang in her excitement, and it screeched its surprise before zipping off to find a better spot.

In spite of the fact that he almost immediately had his hands full of dragon, Drayden’s attention landed on another Pokemon entirely as he neared the end of his assessment. “Is Excadrill well?”

In unison, the both of them glanced over to where the mole was sitting in the kitchen, a look of intense focus playing over her face as a little pink tongue repeatedly poked out of her mouth. Even without looking away, Ingo felt the judgment leveled against him.

“She’s fine,” He assured their uncle, whilst simultaneously wishing he’d had the foresight to stand back and let Emmet get the door, thus allowing himself time to put the rest of the evidence away. “She got a small treat, that’s all.”

“Mmhm.” Emmet hummed, dubiously amused, and when Ingo risked a glance over, he found the exact stare he’d anticipated. “And I’m certain that was the only reason you found to get into the peanut butter.”

Absently, almost defensively, he pressed a hand to his middle. In spite of the self-soothing, his voice was still flustered, “I’ve been instructed specifically to pay attention to recurring cravings. This is due diligence.”

“Then in the name of diligence, could I ask that you sit down?” Drayden said, illustrating how non-optional the request was by herding them into their own living room.

He understood the concern-- especially coming Drayden, and especially given recent events-- but couldn’t help but be a little exasperated by the behavior. For his sake, he hoped everybody would move on soon; he didn’t think he could take this for a full trimester longer. Still, he allowed himself to be bullied onto the couch, hoping his cooperation might count for something in the near future.

Once Drayden was the only one standing, he addressed the reason for his visit. “Iris has thoughtfully reminded me that there’s a greater chance of the dragons finding accord than that you would willingly step away from the subway. That particular request may have been something of an overreaction on my part.”

Ingo inclined his head, acknowledging the point, but also conceding to some smaller extent, “It is something that has to happen eventually, and I’d rather step back willingly and with some amount of dignity remaining. That having been said, I truly do believe putting such a drastic change into effect immediately would be a poor course to chart.”

“We just convinced him his battling performance hasn’t suffered.” Emmet groused off to his side, “I do not want to have that argument again.”

Brows furrowed, Drayden looked from one twin to the other, attention landing-- questioningly-- on Ingo.

He sighed. “Maintaining mental health has been a battle of its own. Unfortunately, it’s still something of a work in progress.”

There was a long silence-- long enough that it pinged on the anxiety in question, driving Ingo to seek out his brother for a second opinion. Emmet caught on several seconds after the fact, offering a single-shouldered shrug. In something approaching pity, he plucked up the Joltik that had been scuttling up the arm of the couch and entrusted it to him, a tiny weight in the palm of a hand; truthfully, it was no more grounding than the pair of internal weights, but it was nice of him to try.

“You’ve never mentioned anything of the sort before.” Drayden eventually said, giving Haxorus a pat of thinly veiled dismissal, and she obediently-- if begrudgingly-- lumbered away.

“You couldn’t intuit?” Emmet asked, more from a place of judgment than curiosity, “The decision to keep the passengers does not alter how bad the circumstance is. That is not even accounting for the inability to take the appropriate medications.”

With his Joltik-free hand, Ingo reached to grab onto his twin and rein him in. “That’s something of a relief, actually. I’m happy to hear it hasn’t been obvious to the region at large.”

“Be that as it may, you should have said something.”

“With all due respect, Drayden, what would you be able to do?”

“Something.” He said with a startling-- if quiet-- intensity. “There must have been some way I could have helped.”

The twins glanced to one another, taken off guard and equally uncertain where this might have come from. As he often did, Ingo was the one to deescalate. “...my apologies. I hadn’t realized this would wear on you so greatly.”

Drayden took a breath, not unlike a dragon readying a roaring attack, and slowly let it go. “It’s not your fault. Our disagreement wasn’t the only reason I’d asked to meet today, but you had no way of knowing-- and certainly not what that motivation might have been. I’m sorry for taking my frustrations out on you.”

Neither of them made to assure him that it was alright; even if he hadn’t done any actual harm, Drayden wouldn’t accept it. What Ingo did say was, “Perhaps that’s the best place to start, then. If you didn’t want to discuss my role at the Battle Subway, what was your reason for visiting?”

“You gave us quite the scare at the stadium.” He said, pausing long enough to sew mild confusion. Yes, they’d established that-- it was at the root of their disagreement and, therefore, why Ingo had assumed he’d wanted to talk. “Though, for the purposes of our discussion today, it’s best to phrase it more candidly: it scared me. I’m not accustomed to feeling helpless, but that’s the only accurate word for what I felt when you collapsed.”

Ah. So today was going to be… more difficult than anticipated. While their uncle didn’t shy away from expressing love or disapproval, he wasn’t one for revealing those ways in which he felt vulnerable. It was worth paying close attention that he’d gone out of the way to have this conversation in the first place.

“The root cause is being addressed.” Ingo tried, with a gentleness foreign to this recipient, “There’s no reason for you to dwell on the matter; I won’t allow it to repeat.”

Drayden nodded just shy of gravely, “You won’t. I just regret that I hadn’t kept up with the both of you enough to recognize that anything was amiss. When I spoke with your mother, she said that she’d taken the symptoms you’d mentioned to her as a standard part of pregnancy.” He pivoted, affording Emmet his attention, “You told me after the fact that you were concerned over a recurring fatigue, and Elesa was also aware there was a problem. Everyone who spent any amount of time with the both of you knew to be cautious, but I didn’t, and that’s entirely down to the fact that I haven’t been as involved as I ought to have been.”

Emmet made to speak, and then hastily rerouted himself. That was… probably a good thing. They both knew he had opinions on this subject, and now was emphatically not the time to unload them. While he figured out what he actually did want to say, Ingo covered for his silence. “You were under no obligation to do so. We’re perfectly capable of handling the situation on our own.”

“I recognize that you’re both perfectly competent adults. It’s not my intention to claim otherwise,” Drayden paused, giving his next point half a second’s extra consideration, “However, I do have a duty to you. Recently, it dawned me that, when you moved out, I may not have been clear: I want you to reach out for support when you need it, but you don’t have to be in trouble to ask. As grateful as I am that you trusted me at the beginning of this, that shouldn’t be your metric. There’s nothing too small to speak with me about.”

“That is untrue.” Emmet said, the words inherently challenging-- and Ingo knew where his frustration must be coming from, he really did, but was now the best time for that? “There was a concern that you would not humor us when we called. Or that you might press for information. I understand that you want to do better. But do not act like you have always held this stance.”

“Emmet—”

“What?” His brother didn’t really ask, nose wrinkled indignantly, “You were correct. It’s not fair to judge by outdated information. But a person needs to know their mistakes to improve.”

Before he could respond to that, Drayden cut in, head inclined severely, “That’s very true. I hadn’t known that you had such reservations, and that... paints this in a much different light than I had assumed.”

Forcing down the urge to rest his head in his hand, Ingo shot his brother a hard look, eliciting a response of, “Tell him what you told me.”

“Be more specific, please.” He said, trying not to let his frustration show in his voice. Even narrowed down to this topic, that could refer to any number of conversations, and as much as he hated to admit to it, his memory was a touch foggy at the moment.

Emmet’s mild irritation wasn’t nearly so camouflaged. “You thought it would be more difficult to convince Drayden to speak with us in person.”

Ah, okay. That wasn’t something he particularly wanted to share right now, but it was something that could be worth discussing in this context, and so he acquiesced, turning to address Drayden directly. “I was concerned you would require a more comprehensive explanation over the Xtransceiver, or that we detail how we had made an attempt to resolve the matter on our own. Under normal circumstances, those would be perfectly reasonable criteria to meet, but it was difficult in this context.”

“I almost asked.” Drayden admitted, “It was obvious something was bothering you both, and I didn’t want to force the matter.”

Emmet’s expression shifted, turning a touch lighter. “Thank you. Your cooperation that evening helped a great deal. But that is what I wanted you to see. You cannot ask someone to approach you without reservation while still imposing such restrictions.”

“While I understand your reasoning, I had to ensure that you learned to solve problems on your own as well. For your sake, Emmet, I won’t put a fine point on it, but you know that I didn’t impose that rule when it was a serious concern.” Where it might come across defensive or as a rebuff in another individual, from Drayden it was no such thing, simply a statement on his stance-- which was a great deal of where Emmet had gotten it from.

Emmet himself was unmoved, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest. “I was not the one who felt he would be questioned. Ingo was.”

After a long moment’s consideration, Drayden’s shoulders hunched almost imperceptibly forward as he established eye contact again. “Another byproduct of your allergic reaction?”

Well, it was little surprise that it would come back down to that, if Drayden was already feeling guilty. That particular incident had changed a great deal in the household of their youth, starting with a zero-tolerance policy for shellfish.

“I don’t believe so.” But Ingo couldn’t exactly say for certain. He had been seven and on the verge of anaphylaxis, so most of what he could recall was trying to get Drayden to understand that he couldn’t use his words before stumbling off in a panic to find Emmet. Save for the communication issues-- which Drayden had taken pains to address after the fact-- it seemed largely irrelevant to the matter at hand. “There’s no inciting incident that I can recall.”

Still noticeably tense at his side, Emmet shook his head, “It wasn’t a singular instance. It was the repeated imbalance. I will not argue against the fact that we did have to learn for ourselves. But you were more strict with him.”

“I see.” Drayden pulled back to his usual stature, and even if Emmet hadn’t consciously picked up on it, the return to normal set him at ease. Ingo couldn’t blame him for that; it was uncomfortable to see their father figure so chastened.

Drayden sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking back up. “I hadn’t realized I’d done any such thing. You have my apologies, and I’ll strive to correct the issue in the future.”

Trusting that it would land regardless of the expected failure, Ingo made a token attempt to smile and-- though he was perfectly capable of using his voice-- set the Joltik down to sign instead when he next spoke, to really drive the point home. “I know you will. Thank you.”

He saw Drayden’s jaw twitch in response, and their uncle took a warning step forward, signaling his request with plenty of time to object. “May I?”

Neither twin fought against the hug they were scooped into; for the passengers’ sake, Ingo only responded with one arm, the other braced the same way he would protect them against being unintentionally constricted. It said a great deal about Drayden that his embrace was comparable to an over-excited eel’s Bind.

“Thank you, boys. This was something we needed to address.” He said and, after another couple of seconds, pulled away.

He cleared his throat and busied himself straightening a mussed sleeve, buying a small amount of time to collect himself, though-- even to them-- he seemed perfectly composed. “All that having been said, I came here hoping we could agree to stay in more regular contact. While I’m unable to come down every week, between the three of us, I thought we could work something out…”