He was so, so sick of medical facilities. His own stint into the past had been brief, but still necessitated decontamination and a period of isolation; the first he bowed to, the second he raised a fuss over until they conceded that, having spent weeks together, it was likely the twins had long since been exposed to anything the other carried.

 

After that, the concerns had turned to more general fare. While Ingo was doing perfectly fine by Hisuian practices, according to modern standards… no. No, he wasn’t. There had been half a dozen concerns to address right off the bat-- malnutrition, readjusting to medications, and a partial detransition among others-- all compounded by the fact that Hisui-era Sinnoan was only mostly compatible with its current day variant.

 

They’d spent a good portion of time back in Hisui working through Emmet’s half-remembered Sinnoan and Ingo’s archaic version to come to a mostly-accurate understanding of what the other meant when he spoke. It worked wonders in alerting one’s sibling to the presence of an angry alpha or pretentious warden, but was less than ideal for conveying technical jargon.

 

On the bright side, though, the railway terminology was practically 1:1 from the get go. Small mercies.

 

Still, the language barrier was a substantial issue, and, both unfamiliar with contemporary practices and unable to understand the offered translations, Ingo frequently deferred to Emmet’s interpretation. It was a role he wasn’t wholly comfortable with, but if the alternative was the problems going unaddressed, he would take it up.

 

So now here they were, weeks after returning to their era of origin and only just getting home. Any remaining concerns were less a matter of immediate health complications, and more corrective or therapeutic treatments-- and none was more vexing than Ingo’s persisting slouch.

 

He’d endured a number of back injuries, yes, but there didn’t seem to be any major damage to his spine or shoulders. When asked, he had denied that he was in any pain, so it wasn’t a reactive response. Theoretically it could have been genetic, but he also had this funny thing called an identical twin who didn’t share the ailment.

 

It was exhausting for everyone involved, and by the time the third round of testing was over, Emmet was beyond happy to collapse into the sofa. After a few minutes passed and he’d had time to gather his wits, he peered out from beneath the arm tossed over his face. Across the room, Ingo plucked at the back brace he’d been recommended, looking as if it had personally offended him.

 

Yeah, that… that was a problem for future Emmet.

 

And it would turn out to be a problem for future Emmet, but also a solution-- because, physically incapable of curling his shoulders forward, Ingo subconsciously found a new way around the underlying issue: as soon as they’d managed to apply the brace as per the instructions, he folded his arms over his chest.

 

It took about half an hour for Emmet to notice, but he maintained the posture that entire time. Even while trying to do other things, one forearm would remain pressed to his body. The reluctance to drop it was puzzling… until it wasn’t.

 

“Question,” Emmet said, after observing his brother’s attempts to fight Gliscor away from one of their model train sets singlehandedly, “You would have been wearing a sleeveless black undershirt when you arrived in Hisui. What happened to it?”

 

He was rewarded with a blank stare. “I’m not familiar with with a garment of that nature. If it was on my person at that time, it was likely shredded in the Zoroark attack and subsequently discarded by the clan medic.”

 

“Yup. Okay. So you are attempting to minimize your chest.”

 

As if in response, Ingo raised his other arm to join the first, further obscuring the curve of his breasts.

 

Well there it was. Got it in twelve.

 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Emmet circled around behind his twin and took him by the shoulder, steering him back down the hall to their bedrooms.

 

“We are identical.” He said somewhat unnecessarily, “I have them as well. You are being ridiculous.”

 

Ingo shot him a dubious look, first to his face and then, briefly, to his chest. Though it didn’t release his hold, the hand nearest Emmet gestured at the difference between them.

 

“That is due to my binder. You own a number of them as well. We will reestablish how to use them safely. If I am correct and that resolves the matter of your slouch, you may be rid of the back brace.”

 

Arceus above, all this confusion and it had been something so simple. Emmet couldn’t be mad, though; it was actually kind of funny.

 

This matter, at least, they didn’t need a doctor to settle.