Their first week back on the literal rails, they ran the Multi-Trains and only the Multi-Trains.

It was fantastic. Emmet had never experienced anything quite like the influx of challengers or the frequency with which they were met. Even with the Battle Subway’s grand opening, there had been a level of apprehension present that was nowhere to be seen in this instance.

After such a long period of watching his own enthusiasm diminish, it was like a Wake-Up Slap. It wasn’t the somber responsibility of taking over the Single lines, or the paradoxical monotony of Doubles; this was what he was here for, it was [idk], it was give and take, it was living again. The challengers were many and varied, and he represented just one half of the united front they crashed against.

And Ingo shined, so excited, so starved for a challenge that he’d broken script on the very first denouement in his delight. His volume had been a tad bit excessive, but the trainers had been gracious in their defeat and refrained from mentioning it; if they had, Emmet probably would have ignored the complaint and egged his twin on, but they’d been nothing but smiles and ‘welcome backs.’  It was a theme that stayed consistent throughout, and wasn’t that a relief? To see evidence that it hadn’t just been him, that there had been an entire subculture of people worse for the temporary loss of his brother.

It was a little funny that he’d gone back to what he’d always done during his time in Hisui, but mostly it was sad. What was the stillness of a tunnel without something to break its silence? Where was the fun in a Battle Facility that saw only the same scant faces a handful of times in a week? Emmet could only imagine the jarring difference between living in the world’s third most populous city and the treacherous peaks of an untamed Sinnoh. How boring must it have been? How unbearable, the building static of anticipation beneath the skin, unable to be discharged in battle?

That didn’t matter anymore. In every sense, it was in the past.

During the bursts of downtime, they abandoned their standard positions and took the handholds off to the side, shoulders bumping together, chatting gleefully about what had worked in the opponents’ strategy, whether their initial impressions had stood up to the trainers’ conduct, and if they might see the combatants again, be it together or with a new partner. It wasn’t the same as before. There were small, constant, reminders of that fact, but Emmet would never call it a bad thing; Ingo had come away from Hisui with a unique perspective, and, as silly as some of the things he’d highlight were, they were also illuminating.

Emmet was verrrry grateful for their passengers’ patient support of the changed schedule. He didn’t want to think too hard on what might have happened if he’d been left to stew by himself in between Doubles challengers; he was relatively confident the answer was that he’d have given up by the end of the first circuit, stormed Singles and invited himself to stay. He might still do that, truthfully, once the subway resumed standard operating procedures. Maybe he’d just write it into the itinerary ahead of time, officially give himself a day to spectate so big brother didn’t have any room to get on his case. Amusing though the occasional pointed remark may have been, it lost its charm after the third sigh.

Besides, it was far more satisfying when they were on the same wavelength, and Emmet felt they’d earned some time to appreciate it. The years apart had left them out of sync– not impossible to match up, but it had taken a dedicated effort to recognize where and why they’d fallen out of step, even if the rhythm was easy to fall back into. Some old habits were a lovely return to form, and others were a pitfall waiting to collapse under the first sign of pressure. It wasn’t a guessing game, but one of deduction and understanding; when Emmet recognized why Ingo might tread lightly, or Ingo was secure enough to follow Emmet’s charge, [I forgot where I was going with this].

He’d never wanted to change this particular combination, but it was simply [unrealistic] not to acknowledge that they were stronger for the gaps they’d formed and then bridged– more than two halves, lost without the other. Better to be able to stand on your own and support [phrasing?] than to topple at foreshocks and drag the both of them down.