Smooth Operator.

17. Brothers

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BROTHERS

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SUN BEGAN TO FLASH THE SKY A GLORIOUS TANGERINE SHINE AS DAWN ERUPTED. Since their departure from Maibara Station, Tangerine and Estela had not left the position they'd taken up in the gangway between carriages five and six, their conversation not giving much reason to move.

Finally, they could go home.

At the next station, or at the end of the line, they could depart the train entirely, and hopefully never board another Shinkansen in the future. This experience alone was enough to deter The Black Cat away from Japan for any other jobs, but if it came to that, she'd definitely not take the bullet train, no matter how long the substituted journey would take.

The couple were torn away from their conversation as the sound of the door from Carriage Five zipping open filled the limbo, announcing the arrival of a new character.

Tangerine's expression fully dropped, his previous mask of neutral erasing completely, as his eyes laid on the person emerging from the previous train carriage. Curious, Estela craned her head around to see.

"Lemon..." The name dripped from Tangerine's lips like honey from a hive.

He took a staggered step forward, almost too astonished to stay standing, hands previously helpless by his sides raising into the air, hinting an act that Estela could never fathom the man to even imagine doing.

The twins pulled each other into a hug, muscular arms tightening around the other's torso, reeling him in closer so as to never lose him again.

When they stood back, Lemon reached under his bloodied collar — and now Estela wondered whose blood it was, if not his — and produced Tangerine's gold chain. "When I noticed this, I immediately knew some shit went down," he piped up, the remnants of held back tears dampening his voice. "And I asked that glasses twat where you were. He said... He said you got shot, you was bleeding out everywhere. You don't even wanna know what my mind went to."

His dark eyes quickly skimmed Tangerine's body, eyeing the blood that now stained his blue garments; not even the best dry cleaner's in London could fix this, he suspected. Then he looked over at Estela, sending her a nod and soft smile as he scrutinised the blood on her hands and splattered along her clothes.

"He said you probably wouldn't make it, got shot in the neck. But you're standing here. What the fuck happened?"

Tangerine's fingers hovered over the white cotton plaster on his neck, which had been dyed pink by both dry and wet blood.

"Tangerine never bleeds," Estela announced, smiling over at the man in question at her play on words of something he'd said so passionately not too long ago. He recognised this, and sent a saddened, yet genuine smile her way.

"But what about you?" Tangerine asked, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We saw you; you were dead."

"Nah, man, just sleeping," Lemon laughed, his sweet smile uplifting the grim atmosphere, patting Tangerine's hand. "Last thing I remember, I was drinking from that water bottle we got from Tokyo—"

"Oh, yeah, the one you got when you wanted bubble milk tea instead."

"Yeah, that one. But apparently glasses twat laced it with some sleeping powder shit, and I just was fully knocked out."

Both Estela and Tangerine stared up at him in awe.

"You must be one lucky cunt," Estela chimed in.

Lemon nodded. "Yeah, not only that, but those bulletproof vests are the real deal, guys, I'm telling you." He tapped his chest, which was now clad in a black vest over top his blood-stained button-up, jean jacket discarded somewhere.

"Unfortunately they don't do much for the neck," Tangerine sighed, tight-lipped, although the phantom of a smirk lingered beneath his moustache.