Before Nate heads home for the night, he stops by the visitor dormitories to check in on his brother. Another trainee sits casually on the bed, but when he sees the look on Nate’s face, he knows he’s expected to step out for a moment. The door closes behind him and Nate leans against it. Leon sits on the couch, the glow of the TV illuminating the half-hearted glance he gives his older brother.

“What’d you tell Dad you were doing in LA?” Nate asks. He glances at the dresser a few feet from his reach. Leon’s phone lights up with a text from his father, one that looks angry. Although he held onto hope that his father had grown in the six years since they’d seen each other, it seems to be more of the same.

“I said I was going to a training camp,” Leon responds. “Which isn’t entirely false. Told him I wouldn’t be allowed to have my phone. Even fixed its location to a place a few miles away so he wouldn’t see where I actually was. I left before he even gave me the OK.”

“Smart. How is he?”

“I know you don’t care.” Leon pulls a butterfly knife from his pocket and fiddles with it.

“Not really.” Nate walks over, sitting on the arm of the couch. “But how he is affects how you are. That I care about.”

“He’s my manager. I think that’s pretty self explanatory.” Leon turns to look at his brother. The expression on his face still has an air of confusion-- like he’s still at war with himself. “He’s in charge of everything. My funds, what tournaments I compete in, what days I train-- but I guess it’s for the best. I don’t think I could handle it all myself. I appreciate that he does the heavy lifting.”

Nate hears the textbook manipulation and it reminds him of when he was younger. Having no sport or outstanding hobby to be successful in, his father always pushed him to excel academically. Always a shadow in the corner of the room, a puppeteer at the top of his son’s strings, keeping an eye out for anything and everything. You need to try harder. What are you gonna do when I’m not around to help you? I just want what’s best for you. Are you even listening to what I’m telling you to do? An image of his younger self loops in his mind: he sits at his desk, long past midnight, dozing off into his assignment. His father comes up behind him and pulls at his collar to wake him up. Fifth grade. Eighth grade. Sophomore year. Senior year.

Leon imagines his younger self at taekwondo practice. His father’s voice interrupts. Faster. Slower. Don’t be sloppy. Stop holding back. Why do you keep hesitating? None of his moves seem to be perfect enough. As they walk out of the building, his father grabs the back of his uniform. “Remember what I told you to fix today, Leon. I’m tired of correcting you on skills you should already have.” Ten years old. Fourteen years old. Eighteen years old, brand new as a tournament fighter. Twenty years old, after losing his first championship.

There’s a reason why both Anastasios don't like people touching the back of their necks.

Leon exhales slowly and clears the thoughts from his mind. “You know, I don’t think this ‘new’ Nate is sitting well with me. All... passive and curious and leader-y.”

“This ‘new’ Nate has been half a decade in the making," Nate responds.

“You left me alone with Dad. That doesn’t bother you?”

“It wouldn’t have been my first call.”

“So why didn’t you bring me with you?”

“You were a kid, Leon! I can’t move across the country with a fifteen year-old and not face the consequences. This was something I had to do on my own.” Nate takes a deep breath. He lets the silence fill the room for a minute. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I feel like I owe you an explanation--”

Leon shushes his brother and points to the TV. A news anchor reports on a breaking story; a young Indian man, just under six feet tall, has been reported missing. He had traveled from North Carolina back to Los Angeles the previous week, and was last seen Monday morning at his training facility. No contact with any family has been made by him.

“Do you know this guy?” Nate asks. Any resentment that Leon still had from their fight has faded. His gaze meets Nate’s.

“Yeah. I competed against him last week.”

The two brothers have little in common, but they share one thought in this moment: Amiran is in danger, and this is a mission they can’t ignore.