Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
I straightened a little. "Really?”
“Yes,” They said in unison.
“Well. . .would you be mad if. . .I could easily tell who is speaking?"
They both stopped walking.
The hallway fell silent except for the faint hum of overhead lights.
For the first time since being united with them, Yuki spoke first, “But you can’t tell us apart.”
“I can.”
Yuki crossed his arms. "You think so?"
"I know so."
Aki's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "No one, but Hiro can tell us apart. Not on sight. Not even with us speaking."
"I can."
They exchanged a look—that twin telepathy thing that made them feel like one consciousness split between two bodies.
Hiro exhaled slowly. “Ignore them. They enjoy theatrics. Let’s get back to the Scooby-Doo adventures.”
However, the twins didn’t move.
Yuki eyed me. "Prove it. You turn around. We change or not. You face us again and tell us who’s who."
"Okay." I turned to face the wall, closed my eyes, and gave them my back. "Go ahead."
An edge hit Hiro’s voice. “We don’t have time for this.”
“She made a big claim,” Aki said. “Either she’s too cocky for her own good and shouldn’t be helping to find the spy. . .”
Yuki finished, “Or she’s terrifyingly good.”
Aki’s tone went dark. “Which could be dangerous for her.”
Hiro growled, “Careful. She’s my brother’s Heart. If she can tell you apart, you’ll have to live with it.”
Behind me, I heard the soft shuffle of movement, fabric shifting, boots repositioning on marble. They weren't talking anymore, weren't giving me any auditory cues. Just silent repositioning or maybe just making noise to then return to their same spots.
"Done," Aki's voice came from somewhere behind me.
I turned around.
They stood side by side, identical stances, identical expressions—blank, neutral, giving me nothing.
I checked their scars, looked at the one on the left, and pointed. "Yuki."
Then the one on the right. "Aki."
Yuki's jaw tightened.
Aki's eyes narrowed.
"Again," Yuki sneered.
Wow. I probably shouldn’t have told them I could tell them apart.
I turned around.
More movement. This time I heard what might've been a jacket being passed between them, boots switching positions more deliberately, as if they were trying to throw me off.
Together, they both said, "Done."
I faced them again.
They'd switched sides this time. Different stances. One had his arms crossed, the other had his hands in his pockets.
I smiled.
They took on the other’s mannerisms to trip me up. Very clever.
I pointed to the one with crossed arms. "Aki."
Then to the one with hands in his pockets. "Yuki."
Aki's arms dropped to his sides.
Yuki pulled his hands out of his pockets, and frustration covered his face.
Meanwhile, Hiro widened his eyes in shock. “You really can tell the difference?”
"One more time," Aki said, and now there was an edge to it—like I'd poked at something that mattered more than I realized.
I turned.
This time they were completely silent. No shuffling. No fabric sounds. Nothing.
Then: "Done."
I turned back.
They stood perfectly still, faces blank, giving me absolutely nothing to work with except. . .those scars, which was all I needed in the first place.
"Yuki." I pointed to the left and then to the right. "Aki."
Yuki's expression cracked first—something between shock and irritation bleeding through.
Aki just stared at me, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn't want to say.
"How?" Yuki demanded.
"How did you do it?" Aki's voice was quieter, but sharper.
I hesitated, suddenly aware that I'd just stepped into something I didn't fully understand. But they were both watching me now, waiting, and I couldn't exactly back out.
"Your scars," I said carefully.
They both went very still.
"You both have identical scars on your chins. Slanted the same way. Same location."
Neither of them moved.
I swallowed. "But Yuki's scar is. . .much deeper."
The hallway felt colder suddenly.
I kept going, even though every instinct told me to stop. "I’m just. . .I don’t know. In my head when I first saw your scars I had this story in my mind. It’s kind of how I can remember things and. . .to me. . .it looks like someone put the scar on Yuki’s chin there. And they. . .didn't care how much pain he was in."
Yuki's face didn't change, but something in his eyes flashed—pain maybe or sadness.
My throat tightened. "And Aki's scar looks like. . .and again. . .this is just the story I told myself but. . .it looks like maybe he put that scar there himself. To match you."
Aki's hands curled into fists at his sides.
Tension gathered in my shoulders. "If that’s true then. . .it must have been hard to cut yourself like that. . .to get that big of a scar. Must have hurt so bad. And it does look identical. . .unless you look really, really close. . .perhaps with emotion. . .I don’t know. . .but. . .Aki couldn't. . .cut himself as deep as whoever cut Yuki."
The silence that followed was suffocating.