One: Introduction.
"So, which one of us is Hikaru?" we exclaim in unison, sharing a cognizant glance.
For we know, without a doubt, who we are. Hikaru, and Kaoru. Kaoru, and Hikaru. Two fragile plants, grown from a single seed. Lives intertwined by genes, shrouded from the outside world by our own defiance. All our life, we had been living a contridiction. We dressed the same, ate the same, spoke the same. We strived for unity, to be seen as one. Yet we searched for that one person who could tell us apart. We didn't need anyone else, but each other and them. Even if it was lonely to be left waiting.
The brother next to me is Kaoru. I am Hikaru. Who can tell?
The ladies in front of us are stumped. They bite their lips, wrinkle their noses, furrow their brows. Not one of them know, not without the visibility of the part in our hair. They're not special. We entertain them, only because we have to. But not one of them here is worth our time.
"Give up?" I ask, smirking. They blush and giggle, mistaking the mocking leer for a michevious grin. Kaoru and I are about to remove our caps when the voice cuts through the light, cheery atmosphere.
And changes everything.
"Not yet, Hikaru." The voice is soft, lilting, like a child's. There's an underlying edge, sarcastic and mocking. I shiver.
Kaoru and I freeze, shocked. The girls before us freeze, shocked. The entire room freezes, shocked. No longer the sound of clinking china can be heard, flustered laughter, or the boss' croons. Usa-chan slips to the floor and Honey-senpai's fork clatters cake on the plate. Kyoya-senpai ceases writing, eyes flashing warily beneath is glasses. Even time seems to reach a grinding halt, the grainy dust motes no longer swirling in the slanted lazy sun rays, the shadows of drifting afternoon clouds standing respectfully.
Because the person who spoke is one hundred percent, totally and completely, no one we've ever met before. It is someone who can see through us as clearly as a stagnant puzzle, and someone who has never spoken two words to us.
The bubble Music Room Three was encased in bursts. I whirl, but too late. All that is caught is a glimpse of the swishing end of golden hair, the fluttering end of her bright skirt. The door closes with finalty, and all that is left is the sent of something sweet, and spicy. A piece of paper flutters to the ground. I stride to pick it up. Kaoru brushes my heels. We stare at the lipstick stain in the hushed silence of the room, minds numb.
Who...?