Chapter 28 — Mitsuri

Reiha's ankle won't heal in time for the play.

We all knew it, but actually hearing the doctor's words . . .

Reiha doesn't cry, just grimaces. I can tell she's trying to hide her disappointment. Even if she never said it outright, she really wanted to do this play.

And she was good at it. She would've been amazing.

One by one, the drama club members visit her, offering their condolences. There's always next time, they say.

But it won't be the same as this time. I can see the thought in Reiha's mind every time she forces a smile and says it's all right. She'd learned to embrace the role, and knowing that now someone else would play it . . . it probably hurts worse than her ankle.

That's why I'm surprised when she asks me to take the role.

"What?" I exclaim.

We're back at home now, Reiha sitting in her bed with her leg propped up on a pillow. I'd just come in to ask her what she wanted for dinner when she threw the question at me.

"You heard me," she says. Her face is emotionless, completely opposite from her usual vivid expressions. "You've been practicing this whole time with me. You probably know the lines almost as well as I do. You can act. And you'll fit into the dress."

"But I'm . . . I'm not an actor."

"Is it stage fright?" she asks, seeing right through me. She adjusts herself, sitting up straighter. "Do you think I don't have it, too? Everyone does, at some point. It's something all actors and actresses have to overcome."

Her confession takes me aback. Because, yes, I actually didn't think she had stage fright. I didn't think she ever got scared.

Maybe that's why she acted. So she could hide that fear.

I hesitate. "Don't you have an understudy?"

"She wouldn't do as well as you."

I'd feel mollified if I wasn't so sure I would not do well. "Maybe you should give her a chance first," I offer.

"I'm giving you the chance first. If you take the part, then Emi won't have to alter the dress at all. And I think you'd enjoy it." She pauses. "If you tried."

I look at her. Her large eyes are on me, almost pleading, the first emotion she's shown tonight.

I feel myself crumble.

Didn't I promise myself that I'd take more chances? Be more like Reiha, like Akashi?

"Okay," I say. "I'll try it."

And the words are true. I will try. Not for myself, to get a new experience or whatever. But for Reiha. For all the hard work she's poured into this play.

I'll give an outstanding performance.

I'm hovering near the door of the drama club when Takeda Shiyo catches me and drags me inside.

"You have your script? Good. You're going to practice with Kikuchi for a little while to get the hang of things. Let me know if you need something, okay?" She gives me a winning smile, and I realize why Reiha likes her. "I'm sure you'll do great."

She pushes me over to a guy, whom I assume to be Kikuchi. Reiha's talked about most of the drama club members, but it's my first time seeing them offstage. If I remember correctly, the name Kikuchi was usually associated with complaints.

"H-hi," I say. I bite my lip. "I'm Mitsuri, Reiha's sister."

Why did I add that last part? Everyone knows we're sisters. It's obvious.

Kikuchi ignores me and dives right in. "Let's start from the top. You have Reiha's script? Did she write the stage directions in there?"

I flip through the pages. "It looks blank."

Kikuchi scowls. "I told her to take notes."

I give him an apologetic look.

He sighs. "Okay, I'll walk you through it. Here's a pen. Also, can someone tell me where Ikeda went?"

For the next two hours, Kikuchi guides me through the majority of the play, demonstrating movements and perfecting my tone. I dutifully take notes, which seems to please him. Around us, some people are practicing their lines, some waltzing, some painting a piece of the set. The noise and movement are dizzying, not at all like the peaceful environment at home I'm used to or the fervor of the basketball court.

Over the next few days, I continue memorizing the lines and performing in front of Kikuchi. Since Reiha's bedridden, I'm also squeezing out time to manage the basketball club. Akashi offered to give me a break, but I refused. The debate club is currently on hiatus. With exams and other winter activities approaching, and the members all in other clubs as well, we unanimously agreed to reconvene in the next trimester. I'm thankful, because I don't think I could handle having to deal with a third club. Not even Akashi's in three clubs at once.

Because I've taken on the lead role in the play, I haven't had as much time to spend with Akashi either. I told him about Reiha's accident, of course, and the part I've now taken on. He seemed pleasantly surprised. His confidence in my acting ability only makes me more nervous, though. I don't want to fail Reiha. I don't want to fail him.

I don't want to fail myself.

But in the end, that's exactly what I do.

Due to the imminence of the play, the club is staying late today and for the foreseeable future. The sun is beginning to set when I finally make it on stage. In the last few days, Kikuchi's stuffed as much instruction into me as he can, I've been measured over and over to make sure I really am the same size as Reiha, and people keep stopping me to marvel at how much we look the same.

Since Reiha broke the last glass slipper, I'm wearing simple flats while we get replacements. Goosebumps run along my arms as I grip the sides of my skirt, waiting for my cue.

Deep breaths.

"Rei — I mean, Mitsuri, you're on." Kikuchi pushes me from behind, and I stumble onto the stage.

Even though the stage lights aren't on, it still feels incredibly bright. I blink several times, and my gaze lands on the seats. Just a few days ago, I was the one sitting there. Now, I'm in the spotlight.

How does Reiha and everyone else like this? I feel completely exposed. Everyone can see if I trip, if I stutter, if I awkwardly scratch myself.

"Cinderella!" Kikuchi shouts, irritation coloring his voice. "Remember, you're on."

I'd been so busy thinking about people watching me that I'd just frozen a few steps onto the stage — great, my first mistake. I shuffle into action, careful not to trip.

"Lift your head!" Kikuchi's voice is rising. "Cinderella's confident in herself at this point."

"R-right."

I straighten and walk toward Ikeda. My prince. He smiles at me in stunned wonder. The exact scene I saw Reiha practicing. My cheeks heat up at his earnest gaze.

He says something, but there's a buzzing in my head, and I have to ask him to repeat himself.

For the first time, he looks unsure of himself. My stomach lurches. Something that resembles garble spills out of my mouth. Ikeda's forehead wrinkles. "Are you okay?" he asks.

I squeak out a response, which only serves to confuse him further.

I know this line.

I've always been good at memorizing, and multiple practices with Reiha have ingrained her lines into me. But now . . . where are they? I search my brain, desperately trying to recover them, but . . .

Ikeda's face shows full concern now. He reaches for me, but I jerk away, gulping in air.

I was wrong. I can't do this. I can't —

I hear the whispers around me.

"Stage fright, yeah?"

"This is the worst."

"Looks like twins are different, after all."

I close my eyes and try to calm myself — but I can still feel it. All the eyes on me. Reiha's disappointment. My own failure screaming at me.

There are shouts of surprise. Kikuchi's enraged voice combined with Shiyo's calming explanation.

I sense someone in front of me. I open my eyes, expecting to see worried Ikeda or an angry Kikuchi.

Instead, I find myself staring up into the eyes of Akashi Seijūrō.

A/N: Well, unfortunately, things aren't working out . . . unless they kinda are? When writing twins, it's really fun to be able to play with their personalities and talents - how are they similar, how are they different? I had a lot of fun writing Mitsuri and Reiha, and I hope you enjoy them as well! Thanks for reading!

~ J. Dominique