The door creaks open wider. Cold air from the hallway rushes in, brushing
against my bare arms.
I see a girl standing there.
Soft, loose home dress the color of faded lavender. Sleeves too long, hem
brushing her knees. Hair falling in a careless wave over one shoulder.
Her eyes widen the moment they meet mine.
Kiyomi…?
The name slips out of my mouth before I even decide to speak it.
It tastes like something I've said a thousand times before.
She is… familiar.
More than familiar.
She is the shape my heart has been missing without knowing it.
My sister.
Twin sister.
The thought lands soft and certain, like a hand on my shoulder.
Relief floods through me so suddenly my knees almost give out.
I don't understand why, but I smile. Small. Shaky. Real.
She steps forward, frown already forming.
Kiyomi
Kiyoshi, seriously… look at this place.
When was the last time you even tried to clean?
It looks like a tornado threw up in here.
Her voice is scolding, but gentle underneath.
She moves past me, careful not to step on the papers scattered everywhere,
and plants her hands on her hips in the middle of the mess.
I watch her and something clicks.
Kiyoshi.
That's me.
I'm Kiyoshi.
Twin brother of Kiyomi.
I know my name now.
I know I go to the local high school two stops away on the train.
I know I'm quiet, sarcastic when I want to be, that I like reading until four in the
morning, that I punch that bag when I can't sleep.
I know these things the way I know how to breathe.
But it all feels… distant.
Like someone else lived them and left me the memories in a neatly labeled box.
Was the original me the real owner of this body?
Did I… take it?
The thought slides in cold and sharp and wrong.
No.
That doesn't make sense.
If I had taken someone else's body I would remember who I was before.
I would remember another name, another life.
There is only emptiness where that should be.
Amnesia.
That's all this is.
Something happened.
Something bad enough that my mind locked the door and swallowed the key.
It's protecting me.
That's why everything personal is gone, but I can still recite the ending of every
single one of the six thousand books I've read, word for word if I try.
Six thousand books.
I can feel them all stacked inside my skull, perfectly clear.
But the face of my own mother is a smudge.
Kiyomi (sighing, kicking a stray sock aside)
You're doing it again.
Staring into space like the answer's written on the ceiling.
She turns to me, arms
crossed, but her eyes are soft.
Kiyomi
Are you feeling weak?
You look pale.
When did you last eat something that wasn't instant noodles?
I open my mouth.
Close it.
I don't remember.
The knife is still in my right hand.
I don't remember keeping it when I opened the door.
My fingers uncurl slowly and it drops with a dull thud onto the papers.
Kiyomi
doesn't flinch.
She just looks at it, then at me, and something worried flickers across her
face.Kiyomi (quieter)
…Kiyoshi?
I swallow.
I'm Kiyoshi.
I'm home.
My twin sister is standing in my destroyed room scolding me like nothing in the
world is wrong. And for one single moment the cold inside me lessens.
Just a little.