#but then soramame was so so kind to her

[koishua]

"whenever i think of you, you're always smiling. even if im crying, it's nice to have you smile at me. it neutralizes my world."

"then i'll laugh. so that you can cry as much as you want, i'll laugh "

[mtdthoughts]

Here is Chapter 3 of the current fanfiction I'm writing. It's about the twins' time in the orphanage, and here both of the the twins' POVs are given, with Dali's in the first half and Migi's in the second half.

I'll post it to AO3 after reviewing it a bit more.

CHAPTER 3 – Orphans

Dali:

I lost track of the time I spent in the wild with Migi. Eventually, I stopped counting the days and instead looked at ourselves for proof of our hardship-filled days.

Our hair had grown so long and unkempt that we began to see Mother in each other.

Our nails grew so much, though our attempts to clip them only made them uneven and jagged.

Our already tattered clothes were nearing their final days, as I could count with my fingers how many threads were still holding them together.

Our bodies became covered with dirt and a distinct odor, though we eventually got used to this.

Nonetheless, I could do nothing but take Migi by his hand as we wandered aimlessly for survival. I couldn’t help but question why it was that we had to suffer like this, why Mother just suddenly left us behind all alone.

But for Migi’s sake, I could not afford to display these unnecessary feelings. Because Migi and I were always watching each other, I could not afford to cause him any worry.

Fortunately, I’ve learned to control my emotions ever since the day Migi almost caught me crying. It was better this way.

Still, there was only so much I could do, as weariness from our trek continuously gnawed at me, gradually wearing down my spirit.

But it seemed that this was not the end of the line for us. Looking back, I wasn’t sure if fate was finally being kind or cruel as it usually was, but one day as we walked through the woods, we encountered an old woman who asked us where our parents were. We struggled to answer her question since we hadn’t spoken to anyone in such a long time, but she quickly figured out that we were orphans. She offered to take us to a house that had food and water, and I accepted the offer, though I was under no illusion that this would be pleasant.

Eventually, she took us to the Soramame House, the orphanage that we stayed at for much of our lives. As soon as we arrived, the director welcomed us in, directing to us to a small table. She presented us with juice and a few snacks and interviewed us on how we ended up here. While Migi gobbled up the snacks, I told her that we wandered through the woods after our mother disappeared one night, intentionally concealing the fact that we had found her dead. She teared up and welcomed us with open arms. I felt a slight warmth.

But it turned out that the director gave the same treatment to all the other children. As soon as the director introduced us to the other children, they gave us weird looks as if we didn’t belong. They asked us all sorts of questions and repeatedly pointed out how weird we were, whether it was our blonde hair, our big blue eyes, or the fact that we were identical twins.

Our uniqueness only made us stand out in a bad way. None of the other children would play with us, and they laughed at the fact that we were always together, even when we slept. The smaller ones occasionally played pranks on us, and the bigger ones would push us around and act brutishly towards us if they weren’t in a good mood.

I sometimes found myself thinking why things were like this. I didn’t ask for this hair and these eyes. I didn’t ask Mother to leave us behind. Migi seemed to think this too, because he would sometimes hold me tightly at night, asking me if it was okay for us to have our hair. I always responded with an “of course” while stroking his hair, though I wasn’t sure of it either.

This would be the norm for several years, and eventually the other children made fun of us for our small size and gave us nicknames like “Gloom” and “Doom”. The director occasionally told the other children to get along with us, but to no avail, as even if they couldn’t mistreat us, they weren’t friendly to us either.

But I learned to deal with this. Migi and I began sparring against each other so that we could defend ourselves against the bigger children. To get payback against the other children that mistreated us, we played pranks against them, taking advantage of the fact that we were twins. Over the years, Migi seemed to have toughened up a bit too, though he still held me tightly at night from time to time.

But most importantly, while the other children played, we read books together. Migi and I could often be found sitting in a corner, holding each side of the book with one hand and each other’s hand with the other. I found a sense of solace in these books, as we could immerse ourselves into different worlds and have adventures where it was always just the two of us.

It didn’t matter that none of the other children liked us because we didn’t need them, because we always had each other.

Things continued like this until the day we returned to Origon Village to avenge our mother.

Migi:

After living out in the wild for such a long time, Dali and I finally had somewhere to stay. A woman found us and took us to the orphanage. I was definitely nervous because this was our first time interacting with people. But I felt that things would be okay because Dali was here, and now we no longer had to put ourselves at the mercy of nature.

I held Dali’s hand as the director of the orphanage came out and welcomed us in. She led us to a table, and as we sat down, she brought out two cups of juice and a plate of snacks, inviting us to help ourselves. I looked to Dali, and he took a few moments to think before giving me a nod. I set aside Dali’s portion before helping myself to the remaining snacks and juice like there was no tomorrow. The director smiled at me as she began asking us questions about where we came from and how we got here.

Dali answered her questions as best as he could, explaining how we originally lived with Mother before she mysteriously disappeared, and how we lived in the wild afterwards. I noticed that Dali did not describe where we lived or how we found Mother dead. Looking back, perhaps Dali thought that our mission would be put at risk if information fell into the wrong hands. As expected of him.

After hearing our story, the director hugged us, and it reminded me of Mother. I almost wanted to cry before Dali held my hand tightly and gave me a reassuring smile.

The director then introduced us to the other children, and they all bombarded us with strange looks and questions about ourselves. We were the only identical twins, and the only ones with blonde hair and big blue eyes. I could do nothing but hold Dali’s hand as we nervously tried to answer their questions.

But their curiosity was only just the beginning of our experiences at the orphanage. The other children not only never played with us, but they often made fun of us because of how strange we were. We were orphans just like them, yet even among them we were outsiders because of our appearance.

Up until this point I’ve never considered it, but I began thinking whether it was okay for us to have these eyes and hair. If it were just me, I would have fallen completely into despair a long time ago.  But every time I looked at Dali, every time Dali comforted me, I felt that perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all. Even if my hair and eyes were strange, it felt good knowing that the only person that mattered had them too.

Things stayed pretty much the same for several years, as we had no reason to leave the orphanage. We grew a bit bigger, but so did the other children who weren’t adopted. They continued to make fun of us, including the fact that we were small for our age, but luckily, we grew in other ways.

Dali came up with a special training regimen that would help us against the other children. We practiced hiding, crawling, and climbing so that we could eavesdrop and play pranks more effectively. We practiced fighting each other so that we could prepare ourselves in case the other children decided to be rough with us. Of course, I didn’t want to fight Dali, but I accepted that this was something we had to do for our own sake.

Dali and I also read books together while the other children played so that we could train our intellect. In the beginning, most of them were picture books, though we slowly moved on to more advanced books. It was also then that I found my eyes occasionally drifting away after reading for a while, as my brain slowly stopped processing the words in front of me. My eyes would be aimed at the other children, and just as part of me begins to wish that I was there with them, Dali would always grab my shoulder and shake me a bit, giving me a stern look before I continued reading with him. Strangely, sometimes I would catch Dali looking away towards the other children too, though he told me that he needed to rest his eyes for a bit.

With our bodies and minds trained, we were almost ready to go back to Origon Village to avenge Mother; we just needed parents to adopt us.

We began observing the adoptions, paying attention, and taking notes on whoever got adopted, and together we crafted the personality of the perfect boy.

We simulated the adoption process hundreds of times, where one of us pretended to be the adopter and the other the adoptee. I can’t count how many times Dali criticized my acting, but fortunately I was able to get better by watching him and following his example.

One example that stuck out was whenever he played as a child and I as an adult, I would stroke his hair after he said something nice. Once I did, Dali’s face would immediately soften in delight. Man, Dali was really good at acting.

With our act perfected, we were finally ready to return to Origon Village.