Switcheroo

It starts, as many things do, with three shots of brandy and a slice of lemon.

“You guys look… soooo similar.” Iris slurs out. “Y’re like… twins.”

Bibi nods mindlessly, quite intoxicated as well. Are Mizuki and her more than twins, or less? They’re clones; copies of each other. But at the same time, Mizuki and her have some sizeable differences in their genome- differences that were inserted here on purpose. It’s a surprisingly complicated issue, to be made rather than born.

“Right? Bibi lucked out, looking like me.” Mizuki grins wide. She was a bit bitter earlier that she couldn’t drink, but her soberness is a blessing right now. Bibi is liable to say some stupid shit otherwise.

“I’m- I’m the older one. You’re the one who- who lucked out getting my face.” She protests light-heartedly. “So really, you-”

Kizuna suddenly slams her glass on the table, startling all of them.

“Hey. You know what would be hilarious?”

And that’s how Bibi ends up at the Date residence at two in the morning dressed in her sister’s clothes. She’s sobered a bit by now, so when Marco sends her a 😐 through their shared links, she actually stops for a second, hand hovering over the handle. Then she remembers that she’s about to troll Kaname Date, a man she may not know all that well but who always has the best reactions to everything, and she forgets why she might be a bad idea.

“I’m home!” She calls, pushing the door open. She finds the man at his computer, typing something away. Dimly, it occurs to her that it’s a bit odd of him to be working this late.

“Welcome back.” He replies. He turns to look at her, then frowns. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” she replies, which is true. She then proceeds trip over her own feet as she staggers towards the bed, because the world is spinning and she really need to sit down.

“Right. Why did they even let you drink? You’re underage.” He gets up his chair. For a second, it looks like he’s heading towards her, but- no, he’s simply fishing something behind the speakers. A magazine? “You should lay down. It’ll help.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d know.” Still, she lies down. It is a damn good idea. She can go back to pranking him in a bit. For a couple seconds, she does nothing but stare at the ceiling, mind blank.

Then there is weight.

Strong hands seize her wrists, pinning her to the mattress. Date’s face comes close to hers, but there’s nothing goofy about it, none of the easiness she’s come to associate with her coworker. Only cold, unbridled fury.

“Alright.” He says cooly, “who are you. And where is Mizuki.”

“… What?” Her alcohol-soaked mind is swimming to keep up with the events. What is he asking? He was too fast for her to see. Why is he asking this? Holy shit, he’s actually strong enough to keep her down- she could get out if she truly tried, but the fact that he can somewhat match her is, uh, it’s, okay she probably shouldn’t have these sorts of thoughts about her sister’s adopted father-

“I said, who are you, and where is my daughter.”

He tightens his grip on her, and while it has the unfortunate side-effect of gathering heat in her lower belly it does get her to focus. “I’m Mizuki! Mizuki Kuranushi!”

His eyes widen. “Oh.” His fingers part with her wrists (unfortunate) and he sits back on his heels, still straddling her laps (thank god.) “Sorry, I thought- with all the body-swapping and all, I… jumped to conclusions.”

Ah. Yeah. Okay. In retrospect, that might not be the best prank to pull on someone who still cannot stand his own face.

“’S fine. You couldn’t have hurt me even if you wanted to.” That being said, she is never underestimating his “porno mags power” ever again. She didn’t think anyone aside from Mizuki could give her a challenge on hand-to-hand combat.

Date’s gaze rakes her body up and down. It’s more inquisitive than lecherous, but it makes her shiver all the same. “So, why are you dressed like my daughter?”

“We thought it’d be funny.”

He snorts. “Fair enough.” He gets off her and sits on the edge of the bed instead.

She already misses his warmth, but as this is a line of thought she’d rather not follow right now, she diverts the conversation with: “how did you know I wasn’t your Mizuki?”

He quirks up an eyebrow. “You two aren’t that much alike.”

“We are quite literally clones.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You don’t have the same mannerisms? You walk like you’re expecting an attack at any time. She walks like she’s expecting to attack someone at any time. Also your hair looks weird. Hers is a bit wavy from being braided all the time. Yours is too straight, and it shows. And your voice is lower than hers too.”

She’s staring. She knows she’s staring. She should say something. Anything. She can’t.

(All her life, Bibi has defined herself based on Mizuki- even now, she’s given her name to her younger sister and only kept a handful of nicknames for herself. They’re the same. She’s an incomplete version of her. She’s the lesser Mizuki. Date is not the first person to see her as her own person, but it is still jarring when anyone pays attention specifically to their differences, rather than their similarities.)

“You okay there?”

“I drank a lot. Give me a break.” She throws an arm over her eyes. “… You like her a lot, don’t you?”

She can’t see his face, but she knows he’s smiling. “She’s my daughter.”

Right. That’s her sister’s father. That’s her sister’s father.

(It’s really not a surprise, that Bibi is fucked up enough to think basic care to her sister is attractive. It’s still a bitch though, so she’s allowed to internally complain about it.)