Archive of Our Own ^beta

“How do you feel?”
“Dripping.”

Dripping she is, indeed. There’s a puddle down Futaba’s feet, where her waterlogged hair is dampening the bath rug. Goro inwardly winces at the state of the bathroom. It’s not good right now. It will definitely be worse once they’re done.
The products are all spread out around the washstand. There’s no going back.

“I was meaning about high school, dumbass.”
“I know. What d’you reckon? I bet it will be…”

Futaba grabs the hairbrush and holds it out for Goro to pick it up.

“...colourful.”

She grins. Goro frowns.
He knows she’s sassing when she’s anxious. He was just trying to be nice, trying to make her talk about her feelings. Futaba needs to do it more. He needs to do it more. But they both prefer hiding behind snarky remarks rather than talking about what’s bothering them.

“Come on, now! Chop-chop!”

She plops down on the stool in the middle of the room and Goro finally takes the hairbrush from her eager hand while letting out a massive sigh.

"Why is it always me? Why don’t you just ask Sojiro to take care of your hair? I’m sure he’d love it."

Futaba pulls a face.

“We’re not babies anymore, Gowo-gowo. Would you ask Sojiro to do it?”
“No, but I don’t ask you either, I can take care of myself just fine.”
“Yes, well, yours is shorter, it’s easier.”

Goro gives up and starts carefully combing through the wet strands of hair. This is fine, this is the easy part. He marvels at how his sister’s hair is so thick and straight, like a gracious silky black curtain falling down her back.
He tries not to mind his feet getting wet as he steps closer to undo a few more knots. One is particularly unwilling. He meticulously works on it until it’s undone. 
Futaba has her back to him, but he sees her wrinkle her nose in the mirror they are both facing.

“Also, Sojiro always pulls too much. You’re more careful. Doesn’t hurt as much.”

With a sly grin, Goro decides to make her lie and gives a strong pull.

“Ouch! What the hell?”
“Have you ever even tried to consider learning to do it by yourself? Where would you be without me?”
“Haha… have I ever… Who do you think I am?”
“From my point of view, a disaster.”
“Precisely. Look, no one wants the tips of their hair to become involuntary dreadlocks because they couldn’t brush them. My arms are too short to reach the back.”

Goro sniggers.

“Seems right, you midget.”
“Hey!”
“Seriously though, why are you so adamant about keeping it long? You’re always whining that you’d love a buzz cut.”
“Why do you keep your hair long, bro? You’re always complaining about the knots you get in there too.”

Goro frowns. " You know full well why.”
“Yeah well, so do you,” Futaba shrugs.

He sure does, actually.
It always comes down to the only thing they can really agree on: not looking even the slightest like The Asshole .

It’s a good thing that neither of them seems to have inherited the terrible hair of their bloody genitor, and it’s only cemented their decision to keep their hair long . Hammer it down his bald head, that they didn’t get this from him.

“Do you think he knows what we’re doing?”
“As in, he keeps tracks on us? Bet he does. I caught goons following Sojiro a few times lately. Their radio messages are a joke, they can’t encrypt their conversations to save their asses. I swear to God he only hires amateurs . But honestly, bro…”

Furaba’s eyes grow darker.

“...I doubt he’s aware that we know. He’d have already done something if he was.”

It had been a little too convenient for both Futaba’s mother and Goro’s mother to disappear at the exact same time. It had created quite a stir in the research department they’d been working for, but then some higher-ups had taken this opportunity to disband the working team and people had moved on. 
Despite their professionalism, no one really esteemed Wakaba Isshiki or Kaede Akechi to care enough about what happened to them. Both of them were shameful single mothers, no father in sight, and working instead of caring for their children.

No one even paid attention that the two women had left more than just the team.

No one, except Wakaba’s former lover, Sojiro, who worked as a security officer back then and often played with young Goro and Futaba when the women were working, and suddenly found himself a single father struggling with paperworks to make it official.

Goro hums, a frown forming on his face.

“And do you think Sojiro figured it out?”
“He definitely looked up, I found tracks of formal requests he tried to put at the department. Pretty sure he’s got a clue, but no proof. Only I do.”
“You and any person who tried to find dirt on Shido and has your hacking skills.”
“Yup, that’s what I said: only I do .”

Goro bits back an amused smile. In real life, Futaba lacks self confidence in about everything; more than once, he’s had to speak up for her in front of a teacher. But behind a screen, she’s unstoppable, more self-assured than even he is when acting like the perfect boy in front of adults.
Futaba knows where her strengths lay, and Goro knows what his own are. When they’re together, they’re invincible, two sides of the same coin, complementing each other, one the public face, the other working in shadows.

“We’ve both been enrolled under the same name this time, right? Goro and Futaba Sakura?”
“Yeah, I checked the registers and made sure of that. Don’t want to get into the same mess as in middle school. That was so annoying. Why do you have different names if you’re twins ? Blah blah blah just take it as face value we even look like each other! Now everyone will believe we’re twins and this is good.”

Is it, though, Goro wonders, secretly cringing at the fact that they indeed do look like each other, because Shido’s genes made sure of it. If he could, he would try and scrub it all away from his DNA.
On the other hand, she’s family . Sojiro is an amazing dad, but knowing that he has a blood sister has been comforting more than once. Or, well, half-sister, but that’s good enough. The twin thing is just a bonus they hadn’t expected the first time they’d gone to class together.

In the end, Goro just shrugs and completes his brushing. 

“Just don’t expect me to do twin-ish things, like wear the same clothes or complete your sentences.”
“That would mean I would have to say sentences for you to complete. In public.”
“...fair point. Hold still, it’s time for step two of the operation.”
“Stiller than ever! Let Operation New Hair be a roaring success.”
“Yeah, we’re not here yet so please don’t flail like this. Now turn to the sink… Okay.”

Futaba settles her head against the cool porcelain of the sink and lets her hair drop in it. Goro grabs the big, white bottle and starts spreading it on the black strands.

“So what date did you enter as our twinish birthday this time?”
“March 32nd.”

Goro lets out a surprised snort and almost drops the bottle.

“Don’t do this when I am bleaching your hair , you gremlin, it’s dangerous!”
“Well, you asked!”
“How did you even manage to enter this date?”
“The encoding of Shujin’s register sucks. Just like any old register. It’s not like anyone will pay attention to it anyway, right? I just found it funny. Also it’s just between both our birthdays. We’re both Aries now!”
“Hey! I am nothing like an Aries.”
“Neither am I. We match! Twin stuff!”

  There’s no winning against Futaba’s schemes. Goro just goes on with the bleaching. His gloved hand card through the black hair, the glistening liquid pouring down the drain as he is careful to avoid Futaba’s ears and forehead.

“Right. I think step two is done. Step three is letting it rest for thirty minutes.”
“Which, as it happens, is the exact time I need to kick your ass at Featherman Strikers. Let’s go now!”
“Wait! I need to wrap your hair so you don’t drip bleach everywhere.”
“Ugh. I’m going to look ridiculous.”
“Don’t worry, that won’t be too much of a change.”

Futaba’s elbow sharply meets Goro’s hips. He deserves it, but he still blows back, just because.
He knows Futaba’s getting her revenge when they play together anyway.

As it turns out, thirty minutes is the exact time Futaba needs to kick Goro’s ass at Featherman Strikers five times in a row .
He’d be sulking if he wasn’t already trying to hold back his laughter.
They are just done cleaning the bleach, and Goro may be tearing up a little.

“Alright, it worked, time for step three, stop fucking laughing at me !”
“Futaba, you’re blonde .”
“Yeah, and it won’t last because we’re onto step three, come on now, follow the plot.”
“Sorry sis, I have a side quest to complete first.”

Futaba raises an eyebrow. When she sees Goro carefully remove a glove and get his phone out from his pocket, she tries for a menacing look.

“Don’t you dare.”

Futaba doesn’t look very menacing in general, but right now, with her blonde head hovering above the sink and water cleaning bleach away from her hair, she looks positively ridiculous .
Goro doesn’t even bother hiding his glee as he snaps a few shots of his sister’s demise.

“I’ll kill you if these pics get anywhere .”
“Come on, we both know you’ll hunt them down on my phone as soon as my back is turned anyway. Let me have it, you just destroyed me at Featherman Strikers.”

Futaba’s eyes turn from not-really-menacing to really-smug in a blink. She grins.

“Yeah, sure I will. So, is step three ready now?”
“Would you wait a minute? I can’t rush this.”

Goro sets his phone aside and puts back his glove. As he opens the two bottles he now has to mix for the colour, he barely represses a grimace.

“This thing really stinks. Are you sure you want this on your head? It smells like dead rodents.”
“Metal as fuck. And necessary.”
“Is it, really?”
“Come on bro, you know it’s going to look fantastic.”
“I think you look fantastic in blonde.”

Futaba swats him.

“I’ll look fantastic in orange . Stop always discussing my decisions, I don’t see myself commenting on all your life choices.”
“And yet you just have to browse our message history to find proof that you constantly do it.” 
“Oh wow, damn, you were right, it really reeks, let’s do it fast.”

Goro bites bark a remark on him being always right (it would only lead to more bickering: they both are alway right and they both know it, especially when they’re ganging up against adults) and starts spreading the orange product.

“It said to start with the roots. Are you starting with the roots?”
“Futaba, you’re the troublemaker, you know full well I always abide by the rules.”
“Like hell you do! You’re the one who always gets me in trouble.”

Alright, so maybe he does use his innocent face to pull a few pranks himself and put the blame on his gremlin of a sister, but really, who can hold it against him?

“I started with the roots. And you’re getting in trouble by yourself here. Have you checked the school’s policies about dyed hair? I’m ready to bet it’s not allowed in the rules.”
“Well, fuck school, right? I am ready to bet the adults there are all going to be stuck-up assholes, and the students will be nosy jerks. I will just tell them it’s natural.”
“Like having natural flashy orange hair is believable.”
“Hey, your hair is not black as mine, right? It’s more one the brown side. And it’s natural. It could work. Or maybe we should dye your hair too.”
“I doubt there will be enough in that bottle for both of us.”

As it turns out, even with the roots done and the whole length of hair covered twice, there’s still some product left in the bottom of the bottle.
Goro wraps Futaba again to let the colour rest for forty-five minutes and considers his options.
Either he gets his ass kicked again at Featherman Strikers, about seven or eight times if his calculations are correct. Or…

As Futaba stands up to check that no hair dye is dripping on her forehead, Goro swiftly steals the stool and sits on it. She barely has time to realise what’s happening when he grabs the hairbrush and holds it out with a devilish grin.

“Hey sis, wanna brush my hair?”

Futaba’s hand flies to her chest, her mouth falling in a dismayed gasp.

“ You think I want to touch you in general? You, smartass, are the bane of my existence. I can’t believe your audacity to even ask if I want to go out of my way to help you. I’m not here to do your work for you. How about once in a while take charge of your own life—“

Futaba’s rant goes on and on, and so does her hand in Goro’s hair as she pulls the hairbrush through it, having picked it seconds after it was offered to her.

“You’re—ouch! Quite verbose, sis.”
“Gee, I wonder who could have taught me that. Now put your head in that sink so I can dutifully drown you.”

Goro chuckles and Futaba merrily splashes his hair until there’s, once more, water everywhere, blending with the stains of colour on the white porcelain.
Then she picks the gloves and checks on the hair dye.

“You know there won’t be enough for your whole head, right?”

Goro shrugs.

“I don’t want the whole head orange anyway. Only you could have such poor taste.”
“I’ve got your hair in my hand right now, if I were you, I’d watch it, genius.”
“How about we just do the tips? There should be enough, right?”
“Oooh that would be glorious aesthetics . With those bangs of yours, you’d only be missing eyeliner to become a perfect emo-boy. We are so doing it.”
“Careful with how you wave this bottle! This thing could make me blind with a wrong move.”
“Aaah, we don’t want those pretty eyes to go blind, right? Not when there will be eyeliner on them soon .”
“Futaba, you don’t even know how to put makeup on.”
“That’s what YouCube tutorials are for, dumbass.”

Soon enough, Goro’s hair is wrapped too.

“And what will you tell the school, oh perfect-boy-who-always-abide-by-the-rules?”

Goro ponders for a second before his lips spread into a sly grin.

“I’ll tell them your natural dripped on me when we were kids. Really, we were just born like this .”

Futaba gapes in outrage, before coming to understanding. Her face slowly shifts to mirror Goro’s expression.
Goro’s certain that for an outsider’s eye, at this precise moment, they really look like perfect twins. 
Perfectly fiendish twins.