Chapter Text
Zanka's head rests on the car window, his gaze trained on the passing scenery yet not taking anything in. There's not much to take in anyway. Having already driven out of the main city, all there is to see is dirt fields and tall trees. Not even any animals.
"Did we really hafta move all the way out to the damn sticks?," he says. He turns his gaze to the front of the car where his brother sits in the driver's seat and his sister in the passenger.
Without even looking back, Kyouka says, "Watch your mouth." It's kind of a lazy scolding, more out of habit than actually caring about his use of profanity. Kyouka continues on to add, "And if you're not happy about it then maybe ya should reflect on the reason why we're out here in the first place."
Zanka's jaw tightens at her insinuation. "I thought ya said not to talk about what happened."
"I'm not talking about it. I'm telling ya that instead of complaining, ya should think of this as a fresh start," she says. He hears Goka mutter something unintelligible and not caring enough to decipher it, he turns back to the window and stares unfocused at the beige landscape.
Eventually, they reach a dirt road and pull up to a garishly pink house. His siblings exit the car and Zanka steels himself before stepping out. He grimaces as his sneakers sink into mud.
"Ugh," he groans trying to shake off the gunk to no avail. When he looks back up, he thinks the pink house has to be the only semblance of color in a twenty mild radius. There's no sun, courtesy of the clouds' overhead. There's no plant life, unless you want to count what looks like a garden, except it's mainly weeds and dirt. Yeah, the pink house—Pink Palace Apartments, he reads on the sign— seems to be the only sign of life in this wasteland.
Turning back towards the car, he grabs his staff and sloshes through the mud to the house. Kyouka's already standing on the porch, her heels miraculously clean as she talks with the movers. She sends a disparaging look to Zanka as he's about to enter.
"Do not walk in this house with those muddy shoes."
Zanka huffs and props his staff onto the wall. He bends down to pull off his sneakers and set them outside near the door.
"Better?," he asks, his eyebrows raised in faux concern.
Kyouka only narrows her eyes before she turns back around to continue speaking with the movers.
Zanka scoffs and steps into the house, taking a moment to look around.
Surprisingly, the interior of the house isn't completely run-down like he thought it'd be. The hardwood floors show no signs of rotting, but they creak as Zanka's feet pad over it. The wallpaper looks like it hasn't been changed in years but there's no peeling or yellowing. Apparently, the entire first and second floor has been rented out to them, and while Zanka recognizes his sister's high standards, it seems like too much space for them. As he wanders aimlessly through the first level, he notes the kitchen, a little parlor space, and a study. He guesses the bedrooms and bathrooms are on the next level. Zanka knows the house as a cellar and an attic, so that must be where the other tenants live.
Doesn't really seem fair, having all this space, Zanka thinks as he runs a hand along the walls. There's a thin coating of dust when he turns his palm over and he sticks out his tongue in slight disgust. Shaking out his hand, he makes his way back to the main lobby. He slowly spins around in place for a bit, realizing they could've picked a worse spot to move to. It's nice. With the dark brown hardwood and light pink walls, the house is almost warm.
But Zanka still feels an unmistakable chill.
Turning on his heel, he runs into Goka, nearly making him topple over the boxes he's carrying.
Goka sends a glare his way as Zanka darts around him with an apologetic look. He comes back to the entrance to put his sneakers back on and grabs his staff.
"Where do ya think you're going?," Kyouka asks. The movers are gone now, all of their unpacked boxes inside the house, surely.
"Out," Zanka responds simply. He doesn't wait to hear what his sister has to say next before he's jumping down the porch steps and making his way through the grounds.
He circles around to the back of the house, heading towards the supposed garden. He travels up the cobble path that winds through the garden, noting that it's just as sad as it looked from the car.
It's completely lifeless, the trees and bushes all leafless and sad. Maybe one day he and his siblings can come out here to liven the place up.
Yeah, right.
He passes through the iron gate, leading way to the orchard he remembers seeing in the pamphlet. It sits high on a hill, so it's a bit of a trek but Zanka doesn't mind. He follows the dirt path, startling when he hears what sounds like a long, high pitched cry. He quickens his pace, nearly running the rest of the way, and he knows he's reached the orchard when he sees trees lining the path. He slows down when he reaches the top of the hill.
Zanka's breathing is heavy as he looks around, flinching at the sound of rustling grass. Another yowl as him sharply turning around, a scream escaping him before dying down at seeing it's just a cat.
"Stupid cat!," he exclaims, glaring at the cat. The cat seems to glare back, which unnerves Zanka a little.
It's a scrawny little thing, it's silver coat shimmering blue in the light. It's perched on the tree stump, golden eyes staring back at Zanka, no longer glaring but still watching him.
The tension releases in his shoulders and he exhales around a small smile directed to the cat.
"Sorry, cat," he says. "Ya gave me a scare, that's all."
The cat's stare seems to soften and it tilts it's head at him.
"'M just out here to train. I ain't gonna bother ya as long as ya do the same."
It gives a short meow, as if accepting Zanka's statement. Zanka turns away from the cat, standing straight with his shoulders back as he grips his staff with both hands. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before lunging forward with his staff in a strike. He spins around then, bringing the staff over his head in an arch before slamming it down.
Zanka carries on like that for a while, feeling a pleasing burn in his muscles from the exertion of swinging his staff around. When he spins around, his staff comes into contact with something solid and he realizes with a jolt that it was actually someone he hit.
The person falls to the ground letting out an audible 'oof' and Zanka jumps back to put some distance between them.
"What the hell?!," he shouts, the grip on his staff tightening as he tries to get his breathing under control. "Where'd ya come from?!"
The figure groans, clutching at their side as they stagger back to their feet. "That's your response to whackin' me? Not even a 'sorry'?"
Zanka narrows his eyes. "I ain't gonna apologize to a creeper." Because that's exactly what they look like, dressed in a long, black, mud-crusted firefighter's jacket and wearing a welding mask painted to look like a skull with three glowing green circles in the center.
They laugh, loud and grating, and say, "Guess I was creepin' on you a lil!" before removing their mask to reveal their face.
His face, Zanka amends. The boy can't be much older than him, he observes. He's got insanely long locs, tied back to keep out of his face but also allowing Zanka full view of his features. Thin eyebrows with a slit in each rest over cat-like eyes that make Zanka do a double take because they look almost pink? But the smile on the boy's face is what nearly sends a shiver up his spine, so wide it looks like it could split his cheeks.
"By the way, you might wanna watch where you're standin'."
"And why's that?"
The boy points at Zanka's feet, "Cus you're standin' right on top of the bottomless well, duh."
Zanka looks down to see he's standing on a circle of wood that's bordered by a ring of mushrooms. He carefully steps back as to not disturb the cover.
He looks back up and nearly startles when the boy's moved closer to him, standing inches apart from each other.
"I knew Unc was rentin' the place out to someone new but I had no idea they had a kid!," the boy exclaims, one hand on his chin as he leans closer like he's examining Zanka.
Zanka glowers and pushes the boy back. "Who ya callin' a kid? We look the same age."
"Oh yeah?," he challenges. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen," Zanka responds, puffing out his chest.
"Well, I'm sixteen," the boy says and then laughs as Zanka's glare strengthens. He holds out his hand to Zanka, and his eyes fixate on the rings he's wearing. Three on each finger and the other hand seems to match by the looks of it. "I'm Jabber. Jabber Wonger."
Zanka tentatively takes Jabber's hand to shake it then instantly regrets it as a layer of dirt cakes it. Brushing his hand off on his hoodie, he responds, "Jabber? What kinda parent names their kid 'Jabber'?"
Jabber shrugs, his smile dimming a bit. "Dunno. But it's what I got. What 'bout you?"
Sore spot, I guess, Zanka thinks to himself. He can kind of relate a bit. "I'm Zanka," he says.
"Zanka, what?"
"Just Zanka," he responds, his tone final.
Jabber raises his hands up slightly, jokingly in defense. "Okay, 'Just Zanka'!" Then he shifts his attention to the cat Zanka had momentarily forgot about. He beckons it over with a whistle and it jumps on his shoulders, curling it's body around his nape.
"Hey, Cthoni. You hungry?," he coos at it, lightly scratching under its chin as he digs around in his pocket.
"Ya named yer cat Cthoni?," Zanka asks with a raised brow.
Jabber fishes out what looks like a tin of sardines and he opens it to begin feeding Cthoni directly. "She ain't really my cat. She's more wild. And I ain't name her, she told me herself."
"Cats can't talk," Zanka states, but it comes out more like a question.
Jabber grins. "Sure they can. You gotta know how to listen."
Ooookayyy. Deciding to change the subject he asks, "So yer uncle owns the apartments?"
"Mhm! My Uncle Corvus used to live in 'em when he was a kid." Jabber pauses as Cthoni jumps down from his shoulders to return to her spot on the tree stump, clearly having reached her fill. "He don't like rentin' out to families with kids of they own though."
"Why not?"
For the first time since their conversation started, Jabber stops smiling completely. His eyes dart to the side and his hand comes up to rub at his neck. "I ain't s'posed to talk 'bout it."
His reaction definitely raises some red flags but Zanka decides to drop it. He'll probably find out the reason sooner or later. "Anyone ever tell ya yer kinda weird?"
And just like that, Jabber seems to return to his natural state, grinning at Zanka's insult. "Oh yeah! But I mean, you not really one to talk."
"What's that s'posed ta mean?!"
"I mean, you cute or whatever but your look is so not common. And your accent… where you from anyway?"
Zanka flushes, taken aback at being called cute. "Far."
"Ooh, not sharin'? Then lemme guess… Texas!"
Zanka doesn't respond only crosses his arms and looks away. "Ha, I was right!," he hears Jabber cheer.
Okay, I need to end this. "Well, it wasn't nice meetin' ya, Jabber, but I gotta get back home." He turns and starts making his way back to the path but he stops when Jabber grabs his arm.
"Wait! One more question!" Jabber points down to his staff. "Your stick, you fight with that thing?"
Zanka yanks his arm out of Jabber's grip and sneers. "It's my staff. And yeah, I fight with it."
He watches as Jabber's eyes light up showcasing an excitement that makes Zanka wary.
"Would you fight me with it?"
Zanka blinks, surprised at the question. He opens his mouth then closes it and turns around to walk away. He hears Jabber call after him, inviting Zanka to fight him sometime. Mercifully, he doesn't follow him.
What a weirdo.
Zanka's arms rest on the kitchen counter as he stares out of the window. It's raining today, a whole day having passed since his not-so-pleasant encounter. He's already unpacked his stuff and his room is already set up. Kyouka won't let him unpack the remaining boxes because 'he's not going to do it right'. There's no schoolwork to do since he won't be starting at the new school until next week.
Safe to say, Zanka's incredibly bored.
The weather outside is horrible, but being out there beats being in the house with nothing to do.
"Hey, Kyouka?" He turns to face his sister where she sits at the kitchen table, typing away at her laptop. Lawyer stuff, he guesses. His brother and sister are trying to start their own firm so they often spend the whole day glued to their computers.
She hums in response, not even looking up from her document.
"Can I go outside?"
"No, it's raining. Rain makes mud and I don't want ya dirtying up my floor."
Zanka groans, tossing his head back. "C'mon, Kyouka! Ain't shit to do in here."
"Language," she drones. Zanka rolls his eyes. "Ya could watch me write my proposals, learn how the business works."
Zanka frowns, turning his gaze back to the window. "No thanks."
He hears Kyouka sigh. "You're gonna have to learn at some point."
Crossing his arms, he bites out, "After what Dad did, I think I'm good."
"You're being childish."
"I don't think I am!" Zanka whips his head back around to Kyouka, his anger having reached its peak. "He stole money, Kyouka! From his own damn firm and he ruined our lives! We're out here in this wasteland because of him! How can ya even stomach followin' in his footsteps?"
"Enough," she says, coldly. It shuts Zanka up immediately. "What he did was reprehensible, but Nijikus have always gone down the path of law. I and Goka have done the same and someday, you will too. This is the last we will discuss of this."
He's silent for a moment before he quietly asks, "What would Mom think?"
"If only she hadn't run off," Kyouka responds, her steely gaze boring through him. "I could've asked her."
Zanka storms out the kitchen then, feeling a wetness behind his eyes. He scrubs at them with his arm and sniffs.
I'm sick of this. I'm sick of being here.
He briefly considers going to Goka but knows that interaction wouldn't fare any better. His brother barely even acknowledges him nowadays. Either too wrapped up in his work or tired of dealing with Zanka.
There's a good chance it's both.
Zanka's sympathetic to his siblings, having to suddenly become responsible for their teen brother while their whole life falls apart. They lost their jobs because of their father's embezzlement and no one within a 500 mile radius of Houston— hell, not even in all of Texas— would bring them into their firm. With no jobs and essentially no money, they had to start over. Why it had to be in the middle of Nowheresville, Oregon, Zanka will never know.
So he gets it. But at the same time, it hasn't been easy for him either.
He's been aimlessly wandering around the house at this point, mindlessly counting the squeaky doors and leaky windows in all the rooms when he hears a knock at the front door.
Zanka makes his way to the door, opening it and immediately considering shutting it when he sees who's on the other side.
"Just Zanka! How you doin'?," Jabber smiles. His locs aren't pulled back today, freely spilling over his shoulders. He's sopping wet, raindrops trailing down his face. Zanka can't help but be intrigued by the sight.
"I was fine before ya showed up." Noticing Jabber holding something in his hand, he nods at it. "What's that?"
"Hm? Oh! It's a gift. Found it in my Uncle's car, thought you might like it." He tosses it at Zanka without any warning and he fumbles to catch it.
The gift is wrapped in old newspaper and secured by a singular rubber band. Pressing down on it, Zanka feels something soft like cotton. He's got no idea what it is.
"Well, just wanted to drop that off. I can't stay long but lemme know when you wanna use that staff 'o yours to mess around!" Jabber waves and then he's gone, Zanka watching his back retreat into the rain.
He shuts the door and looks down at the package. He unwraps it, deciding to see if he's going to have to hunt down Jabber for possibly giving him some kind of dead rodent.
But he pauses when he takes the final newspaper layer off, revealing what it is.
It's a doll. Made to look like him.
It's eerie how accurate it is. From his hair, to his shoes, to the turtleneck he wears under his hoodie, it's an exact replica of him. Well, almost. The black button eyes are the only difference.
"Yeesh," Zanka mutters. "Talk about total creep factor."
Though, he can't help but feel weirdly endeared by it.
So, he hangs on to it as he continues his exploration of the house. He ends up in a room that he must have missed yesterday. The room is completely blue and the darkening clouds from outside certainly don't help in making it look less depressing.
He sets the doll— Little Me, he dubs it— on a nearby side table and walks around. There's some unpacked boxes and when Zanka peers inside them all he sees are books so he guesses this room is supposed to be the library.
Plucking a random book out of a box, he recognizes it as one his mother used to read him to sleep with.
Zanka vaguely remembers the story being about a girl who got lost in the forest near her home. Or maybe she ventured out on her own, he can't remember. But she met these faeries who would give her sweets and beautiful clothes so she would stay there in the forest with them. It was all a trick, however, the faeries only wanting to eat her soul.
How did the book end again?, Zanka wonders. It had been a long while since he had last read it but he wasn't so interested in a creepy fairytale to give it a reread. So he drops it back in the box, deciding that he's explored this room enough.
He turns back to the table where he left the doll but is confused when he sees it's no longer there. He looks around the table and under it, but still no sign.
"Where'd ya go, Little Me?," he mumbles to himself, his eyes scanning the room. He catches sight of a cotton arm sticking out from behind a tall box leaning on the wall. He moves the box and crouches down to pick up the doll.
"How'd ya get over here…?" Zanka trails off as he looks up to see an outline of a little door in the wall. He runs a hand over it and sees that it's been sealed in drywall. It has a lock on it too, one that doesn't seem to match any of the other locks on the doors.
Fueled by the possibility of curing his boredom, Zanka makes his way back to the kitchen. He doesn't look at Kyouka as he makes a beeline for the drawer that keeps all of the keys in the house. He rummages through it, ignoring Kyouka's question of what he's doing, when he finds a key that sticks out from all the rest.
It's a small, black, button-shaped key. He holds it out in front of him, and something tells him this has to be what's going to unlock the little door.
He rushes back to the library and crouches down in front of the door. Using the key to pierce the drywall sealing it, he drags it through the outline. He puts the key in the lock and turns it, pleased when he hears it unlock.
Biting his lip in anticipation, he pulls the door open, the endless possibilities of what could be on the other side racing through his mind. They all come to a screeching halt when he sees the layer of brick behind it.
Zanka deflates, a deep sigh escaping him.
"Well, that was disappointin'."
Dinner is quiet, the three of them eating their food without much conversation. Well, Zanka's doing more picking at his food than eating it. They haven't had much time for grocery shopping, so they're making do with the dry goods and canned food they brought with them.
Zanka's fork picks through the Frankenstein of rice, beans, and mystery sauce. It was Goka's turn to cook tonight and while he managed to get the essential nutrients, he's never been the best cook.
"What's with the doll?," he hears Goka ask.
Zanka pushes down the glee he feels at having his brother's attention and keeps his eyes on his food. "The owner's nephew gave it to me. Said it was in his uncle's car."
"What's his name?"
"Jabber." And he can't help but grimace. "He's a total weirdo."
Kyouka spares him a glance for the first time since dinner started. "Ya didn't tell him anything too revealing, did ya?"
"No, I did not tell the strange kid next door about our father's crimes and us being forced to move here," he replies, not fighting to keep the derision out of his voice.
"We are trying to start over, Zanka," she reminds him, her eyebrows furrowing. "It would be hard to do that if people know about us."
"Well, no one within a million miles knows who we are so good job on that," he mutters. His already nonexistent appetite feeling even smaller, he pushes his plate away from him. "Can I be excused?"
Kyouka lets him go and he takes his doll back to his room. It's still too early for bed but there's nothing left to do. Hopefully, tomorrow's weather will let him actually do something entertaining.
Setting the doll down his nightstand, Zanka fishes his pajamas out of his dresser. He lies down in his bed only to wince as something hard pokes him in his back and reaches under him to pull out a medal.
It's from one of his debate competitions and instead of the pride he should feel at the memory, it only makes him sour.
Just another reminder of how everything got messed up.
Pulling the covers up, he reaches to turn his light off. "G'night, Little Me," he offers to the doll and turns over to close his eyes.
Zanka doesn't know how much time has passed when he's woken up by the sound of cawing. His eyes open, blinking blearily as he sits up to find a black crow sitting on his nightstand staring right at him. It caws at him again before flapping its wings and flying out of Zanka's room.
Wondering how the crow got in, he follows it, figuring that it'll lead him back to where it came from. The crow flies down the steps and through the main corridor, making it's way to the library. When Zanka gets there, it sits in front of the little door and squeezes through the slight opening.
Zanka crouches in front of the door, confused if that was a trick of the light. There's no way the crow could go through, there's nothing but bricks behind there!
But when Zanka pulls the door back, the brick wall has transformed into a small tunnel. Blues and purples color the tunnel and a soft gust of wind lightly rustles Zanka's hair. He squints, seeing an opening at the end.
Something in the back of his mind warns him against venturing inside, that he doesn't know what's on the other side of the tunnel. But his curiosity wins out.
He crawls in, surprised at how soft and fabric like the tunnel walls are. It's longer than it looked but he finally reaches the other side, pushing open the door. When he crawls through, he finds himself in a room that looks like the library he was just in.
What the heck?, he thinks as he looks around. How did I end up back where I came?
The smell of something pleasantly savory wafts through his nose and he follows the scent. Walking through the corridor he realizes it's coming from the kitchen and as he gets closer, he can hear melodic humming from inside.
He slides the kitchen door open to his sister standing above the stove, stirring something.
"Kyouka?," he asks, stepping up to her. "What are ya—" He cuts himself off with a gasp as she turns around, revealing a pair of black button eyes.
"Zanka! You're just in time for dinner!," Not-Kyouka gleefully exclaims, smiling in a way that Zanka has never seen his sister do.
"You're not my sister." He slowly steps closer, scrutinizing her. Other than the button eyes, it's uncanny how much she looks like Kyouka. "Kyouka doesn't have buttons for eyes."
"I'm your Other Sister, silly!," she giggles, turning back to the stove. "Now run along and get your Other Brother for dinner!"
Zanka looks her up and down, wondering if this is all a dream. It has to be. No version of Kyouka exists where she's this happy.
Seeming to notice him still in the kitchen, Other Kyouka turns back to him with a shooing motion. "Go on! He's in the study."
He narrows his eyes at her as he exits, making his way to the study. Sure enough, he finds Goka— Other Goka?— there sitting in front of what looks like to be an easel, paintbrush in hand.
"Hello?," Zanka asks. He does a better job of hiding his flinch when Other Goka turns around, revealing the same button eyes. But it still unnerves him.
"Hello, little brother! Wanna see what I've been working on?," he smiles. And if the constant smiling was suspicious on Other Kyouka then it's downright creepy on him.
Zanka steps closer to the easel. "My brother doesn't paint." Or at least, he doesn't anymore.
"Well, this one does!" Other Goka flips the canvas to show Zanka. It's beautiful. A variety of flowers border the edges of the painting, the center being Zanka smiling, holding his own bouquet.
"Oh," Zanka breathes. "This is really nice." He feels a bit misty eyed for reasons he can't figure out.
"I'm glad you think so. I made it especially for you." Other Goka places a gentle hand on Zanka's shoulder as he smiles softly at him.
"For me?"
"We can put it in your room, if you want. But first," Other Goka stands up, ruffling Zanka's hair. "Dinner!"
They make their way to the dining room and Zanka's eyes widen at the spread. It's an impossible amount of food and Zanka realizes it's all his favorites. Fried pork cutlet, seared salmon, vegetable tempura, steamed dumplings… it almost feels endless.
"Aren't you hungry, Zanka? Take a seat." Other Kyouka gestures to the head of the table and Zanka hesitantly sits. There's a covered bowl of rice and another with miso soup in front of him. He thinks about politely refusing the food but then his stomach gives an audible growl. His Other Siblings chuckle at him from where they sit next to him.
"Go on," Other Kyouka grins. "Don't be shy! Eat your fill!"
As soon as she says that, the plates begin rotating around the table as if on a conveyor belt. Zanka picks up the chopsticks sitting next to his plate and reaches to grab a piece of pork cutlet. He examines it, trying to see if there's anything off about it. Finding nothing wrong with it, he takes a small bite and then a larger one as his taste buds are met with a burst of flavor.
"This is really good…!" He immediately begins taking his own servings of the other dishes as they come to him. Other Goka has his plate piled high with food, almost spilling onto the table. Interestingly, Other Kyouka's plate is empty. She doesn't even look at the food, choosing instead to keep her eyes on Zanka as he eats.
It doesn't take long for Zanka to realize he probably was eating with his eyes, feeling full only after a couple of helpings. His plate still has food on it but Other Kyouka happily takes it away from him. She places a small strawberry shortcake in front of him and he watches in amazement as candles light around the border and 'Welcome Home!' is written in cursive on the cake.
"Home?," he asks looking up at his Other Sister.
"We've been waiting for you, Zanka," Other Kyouka says as Other Goka comes to stand next to her.
"Me?," he asks, gesturing to himself.
At their affirmations he continues, "I ain't know I had Other Siblings."
"Of course you do! Everyone does," Other Kyouka reassures him. "And once you're finished with your cake, I thought we could go outside and play a game!" He almost misses the slight glint in her button eyes as she taps her fingers on the table.
"I'm not really big on games…," he says.
"Everyone loves games! We could even play tag or hide n' seek!" Her grin becomes sharper now, betraying her sudden excitement. And it gives Zanka a bad feeling.
"I think," he starts slowly, not wanting to trip on any possible mines. "I think I oughta get to bed. It's late 'n all."
"Of course, Zanka. We've got your bedroom all made up for you." He tries to protest but they're already leading him up the stairs.
When he enters, his mouth drops slightly in surprise as he takes in the room. The slightly faded cream wallpaper has been replaced with navy blue walls with glowing stars on them. He swears they actually twinkle as if he were staring at the night sky. Some of his old stuffed animals call out to him and he's strangely charmed by it. On the far wall, is the painting Other Goka made, already framed. The light from the stars somehow make the painting even more beautiful.
"This is so different from my room back home," he says.
Other Kyouka steps up to him, her hand softly smoothing his hair back. "I like to think it's better. And it's all yours."
Zanka hums, feeling his eyelids become suddenly heavy. He feels his Other Sister lead him to the bed and he lies down. Letting out an audible sigh, he's amazed out soft the bed is. He imagines this is what a cloud must feel like. He snuggles underneath the covers and yawns softly.
As his eyes close, he hears a soft and distant, "See you soon."
When Zanka wakes up, it's light outside and he's back in his room. His original room. He's slightly disappointed by the dreary surroundings.
Was that really a dream?, he thinks, picking up his Little Me and frowning at it. It had felt so real but it was also insane. Other Siblings? Buttons for eyes? It sounds like something that would get him admitted.
Even so, he makes his way down to the first floor and through the corridor to reach the library. He pulls open the little door just to be greeted with the same brick wall as yesterday.
Maybe it was just a dream. He sighs to himself to make his way to the kitchen, the clatter telling him his siblings are awake.
But how amazing would it be if it were real?