Chapter Text
“They don’t have a mother.”
“Do we know what happened to her?”
“Does it matter? It doesn’t change where they are now.”
That may be true, thought Rem. But that’s not why it matters.
“I want to understand them.”
It wasn’t as though the situation was unfamiliar. Rem’s social work involved families and orphans alike, but there was something about this case she couldn’t stop thinking about. It planted itself in the corner of her vision, attracting her attention and disappearing out of sight as soon as she turned to try seeing more.
Twins. Nearly mirror images of each other, completely alone. The doctor estimated them to be around four years old. They were found huddling under a moth-eaten blanket near a basket of rotten apples, surrounded by cold concrete and boarded windows in an abandoned building that looked ready to collapse with one sigh. Rem wasn’t sure it was anything short of a miracle the twins survived so long on their own.
Their DNA matched no one in their database, and as far as Rem knew no hospital records in the immediate area came close to indicating a hint of their origins. The latter was unsurprising. Most orphans, especially ones under these conditions, weren’t born in a hospital. Whatever the mother’s reason was, she had left the two all alone in the cold world.
Except for each other.
The cold, rotten fruit, and each other.
—
The twins looked at Rem like frightened fawns. Skittish, long limbed and frozen in place. Rem instinctively knelt down, smiling warmly.
“I know you’ve gone through a lot,” said Rem. The twins stared back. Their blond hair, tangled yet radiant, went past the curves of their back. At times, Rem couldn’t tell if she was looking at a pair of sisters or brothers. “You’re really brave, you know.”
Rem opened a bag very slowly, showing the contents inside to them.
“Have you had something to eat?”
After lunch the twins found their voices.
—
Vash and Knives. They knew nothing about their birthmother, nothing about what led them to be living in a cold rotting husk of a building and how they survived there. But they knew they were Vash and Knives, and Rem would not take that from them. As she sat on a picnic blanket talking with them, she realized there were a few differences between the pair. Some were subtle enough to pass as a trick of the light. Some were more obvious, like the moles they had on their faces opposite of the other.
“How did you find us?” asked Vash. As the tension eased he began to ask a lot of questions, like most children his age do. Rem smiled back.
“It’s my job to help find and help children like you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what I want to do.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to help people who can’t help themselves.”
“Why?”
Rem couldn’t help but laugh.
“Because I want to,” said Rem. She looked away, past the twins. “I used to have someone who was very important to me. Someone I wanted to spend all my time and all my days with.”
“Like Vash and I?” piped up Knives. Knives had a few things that set him apart from his brother Rem couldn’t quite define yet. He had a quiet thoughtfulness for a child his age. In many children it was often seen as a sign of slowness or developmental delay. Rem had seen many cases of children like Knives and knew better. When Knives was silent, he was observing. He was learning.
“I guess you could say that,” said Rem after a small pause. Knives did not follow up his question, but she saw a small smile, taking that as satisfaction enough from him. “He was very close to me, but… he died one day. And I was left all alone.”
Vash leaned forward as Rem spoke. Knives leaned back into Vash.
“So… when the most important person in the world was gone, I had to think about what was really important. I think helping other people who can’t help themselves is really important. And that’s why I like being a social worker.”
Both twins paused.
“Rem…you’re so cool!” beamed Vash, smiling. “You’re like a superhero!”
“Aww, Vash!” Rem laughed. “You give me too much credit.”
“No he doesn’t,” said Knives. Rem and Vash seemed to share a mutual surprise at his remark. Knives seemed to sense this, looking sheepishly down at the ground. When he spoke again, it was a soft mumble. “…you helped us when no one else did. You’re very nice.”
Rem’s smile seemed to falter for a second. Nothing escaped Knives.
“Are you okay?” he asked, brows knitting in concern.
Rem rubbed at her eyes.
“Yeah.” She wrapped Knives in a hug. “I’m very thankful you and Vash have each other. And I’m thankful I was fortunate enough to find such wonderful kids.”
Knives started crying. Vash jumped on top of both of them. By the end of the day Rem was in the office, filing papers.
—
At first Rem thought it was the food that helped the twins find their voices. But she quickly discovered Vash and Knives wouldn’t talk to anyone else. Except Rem, and unless Rem was there to give approval it was a trustworthy person to answer. Rem helped them find the courage to use their voices, and she wasn’t about to stop there.
It was quicker to file for fostering first. Rem was intimately aware of the internal mechanics of the system, what to say and how to say it. Being a social worker and knowing the language inside and out gave her an advantage. Working directly with Vash and Knives was a persuasive argument in her favor. The twins were paralyzed with fear when she first encountered them and didn’t utter a word to the doctors and other workers who met them, checked on their health, tried and failed to get them to disclose the bare minimum of their names.
With Rem, they were entirely different children. They engaged in conversation and asked questions. Both were sweet natured and didn’t seem to exhibit any aggression or reactionary fear that would have been more than common for their circumstances. They didn’t make a fuss when they went to the doctor’s appointments anymore. Rem was always present, and she always explained Vash and Knives needed to stay in the same room together. She talked them through their shots, and a good deal of the time the twins were so preoccupied talking to her they didn’t notice until the bandaid was already on. She bought them clothes and got permission to take them for picnics outside so they could get fresh air and sun.
Fostering was a good trial period. It wasn’t permanent. If things somehow didn’t work out, Rem would work her hardest to find someone who could care for Vash and Knives the way she wanted to. She refrained from thinking any further about the matter. The system was unpredictable, and for all Rem’s hard work the answer could still be a resounding no. She tried not to show any sign of unease when she was around the twins. Especially Knives, who seemed capable of sensing Rem’s moods from cues and tells she wasn’t even aware she gave.
No matter what the outcome, Rem couldn’t let them disappear back into the nothingness they came from.
In the middle of playing with the twins she was called into the office. Rem gave them a big hug before walking away, feeling like lead sunk through her chest and weighed down her feet. She sat in the chair and every noise was too deafening all at once.
They asked how soon she could accommodate taking in Vash and Knives.
The twins were walking through the door of Rem’s house by the end of the night.
—
Rem noticed a bit of Vash and Knives’ former anxious natures return. This was natural. It was a new place and a new surrounding. No room was off limits to them. She let them explore, open cabinets and ask questions. A week later the twins were walking around the house like they had always lived there.
Rem wondered how she ever lived without them.
—
By this point the twins’ hair was so long it stretched past their calves. Vash was such an athletic child she often feared a hair related accident on the playground was all too inevitable, but she didn’t want to control any freedom of expression the twins desired. In the end, the twins cornered her one night and asked if she could cut their hair.
“It takes too long to brush out and it hurts to comb through the knots,” was Vash’s reason.
“I keep finding Vash’s hair in my food,” said Knives. This started an argument about how could Knives tell it was Vash’s hair when they almost had exactly the same hair color and Vash also found blond hair in his food. Rem ruffled both of their heads.
“How about we order pizza tonight?” she asked. “And while we’re waiting for it to arrive I can cut your hair.”
Vash and Knives found that an agreeable resolution. Once her makeshift salon was set up in the spare room, Vash was first up. Rem asked what sort of haircut he wanted. Vash just smiled and said he wanted Rem to decide for him.
Vash’s haircut was short in comparison to his previous cut, but had enough length and health. Rem wasn’t sure what compelled her to give him a spikier cut. Perhaps it was because of how she thought of how the wind blew through his hair when he ran. When she was done Vash ran over to the mirror, grinning and pressing his hands against the glass.
“Aah, it’s perfect Mom!” Vash bounced back over to Rem just as fast to hug her.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she laughed. “It felt very you.”
Rem looked over to Knives. Knives was a little more hesitant to sit down for his haircut. But he had some thoughts nonetheless.
“I don’t want the same cut as Vash,” said Knives. He added just as quickly, “I don’t think it’s…me.”
Rem nodded. She knelt down by Knives, holding a strand of his hair.
“You both have very beautiful hair,” said Rem. Knives sheepishly nodded, looking down. “You know when I first met you two, I wasn’t sure if you were sisters.”
“We heard that from other people too,” interrupted Vash, touching his newly acquired hairstyle and shaking his head in the mirror.
Rem looked at Knives, waiting for a response for a question she was sure he understood.
“We’re brothers,” said Knives. “No matter what, we’re always brothers.”
Rem smiled.
“That’s right, you’re brothers,” she said. Knives smiled back at her. “Let me know what you want. I’ll listen.”
Rem shouldn’t have been surprised how strongly the twins’ natures showed, right down to their hairstyle choices. Vash was fine with impulse and leaning into trust. Knives needed an equal balance of control and reassurance. His hair was cut shorter than Vash, a short snip of bangs resting on his forehead. Knives hesitated to look at the final results. He walked up to the mirror, afraid to look up. When he did, he couldn’t help smiling. Vash was smiling right beside him. The brothers turned away from their reflections to look at Rem.
“What do you think?” asked Rem.
“I love it,” said Knives. He started crying. Rem wasn’t surprised that Knives’ depth of intellect came with a lot of huge emotions that overwhelmed him in sudden waves. Vash leaned over and hugged Knives, seeming to involuntarily rock while holding him. Knives hiccuped. “I’m sorry I accused your hair of being in my food.”
“Oh? You’re still upset about that?” said Vash. His tone indicated he completely forgot. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I did the same, I was embarrassed.”
They argued like any boys their age, but seemed very good at reaching a resolution on their own terms. Rem never had to interfere so far, and she thought that was for the better. Rem embraced the two in a hug. She couldn’t help but look at the reflection of the three of them in the mirror.
Her two perfect boys.
—
Youth suited Vash and Knives well, and with it they grew into their personalities. Vash was a social butterfly. A little too friendly at times, if Rem blinked he could be on the other end of the grocery store talking with a complete stranger. Knives was more comfortable in his reservation. If Rem took Vash and Knives to the playground, Knives would play by himself until Vash came back from playing with whichever new friend he made.
“Do you ever want to make friends?” Rem asked. She was helping Knives build a sandcastle.
“Not really,” said Knives. He put down his plastic shovel. “Are you worried?”
“Not unless you’re worried,” said Rem. She looked up, watching Vash run through a flurry of seagulls. Knives watched him with her.
“Do you worry what people think of me?” asked Knives. To Rem it felt like a test.
“No,” said Rem. “It’s all about you. I just want to make sure you’re not feeling lonely.”
Knives laughed. It was a rare sound, but that made her treasure it all the more.
“Mom,” said Knives. He stopped laughing but his smile remained. “I have Vash and you. How could I ever be lonely?”
And that was that.
—
Rem wasn’t sure what the fight was about, but it happened. With growing boys, it was bound to happen. Whatever it was this time, all Rem knew was that she came into the living room and Knives and Vash were rolling on the floor, shouting at each other.
“Boys?” said Rem. They had tussled before, but this seemed more aggressive. When neither seemed to realize her presence she got between them. “Boys!”
They noticed that and quickly backed away, glaring at each other from across Rem. She sat down between them, looping an arm around both.
“What in the world could have possibly happened while I was gone a few minutes?”
“Mom, Vash is hogging the TV!” said Knives. “He’s been watching cartoons since 10 and I haven’t gotten a turn yet.”
“That’s not true!” said Vash. “And you only want to watch boring nature documentaries. I don’t want to watch an octopus float in water for hours.”
“It’s a colossal squid, that’s a completely different animal you idiot,” said Knives bitterly.
“You’re a colossal squid,” said Vash, sticking out his tongue. Both twins lunged for each other and Rem firmly put her hands on their shoulders, nudging them back apart.
“Follow me,” said Rem, taking their hands and guiding them down the hallway. “There’s something we can do other than watch TV.”
Down the hallway, to the guest bedroom. It was a simple room, and at times Vash and Knives jokingly referred to it as the 'Get-around-to-it' room, coined from how Rem kept saying it was a work in progress she would furnish over time. The room was bare aside from a single bed, nightstand and piano. Rem pulled the bench back, inviting Knives and Vash to sit down on it. Once they did, she gently hit a key with a single finger, the single note ringing through the air.
“Music is a better outlet than fighting,” said Rem. “You’re brothers. If you’re too mad to use your words, use the piano. If you want to raise a hand against each other, put them on the keys instead.”
“I don’t know how to play,” said Vash. Knives would never admit to a weakness involving lack of knowledge, but Rem could tell he was thinking the same thing.
“You don’t have to know how,” Rem said. “Piano playing is part practice, and part intuition. Don’t worry about what sounds good or right. Focus on what you feel, and play.”
“This feels childish,” said Knives.
“You are children,” said Rem. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. But it’s also childish to be fighting on the floor with your brother.”
Vash and Knives both averted their gaze. Rem stood up, going to the door.
“Play for a little bit, and I’ll make us all lunch,” she said. “I’ll make a special dessert if you behave. Try it just for a little bit. If you hate it, you don’t have to do it ever again.”
Rem left the room. It was Vash, Knives and the piano. Vash touched the piano first. He was exploratory and impulsive with no direct pattern, going from one key to the next. From a low shrill key to a deep booming one, discovering and learning with no caution. Knives hesitated. He started with exploring the keys closest to each other, fingers dipping between them to try and form a rhythm. He flinched when Vash ran his hand down the piano with reckless abandon, sending a harsh clang of notes pounding against his ears.
“You moron!” Knives snapped.
“You’re just mad I surprised you,” said Vash, pouting.
“I’m mad because you made terrible sounds,” said Knives. “And you always do this. You always do whatever you want and you don’t care how stupid you look doing it.”
“I bet you would sound just as bad as me,” said Vash. “You only hit three keys at a time because you’re scared. Scaredy cat.”
“You’re so immature.”
“We’re the same age! If you’re not scared, then you try it.”
Vash hit his hands down on the piano, staring at Knives. Knives bunched his fists up, sending his hands jumping across the piano. Vash brought his hands back to the keys, a crowd of notes interrupting and crowding over each other.
“Terrible,” said Knives.
“Then you do better,” said Vash, grinning.
The twins’ hands met the piano at the same time, their notes and keys fighting between them for dominance and to be heard.
Rem smiled as she heard laughs and the cacophony of piano notes carry from the room, echoing down the hallway and spilling into the kitchen.
Between bites of sandwich Vash and Knives asked Rem about the possibility of piano lessons.
—
Their strengths and differences blossomed in their freshman year of high school. Vash excelled at sports. His high endurance and energy took more intentional form as a teenage boy. Paired with his good luck, he was always a popular choice during PE for dodgeball and football.
Though Knives was just as athletic as Vash he really excelled in biology and science. His reading comprehension was on par with that of a college student already. When Knives told Rem he was getting bored of his classes, she moved him into the most advanced courses the school had to offer. Knives made up for Vash’s weakness in those areas. Rem considered hiring a tutor, but Knives would take hours after completing his own homework to work with Vash.
Knives made the top honor list with ease every single year. When the school asked if Knives wanted to skip a grade however, he refused.
“I want to stay with Vash,” Knives said. It was the only reason he ever gave, and it was reason enough for Rem.
No matter how much the brothers grew, they never grew apart from each other.
—
“I don’t want to do PE.” Knives stood in the doorway of the living room. Rem marveled at how tall the boys were getting. His voice was cold and honed with an edge.
“Sit down with me?”
Knives’ expression softened. He came home from school seeming revved up for a confrontation. It would be another hour or so before Vash got home due to after school sports. Usually Knives would sit on the bench, doing his homework and waiting for him. Sometimes he would go to the school’s empty music room and play piano. In the case of the former Vash would always show up, play with him, and walk home together once they were ready. It was their after school ritual. He had to be very upset to come home ahead of Vash. Rem wasn’t sure what happened but she intended to get to the bottom of it. He sat down beside her.
“What happened?”
Knives bunched his fists into the cushions of the couch, shutting his eyes tightly.
“I hate other people touching me,” Knives said. He was angry, but Rem felt none of that directed towards her. “It’s stupid. I get straight A’s, I make the honor’s list every time, why do I have to do this?!”
“You don’t have to.” Rem’s immediate reply evaporated the anger from Knives. She held her hand out. When Knives didn’t pull away, she ruffled his hair. “I’ll never force you to do anything that makes you so unhappy. It was stressing you out this much?”
“Yeah,” breathed Knives. Shaky, rattled. Just like a little kid again. Just like when Rem first walked into that room and saw the two brothers holding onto each other as though every force in the universe was conspiring to pull them apart. When Rem saw that frightened child return to Knives’ eyes she knew she would do everything in her power to help him feel loved and safe again.
“I’m glad you told me,” Rem said. She pulled Knives into her arms. “We’ll figure it out.”
—
Rem made a persuading case with her social worker background for Knives to find a substitute for his PE credentials. Something that could combine community service would be sufficient enough. Knives always loved being outside. He didn’t run or climb, but he observed.
Rem and Knives started gardening together. It was intense physical work, and the flora would help the insects and local fauna. Soon Knives began to pick up gardening books from the library, asking Rem if they could get permission from the school to plant fruits and vegetables too.
“You have a green thumb,” said Rem. Knives tried not to look down at his hands and Rem stifled a laugh.
“I don’t know if that’s it, Mom,” said Knives. He had to put up a small front of being humble, but the confidence in his tone always betrayed him. “It’s simple. You just observe what they need and give it to them. You just listen.”
“Not everyone is as good a listener as you,” said Rem. “Have you considered becoming a biologist one day?”
Knives seemed to think about it, though his hands were back at work in the ground.
“Biologists do a lot of important work for the environment,” continued Rem. “You’re not very social with other people…maybe you’re meant to help other things.”
“Spending all my time around plants…” Knives trailed off. Rem thought she could feel his smile.
—
Because Vash and Knives’ official birthday was unknown, they celebrated it on the day Rem took them home. It was their suggestion. Rem never forgot the day they first talked to her about it.
“I don’t want to remember anything before we met you,” said Knives. He tensed up at the mere mention. Vash leaned his head against his shoulder.
“It feels right,” said Vash.
Rem nodded, wiping tears from her eyes.
“It’s not just right,” she said. “It’s perfect.”
—
It was summer. School was out, vacation was in full swing.
July 21st. Vash and Knives’ birthday.
Rem received an emergency work call. An escalation that couldn’t be put off. Vash and Knives knew most of her work was already significant from firsthand experience, but it had to be very urgent for her to be called on a day off. A day the agency knew she always took off for the brothers. Neither Vash nor Knives had any complaints. There was the initial disappointment, but they knew Rem always followed through on her word. Rem ordered them pizza and ice cream, leaving with the promise that she had a special surprise and presents to give them when she returned.
She hugged them, kissing the top of both of their heads and telling them she loved them. The boys never outgrew some things. And then she was out the door.
—
After Rem left the first order of business for their birthday was walking around the garden. It was Knives’ daily ritual to check on them, no matter the occasion. They planted apples, carrots, strawberries and blueberries so far.
“I can’t wait until the apple tree grows,” said Vash excitedly. “We’ll have a whole kitchen in our garden!”
“You’ll have to wait, apple trees take a few years to grow,” said Knives. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling. He wasn’t sure how Vash would react when he first got into gardening. But he showed just as much interest, even if he didn’t understand all the intricacies. Vash smiled back.
“I can do that,” said Vash. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I know if it’s coming from you, it’ll be the best.”
Knives felt red burn his ears.
“You’re so embarrassing sometimes…it’s just apples.”
“And no one’ll grow them like you do!”
—
The pizza and ice cream arrived shortly after their backyard surveillance. Vash and Knives sat together on the couch, legs crossed over each other, another habit they never outgrew. Neither could explain how the weight of one another on each other became such a common comfort. A random movie was on the TV. Knives texted Rem to let her know the food got there. It had been an hour or two since the text was sent out, which was normal. When Rem was on the clock, it was usually hard to reach her unless she was on break or lunch. It wasn’t a normal work hour schedule either. Lightning flashed across the TV screen, a building burned and fell under the weight of a giant scaled beast.
“Do you think we can go to the movies tonight?” Vash asked. Knives picked the pepperoni off his pizza, handing them in a pile to Vash.
“That would be fun,” said Knives. “Anything you want to see?”
“I don’t know yet!” said Vash. He took a moment to shove a handful of the pepperonis in his mouth. “Buph, phaph part of phuh fun!”
“Gross,” snickered Knives. The two broke into laughter.
“But it is!” said Vash after swallowing. “It’s fun to just show up and see what’s playing. I like surprises.”
Knives settled back against the couch, throwing a handful of napkins at Vash while chewing on a crust of pizza.
“I like surprises when they’re with you.”
—
After washing their hands, Knives settled down to play the piano. Vash joined him. Like other facets of their personality, Knives preferred to work with sheet music. Once he played a few traditional lines he would twist and warp the notes, experimentally rearranging and shortening them to make his own melody. Vash was more intuitive. He’d play how he felt and paid no mind to if the notes started off clumsy or scattered. Trying to focus on sheets distracted him and made his playing worse. Once he warmed up, his hands knew where to go. These two distinctly different methods would align at some point, crossing each other and leaving but always returning. Knives never said as much, but sometimes he felt it was as close as possible to his and Vash’s heartbeats syncing, aside from when they had slept in the same bed together.
“I wish Mom could’ve heard this time,” said Vash.
“Me too,” said Knives. He smiled. “We can play for her when she gets back.”
Knives looked down the empty hallway.
Rem still hadn’t called.
—
The sun started to descend past the hills, painting everything in red, orange and purple. It always made Vash think of the paintings Rem showed them in a museum. So full of color and life you felt you could brush the tones off with your fingertips. Vash ran his hand against the bark of a tree, turned purple in the glow.
“Should we call her?” asked Vash. The four words were followed by crickets coming out as the light started to fade. “She didn’t text you back, right?”
Knives was sitting down, nestled against the roots.
“We shouldn’t call Mom while she’s working,” said Knives. “If it’s a serious situation she might have forgotten to turn her phone off and we don’t want to be disruptive.”
Vash watched Knives look into the distance.
“Maybe the surprise is we can stay up late?” said Vash. Knives didn’t look, staring at something beyond the horizon.
“Let’s walk home. She might be back already.”
There was a car pulled up to their driveway when they got back. Not Rem’s. A man was waiting outside, but not a stranger.
“Joey!” Vash perked up, running towards him.
“Vash, Knives!” Joey said. He smiled at them, and Knives couldn’t tell why it felt off. He almost seemed to back away as he got closer. “Happy birthday. How old are you boys now? Eighteen?”
“Sixteen,” said Vash, beaming. “I’m not too old yet.”
“Kid, if that’s old then I’m a fossil.”
The brothers were all too familiar with him. Joey was Rem’s coworker, and one of the only few they trusted. Rem told them how he went to bat as a reference when they were transitioning from fostering to adoption, and he often played the role as babysitter. When they got older, he would sometimes take them out. He could be rowdy with Vash, and he never jostled Knives. The brothers both found comfort in his company.
“Are you the surprise?” Vash asked. Joey paled.
“What.”
“The surprise!” Vash said with a smile. His voice was uncertain. Knives’ glance flickered between Vash and Joey. “Mom got called in today, but she said she’d have a surprise and presents when she got back. So I… I thought she invited you?”
Everything seemed to go quiet. Even the noise of the crickets was lost between the space that yawned between Joey and the boys. Joey put his head in his hands. Then he spoke.
Time stopped.