Later, as they slept at the bus stop, Yui wondered which of them had the more fortunate night. Unable to sleep after Kouichi’s revelations, she had tossed and turned for hours on end, while next to her Kouichi thrashed from nightmares of a childhood past.

“No,” she had cried, convulsing, her hands unknowingly latched onto Yui’s wrists, her grip tight enough to cut off circulation. “Please don’t shoot him—he’s my brother! No—ONII-SAN!” she had screamed, as Yui desperately shook her awake. But then once again, just like before, Yui could do nothing to comfort her.

The next morning, at Yui’s suggestion, they went back down to the village. Though Kouichi bitterly pointed out that there was no need to visit the cemeteries anymore, now knowing that their brother wasn’t buried in Korea, Yui argued otherwise.

“It’s dangerous to be caught here,” she had said, glancing at her cell-phone. And then Kouichi had understood.

As they walked down towards the village, Yui couldn’t help but notice the interesting state of some of the architecture they passed. Majestic marble structures towered over smaller houses, while other brick buildings quietly supported the image of unspoken elegance. Contrasting with the wooden houses near the village’s entrance, located within one hundred yards of the last building, the grandeur of the former almost seemed to have come from a different society than its rural counterpart.

But then she noticed the cracks.

Some were merely small zigzags, a minor imperfection in the austere regality of the white dome-shaped structures, whereas others were as large as gaping holes. Located on the other side of some buildings, away from the public eye’s first glance, they were like black pits, echoing of pain and destruction.

It was as though the villagers had purposely chosen to leave those crumbling ruins untreated, as if to show the world their scars. 

The girls reached the entrance of the village. Kouichi now leading the way, they walked past door after door. Few people were out, not wanting to deal with the biting winds that swirled through the area, and though the darkened windows of some of the houses, Yui thought she glimpsed children’s faces before they quickly ducked back down into hiding.

At last, they stood at the entrance of the woman’s house. Taking care not to step on the barren soil, the twins slowly made their way to the door.

Yui knocked. “Excuse me? Is anybody home?” There was no response.

Kouichi tried, too. “Ma’am? It’s me, the person who was here the other day…”

“What are you two doing?” Both girls turned around to find a woman walking up the pathway behind them, carrying with her a basket of herbs and other medicinal plants. Then she stopped, recognizing Kouichi. “Oh, it’s you. You’re that boy from the other day, aren’t you?”

Face half-turned away, Yui raised her eyebrows at her sister, who merely confirmed the statement with a nod. “Yes, it’s me.” Then she pulled Yui a bit closer up front, as the woman drew a bit closer. “And this is my sister.”

“Hmm,” the woman commented. “Why are you back? Didn’t I tell you that the grave you sought is not here?”

 “Actually, there are some questions we’d like to ask you,” Yui finally spoke up. She faltered a bit, under the woman’s serious gaze. “If that’s alright with you…”

The woman stared at them for a bit, and then sighed. “I don’t see a choice, do I?” she asked, as with one motion she unlocked her door. “Well, come in, then.”

As they arranged themselves around the kitchen table, Yui took note of their surroundings. The inside of the house was as simple as its exterior, and contrasted starkly with the comfortable and spacious dorms she had grown used to seeing. There was nothing to suggest a homey atmosphere, save some pictures that hung from the walls. Whereas a few were in color, the one that she found herself staring at was black and white.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing to one. In it, a young man saluted the camera with a serious facial expression, while in the background, a flag of an unknown nationality ruffled against the wind.

The woman didn’t even have to glance up to know which photo she was referring to. “He was my grandson.”

Yui picked up on the past tense.

“I’m sorry…”

There was another silence. Yui had thought that was all she was going to say, but then the woman abruptly spoke again. “He was an excellent pilot.”

Kouichi, who had been staring at the other photos, looked over as well.

“Did he work at an airline?” Yui asked. Somehow, she suspected a darker history than the explanation implied, but at that moment, her thoughts had no foundation.

The woman was preparing tea for them, but stopped at the question. “No. He flew his own aircrafts.”

“Was he the grandson you mentioned yesterday?” As the woman turned to stare at her, Kouichi flushed at her sudden question. “The one who was killed—”

“What connection do you have with the Sumiyoshi-kai?” The woman’s sudden harsh tone started them.

“No connection,” Yui answered hesitantly, looking over at Kouichi for affirmation. “At least, not until recently.”

For a few moments, the woman said nothing. “Who are you?” she finally asked. “Yesterday, you came here carrying those photos and looking for the gravestone of your brother, but how could you have been so deluded to think that he was buried in Korea? And in particular, here?”

“This was the old headquarters of the Ssang-Yong-Pa, wasn’t it?” Kouichi asked softly.

Yui remembered the ruins.

“Your grandson—was he part of that group?”

“I owe you no more explanations,” the woman said curtly. “Not until I know who you are. How can I be certain that you’re not here to exact revenge?”

“Who do you think we are? Obviously, we cannot be members of the Sumiyoshi-kai,” Kouichi said, laughing slightly bitterly.

 “But your brother was in the yakuza,” the woman stated. It wasn’t a question. “You two are Japanese.”

“How could you tell?” Yui asked, giving a small even smile. “I thought our accents were flawless.”

“The Ssang-Yong-Pa did not specialize in murders,” the woman merely replied. “They had little reason to affiliate with people like your brother.”

“Our brother was not a murderer,” Kouichi said hotly. “He was murdered! And for over a decade, our family believed that he died here, on this very ground. How can it be that the cemetery is located in Osaka?”

“You think I was lying to you?”

“No,” Kouichi said coldly. “If you can give me a plausible explanation why the Sumiyoshi-kai, rather than the Ssang-Yong-Pa, would kill my brother, then I’ll believe you.”

“You ask me for explanations, but you don’t reciprocate,” the woman said calmly. “How would I know what connections they had?”

“Then tell me this—where in Osaka is this cemetery located—”

“I know where you’re from now,” the woman interrupted, eyes flashing. “And I know who you are. So the Tokudaiji kumicho had a second son, did he?”

The twins were stunned into silence.

“Believing the Ssang-Yong-Pa to be the reason behind your brother’s death, and then not disproving that claim for over ten years—it adds up.” Now the woman threw her head back and laughed. “Some young man he was! His very death caused a bloody five month war!”

Yui opened to speak, but was still mute from shock. It had been a while since their identities were exposed so easily like that, from someone completely unaffiliated with their underground alliances.

“But something still doesn’t add up,” Kouichi whispered. “Why was he killed by the Sumiyoshi-kai?”

The woman’s face hardened. “I’ll tell you something, then,” she said. “Since a few details do seem to be missing from our stories.” Yui barely had time to register the usage of the collective pronoun before she continued, “My grandson was killed eleven years ago, just before the onset of the war. He was piloting a private helicopter that had flown into Korea all the way from China. But shortly after landing here, I got a barely decipherable radio message that he had to suddenly fly to Japan.”

Yui’s eyes narrowed; she had nearly forgotten what the Ssang-Yong-Pa was famous for.

“From China?” Kouichi interrupted. “He had flown from China?”

The woman wordlessly stared at them and Kouichi squirmed a bit. “I’m sor—”

“The message was so heavily coded, it took someone like me—an old lady with limited technology skills—months to crack. By that time, the war was well underway, and half of the Ssang-Yong-Pa had been demolished.”

“What did the message say?” Yui whispered.

The woman met their gaze, and to their surprise, tears suddenly formed in her eyes.

“‘The Sumiyoshi-kai has hijacked this aircraft. I am ordered to fly it to Osaka now. The exact location is the Hattori Cemetery, located at 1-1 Hirotacho Toyonaka-shi Osaka-fu. On board with me is the future of the Tokudaiji-gumi, and… I don’t think we’re coming back.’

“He was killed that day. Only months after the war had ended was I notified of his death. But it was too late… his body was long gone. I don’t even know where he rests now.” The woman buried her face into her hands, and as Yui reached out to comfort her, Kouichi lowered her head and spoke in a strangely constricted voice—

“He dug his own grave at that cemetery, ma’am. I saw it with my own eyes.” And without a further word, Kouichi got up and walked out of the room, leaving its shocked occupants alone to deal with the implications of her latest revelation.

On the train ride back into Seoul, Yui watched as Kouichi listlessly stared out the window. After she had ran from the house, Yui had taken it upon herself to quickly summarize the reasons behind her sister’s sudden disclosure and end the conversation before running out to chase her. But it hadn’t been easy, bringing up a history of which she herself only had vague connections to.

She had later heard that it had taken Kouichi months to open up completely, months to relive the details of that night. But it hadn’t mattered to their father, who had learned what he needed to learn the very moment he got the emotionless phone call traced from the Gwangju district—“Come here to pick up your daughter, lest you lose two children tonight.”

At that time, Yui had been in Taiwan. Years would pass before she understood her sudden isolation in the foreign country, understood her father’s sudden need to protect her; two long and lonely years would pass before she was summoned back once again to Japan and reunited with her last living sibling.

For her, the smiling, witty, and ruthlessly deadly sixteen year old Kouichi bidding her an affectionate good-bye as he stood at the airport terminal would be her last memory of the brother she once had.

“Next stop, Yongsan Station in Seoul,” the conductor announced.

Kouichi finally glanced over. Her face still had that faraway look.

“I’ve always wondered why…”

Yui, who had been toying with her cell-phone, raised her eyes.

“I should have died that day,” Kouichi said softly. “I wonder why he stopped him.”

It took Yui a moment to process the ambiguous sentence. “It just wasn’t your time yet. Maybe he was feeling compassionate.”

“Hmm,” Kouichi merely responded. “It would’ve been in his greater interest to kill us both. By keeping me alive, he’d ensured himself a future of heartache and trouble.” Her speech had a toneless quality to it, a rare detached style which Yui immediately recognized from her own past. It was a style of dejection, hurt, and hate. Not the words one would have expected to come from the consequential survivor of the decision she so scorned.

A sudden noise interrupted their thoughts. Realizing her cell-phone had finished running its searches, Yui unlocked it and absent-mindedly smiled. Kouichi watched her for a few moments, waiting for an explanation.

“How would you like to talk to Ryeowook-san?”

Whatever Kouichi was expecting to hear wasn’t that. “Huh?”

Yui pressed a few buttons. “I think I can put you in contact with him, if you want.”

“That would be creepy, from his perspective,” Kouichi pointed out. She didn’t bother asking how Yui got his number in the first place.

Yui shrugged, choosing to answer her unasked question anyway. “We can always say that we got it from the office.”

“But why are you suggesting this?”

At that, Yui merely raised her eyebrows and gave a small smile. “Don’t you want to make sure he’s still alive, too? It’s been nearly a week, after all.”

Kouichi bit her lip. “Nothing could have possibly happened to them…” But she didn’t sound confident.

“You’re probably right,” Yui assured her. “But all the same, we’d have failed our jobs of their unofficial bodyguards if they got hurt.” Kouichi stared at her. “Regardless of what happened in the past, there is a reason why we’re still here today. Though this job won’t last forever, right now we have to protect them, don’t we?” Her gaze met her sister’s. “So until we finish this, don’t go around asking to die.”

Kouichi genuinely smiled, finally understanding. “Hand me the phone, then. Don’t forget to dial.”

Yui was only happy to comply.

“Yeoboseyo?” Ryeowook’s voice sounded confused to their ears. Kouichi held the phone, while Yui merely pressed her head to the other side of the speakers.

“Ryeowook-sshi, it’s us. This is Kouichi and Yui.” To the latter, Kouichi muttered, “He takes calls from unknown numbers?”

Yui sighed. “Just be happy he picked up.”

“Ah—! But how did you get my number?”

“We asked the office,” Kouichi replied, while giving Yui a slightly questioning look. She herself didn’t know how Yui acquired it, and Yui was aware that she wanted the real explanation.

Later, she mouthed.

“I see,” Ryeowook said, seeming to accept her reason. Yui sighed. As much as she appreciated his gullibility, she found herself fearing for his safety on more than one occasion. “So what’s up? Is everything alright?”

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” Kouichi said, in one of their rare moments of truthfulness. “Is everybody alright over there?”

“Yeah,” he responded. Then he chuckled. “Were you worried about us?”

“I—” Kouichi flushed slightly. “Maybe.”

Yui took the phone from her. “When are you guys coming back?”

“Tomorrow, actually. We’re performing at the M Live concert in Malaysia within a few hours, and then tomorrow we’re going to the airport. We’ll hopefully be back by evening.” There was a pause while both twins breathed collective sighs of relief. “Say, this is an international call, isn’t it…?”

“It won’t be listed on your record,” Yui said quickly.

“What?”

Realizing that she would need a better excuse, Yui changed her argument. “We’re covering the cost of this one. We’ve already contacted the phone company.” She sighed, away from the phone’s receiver. Another lie added to the perpetually growing list. For a moment, she wondered if it would ever end, if there would ever be a day when they could just carry a completely honest conversation without secrets or facades.

There was a rustle on the other end. “Yui-sshi! You finally got a cell-phone?” Yui recognized Kyuhyun’s voice.

“I took your advice,” she said, grinning. Kouichi glanced over with raised eyebrows, recognizing that the speaker had changed.

“Yah. So why wasn’t I your first call?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, and despite herself, Yui found the corners of twitching slightly in an abashed smile. “Sorry, Kyuhyun-sshi. I’ll be sure to call you first next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she heard him say faintly, before there was another rustle and now Sungmin answered the phone. “Hey, Kouichi-sshi, Yui-sshi. Do you drink?”

“What.” Yui was pretty sure she misheard the question. But there was no time to clarify, as sounds of the phone being wrestled once again filled their eardrums.

“Kouichi-ah, did you seriously call our Wookie? You know, normally girls wait for the guy to make the first move…”

Kouichi instantly snatched the cell-phone. “Leader-sama, you are so dead next time we meet—”

His hyena-laugh was cut off by yet another new voice. “Sensei! The Chinese phrases you taught us were really useful while we were abroad! When we go back, can we learn mor—” Yui barely had time to register the last voice as Donghae’s before the speaker switched for the last time.

“Hyung—! This is my call! Back off!” She could practically hear his pout. Then to the twins, “This is Ryeowook again. It seems like the members don’t have many important things to say right now,”—in the background, Yui could hear several voices calling people to get back to rehearsal—“so if it’s okay with you, how about we continue our conversations tomorrow night?”

“Just give us a call or text when you arrive,” Yui said, “now that you have one of our numbers.” After he agreed, she hung up and turned to her sister with a renewed smile. “Now that was kind of fun, wasn’t it?”