“It says here that they don’t have any more lessons until the second week of December,” Kouichi remarked as she glanced at the latest printouts of their schedules. The two had decided to go to the library upon leaving the dorms, and after booking their usual conference room for the hour, they had comfortably settled in.

“They’re probably using the time now to prepare for Super Show 4 in Osaka,” Yui now commented, glancing at her sister’s reflection through the mirror. “Given how it’s in six days.”

Kouichi put the papers down. “So then let’s use this time to prepare as well.” Yui knew exactly what she meant. “Anything new worth noting?”

Yui typed for a few moments into her laptop, and then frowned. “We’ve lost our access now…”

“Access to what?” Kouichi scooted her chair closer and looked over Yui’s shoulders. Her face darkened as Yui’s attempts to log into the encrypted website were consistently met with failure.

“The system no longer acknowledges us as candidates for his successor anymore,” Yui explained in a subdued voice.

Kouichi didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Can you hack into their system? And reinstate our names?”

“I don’t think that will work.” Yui pressed a few keys. “Because he must know by now. That we disobeyed him and had run away to Korea.” There was no confusion about whom they were talking about.

“We didn’t run away,” Kouichi countered instead, briefly crossing her arms. “What we’re doing instead is much nobler than that.”

“But do you think our proximity is actually protecting them?” Yui asked, continuing the implications of Kouichi’s statement. “Or are we just putting them into more danger?” Kouichi was silent. “Didn’t you find it a bit worrying that Takoda-san managed to get Sungmin-san’s number, and then call him at a moment when we were around?”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask about that. How did he get his number in the first place?” Kouichi uncrossed her arms. “You know, right?”

“I do.” Yui held up her cell-phone, absently toying with it as she looked at her sister’s eyes through the mirror. “He hacked the networks. A rare ability that the late Ssang-Yong-Pa was quite well-known for back in the day.”

Kouichi raised her eyebrows. “An interesting coincidence.”

“After you left, the woman had explained some things to me,” Yui continued. “She taught me about the basic concepts of extracting information from landlines, as well as showed me exactly how phones transmit signals internationally. Combining that knowledge with what the store clerk had told me when I bought the phones, as well as some online database hacking, was how I figured out Ryeowook-san’s number.”

“So Takoda-san is also a phone hacker, then?”

Yui nodded, noticing the adverb. “He appears to have some computer knowledge, as well.” She thought back to the emails. “At that time, I hadn’t thought too much of it. But looking back now, it should’ve been a clear sign to me—”

“The idiom? About the hares?”

“He was mocking us,” Yui said quietly. “He purposely chose a well-known Japanese saying and then wrote it in Korean. Being fluent in both languages was the reason why I didn’t pick up on the incongruity sooner. My own multilingualism was used against me.

“And the expression he chose—‘One who chases after two hares won’t catch even one.’ That’s just another way of warning us that trying to do two things at once will only cause us to fail in both.”

“So he’s saying that we can’t simultaneously be heiresses of a yakuza empire and run around protecting our clan’s target,” Kouichi extrapolated. “Well, then.”

Yui was surprised to see the smile beginning to form on her sister’s face. “You have a plan?”

“No,” she admitted. “It’s just that his ego is begging to be crushed. ‘The bigger it is, the harder it’ll fall.’” Yui blinked in recognition of the English proverb. It had been years since she had last heard it. “It would be our shame if we couldn’t bring down a target as large as that. Especially if we cannot do it in the most extravagant and majestic way possible.” The ends of Yui’s mouth twitched slightly.

“Of course,” she agreed, an old glint beginning to return to her eyes. “After all, grandiose revenge is a particular specialty of the Tokudaiji-gumi, is it not?”

Kouichi nodded and stood up, fixing the creases on her dark pants as Yui closed her laptop. “Time to reinstate our primary job as the mafia,” she said, stretching and smiling darkly. “Sumiyoshi-kai, we have a mystery to solve. But perhaps more urgently right now,” she said, making a violent motion into the mirror, “Nobuo Takoda, you’re going down. For even thinking you could mess with the true blood-line of the Tokudaiji yakuza of Japan.”

The corners of Yui’s mouth tipped upward and matched hers, and for a second, they really did look like twins. The library mirror reflected their image back at them, and for that brief moment, four faces with matching ominous smiles illuminated the otherwise peaceful sanctuary.

As the twins left the library doors and walked down the entrance stairs, Yui turned back to look at their footsteps, the imprints that marred the otherwise spotless snow.

“It had snowed a lot today…” And it was still snowing. For a moment, she stopped and tilted her face upward, allowing the cold flakes to fall into her exposed face. She welcomed the cold wetness they brought as they melted into her skin.

Next to her, Kouichi pulled her scarf closer to her neck. “Remember, there’s a snowstorm coming tonight. We’d best hurry up and find a place to stay before it gets dark.”

Yui looked longingly at the neighborhoods they passed as they walked towards one of their usual bus stops. The warm lights that illuminated the houses’ interiors left her feeling empty inside, as emotions from some old memories suddenly washed over her. As the girls stopped in front of a red light near an intersection, a young child with his mother caught Yui’s attention.

“Mommy, I want to go to the playground,” he whined. “Now!”

His mother was admonishing him. “Hush, it’s too cold outside. Let’s hurry home and we can play by the fireplace, okay?”

“Okaa-san, when can we go home again?”

“What are you talking about, Yui-chan? This is our home.”

“But I want to go on the slide…” He was sniffling.

“Look at you; you’re getting sick. If you get a cold, you will have to drink medicine when we get home.” He stomped his feet and pouted.

“Okaa-san, I miss Kouichi-niisan and Etsuko-chan. When will we see them again?”

“Soon, Yui-chan, soon. Now speak in Chinese. Otherwise your tutor will be upset with you again.”

“But I don’t want to learn about computers! I want to learn medicine, too, like Kouichi-niisan and Etsuko-chan…”

“I don’t want to! I hate medicine! It doesn’t help me at all!” With that, the boy tried to wiggle away from his mother’s grasp. “If you give me medicine, I’ll run away!”

She had sighed, looking away. But still, Yui caught the look of frustration and displeasure that passed through her face, and suddenly she regretted her outburst. “Okaa-san, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’ll study computers.”

Her mother had stood up, groaning a little as she traced the bulge in her stomach. “You can go home soon, Yui. So study hard so you will have something to show your brother and sister when they come back from China, okay? Don’t be a disappointment.”

“I’ll be good,” Yui whispered tearfully, as her mother walked away. “So okaa-san, don’t leave me. Please call me ‘Yui-chan’ again…”

The light turned green, and as the group crossed the street, a short grating sound near Yui caused her to jolt from her recollections.

“Oh!” Kouichi said, feeling her pocket with surprise. “I think my cell-phone just buzzed!” She pulled it out and fumbled slightly. “I got a text message from Sungmin-san.”

“Sungmin-san? What does he want?”

“He’s asking if we’ll be free tomorrow night for dinner,” Kouichi read. “He says that Ryeowook-san will be there, too.”

“I guess that means we’re going?” Yui asked, giving a small smile. “How lucky, Kouichi-chan, getting to see him so soon again.”

“I’m glad they don’t seem to be bothered by yesterday morning’s events,” Kouichi said, smiling a little herself as she tried to return his text. “Gah! I can’t do this! The keys are too small. I’ll just call him instead.” Yui laughed again at her impatience, remembering herself.

As Kouichi held the phone to her ear and waited for Sungmin to pick up, she glanced back at Yui. “Say, I have a question. Why did you just use the ‘–chan’ suffix just now? You almost never call me that.”

“What do you mean? I just use it whenever I feel like it…”

“No, it’s not like that,” Kouichi said thoughtfully, her ear still pressed against the headset. “How should I say this? You seem to only use that suffix to me when your emotions are extremely complicated—”

“Yeoboseyo?” Even though he wasn’t on speaker, his voice still rang clearly. Sungmin was easy to understand that way.

“Sungmin-sshi? This is Kouichi. Um, I’m just calling to return your text from earlier…”

As Kouichi animatedly talked on the phone, Yui let her thoughts drift again. Why had that particular conversation come up? She hadn’t thought about her mother in years.

The flurries were getting heavier. Perhaps it had something to do with that boy and his mother, she mused, glancing around through the falling snow. Though they had already parted ways a long time ago.

For an idle moment, Yui found herself wondering if that family made it home safely yet.

Twelve years ago, she found herself remembering, on a snowy day like this…

“Yui? Are you okay?”

Yui snapped back into the present. “Sorry?”

“Sungmin-san and Ryeowook-san want to know if we’ll be free for dinner around 6:00 tomorrow,” Kouichi explained, giving her a slightly weird look. “Um, Chinese or Italian?”

“Come again?”

“Chinese,” Kouichi spoke to the receiver. Then she paused, nodded, and then seemed to realize that only Yui could see the last motion. “I mean, sure. Um, we can meet outside your dorms. There’s no need to pick us up.”

“Uh, Kouichi?”

“Okay, see you later, then,” Kouichi said cheerfully, and then hung up with a smile. She turned to Yui, her face glowing with anticipation. “Free food!”

‘See you later’…huh. Yui smiled and shook her head, her thoughts momentarily placed elsewhere again. “What did we do to deserve a free meal this time?”

“Don’t bring up the past now,” Kouichi said pragmatically. “It’s over. Just focus on the present.”

Yui shook her head again and the two headed into the café, where its warm sights and smells brought back vague memories of Russia.

At 6:00 the next evening, the twins promptly showed up inside the lobby, where the hotel guards barely spared them a passing glance. Luckily, their escorts arrived within the minute, and as the two members guided them to one of the side entrances—“to avoid fans”—Yui vaguely noted this gesture being seen by all the lobby workers. She found herself appreciating the moment—she was once again mingling with upper-class society, her public image automatically elevated through association with the stars. For a few brief seconds, she forgot who she was, and instead immersed herself in who she used to be.

“So how have you been?” Sungmin asked courteously. Both he and Ryeowook were dressed smartly in casual-nice attire, though the amount of face and head gear they brought along to hide their identity almost made Yui suspect that they went through undercover training, too. The thought was laughable.

“You mean in since the last day we’ve last seen each other?” Yui joked. She reached for her gloves as the foursome headed outside. “We’ve been, uh—”

“Cold,” Kouichi answered, with her usual amount of bluntness. “Why?”

Ryeowook chucked. “But this isn’t anything compared to Russia, right?”

Sungmin hailed a taxi and then glanced over. “I had forgotten you three met in Russia…”

“Yeah, we had a rather interesting history,” Yui said simply, preferring not to dwell on it. “But that’s in the past. Where are we going?” As she spoke, she suddenly realized that for the second time of their five-week acquaintanceship, a Super Junior member was taking them out for a meal. Self-consciously, she raised her scarf a little bit to hide the lower half of her face. Seeming to recall the same memories, Kouichi did the same.

The taxi stopped, and Ryeowook reached down to open the back door. “After you.”

“Thanks,” Yui said, sliding in first. She glanced back at Kouichi, who got into the middle seat while Ryeowook followed up in the rear. Sungmin took the shotgun.

As he turned to the driver and began giving him directions, Yui’s eyes met her sister’s. Yui smiled and indicated the person sitting on Kouichi’s other side, and Kouichi flushed slightly in happiness. The warmth of their proximity seemed to envelop the tiny taxi’s occupants as it sped through the busy streets of Seoul.

Within minutes, they arrived at their destination, a large Chinese restaurant at the heart of the city. After they entered the building and took the elevator to the 7^th floor, the doors opened to a fancy red carpet leading to the entrance of the eatery. As Sungmin walked up to the front desk to check in and ask about private seating, the twins turned to Ryeowook.

“Did you guys book this place in advance?” Kouichi asked, turning in circles and she breathed in the smell of Chinese cuisine. Ryeowook watched her smile and laughed.           

“Yeah. This place is hard to get into without prior reservations, and plus, we had to request special accommodations.”

“Like what?” Kouichi asked, as a waiter appeared to direct them. Yui’s mouth dropped when he escorted them past the bustling tables filled with Chinese and Korean customers alike, stepping into a small room where only one large table was situated. There was a large bay window to complete the view.

“Seoul night-life is beautiful,” Yui breathed, having rushed to it the moment they entered the room.

“Fancy,” Kouichi whistled, glancing around at the polished walls and tablecloth-covered table. She traced the edges of one of the plates in admiration, but then stopped and awkwardly looked up. “Um, I think we’re slightly underdressed…”

“You’re fine,” Sungmin assured her. “Casual makes the atmosphere a lot more relaxing, don’t you think?” He had taken off his long coat, underneath revealing a gray sweater with jeans to match.

Kouichi sat down in one of the seats. “So why are you taking us out?” As she asked, she reached over to the center of the table for one of the menus.

Sungmin laughed at her eagerness. “Why not? You look so happy about it.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve last had Chinese food,” Yui told him warmly, appreciating their kindness. “I had forgotten how much I missed it until now.”

“That describes a lot of life observations,” Ryeowook said reflectively. “After you get used to something, or its absence, you start to forget what it used to feel like.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” Yui noted.

“We are,” Sungmin explained. He gestured around the table. “For instance, whenever we come out to eat, we have deal with the fact that some fans might see us and take pictures or record videos.”

“Whenever we invite lady friends, we have to take special precautions so that their faces don’t end up on the next day’s tabloids,” Ryeowook continued.

“Or when we go shopping—”

“Or traveling—”

“Or just going on in general, really—”

“It’s hard—”

Then the two stopped, sheepishly exchanging glances before looking over at the girls. “Sorry, we got a bit carried away.”

“It’s understandable,” Yui assured them, now understanding why they had requested a private room. “But you don’t regret it, right? The life of a star.”

“Not at all,” Sungmin said shyly. “After all, you get to replace those lost experiences with new ones.”

Next to him, Ryeowook was nodding. “You get to reach out to so many people, who in turn are impacted by you. It’s a big responsibility, and sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming. But then there are times when you stand back and think, ‘This is really worth it. For all the sweat, blood, and tears, this moment is worth it all and more.’”

The waiter then returned, and as the others started placing their orders, Yui took a few moments to ponder his words and self-reflect. Could she say the same?

“Thank you for the meal,” Yui said, bowing. Next to her, Kouichi also echoed her thanks and took a moment to grab one more pastry.

“It’s been a while since we’ve eaten such good food,” she mumbled in explanation, as the boys broke into amused laughter.

“If you want, you can keep the leftovers,” Ryeowook suggested.

She brightened. “Really?”

“Yeah, if we brought it back to the dorms, they wouldn’t even last the rest of the evening,” Ryeowook explained, chuckling. “So it might be better if we don’t mention this to the hyungs. It’ll be our secret.”

“We seem to keep a lot of those,” Yui joked lightly. “Really, thank you so much, Sungmin-sshi, Ryeowook-sshi. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“That’s easy,” Sungmin said earnestly. “Please drop honorifics with me. Let’s just use banmal with each other from now on.”

Ryeowook laughed. “Hyung, we took them out to dinner so you could ask that?”

Yui blushed slightly. “So that would mean addressing you as Sungmin….ah?” Her hands reached up to cover her cheeks. “Ah, it sounds so—”

“‘Oppa’ is good,” he reassured her. “Call me Sungmin-oppa.”

“Can I call you ‘hyung,’ instead?” Kouichi asked brightly. “I think it sounds better.”

 Ryeowook snorted. “That’s what I call him.”

“If you insist,” Sungmin laughed. “But girls generally prefer the term ‘oppa.’”

“Pretty sure there’s no ‘generally’ about that,” Yui added, and the group laughed again. “But oppa,”—she paused, trying it out—“you didn’t have to ask. We could’ve dropped honorifics anytime you wanted.”

“Ryeowook dropped them with you the first time we met,” Sungmin explained. “But then later on he seemed to revert back to honorifics, so I thought that maybe you were offended or something.”

“I didn’t notice,” Kouichi said blankly, as Yui wracked her brains trying to remember. Next to them, Ryeowook seemed to be doing the same.

“Oh, yeah, I remember that day,” he said slowly. “I think I just used banmal on the spot. Somehow, it just felt right at that moment.”

“Kind of like you with ‘-chan,’ isn’t it?” Kouichi asked Yui through the side of .

“Hmm—”

“Not just that time, though,” Sungmin pointed out. “When you guys called Ryeowook a few days ago, Teukie-hyung also used banmal with you, too.”

“That’s because he’s ‘Teukie-hyung,’” Kouichi snorted. “I personally like to call him ‘oh-high-and-mighty-leader-sama’ in the most sarcastic way possible.”

“You sound like you take manner lessons from Kyuhyun,” Ryeowook chuckled. The joke was said with affection. “Teukie-hyung only allows those he’s close with to drop honorifics like that.”

“Is that so?” Yui asked wryly, and the group laughed again. “Well, I guess we do have an interesting relationship.”

“You’re not seeing him, are you?” Sungmin asked Kouichi. She nearly choked on her muffin, and her resulting spluttering caused Ryeowook to look over, too.

“Are you kidding me?! Seeing who? No way! The one I like is—”

Yui’s hand had shot out in warning, but as the group walked down the steps towards the street, she realized that there was no need. Kouichi had stopped herself from talking.

“The one I like is…” she repeated quietly, in Japanese. As Ryeowook hailed a taxi and Sungmin rifled his pockets in search for his wallet, Yui cast her sister another glance. Kouichi’s features were fixed in an unreadable expression again—or perhaps it was because it was so foreign on her face that Yui had trouble placing it?

“Well anyway,” Kouichi amended as they got into the vehicle, “I view Teukie-hyung like an older brother.” She used the term hyung. “My bullying older brother.”

“Why do you like to call us ‘hyung’ instead of ‘oppa’?” Ryeowook asked from the front.

Next to her, Yui felt Kouichi shrug, her shoulders brushing against her own as she answered ambiguously in the darkness, “Conditioning, I guess. Because of my older brother.” Understanding her reference to their history, Yui remained silent, and as the boys presumably mulled over her meaning, Kouichi then turned to the window to end any further conversation on the topic.