Twins! We said twins!

“This clinic has been a godsend in so many ways…”, Zaylee thought to herself as she glanced around the building that was currently empty of people. The clinic of her father’s had always been one of his pride and joys. He had fronted the money for it out of his own pocket, wanting a place that wouldn’t turn people away regardless of their social status or income. It certainly didn’t bring in much income, but it was a reality no one bothered with because the truth of the matter was her father was paid in other ways, such as gratitude and love of those who would have otherwise had no place to turn to for help. The place had been built before she and her twin had been born, but through the stories that her family and others had told, her father had helped in more than just funding the place: his own blood, sweat, and tears had gone into the building’s construction, the bringing in of various medical equipment, the set up, and the nightly clean up when it was ready to close up shop.

Growing up, she and her twin had spent a lot of time split between their mother’s kimono shop and their father’s clinic. Each building had been given a special place for the twins when they were babies and toddlers, and then as they aged further they had begun to learn at their parents side: picking up on both the clinics responsibilities as well as those of the kimono shop. It had long ago made Zaylee realize that she idolized her parents due to their compassion, hard work, and willingness to see things through - she wanted to be just like them. Of course, she didn’t have her father’s knack for medical ninjutsu, in fact it seemed that her skills lay elsewhere despite her father’s various attempts at training her twin and herself. Yet, the older male had taken it all with a grain of salt, like he did with everything in his children’s lives, so long as they were happy in their pursuits that was all he and their mother cared about.

Zaylee still tried to help out though, even if it was doing precisely what she had this evening: cleaning up the clinic after it had closed while their father got to head home and get some much needed rest and relaxation while their mother prepared dinner. She wasn’t a fool though, if someone needed her father they knew well how to get into contact with him, and he would have these people either meet him at the clinic, or he would make a home visit if they couldn’t. It was the norm of their lives, and they all loved him dearly for it.

Putting the mop bucket to the side and glancing at the clock which showed it was nearing seven, Zaylee grabbed her keys from the receptionists counter and headed to the front door. Turning off the lights, she stepped outside, ensuring to lock the door good and tight behind herself before heading down the road towards home. Her stomach was growling, but even still her footsteps were careful - the snow that had fallen throughout the day had done a good job in coating the ice which had formed the day before, but a wrong step would certainly put her flat on her ass. She was not  interested in falling while wearing her kimono, the looks she was getting because she was walking around in a knee length kimono in this kind of weather was just enough - she didn’t need to add to the spectacle by flashing her panties at someone and making a fool out of herself. At least her attire could be explained away - with the Yuki bloodline strong within her, the cold didn’t bother her as it would others, and the cold never made anyone sick - that was a misconception.

The trip home was one she had made a million times before, and it never took long. Her father had chosen the clinics location specifically so he was never far away, so even with her careful steps it took her less than five minutes to reach the front porch of her family home. As expected the steps had been salted, keeping the wood from becoming slick and allowing her to step up them safely. Crossing the porch, she entered inside, the difference between the frigid cold exterior and warm interior of home causing her to pause for a moment as if she had been punched in the chest. Adjusting quickly, and not wanting to let more cold than she already had inside, she closed the door behind herself and slipped her shoes off, putting them to the side to dry.

“That you, Zaylee?”, her mother called out from the kitchen, the delicious smell of good food wafting out to meet her sensitive and slightly rosey nose.

“Yeah, mom. I just finished cleaning up and locking up the clinic. Dad not here?”, she responded, walking towards the kitchen and through the doorway. Sure enough, as she had expected, her mother had been cooking up a storm, and the kitchen was the source of all the excess but still comfortable heat within the house. Fireplaces were wonderful, but there was nothing like the heat created from a love of cooking and making sure your family was well fed.

“He just stepped out for a moment to check on a patient of his. They had come in with an infection, and even though he gave them antibiotics, he wanted to make sure they were getting over it nicely. He didn’t want them to travel and risk catching something else, so he’s just popping by their house real quick. Promised he’d be home by the time I’m done cooking. Do you mind setting the table?”, Marici spoke.

Grabbing some plates out of the cabinet, Zaylee spoke again as she began setting the table, “Where’s Mamoru?"

She was being followed: she could feel eyes upon her, hear the subtle movements of someone a distance behind herself. Yet, instead of this instilling fear upon the teenager, it actually brought about a feeling of safety. She knew well by now who it was: her twin, elder brother by all of two minutes, Mamoru. This wasn’t the first time she had found herself shadowed by her twin as she walked home in the evening hours after cleaning and locking up the clinic, and she had a feeling her brother had no intentions of stopping. This had been going on for years, ever since the pair had graduated from the Academy together. While perhaps some would have considered it an invasion of their privacy, a lack of trust, or had assumed that the other person was playing bodyguard because they perceived the individual they were following as weak, Zaylee knew this wasn’t the case when it came to Mamoru. He had always been protective over her, even over-protective as some would have called it. They had a bond that went deeper than normal siblings, likely due to the fact that they were twins. It was a protectiveness that had gone back to when they were young babies, when Zaylee would scream for hours in her own crib, refusing to be soothed or to settle, until her brother was in the room with her, and while it had changed somewhat throughout the years, that bond of protector and protectee had lasted.

So, when she inquired as to where Mamoru was as she began setting the table, she knew it wouldn’t be long until he was inside the house, likely with some excuse as to having been elsewhere, busy, instead of following her: in this case he had been out in their backyard, mediating. “My day was fine. The clinic was slow, so I basically sat at the reception desk and drew. Dad’s new receptionist did another no-call, no-show today. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t fired her, yet.”

The answer why was provided by Marici, who despite owning her own kimono making shop was still well aware of everything about the clinic, including their staff, “That’s because it isn’t her fault. Her boyfriend has been being very controlling and preventing her from going in. He comes from an old school family, and believes she should be home taking care of the house instead of out making a living for herself.” Pausing in her stirring, Marici pointed to the overhead cabinet nearby, “Mamoru, be a dear and grab some glasses and cutlery. Dinner will be done in a moment, and your father should be home soon so we can eat.”

This news about the receptionists boyfriend caused Zaylee to frown: out of the many reasons that could have been given for the woman’s lack of showing up, that hadn’t been what she was expecting to hear. It reminded her a lot of the mentality of the wealthy and nobility within the village, and the roles they assigned the genders within their little makeshift world. It was also a staunch reminder of how very different her own family was, despite being just as well-off as the rest. “Maybe someone should head over there and have a talk with him, and explain the errors of his ways and thinking.”, Zaylee would speak after a moment. It wasn’t like her to go straight for the violent solution, she was very diplomatic. However, while talking to the guy would have certainly been her preferred method of handling this, she knew that people like the man being described certainly didn’t change that easily - words could only do so much. Of course, that didn’t mean she was unwilling to try, but in her gut she knew it would take more than just words to persuade him to allow the receptionist to come to work without the constant influence of her boyfriend.

As if something had just randomly occurred to her, Zaylee turned to face her mother after having placed the last plate at the kitchen table. “Wait, if they’re so old school… are you saying they’re living together even though they’re not married?”

Marici of course had a smile on her face, a knowing one as she placed a mat down on the table and began carrying the various pots and pans full of food over to be placed down. “No, they’re not living together. However, their marriage has been a long-standing prearranged one. The girl’s father is allowing the boyfriend to have a say in what she can and cannot do despite her still living at home.”

“So then it’s more than just the boyfriend whose causing issues for dad’s receptionist.”, Zaylee deduced, glancing over as her mother nodded in agreement.