Exchange students (Do they even do programs that young?)

It was only at the end of the day that we were allowed to find our stations, giving me enough time for my annoyance to cool off. I wasn't one to get easily upset, but after being so close to opportunity, I suppose I've forgotten myself. The most important thing to do was keep calm and improvise; there are no good endings to a hot-headed kidnapee after all. Now that I adjusted my plan, I realized something amusing about the situation. The bated breaths, the clustering crowd, the sighs of relief, the disappointed sighs—it's just like when exam results are released.

As usual, I situated myself far away from the cluster of children, waiting for my twin to come back from his search. Apprenticeships were posted on the bulletin board reserved for important messages and reminders. From what I heard, four were sent to Denmark, six to Lithuania, two to Siberia, and seven to Germany.

Seconds ticked by before I could hear Squishy start to make his way back to me. His steps were quiet as usual, years of practice making each motion effortlessly smooth as he cheerfully walked past the crowd without coming into contact with a single person.

Well? I sent out a niggle of expectation. Give it to me straight.

He let out an endearing giggle once we were out of hearing distance; thankfully, our corridor didn't have as many cameras, so there were more blind spots. "Don't you always say 'patience is everything', Bratishka?" My brother teased, giving me a sassy smirk as he walked past me to our dorm.

I rolled my eyes. "Exceptions can be made, dear heart. Should we be expecting to brave the snow?"

There was the unspoken question of if we'd even be together hanging in the air.

"On the contrary, it'll be pretty warm."

Warm weather was loathsome in my opinion. I'd prefer colder conditions. Despite the unpleasant news, I was relieved and felt like I could breathe again. We stayed together.

"Mediterranean?"

"Ding ding ding!" Squishy mimed shooting a gun at me as he opened our door. "Italy to be exact."

"Tsk."

That was unusual; I didn't expect the Program to intrude on mafia territory. This doesn't look too good on our end.

With a jump, my brother bounced onto our bed while I took my time to walk and sit on the edge. "Was there anyone else stationed there?" A fluffy head naturally meandered its way onto my lap, waiting for my fingers to comb through like always.

With a satisfied hum at the sensation of fingers running through his hair, Squishy answered. "Seventeen, Fifteen, Eight, Seven, and Nine. You reckon the two'll be devastated?" He asked with amusement.

"Please," I drawled, a smile creeping onto my face. "This is Fifteen we're talking about." The one who practically combusted when he couldn't get Eight to memorize the Pythagorean theorem in two hours while my twin could in five minutes using cotton balls and rubber bands. Planning is his schtick, but throw in an unknown variable too fast and it'll wreck his system.

"He's gonna have a meltdown." The two of us snickered.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

"He's having a meltdown." Eight sheepishly explained as he motioned toward a catatonic Fifteen leaning his forehead against the changing room wall. He's past the phase where he rants about how he could have messed up and is now deep in acceptance.

Called it.

"Oh, well that sounds nice." Squishy's bright laugh sent shivers down Eight's spine.

With a shaky laugh, the boy crept away from us to comfort his friend back to sanity in an effort of self-preservation. Since we were still unknowns to their group, it was obvious caution was to be exercised.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Packing was a cinch since there wasn't a need for personal items in a place like this; putting sentiment into an item only exposed weaknesses. Civilian, training, and formal clothes were folded and packed into standard suitcases, and weapons and supplies were received. They were to be fitted into the hidden compartment of the violin cases we were given.

"The music classes make a lot more sense now." I held back a shudder at the torture I endured when the others first tried their hand at playing a note. It wasn't until they started to become half-decent did I bring my focus back to class instead of tuning them out.

According to our assignment, we would be learning under contracted professionals under the supervision of an advisor. Here was the cover: the Program was an organization for gifted orphan children from an unknown country of origin. Our group would be made up of talented musicians on a foreign exchange trip to Italy, where we would be attending a prestigious academy of the arts, taught by renowned musicians and professors. Our assignment was to blend in and observe our given instructors. Under no circumstances were we to disobey or burden them, or there would be consequences.

Death hung around our necks if we so much as breathed wrong.

Squishy picked up our ties from the bed and tossed his to me with distaste. "Come on, all we've got left are these nooses."

We were provided with white button-downs, black vests, ties, dress shorts, and knee-high socks, along with a pair of black loafers. If I were an onlooker, I'd say we looked like children heading to a funeral. As usual, we stood to mirror each other and looped our ties on; my nimble hands gently folding and tugging it into a presentable knot, his similarly calloused ones doing an identical job, no longer clumsy from toddlerhood. I miss the days he would struggle with dressing me, sloppy and uneven while he was neat and prim, only for his clothes to get dirty not an hour later.

With our twin violin cases on our backs and suitcases in our hands, we were ready to leave.

"You think we can try some ice cream, Bratishka?" Squishy nudged my arm with excitement. "We haven't had that in so long!"

Nudging him back, I nodded. "Of course, Brat. I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Do ya think they'll have anything grape-flavored?"

Ah, yes. My twin and his obsession with grape-flavored anything. Despite having never eaten a grape in all his years of living, Squishy seems dead set on it being his favorite flavor.

I gave a shrug as I opened the door for him. "I'm sure they'll have grape popsicles sold somewhere."

The answer made his day as he pumped his arms in excitement. "Yes."

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Well, this is a pleasant surprise.

Cocking our heads in thought, my brother and I let out soft, huh.

It was at the back of the line acting about as friendly as a block of ice, that our friendly neighborhood murder child stood all by his lonesome, the other children giving him a wide berth. I could hear the anger and disdain beating away in his whole being as he turned his head, only for his disdain to bleed away to something manageable. Despite his death glare being shot up to the nth level, I could tell he was at least relieved we were here.

My elbow tapped Squishy's side to stop him from violently assaulting the person with his cheerful badgering. It wouldn't do to scare off our adorable kitty cat and make him more liable to mortally injure someone (though the thought does sound tempting, maybe another time). Grinning from ear to ear, my twin did as was asked and obediently walked with me to check in with our advisor.

Ivan Kuznetsov was quite possibly the blandest man to have ever walked on this third rock from the sun. It was obvious from the get-go that the man was a nepotism baby. There was not a lick of muscle in his delicate pudgy body, and he was far from intellectual to make up for it. Known for his spontaneous coughing fits, Kuznetsov always had an embroidered handkerchief on hand to cover his mouth with. He didn't actually teach any curriculum or have a particular job despite his position as an advisor.

The man was just...there.

"One and Two from the first division," We saluted the man, spines straight at attention and voices toneless as a rock. "Reporting for check-in."

"Hmm?" The man peered down at us and scratched the side of his head with the pencil he held. There was a moment of thinking as he checked us off the list on his clipboard before he remembered something. "Oh, right. Here." Flipping through the paper, he pulled out an envelope and tossed it to Squishy with an uninterested mien. "Read through your assignment and carry out your orders as stated. Dispose of the papers as soon as you've finished reading them. Under no circumstances are any of your peers allowed to see them." He warned without much feeling, as if reciting lines from a script. It was obvious he didn't want to be stuck babysitting a bunch of brats. "You'll be seated in the last row on the right.

"Yes, Ser."

The moment our advisor deemed our check-in finished, he turned back to ignoring our existence with a cold shoulder.

Fine with me. If we waited any longer, I fear the glare drilling into my back may actually puncture through.

Without a look back, we turned around and made our way to the line—luckily just in time too. The buses were already here and the lines were just starting to move. Joy.

As usual, we were obedient little child soldiers and got in line without a word—bar the mischievous wink Squishy gave to our neighbor in line, who returned the friendly gesture with a growl of annoyance. A quick hand shot out to grab my shirt and—with no small amount of amusement—I let myself be pulled in front of my twin to block him off. The latter of which let out a snicker knowing exactly what effect he has on the owner of said hand.

No words were exchanged as we stepped on the bus and walked to our assigned seats, storing our cases away under the seats and on the overhead shelves. As expected, I was pulled to sit in the middle, as usual, our friend in the window seat while my twin sat on the aisle seat.

It wasn't until we were fifteen minutes into driving that we finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

Obviously, Squishy took the initiative

[Soooooooo....didn't expect to see you here. Aren't you still on probation for bad behavior?]

The other didn't bother deigning him with an answer. [Kuomori, silence your parasite.]

[Parasite? Who, me?] Squishy let out a betrayed gasp as he peered over at the boy, [Zeee-rooooo, I thought we had a connection. Con. Nec. Tion.]

[Haa? As if I'd ever stoop low enough for that. Kuo-Kuomori, don't just force yourself unconscious.] Koji hissed, although, at this point, he was just begging not to be left with the blabbermouth twin.

Yawning, I turned straight to the boy and bluntly stated. "Watch me." Not missing a beat, I slumped in my seat and laid my head back against the seat rest, clocking out for the day through sheer will. The moment we left the building, I was dead set on catching up on years of missed-out naps. Nothing would get in my way of sleep, not even Koji's laughingly adorable threats of dismemberment.