Bite the hand that feeds one || Ayato Aishi/Male Rivals

**TEST** Prologue ✰

✰ = Remastered
Electric Funeral - Black Sabbath
02:43 ━━━━●───── 04:50
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ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

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  Ayato Aishi was his name, born in a modern nuclear Japanese home to traditional Japanese parents. And a sister. A twin sister who, as much as he wanted to be as similar to her as possible to not draw attention, was different solely not just on her looks. It was the lack of shine in her grey eyes as she would peer down at the dead carcasses of animals she experimented on. And she would move on, leave the reactions to her barely empathetic brother, who was younger than her by a short few hours.
  Ayano Aishi was her name, it was similar to Ayato's, and when questioning Mother, all she would get was a smile and an urge to play outside again. She was a curious thing. Especially with the way she portrayed her curiosity. Thinking back now, an Anatomy class or a Forensic science class would have suited her throughout the years. Without such a creative outlet, she was stuck cutting into an old mouse purely for science, to study the interior. And without a second thought, she would bury the poor mouse behind the large tree they had decorated in the back of their yard. A tree bigger than their neighbors', with a yellow hand shovel that had a light blue handle she got for her 4th birthday. Ayato received a toy cage that was big enough to trap a baby raccoon. But he wasn't interested, yet he didn't want to give it to Ayano in fear she would be irrational. Again.
  Ayano was planned, that much was known,' Arita Miyu would say to her neighbor, Geri Kiyuna. Ryoba, the sacred mother of the twins, had a rather basic bloodline. One child for every two people in her bloodline. One mother, one father. But something was rather... or something went wrong in HER 'generation', as she often refers to it when talking about her childhood to her friends at the book club she went to, where her parents had two children, a younger brother. But never went into any detail about it.
  Her sole focus was.. Ayano. Not even Ayato. Sure, she paid her fair sure of attention to Ayato, making sure he picked rather tasteful courses in highschool instead of Math III or Earth Science.. but she soon realized that Ayato was more than she let on when she caught him with the door to his bedroom cracked open, headphones connected to his shitty computer tower (though Ayano didn't have a better one) blasting music on a foreign music site she had yet to explore, the words using British/American letters that she didn't understand. She took a Korean class in highschool, only to not use it for her unused college applications as she became a clumsy and loving household, at least to her husband.
  Ayano was a little easier to control to Ryoba, she was basically a copy and paste of her; emotionless to the point of showing no remorse, though that would change, she had her eyes, hair, everything. Ayato was also a mere copy and paste of Ryoba, but physically only. Her eyes, hair, everything. Well, one thing. Or two things. Ayato's hair was much frizzier and a little curly from his father's mixed genes (his great-grandfather being Native American), and his personality. Unlike Ayano, her brother actually had one, and it frustrated Ryoba sometimes.
  When Ayato would scrape his knee, he had tears in his eyes, but he wouldn't cry, his brain probably wasn't smart enough to do that. Ayano's certainly wasn't; she would watch Ayato with those same distasteful grey eyes, a melting ice cream cone in her right hand while the other would brush against her dark blue skirt that was just below her knees. The ice cream would drip onto her yellow sleeve, a happy teddy bear on the front of the sweater. Her father dressed her that day.
  Of course, Ryoba would look at Ayato the same way, but a little differently, a hint of maternal instinct in her eyes as she dabbed the cotton swab dipped into hydrogen peroxide onto her son's red skin. Ryoba wasn't completely inhumane, just a sort of monster. A motherly monster. Though, she definitely knew that Ayato wasn't completely like her husband, he had her genes too after all. Often enough, when Ryoba brought her children to the park, she would nearly gasp in slight surprise as she would look over from reprimanding Ayano about another animal carcass; seeing Ayato stare down at an upset child who was pushed to the ground by another kid, and she would recognize that look. That look of emptiness, whether he had been doing it subconsciously or purposely, she didn't know. What she did know was that it was basically her trademark look, and it was one of the first moments that she felt some sort of connection to Ayato in some way, even if it was way weaker than her connection with Ayano.
  As the years went by, though, Ayato would slowly come to realize facial expressions like that would make others start to recognize him, one as "freak #2" or "sir looks a lot."
  And being recognizable was the LAST thing he wanted to worry about. He ALWAYS made sure that he wore the boring black school uniform, the ones with the golden or silver buttons on the cuffs, the same way as the majority of boys in his classes. He hoped to blend in so his classmates would refer to him as 'boy in the back of the classroom with black hair' instead of 'Ayano's brother'. Though, that wasn't to say he was bullied, too nice to be bullied. In return, his classmates that knew him by first name called him 'Yato', to not confuse his name with Ayano's. And the name stuck throughout middle school and high school. Even in his adult life would it stick.
His insecurity only grew on as they both approached high school, where everyone's brains were developed enough to properly put names to faces. Lucky for him, their first year was smooth sailing, Ayano was bored of scavenging for organs in the same old animals, focused on reading mangas or playing old video games to pass the time instead. She had a collection over time and eventually passed some of the mangas or games she didn't like to Yato.
It wasn't until her second year of high school that she finally found the obsessive spark her mother would spend hours droning on and on about. The same spark that she would sometimes dream of when she was a young child, imagining it as an actual spark as she couldn't understand metaphors at the time. And that spark happened with a rather medium sized girl, Ayano's height.