Mirrored

Miku Takasawa

The message hit harder than I thought it would.
Kenta failed.
Chisa slipped through, just like that. All his promises, our plans—have failed.

The phone burned in my hand. My makeups clattered across the room, bottles shattering, powder scattering like ash. And then—my hand moved before I even thought. My phone slammed into the mirror.

A spiderweb of cracks split across the glass, my reflection fractured into a dozen jagged shards.
And there she was.
Me. But not me.

I stared into those shattered pieces, each one a version of myself I didn’t want to remember.
The girl in the neat uniform, always two steps behind her perfect sister.
The one who sat in her room, trembling, as Mother’s voice cut her down again and again.
The little shadow, never good enough, never chosen, never loved.

I felt my chest tighten, heat rising behind my eyes. 

I wanted to scream, to smash the rest of the glass until nothing was left. 

But I couldn’t look away.
Each shard whispered a memory I’d concealed. 

Every bruise, every tear, every time I clenched my fists under the table and pretended I didn’t care.

I dragged my nails across the cracked surface, the reflection splintering even further.
This wasn’t who I was anymore. I wasn’t that girl. I couldn’t be.

And yet… in those broken eyes staring back at me, I saw her still.
Me.
The one who swore she’d claw her way out, no matter how ugly, no matter how bloody the fight is.

I swallowed hard, forcing a smirk onto trembling lips. 

“No,” I whispered to the broken glass. “Not again. Never again.”

================================================================================

I used to think being born a twin meant sharing everything—birthday, room, secrets, even destiny. That’s what people always said: two halves of the same whole.

But it didn’t take long for me to realize how wrong that was.

Because when people looked at us… they didn’t see us as 'whole'. They only saw her.

Miki. The perfect daughter. The brilliant student. The one who never stumbled, never stained, never strayed. And me? I was the leftover. The shadow standing just a step behind her glowed.

At family dinners, it was always, “Look how polite Miki is!”
At school, “Miki-chan, you’re amazing as always!”
Even strangers on the street—one glance, and it was, “What lovely twins! That one—she must be the older, the responsible one.”

And me? I smiled. I laughed. I acted like it didn’t matter. But inside, it leaves a big hole in my heart. The more they praised her, the smaller I felt. Like I wasn’t even me, just 'the other one.'

So I stopped trying to catch up. What was the point? I chose a different path. Louder. Riskier. More reckless. 

If Miki wanted the crown of perfection, fine—she could have it. 

I’d make people look at me for a different reason. 

Even if it meant breaking rules. Even if it meant burning myself to be seen.

Because I’d rather be envied, hated, whispered about—than ignored.

================================================================================

Six years old.

The classroom buzzed as the teacher scribbled across the blackboard.

“Alright, class, can anyone solve this problem?”

Hands shot up immediately. Not mine.

“Miki-chan?”

Of course.

“Yes!” My sister’s voice was soft, confident, almost angelic.

She stood, walked with perfect posture, chalk gliding across the board. Flawless answer. 

“Excellent work,” the teacher said.

Whispers spread instantly.
“Wow… Miki-chan is amazing!”
“So smart!”

I slumped in my chair, arms crossed. My jaw ached from how tight I clenched it. Why even try? She already owns the spotlight. She always does. Miki returned to her seat, serene smile in place, adored as always. 

I forced a smirk.

================================================================================

Eight years old.

Elementary dance competition. 

My chest pounded—not with fear, but fire.
Today, I’ll outshine her.

The music hit.
I leapt. Spun. Poured everything into every move. My lungs screamed. My body begged me to stop. But I didn’t care. 

Look at me... 

Look at me!

Across the floor, Miki floated. Perfect. Graceful. Heavenly.
The crowd gasped for her. 

By the end, my legs shook, my vision blurred, and sweat trickled into my eyes. I forced myself to stand tall. I searched the judges’ eyes, praying just once for them to see me.

But it never happened. Their eyes locked onto my twin sister.
“First placeeeee....Miki Takasawa~!”
She clutched her trophy, smiling so sweetly at our instructors.

We walked home in the glow of the setting sun. Miki cradled her trophy like it was her treasure.
“Can you believe it?” she beamed. “We actually won!”

We? My eyes dropped to the cracks in the sidewalk. My lips twisted. Why wasn’t I the one holding it? Why not me?

 “Hey… winning’s nice, but it’s not everything.”
Easy for you to say.

“You worked so hard, too, Miku-chan! I’m sure you can beat me one day!”

Her kindness stung worse than any insult. It felt like pity—like she was untouchable, standing above me, offering her hand.

Part of me wanted to believe her. Another part… hated her for it.

================================================================================

The chandelier glowed gold above me, music drifting like silk through our dining room. Everyone looked so elegant, so composed. 

Except me. I sat stiff, fingers drumming against the tablecloth, only to feel alive. The fire inside me burned hotter than the chandelier’s glow.

“Miki, sweetheart,” Mother’s pearls glittered as she leaned toward her favorite daughter. “Your performance was exquisite. Truly remarkable.”

And Miki blushed just enough, lowering her gaze like an angel. “Thank you, Mother. I just tried my best as always!”

My fork scraped against the plate. Loud. Sharp. 

A scream no one heard. No one ever hears me. No one ever notices me.

Later, books littered my desk like a battlefield. Wrong answers everywhere. Sloppy writing. Across the room, her desk gleamed. Her papers were neat. Her sentences were smooth. Every answer was correct. Of course.

Click, click, click. Mother’s heels. Cold shadow behind me, arms folded.

“Miku, if you studied half as much as Miki, maybe you could do better in school!”

I flinched. My voice came out small, fragile. “I… I am trying, mother....” How pathetic.

She didn’t even pause. “Trying isn’t enough. Miki doesn’t try. She's natural. Learn from her, will you?”

Miki looked up, offering that gentle, saintly smile. “It’s okay, Miku.... You’ll get there. I’ll help you with it.”

My jaw locked. My nails dug into the wood of my desk. The kindness cut deeper than any insult.

I don’t want to learn from you.
I don’t want to be you.
I want to be seen.

================================================================================

Thirteen Years Old 

Sitting on my bed, phone quivering in my hands.
“Miki got accepted into St. Augustine’s in America!” Mother had said. “She leaves next month!”         

I stared out at Tokyo’s skyline. 

My chest twisted, heavy, bitter. Always her. Always perfect. Always praised.

The school hallway the next day buzzed with gossip.
“She’s insane. Slept with a teacher. And he’s married!”
“No way… she’s getting expelled, right?”

I listened. And then I saw her.

The girl. The one they whispered about.
Eyeliner sharp as a blade. Hair gold like sunlight you couldn’t ignore. Every step dares the world to look away. Fear. Awe. She gained all that spotlight. My heart pounded fast. 

So this is what it takes...
To be noticed. To be special.

I leaned against my locker, smirk tugging at my lips, letting the whispers curl around me like smoke. Gossip. Envy. Eyes that burned holes through the lady. 

So this was attention. 

I bit my lip. If that gyaru could bend the whole school with a walk and a look, then… why not me?

If she can do it…
Why the hell can’t I?

================================================================================

That night, my room became a shrine of invention.
Magazines were scattered across the floor. Selfies littered like crime scene pictures of who I used to be. Every glossy page screamed the same thing. Rebellion. Confidence. Attention. 

Everything I didn’t have. Everything I needed.

I clasped a gold chain around my neck. 

Is this too much? Probably yes. I don't want to look like some random rappers from the US.
The foundation and eyeliner were sharp enough to cut. Mascara thick as wings. Lip gloss pink, glowing under the lamplight. Each stroke sent a spark racing through me. 

A thrill for attention.

The mirror stared back with a stranger’s face. 

Someone I didn’t know, someone I desperately wanted to become.
I tilted my head, studied every inch of myself.

This… this is me now. I'm alive. Hahahahaha.

Tomorrow, I’d walk the halls not as Miki’s shadow. Not as the inferior little twin sister.
Tomorrow, I’d be Miku Takasawa. 

Gyaru. Hot and unstoppable.

The bell rang the next day, but I barely heard it. I strolled into class, each step calculated. Hips swaying. Eyes were locking on me one by one. Skirt shorter than the rules. Tie loosened just right. Eyeliner sharp. Lips polished.

Whispers rippled instantly around me.

“Whoa… is that Miku?”
“Since when does she… look like that?”
"She's so hot mannnnn"
"She looks way hotter than her sister now!"

My grin spread slowly. Yes. Feel it. See me. I am your queen.
I slid into my seat, crossed one leg over the other, and flicked my hair so it caught the light. My finger traced my notebook lazily, tapping my lips.

This was attention.
And for the first time, the attention was mine.

By the end of the week, it was undeniable.
Every step down the hall, there's always a pair of eyes staring at my gorgeous form. 

The boys were the easiest. Their jaws slacked. Some of them began to offer to carry my books. Love letters slipped into my locker room once a day. Their voices cracked when I rejected them, and I laughed, gripping in their desperation.

The girls' reactions were different. Their whispers sharpened into daggers.

“Who does she think she is?”
“Look at that skirt. That makeup…”
"Why did she become this slutty?"

Their envy dripped like delicious venom.  Every glare, every hiss gave me more fuel. Even their hate proved it. Eyes on me. Always on me.

At lunch, boys crowded my table, tripping over themselves to be near me. Across the room, the girls huddled like vultures, whispering, scheming.

Let them hate. Let them envy.                                                                                                                            For the first time in my life, I was alive. I was Miku.
The girl who made heads turn.
The girl no one could ignore.

================================================================================

The moment I stepped inside my mansion, her voice found me.

“Miku,” Miki seated at the table, textbooks stacked neatly, gaze sharp. “We need to talk.”

I tossed my bag aside with a dramatic flick. “Uh-oh, Class Prez Miki’s scolding me again? What did I do this time, Prez?”

“I saw you today,” she said evenly. “The skirt. The makeup. The way you were acting—it's not appropriate."

“Heh, it’s just fun engagement, Prez. But ehh, you wouldn’t get it anyway.”

“I do understand what you're trying to do, Miku. But you’re letting it control you. You’re walking into trouble, sister. I'm saying this because I care about you!”

My smirk faltered. Just a little.

“I’m not like you,” I snapped. “I don’t care about rules. I care about being popular. Not perfect and boring like you nerds in Student Council.”

“Miku...You’re my twins. I can’t just stand by seeing you like this.”

The pang in my chest was sharp, unexpected. But I swallowed it down.

“…I don’t need your fucking lectures,” I muttered.

She sighed. “Maybe not. But I won't stop doing this. Because I love you.”

Love. The word burned. I turned away before she saw my eyes tremble.

“I won't let my little sister get lost in all this… attention-chasing quest.”

Little sister.
I looked down, whispering, “…Little sister, huh…”

It stung enough to remind me—I wanted to be more than that. To be my own person.

================================================================================

The student council room is my least favorite place in that school. I could imagine it perfectly; polished wood, the smell of old paper, whispers curling like smoke.

My name is often muttered by those teachers' pet dogs, rippling across that fuckin' room.
Rumors. Whispers. One day, it's about me and the art teacher. Another day, it's me and the basketball captain. Miku is in the studio apartment. Miku is being bold. Miku this. Miku that. 

My shadow had finally reached her. They told her what they heard about me.

Good. Let her feel it. Let her choke on it.
For once, it wasn’t Miki shining in the spotlight.
For once, they were talking about me.
I am the one who matters.

That afternoon, in my room, Miki finally broke into my room and snapped. 

“Miku,” she said, standing by my desk, voice tight, “You need to stop this nonsense. This will ruin your future."

I scoffed, stepping forward so the window's sunlight caught my body. “Excuse me? Ruin my future?” I laughed bitterly. “Do you even listen to yourself now, Miki? All you care about is your perfect image. Your reputation.”

Her lips pressed thin. Shock flickered in her eyes. “It’s not just about me, Miku. People look up to you! You’re my sister! I’m trying to protect you!”

“Protect me?” I snapped, stepping closer.  “This isn’t protection. This is control. You want me to be a good girl like you, smile, nod, follow the rules, be the fucking loser twin.... But that’s not me. I’m nothing like you!”

Her hands fluttered, though she tried to hide them. “Miku, please. Think about what you’re doing. You don’t have to do-”

“Stop pretending that you FUCKING CARE ABOUT ME!” I cut her off, my voice rising. “You only care about being the perfect girl. I’m done with all of that. I’m done playing your fucking game.”

The air between us snapped taut, heavy with years of unspoken rivalry and hatred.

“Can you imagine what Mother will say? It could ruin our family's reputation!” Miki’s voice cracked, desperate. 

I laughed, harsh and cruel. “Mother? Oh....You mean that BITCH who only ever cared about appearances? About parading her perfect daughter? That’s not a mother. She's a fucking MONSTER! I'm doing all of this because it feels GREAT!”

Her composure fractured. “That’s exactly why you have to STOP! Have you ever thought about the shame? The gossip? It will reflect on how people look at you!”

“Shame?” I stepped closer, eyes blazing. “I’ve lived in your shadow my whole life, my dear sister. You’re always the perfect one! I’m invisible unless I FORCE people to notice me! So don’t you dare lecture me about shame! I’m done with the fact that you are always BETTER THAN ME! This is MY TIME!”

Her jaw clenched. For the first time, I saw helplessness in her eyes. Probably to make me lower my guard.

“Miku… please. I’m begging you. Think about the consequences.”

“Consequences?” I hissed. “I have already become the consequence the moment I breathe into this world...”

I leaned in with a mocking tone. “Forget about it, my dear sister. Be a good little puppy, our honorable Class Prez~ Do what your mommy says. Study, behave, and go to America! That’s all you’re good for!”

My words bit her like a serpent. And for the first time, Miki's eyes flared, and she laughed.         “You know what? You're just a PETTY, INFERIOR, pathetic little SLUT! You always mess up stuff and can't do any shit. You're NOTHING without me! And yeah! I will go to America! I’ll succeed! Unlike you, I won’t drag everyone down with some childish drama. ”

“This is why you never had a fucking boyfriend, right? Nobody wants to date a teacher’s lap dog like you!”

The slap came before I realized it. Her palm stung my cheek red.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. I slapped back, just as hard.

And then… chaos.

Hair tangled. Fists flew. All the jealousy, all the resentment, years of silence and bitterness, came out in a storm of violence. Our room became a battlefield, each blow saying what words never could.

We didn’t hold back. Not anymore.

When it was over, the bedroom was wrecked, clothes everywhere, posters torn, the air thick with rage. We stood apart, panting, glaring at each other. Her face stared back at me with blood flowing from her nose.  The same eyes. The same lips. We're physically the same, but our souls are different. My rival. My threat. My twin. She turned away, walking out of my room without a word. 

Dinner was hell. Mother’s gaze cut through me, straight to the bloodied nose she found on Miki’s face. Her verdict was swift, my name on her tongue, her disappointment cut the air like a knife, she blamed me for her daughter's bloodied nose. I shouted back, desperate, choking on tears: I’m your daughter too! But she didn’t waver. Her silence said it all. 

Unless I was perfect, unless I was Miki, I was nothing. I stormed from the table, the weight of her judgment pressing into my chest.

Later, Father came to my room. He told me I didn’t need to be Miki and that I was special too. His hand brushed my hair, warm and steady, and for once… I let myself believe him. I let myself want it—his gaze, his love, the proof that I mattered. Maybe that’s why I’d never stop chasing attention. 

But Miki… even when she packed her suitcases, even when she whispered apologies through my doorway, I never answered. Her words slid over me, heavy shadows I refused to carry. And yet, when she said she loved me, when her voice cracked and her eyes shone, I felt my lips shut silently. The warmth hurt more than the hate ever did. But still, I stayed silent. Still, I let her leave.

That day was a normal day in school until the news came.....

A headline. A plane crash. Her name.

Miki Takasawa.

Died somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.

My world rotated. The laughter around me dissolved into a buzzing void. My chest locked, my hands shook, the desk dug into my palms as if it could anchor me to reality. 

No. 

No, this couldn’t be real. 

The sister I hated, envied, loved in ways I couldn’t say… gone?

I fled to the girls' bathroom. My reflection mocked me—ruined makeup, bruised eye, tears smearing my mascara into a black stream of rivers sliding down my cheek. Raw. Ugly. 

Miki… Oh yes.......

Why now… Finally.....

If only I could tell .... how much I loved you.....  how much I'm happy hearing this news....

The tears twisted into something else. My lips curved upward. First small. Then wilder. A laughter.

For the first time, I wasn’t the shadow. No comparisons. No second place. 

Just me.

I gripped the sink, knuckles white, staring at the stranger in the mirror. I'm the girl who survived, the twin who won. Tears still clung to my cheeks, but the grin on my lips widened fully.

Yes. 

Finally.