Hiro stepped out, with his gun lowered but not holstered. “It’s clear.”
“Good.” I took one step forward and then swallowed. "What happened to the twins?"
The question left me before I could stop it.
He studied me for a long moment. "What you guessed and more."
"Who cut the scar in Yuki's chin?"
Something dark passed over Hiro's face. His jaw tightened. "A man his mother was dating. They think it could have been their father, but they don't know."
"Oh God.”
"Their mother was like mine. Sold herself on the street. Constantly got caught up with disgusting men."
I held my breath.
Hiro holstered his gun slowly. "The man lived with them for a while, and he didn't like that he couldn't tell them apart."
Horror hit me.
His voice went flat. "So, he got a large knife, held Yuki down, and sliced his chin."
My hand flew to my mouth. "And where was their mother?"
"Right there." Hiro's eyes met mine. "Laughing and holding back Aki."
A shiver raked down my spine.
"Later that night, Aki cut his own chin so the man still couldn't tell them apart. And so. . ."
"Yuki wouldn't wear the scar alone."
Hiro nodded.
"When did this happen?"
"When they were six years old."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah." He stepped aside, clearing the doorway. "No one else knows that story besides me. Don't tell Kenji or Reo."
I blinked. "What?"
“I’m serious.”
“Why did you tell me?”
"Because you would've gotten into investigative mode and tried to find out anyway."
He was right.
I would have.
Part of me already had been—cataloging details, building theories, trying to understand the tragedy written on their faces.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For trusting me with that."
